by Anna Jacobs
‘I’m in the library most of the time anyway during the colder weather, and as I said, it’ll only take a few minutes. I’ll speak to Mrs Stuart tomorrow.’
‘Then that’s settled.’ His father changed the subject to their next visit to London and his mother joined eagerly in the discussion about when they would move to town.
Joseph leant back and let them talk. It didn’t bother him to be the only family member in residence here. In fact, he preferred it. When his parents were away, he found life at Dalton House far more congenial.
He smiled at the thought of helping Harriet. He’d enjoy that and feel he was doing something worthwhile for a change. She seemed a very nice young woman.
He’d worked out which painting she reminded him of: Sancta Lilias by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. He had a print of it in a book about Pre-Raphaelite artists. He didn’t always like Rossetti’s faces, but this one was lovely, and very like Harriet now she didn’t look so gaunt.
That same year Norris Harding found himself a more interesting job, working in a rather special sort of club, in charge of keeping order.
‘You’ve got a job in a house of ill repute!’ his mother exclaimed, scandalised. ‘But we agreed to stay respectable.’
‘It’s a very exclusive place, and I’ll be making five times the money I do now.’
There was dead silence for a moment or two and he waited, not allowing himself to smile at her astonishment, but relishing it nonetheless.
‘Five times as much!’
‘Yes. Such places bring in a lot of money, if they’re discreetly run. The women there are a better class of whore, clean and pretty. And the customers may not be gentry, but they’re self-made men who have plenty of money.’
Her voice turned suddenly harsh. ‘I forbid it. I’m trying to rise in the world, not let you drag us down to the gutters and associate with … with such females.’
‘Think I don’t know your own mother was a whore?’ He used the word deliberately.
She turned pale. ‘How did you find that out?’
‘From my new friends. One of the older fellows knew her.’
‘Well, I haven’t followed her example. She saw to that, did everything she could to keep me respectable.’
‘Let’s face it, Ma, I’ll never make my fortune by working for someone else, and we don’t have the connections for me to do much else. I’m going to take this job.’
‘I could give you the money to start a shop – one in a decent area, not one with poor clientele. You could build it up and—’
‘I do not want to run a shop. I’d go mad fiddling about with bits and pieces of paper all day and kowtowing to idiots. I’m not fond of getting up early, either, so even the hours will suit me better in this new job. Anyway, I’ve already given notice, so it’s done now.’
‘Oh, Norris! What will people think?’
‘I don’t care what people will think. I care that I’ll have a chance to make real money. For you, bettering yourself means being respectable and making money; for me, it’s making a lot of money, the more the better. Money’s what gives you power to do as you please.’
She scowled at him. ‘I’ll never be considered respectable if my son works in a place like that.’
He sat down beside her and took her hand. ‘You’ve tried, Ma. You married two respectable men, and weren’t they bores? Little dictators, telling you what to do and not to do.’
He got a smile out of her with that. ‘And you’ve lived in a respectable street for three years now. That hasn’t made you happy, either, has it?’
‘I like this house.’
‘I’ll buy you a better one in a few years.’
She reached out to pat his cheek. ‘You’re as wilful as your father was. I won’t have much choice about your new life, will I? You’ve seen to that.’
‘I want this money, Ma. And I’m going to have it.’
‘I don’t know what my friends will say. They’re bound to find out.’
‘Your friends won’t mind what I do. And maybe we’ll find you another house once I’m settled into my new job, one where the neighbours aren’t such damned snobs.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘I’ll tell you a secret: the man who owns the house of ill repute is well known in the town and he’s anxious to continue keeping his involvement quiet.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Swear never to tell anyone.’
‘Of course I won’t. Do you think I go round looking for trouble?’
‘It’s Councillor Clifford Grayson.’
She gaped at him. ‘I don’t believe you!’
Norris leant back in his chair and smiled, enjoying shocking her. ‘It’s the truth. But if you say one word about this, we’ll both have to leave town within the hour. Yes, really. Grayson’s managed to keep his other little businesses quiet for years. An upstanding gentleman, our Mr G., pillar of the church, talked about as a future mayor.’
‘Why did he tell you about it?’
‘He didn’t. I found out from a fool who was upset about something and was going to blab about it. So I shut him up and earned Mr Grayson’s gratitude.’
‘How did you do that?’
‘I knocked a bit of sense into the idiot and made sure he left town that same day. You’ll keep your mouth shut, won’t you, Ma?’
‘You’d not have told me if you didn’t know I can keep my mouth shut better than most.’
‘Yes. You’re not stupid, like most women. That’s why I came to you. I’ll need some money to buy better clothes. Got to make a good impression.’
‘Let me think about it.’
‘You’ve got plenty of money. You don’t need to think.’
‘I do. I always need to think.’
But she’d lend him what he needed, he knew that. And he’d look after her, because she’d been a good mother to him … except in the matter of Harriet. Well, he’d learnt to keep his temper under control now, most of the time. But he’d find Harriet again one day. He’d promised himself that.
He was going up in the world, but he knew he had a lot to learn first. Harriet would keep. She was safe, still working in that big house. He’d got his mother to ask Auntie Doris about her. He’d take Harriet away from it when he was ready.
