‘Well,’ she said, once they had tired themselves out at last. ‘You surprise me, Mr Staveley. You are too modest by far. I doubt that I could pick up a tune as flawlessly as you have done without even the music to fall back upon.’
Mr Staveley was obviously pleased.
‘You are far too modest about your accomplishments,’ she continued. ‘Perhaps Miss Brewer would be more impressed were you to advertise them a little more.’
‘Do you really think so? You’re b...being very kind. It would be wonderful to im...imp... impress Miss B...Brewer.’
Maggie smiled. She found his naivety quite engaging. She closed the lid of the piano and stood up to go.
‘Oh – do you have to go, M...Miss Owens? I thought we could have some tea.’
‘That’s most kind of you, Mr Staveley, though I doubt that Mrs Wright would be happy for me to make free with her tea in her drawing room.’
‘B...but it is m...my drawing room as well,’ he pointed out, quite reasonably. ‘That is, as m...much mine as anywhere is. M...my mother invested heavily in this house and I have every right to use it as I please. I would like you to have tea with m...me as m...my guest. I do not really care what m...my cousin might think at all.’
Maggie was a little surprised, and not a little impressed, by this unexpected show of spirit in a young man whom she had previously thought of, when she had thought of him at all, which was not very often, as somewhat lacking in resolve. She rather liked the idea of taking tea with him in Mrs Wright’s drawing room. It would be a little act of defiance. So she accepted his invitation, listened to his stories – he had certainly done things and seen sights that Maggie could hardly even dream of – drank her tea and felt that, on reflection, she had spent a much more enjoyable afternoon than she could reasonably have expected to do.
Chapter 1 3
Despite a slow descent towards middle age Mr Berkeley still retained many of the habits of his younger days, of which enjoying a game of cards with his good friend Mr Ignacious Brewer and their gambling partners, accompanied by several glasses of wine, ale or brandy, according to the whim of the day, was perhaps one of the least constructive. Not that the gambling was too serious. For most of the time the stakes were quite trivial – hardly anything at all, in fact – and having already seen the damage that could be done by gambling high (his wife’s previous husband having gambled away her house and lands himself several years ago) Mr Berkeley was ever careful to keep them that way. Mrs Berkeley, indeed, would probably rather he found some more constructive activity with which to occupy his leisure time but she knew her husband so well, and trusted him so implicitly, that she knew that she need never even so much as drop a hint to him that she would prefer him not to go.
So when Andrew announced that he would shortly be setting out to meet his acquaintance at the Golden Lion and asked whether Kathryn had any errands for him whilst he was in town, she smiled quite contentedly at him and shook her head, explaining that she would actually prefer to walk down with him as she was planning to visit Harvey’s library and could therefore undertake her own commissions on the way.
It was a fifteen minute stroll down the hillside and across the town bridge from Belvoir House to the town centre. The whole town was a hive of activity. Building work was still going on along both sides of the river, with some particularly elegant new terraces being constructed on the land that Mr Berkeley had himself invested heavily in several years before. His investments were now beginning to bear fruit and he had recently acquired a number of houses to add to his growing portfolio – a happy timing, in actual fact, as his increasing family was starting to make demands upon his purse which he knew only too well would continue to increase for many more years to come. Andrew and Kathryn walked on through the noisy, bustling quayside, absorbing the atmosphere and looking at the boats - boats of every description loading, unloading or simply moored up for a while - and at the dockers, warehousemen and sailors of every nationality busily seeing to their affairs.
‘I shall leave you here, then, Drew,’ Mrs Berkeley was saying. ‘I need to visit Mr Wend, the jeweller. The catch on my emerald necklace needs some attention before it breaks off entirely. I am hoping that he will be able to mend it for me.’
‘I’m a little early, actually,’ he replied. ‘I will walk along there with you, if you will have me?’
Of course Kathryn would have him. There was nothing she liked better than to have him by her side. So they continued their walk, an elegant couple, arm in arm, away from the quayside and on to St Mary Street with its little church and flower-fringed square. It was just as they reached the jeweller’s shop that Andrew spotted Mrs William Wright, waddling towards them in a bright green spencer and ornamented muslin gown.
‘Damn it,’ he muttered. ‘I really do not want to meet up with that awful woman today.’
‘Then come into the shop with me for a moment, Drew. With any luck she’ll not have noticed us. You can slip out again as soon as she’s gone by.’
Mr Berkeley appeared to think this a good plan, for no sooner had he opened the shop door for his wife than they were both inside it and making their way to the counter at the far end of the salesroom. Another couple was selecting from a tray of trinkets, with some other customers close by, so Mr and Mrs Berkeley went past them to await some attention a little further along. Given Andrew’s keenness to avoid Mrs William it was probably fortunate that they did so, for no sooner had they taken their places at the counter than they heard the shop bell tinkle as the door opened again and the lady herself waddled in.
Although Mr and Mrs Berkeley detected her, they were so far screened from her direct view by the other customers – and, perhaps, too, through not expecting to see them there, so not looking out for them – that Mrs William remained totally ignorant of their presence and pushed her way to the front of the queue instead.
‘I require some immediate attention,’ she announced, in her slow, ponderous but very loud voice. ‘I am in a very great hurry. It will not be possible to wait.’
The couple by the trinkets, perhaps realising that they should feel quite harassed should they stand their ground and insist on the newcomer awaiting her turn, gave way immediately to Mrs William’s resolute demands. They were rewarded by a haughty nod - presumably intended to demonstrate that gratitude was not required, as precedence over everybody else was unquestionably her due - although luckily for Mr and Mrs Berkeley they failed to relinquish the position which screened them still from sight. The assistant turned his attention to his demanding new customer, and bowed.
‘I have this old jewellery, young man,’ said Mrs Wright, imperiously. The assistant, who must have been fifty if he was a day, bowed unctuously once again and awaited the conclusion of this announcement. ‘It is no longer required. I wish to exchange it for something a little more up to date. What would you advise?’
‘I would need to ask Mr Wend to value it, madam,’ was the reply. ‘It would be for him to decide exactly what it is worth.’
‘Then ask Mr Wend to attend to me.’
‘I am sorry, madam. I am very much afraid that Mr Wend is not available just now. He will be back later. Perhaps you would care to leave the jewellery with me and I can ask him to value it on his return?’
Mrs Wright looked less than impressed.
‘Not available? But why ever is he not available at this time of day? How can he expect to run a shop if he is never available to see people?’
‘I’m afraid he has had to attend a funeral. He felt obliged to go. He will most definitely be back later this afternoon.’
Mrs Wright tutted irritably but she had little choice but to accept the inevitable and agree to calling in later, when Mr Wend should most certainly be back. Muttering only to herself - and within the hearing of the whole of the rest of the shop - that ‘it really wasn’t good enough, not the thing at all to take time off during the day like that’ she retreated out of the shop again, opened her umbrella to the sk
ies, and strutted pompously onto the drizzly street beyond.
Mr and Mrs Berkeley looked at each other. They didn’t need to say a word. They could see the jewellery as the assistant moved it to a shelf behind him – a poesy ring and a heart pendant on a heavy gold chain. It certainly did look old. Perhaps it had belonged to Mrs William’s grandmama.
Andrew waited for a few moments before bowing over his wife’s hand and kissing it respectfully.
‘I think it should be safe to resume my journey now, my dear,’ he told her.
They exchanged a parting smile.
‘I think it should,’ she agreed.
Cha pter 14
The drizzle had quickly developed into rain. Maggie hesitated in the doorway of Harvey’s library for a moment, looking up at the sky. Though the clouds seemed patchy, a particularly dark grey one had mercilessly established itself directly above the Esplanade and appeared determined on punishing anyone who possessed the temerity to venture out beneath it. Maggie looked at it again and sighed. Even though the library was only a few steps away from Grosvenor Place she would still get exceedingly wet. The prospect of a cold shower felt singularly unattractive just then.
Just as she hesitated, however, she suddenly became aware of a slight figure with a large umbrella, hurrying purposefully down the road. She thought that the figure looked familiar and she glanced at it again. In another second she recognised the girlish, though burgeoning, form of Mrs Berkeley, who appeared intent upon joining her at the library door. Maggie made room for her to pass, fully expecting her merely to nod, and walk directly through. But as soon as she noticed her Mrs Berkeley stopped, and gave her a shy little smile.
‘Why, Miss Owens,’ she said, shaking her umbrella briskly. ‘I see that you are caught by the rain. It appears to be set in for some time, I’m afraid.’