He might even marry her.
Ma would throw a fit, didn’t have a good word to say about Harriet, except that her wages made a nice little present every quarter.
Joseph rang the bell and waited until his manservant arrived with his morning cup of tea. Pollins had been with him since he grew too old to be cared for by Nurse. He’d still needed help getting around in those days, so he’d been given his own servant. Pollins was still a big, strong fellow, but Joseph refused physical help, just let Pollins do the jobs any manservant would, keeping his clothes in order, tidying up the bedroom, bringing up his hot water.
‘Good morning, Pollins. It looks fine enough for a walk or a drive, so I think I’ll wear my country clothes today.’
‘Mrs Dalton is expecting guests for luncheon, Mr Joseph.’
‘She doesn’t usually expect me to attend her luncheon parties.’
‘She’s invited Mrs Jeffcott and her daughter. And … um … your mother asked me to make sure you wear your new navy-blue suit.’
‘She’s not—’ He broke off, staring in dismay at Pollins.
‘I think she’s found a young woman who might suit you.’
Joseph groaned, remembering other luncheon parties where his brothers had been matched with young ladies. It had started as soon as each brother had finished studying or training, and found what his father called ‘a decent job’. Each brother had complained and resisted, but in the end they’d been pushed inexorably towards suitable matches.
Only Selwyn, the eldest, had chosen his own bride, but of course, she’d come complete with money and connections in the county, so she’d been very acceptable. He was living in the next county now, in the house she’d inherited. He hadn’t needed to find a profession, with the
prospect of inheriting Dalton House.
Most of the matchmaking had taken place in London, though Joseph had heard all about it from his brothers’ complaints. It had continued unremittingly until his parents found young ladies for each of their sons.
‘Has she found me a matching cripple, perhaps?’ Joseph couldn’t help the edge to his voice.
Pollins didn’t even try to answer that.
‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be sharp with you, Pollins. It’s not your fault. But I have no intention of marrying unless I feel some affection for the lady in question. And even then, what lady would want a man like me?’
‘One with a true heart, Mr Joseph. One who can look beyond the obvious. As I’ve told you before.’
‘I think I’m coming down with the influenza.’
‘You’re not usually a coward. What would it hurt to meet this one, lad? And any others she brings here? You might find one to your taste.’
When Pollins called him lad, it reminded Joseph that his manservant had been with him since he was a small child, and knew him better than anyone. It also meant Pollins was offering him advice, something he didn’t often presume to do.
‘I don’t want to be paraded for inspection.’ He heard how sulky his voice sounded, but couldn’t help it.
‘Neither do the young ladies, sir. Just meet them. You never know, you may even like one of them.’
‘Damn you, stop being so reasonable. Oh, very well. Get out the blue suit.’
Pollins smiled, the special smile he only allowed himself when he’d won a point about something.
Miss Christina Jeffcott and her mother were visiting some neighbours, who also attended the luncheon party.
Joseph drew in a sharp breath when he entered the room and saw the dismay on Miss Jeffcott’s long, thin face at the sight of him. He’d have sold his soul not to wheel his chair across the room in front of strangers but there was no getting out of it.
By the time he reached the guests, Miss Jeffcott’s dismay had turned to badly masked revulsion.
He felt equally repelled by her. Sometimes ugliness came from the soul, rather than from the arrangement of a face. Miss Jeffcott had little good to say about anything. She prodded her food as if suspecting poison. She avoided looking directly at Joseph and answered his polite remarks in monosyllables.
The guests weren’t encouraged to linger.
‘I don’t like that young woman,’ his mother said when they were alone.
‘Thank goodness. Nor do I. Look, Mama … I don’t want to be paraded for inspection like this.’
‘No young man does, but it’s how our society works, matching young people into pairs, so that they can create new homes and families.’ She laid one hand over his. ‘There’s no reason you can’t marry too, Joseph, now that you’re so much better.’
‘Isn’t there? Did you see the revulsion on her face?’
The silence told him his mother couldn’t find the words to deny that. In the end, she just repeated, ‘Well, I don’t like her, so she won’t do. But keep an open mind about others, hmm?’
He had a sick certainty that she wasn’t going to stop till she found him a wife, and he was equally certain that only the most unappealing young women would even consider him.
He did what he always did when upset, sought refuge in the library, which no one but him used.
But he couldn’t settle to reading, or sketching, or doing anything, so he decided to have a chat with the young maid about her reading. Helping someone was a more positive way to spend time than moping about.
He got up and pulled the bell, waiting by the fireplace for someone to answer. It was Mabel, who never allowed herself to get into conversation with him or any member of the family, so he merely said, ‘Would Mrs Stuart be free to speak to me for a few moments, do you think?’
‘I’ll go and see, sir.’
The housekeeper was there within two minutes.
‘I hope I haven’t taken you away from something important, Mrs Stuart.’
‘Not at all.’
‘It’s about the maid who needs something to read. Would it be convenient to see her this afternoon?’
‘If you’re sure you have time, Mr Joseph.’
‘I can always make time to help a fellow reader.’ He moved too quickly and had to grab the bookshelf to steady himself.
‘Should you be standing up for so long, sir?’
‘Yes, I should. I need to move about in order to strengthen my muscles.’ He smiled at her and said coaxingly, ‘But we don’t need to tell my mother about me nearly falling just now, do we? She does worry so.’
Mrs Stuart smiled back at him. ‘As you wish, sir. I’ll send Harriet down in a few minutes. How long do you need her for?’
‘An hour, maybe? I want to do this properly.’
‘Very well.’
While he waited, he limped across to the shelves which contained his own additions to the family library and ran his fingers along them, pulling out books he thought might suit and clearing a shelf for them.
Books. Was that all he would have to fill his life? His parents were very generous about buying him any book he fancied and two booksellers in London sent him lists every month. But collections of paper couldn’t replace real life and he was itching to do something more than sit and read.
He’d tried writing a novel, but it was far harder than he’d expected and the result was dull and flat. He simply didn’t have a gift for storytelling. He’d tried doing research about the family history, thinking to compile a book about the Daltons, to be published privately, but that soon palled. They weren’t a very interesting family on either side. Minor gentry, some connections to commerce and the professions, no scandals that he could unearth. No achievements, either.
He realised someone was tapping on the door, so called, ‘Come in.’
Harriet stepped into the room, but stayed near the door, looking extremely nervous.
‘Please close the door and come over here.’ He wouldn’t put it past his mother to eavesdrop, just to make sure he wasn’t being treated disrespectfully. Harriet came closer and stood waiting.
‘Do sit down.’ When she hesitated, he said, ‘If you don’t sit, I have to look up at you and that makes my neck ache.’
‘Oh. Sorry, Mr Joseph.’ She pulled up a chair and sat down on the edge of it, looking ready to flee if he so much as twitched.
‘Tell me about the books you’ve read. Which ones have you enjoyed most?’
She looked reluctant, so he coaxed her. ‘I can’t find you more books to read if I don’t know what pleases you.’ He gestured around them. ‘As you can see, we have thousands to choose from.’
‘I read anything I can get hold of, sir.’
‘But what do you like most?’
After a short silence, she said, ‘The ones that teach me something about the world. There was a book about the history of Britain in the schoolroom and one about the Empire. I’d heard some of the stories at school, but when I read the books, I could understand the …’ she waved her right hand in the air, as if seeking words, then came out with, ‘the patterns of history.’
He was surprised at this perceptive remark. ‘I know exactly what you mean. I felt like that when I read the same books as a child. What else have you enjoyed?’
Suddenly her reserve seemed to fade and they started chatting like old friends, comparing their favourite books. But the minute he asked her about herself, her answers became monosyllabic and she started to look uncomfortable, so he went back to books.
He kept an eye on the wall clock, because if she stayed too long it’d upset the housekeeper and possibly his mother. He decided to share that with her. ‘I’d better not keep you too long or Mrs Stuart will be upset.’
Harriet at once jumped to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have talked so much.’
‘Please sit down again for a minute or two. You haven’t talked too much. It was me. I’ve enjoyed chatting to you because no one
else here is interested in history. Or in finding out what the rest of the world is like. I get lonely sometimes, even in a house full of people.’ He surprised himself with this confidence, but she was so easy to talk to, it had just slipped out.
‘So do I.’ She clapped one hand to her mouth, as if afraid of having spoken out.
‘Then we have that in common. The second thing I want to say is, I’ll put some books for you on the end shelf.’ He got up and limped across to it, sneaking a glance at her face and seeing no signs of revulsion. But, of course, servants wouldn’t dare let themselves betray such feelings about their employer’s family. ‘You may choose from them and change your books as often as you like. Any that you’ve read, lay on their side at the end, like this, and I’ll put them away again.’
He turned to a nearby shelf and selected a few more books to add to the row. ‘Come and choose your first one.’
She came as timidly as a wild animal, her eyes on the books. The minute she got to the shelf, he might as well not have existed. After studying every single title, and making little crooning noises of pleasure, she chose a book about Scotland, then stood there with it clasped to her chest. ‘This one, please, Mr Joseph.’
‘Better take two. In case you run out and can’t get back in here to change them.’
‘Really?’
This time she chose a novel, then caught sight of the clock and gasped. ‘I’d better get back now, sir. I’ve been here nearly an hour.’
‘Yes, of course. Perhaps you’ll come again when you’ve read the book and tell me what you think of it, or you could ask me questions if anything isn’t clear?’
‘Really?’
‘Really and truly.’
She beamed at him. ‘I do wonder about things sometimes, so if I’m not troubling you, sir, I’ll do that. If Mrs Stuart allows it, of course.’
‘I’ll tell her it cheers me up to talk to you about books.’
She looked at him very solemnly, then said quietly, ‘I didn’t think people with families could get lonely.’
‘We can all get lonely. That’s why we need to make friends.’
It was almost a whisper. ‘I don’t have any friends now.’ She didn’t wait for an answer, but moved towards the door, the books clutched tightly to her chest.