‘Mrs Berkeley,’ with a slight curtsy. ‘It does indeed. What a bind. I have borrowed some of Mr Scott’s poems – I adore ‘Marmion’ and am hoping that ‘The Lady of the Lake’ will delight me just as much – but now the rain has quite set in and I am frightened that the books should get quite wet and spoil.’
‘Well, I am come this way primarily for a coffee. I am no great reader, I’m afraid. My visits to the library are strictly social! Perhaps you would care to join me? With any luck the rain will have eased a little by the time we are done.’
Maggie found herself surprised and quite flattered by Mrs Berkeley’s kind notice, so she decided to accept the unexpected invitation and follow her hostess back into the library. They found a vacant table in the elegant blue-and-white coffee area overlooking the bay and watched the rain as it spattered on the windows outside.
‘I expect you are pleased to be free of your charges this afternoon, Miss Owens,’ said Kathryn, ordering the refreshments. ‘Though I do not envy poor Susan, having to care for them all.’
‘No indeed. It seems to me that the youngest are enough of a handful, without the added complication of the twins.’
‘I dare say they are. Mr Berkeley and I both love children, but even we are hard pushed to admire that rowdy brood. I expect they drive their papa to distraction. I can’t imagine any gentleman happily putting up with their noise and devious little tricks.’
‘No,’ said Maggie. ‘I think they do.’
‘And how do you get on with Mr and Mrs Wright?’
Maggie looked across at Kathryn, who was smiling at her, somewhat thoughtfully, across the table. The innocent-sounding question seemed just a little – well, singular, somehow. The waiter returned with their coffee, poured it respectfully, and offered them some cream.
‘Well enough,’ she responded, cagily. ‘The position of governess is always a slightly awkward one, I fear.’
‘Yes,’ said Kathryn, stirring her coffee briskly. ‘I expect it is. You will want to make it as comfortable as possible, I suppose. You will not want to make things any worse.’
Maggie caught her glance for a second time and felt compelled to study her cup. The awful thought flashed through her mind that Mrs Berkeley might suspect her involvement with William.
‘What do you mean, Mrs Berkeley?’ she asked her, cautiously. Kathryn was still looking at her. She found it quite unnerving.
Kathryn hesitated for a moment.
‘I just wanted to be a friend to you, Miss Owens,’ she said, eventually. ‘I know that you feel quite alone here in Weymouth, despite living in that large household of yours, and I fear that you find yourself in a somewhat indelicate situation. I wanted – I hope you do not take this the wrong way – I really do not wish to offend you at all – I just wanted to remind you that you are not alone and that God will watch over you and ensure that you are safe.’
‘And why ever do you feel a need to do that?’
Kathryn blushed.
‘You are telling me to mind my own business,’ she said. ‘I suppose you have every right to do so. It’s just – well – I daresay you are not familiar with my own history, Miss Owens. I made a big mistake when I was younger that it is no exaggeration to say very nearly cost me my life. I can see that you are in danger of making a major mistake of your own. I just wanted to point it out to you, that is all.’
‘A mistake? What mistake?’
‘You are mistaken in thinking that Mr Wright is in love with you. You do think that, do you not?’ Here Maggie blanched just a little. Kathryn apparently saw this, as she felt emboldened to carry on. ‘And indeed, I can well see how you would think so. He receives precious little attention from his wife, I can tell, and he is not the sort of gentleman to live without attention for very long. I can see how his eyes follow you around the room. They follow you all the time. I have seen it many times and I have seen that you are not immune to them. It is quite intoxicating for a young lady to know she has so marked an effect upon a gentleman. Indeed, I expect that he has probably tried to make love to you, has he not? It would not surprise me in the least. And as for you – you are lonely and isolated and ready to be loved by any handsome gentleman who should happen to pay you some attention. You are grateful for his looks – they flatter you. You revel in the importance they give you in your own eyes. You think yourself in love with him just as you think him in love with you. But please, Miss Owens, do not be misled. You are not in love with him and he is not in love with you. Far from it. And even if you were, it would be entirely wrong for you to accept his attentions. Your feelings you cannot help, though you may not fully understand them at times. But your behaviour you can. Do not make the mistake of allowing yourself to get sucked in by his charms. Even without the moral reasons, which I shall not insult you by mentioning, the practical consequences are simply too awful to contemplate. Should Mrs Wright find out – should she ever even suspect that such an affair was going on under her own roof – well, you can no doubt imagine the ramifications of that. You cannot rely upon Mr Wright to do the right thing. You would be thrown out without ceremony, without even a ‘character’ to set you on your way. I am sure that you do not wish for that.’
Maggie was feeling extremely uncomfortable. She had never even suspected that anyone should perceive her situation in the way that Mrs Berkeley obviously had. She was also feeling perfectly chagrined. Who was this woman to tell her what to do? She was the most annoyingly self satisfied woman in the universe. She had probably never been within a hundred yards of temptation in her life before. What could she possibly know about the longing, the desire, the desperate attraction that she – Maggie – was feeling for Mr Wright?
‘I can see what you are thinking, Miss Owens.’
Did this woman never stop?
‘I can see that you are wondering why I think it my business to remind you of your responsibilities – wondering on what ever basis Mrs Berkeley has the right to talk to Miss Owens about illicit love. You probably do not know – indeed, why should you? – that I myself was married when I met Mr Berkeley for the first time. I had married a gentleman whose dark eyes had followed me wherever I w
ent in exactly the same way that Mr Wright’s eyes follow you. Like you, I was lonely and in need of love. Like you, I was flattered by his attentions, by the feelings that he stirred within me - of being desirable, of being important to someone. They made me think I was important for myself. Like you, I made the mistake of confusing admiration, attraction – desire – call it what you wish, it is the same thing – with real affection. I paid a bitter price for my mistake. I went ahead and married my admirer. I foolishly married him and gave him everything that I had – my home, my income – I was an independent woman in those days, you know – my happiness. He turned out to be a gamester. He gambled my property away. He turned out to be unpredictable – one day kind and loving, the next day vicious and violent. He turned out to be a bully and a wife beater. Many’s the time he hit me, Miss Owens. I lived in constant fear for my very existence. He resented the fact that I had given my first husband a child – a little boy – and that this little boy was the apple of my eye. He was jealous of a little child, Miss Owens, this admirer with the dark, watchful eyes. So one day he took the little lad out fishing, and never brought him back. Whether he meant to drown him or whether it was an accident I never knew. But the result was the same. He took everything of value in this world away from me. Although I had thought that I loved him when I married him, although I had expected to love him for ever, I found that what I had felt for that man was not true love at all. And when the light dawned on me and I realised that I had been deceived - when the beatings and the bullyings and the gambling had got too much and the hard reality broke in on me – that I had lost everything of any value in my life and would not get it back - I realised then what an awful punishment God had meted out to me for the dreadful mistake that I had made.’
Maggie was spellbound.
‘And what of Mr Berkeley. Where did he come in?’
‘Mr Berkeley was my temptation and Mr Berkeley was my reward. For it appears that God had chosen to test out my integrity, Miss Owens – to test out the promises I had made when I married Giles. For just at the time when I was at my most vulnerable, when my husband had beaten me and left me on my own, Mr Berkeley was sent by God to tempt me with his love. We loved each other from the very first day we met - such love for another person as I could not possibly even have imagined. Oh yes, Mr Berkeley came to me and begged me to take his love. He begged me to leave my husband and to live with him instead. I was very, very tempted to do so. I was desperate to do so. But I did not break any of my promises, any of the vows that I had made when I married Giles, much as I wanted to do so. I stayed with my husband, I supported him, I was loyal to him as I had vowed to be, aye, right to the end, until he shot me with his pistol and went and killed himself. And in the end God was gracious. He spared me my life and he gave me my reward. And oh! - what a reward! For the first time I understood what love was. I had been twice married and still had not known – had not the slightest idea of what love is all about. It is not about attraction, or desire. It is not about longing for someone. It is not about you yourself – your own needs and wants – it is not about that at all, though that is what I had thought it – that is how I’d experienced it, until that very time. Love is about feeling so much at one with another person – feeling that you are incomplete without them – feeling that you will support them for ever, whatever they do and whatever life throws at you – wanting to give them everything they could possibly desire, and doing your utmost to give them that. That is what love is, Miss Owens. And that is why I know that what you and Mr Wright feel for each other is nothing like love at all.’
An Indelicate Situation (The Weymouth Trilogy) Page 9