by Anne Brear
“Your carriage will be out the front shortly, sir.”
“Very good. I need to pack some clothes for two or three days. Will you see to it now? I’m in a hurry.” Reid finished his tea as the footman left.
“Where are you going that will keep you away two days?” His mother asked lightly, trying not to appear too interested but he could see the cold calculation in her eyes.
“On business.”
“Can’t it wait? The roads will likely be blocked.”
“We’ll get through. I’ll be taking the train from Leeds.”
“The trains might be stopped also.”
“You should hope not or you’ll not be travelling to London on Friday.”
“If you’re not going to be home I might as well go today,” she snapped.
“As you wish.” He shrugged and turned for the door. “I’ll be back by the end of the week if you’re still here.” Her presence constantly irritated him now. He wondered how he had stood it before. Ignorance was bliss in this case. How did his father love her so devotedly for so many years?
“As if you care where I’d be?” she said sarcastically.
He ignored her and walked to the front door where Matthews helped him with his coat and gloves. His mother’s suffocating attention had increased beyond words since his father’s death. At times he felt he couldn’t breathe from it.
Denning descended the stairs with a small portmanteau and opened the door for him. A blast of cold hit Reid and he shivered. “Thank you, Denning.” He turned to Matthews. “I’ll leave everything in your capable hands.”
“Very good, sir.”
Climbing into the carriage he gave the driver instructions to take him to Leeds railway station and settled back on the seat. With luck the roads wouldn’t be too bad and the trains running on time. By this afternoon he wanted to be in Hebden Bridge, snow or no snow.
“Mr Sinclair, sir,” the driver called down, “there’s a carriage coming down the drive. Do you want to wait for it?”
“Is it one of my mother’s friends?” Reid called back. He had no wish to stay for them. Though in truth, none of her acquaintances would call before eleven o’clock, never mind just gone nine.
“Nay, sir, I think it is a hired vehicle.”
“Hired?” Reid climbed down from the carriage and watched the transport stop behind them on the drive and a well-dressed gentleman stepped out. Reid didn’t know of him and held out his hand. “Welcome to Sinclair Hall. I’m Reid Sinclair. May I help you?”
“Ah, Mr Reid Sinclair? Reid Charles Phillip John Sinclair?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Reid frowned. Only a solicitor would use a full name as means of identification.
The older man, who only came to Reid’s shoulders, and seemed as wide as he was short nervously took off his black hat and wiped his forehead vigorously as if to erase the creases lining there. “My name is Lawrence Waters-Smith, from Waters-Smith Solicitors, London. I’m your brother, Thomas Sinclair’s, solicitor.” He shook Reid’s hand with a flourish, but his eyes wore a haunted expression.
“Please, come inside.” Reid ushered his guest into the Hall, where they both divulged themselves of hats and outer coats, before going through to the drawing room. “Tom is not here.” He indicated for the fellow to sit, apprehension creeping up his spine.
“I know that, sir. He is in South Africa.” Waters-Smith glanced around the room, holding his leather satchel in both hands.
“Did Tom instruct you to come see me?” Reid crossed his arms, wondering what nonsense Tom had gotten involved in now. “Has he not paid your bill, sir?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that, Mr Sinclair, I assure you.”
“He’s not in trouble with the law, is he? Or the army?”
“Reid, did we have a visitor?” His mother sailed into the room on a cloud of perfume. “Oh, I see we still have.”
“Mother this is Mr Waters-Smith, a solicitor from London.”
“Indeed?” Julia allowed the man to lightly bow over her hand before she sank onto a nearby sofa with a look of vague interest on her face. “A solicitor from London.”
“Tom’s solicitor.”
Her plucked arched eyebrows lifted. “Lord, he isn’t in trouble is he? I thought the army would pull him into line. Is it gambling? Or a girl in a delicate way again? I despair over that boy, really I do.”
“Mother, please.” Reid gave her a warning stare and turned his attention to Waters-Smith. “How may I help you, sir?”
Waters-Smith opened the satchel. “First, let me say how sorry my partner, Mr Roberts, and I am to learn—”
“I knew it.” Julia scowled. “What has he done this time? Broken the law, hasn’t he? Has the army court marshaled him? They haven’t shot him have they?”
“Mother!” Reid wanted to shake her silly.
Flustered, Waters-Smith drew out a sheath of papers. “I came as soon as I could after receiving the correspondence from the army superiors.” He glanced worried at them. “Again my deepest sympathies.”
Reid stiffened. “You are sounding as though my brother is dead, sir?”
Julia gasped, her eyes widened. “But he isn’t. We would know.”
Waters-Smith paled and nearly dropped his satchel. “Sir, Madam, I’m afraid he is. Haven’t you been notified?”
“Nonsense!” Reid barked, wanting to throttle the man. “Are you sure you have the right Tom Sinclair?”
Shuffling the papers, the solicitor reached inside his jacket and found his wire glasses, which he thrust onto his nose. He scanned the top sheet. “Captain Thomas Gordon Francis Sinclair, of Sinclair Hall, Leeds.”
“Yes, that’s my brother, but he isn’t dead. I haven’t been notified.” Reid gave the man a bemused look. “There has been some mistake.”
“I received the notice myself, sir, from his regiment’s chief at their headquarters in London.”
His mother gasped and stared at him in horror. Reid felt as if his mind was retreating, slowing down and he had to work hard to talk sense. “Mr Waters-Smith, I would know if my brother was dead.”
“Of course he would.” Julia jumped to her feet, irritation altering her expression. “We would be listed as Tom’s next of kin, either myself as his mother, or Reid as his eldest brother and head of the family.”
“Mother, please.” He gestured for her to sit down, for she towered over the small man who seemed to have shrunk under her attack. “Sir, can you show me what evidence you have of my brother’s death, since this is the first we’ve heard of it and quite frankly we refuse to believe this information.”
“Your brother came to see me at my office several times before he departed for Southern Africa. He gave me strict instructions on what I was to do should he be…should he…” The fellow swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking over his stiff white collar. “In the case of Mr Sinclair’s death, his wife would be—”
“Ah! There, you see?” Julia pounced on him again. “My son wasn’t married. So you’re wrong and misinformed! It is some other Tom Sinclair.”
Sweat beaded the solicitor’s forehead. “Your son did marry, Madam.”
Reid blanched and his mother gripped his arm, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Tell him he’s wrong, Reid.”
“Madam, forgive me, but I have the marriage certificate in my safe keeping.”
“Who?” Julia tensed, her tone cutting and Reid saw her transform from her moment of weakness back to the woman of steel he knew. “What slut did my stupid son marry?”
“Quiet mother, that is not important.” Reid stepped forward as the enormity of the situation finally dawned on him. Tom was dead. He clenched his teeth, striving for control against the biting pain this news brought. “Sir, you are certain my brother, in Africa, is dead?”
“Yes, Mr Sinclair.” He flushed out a yellow document and gave it to Reid. “This is from the regiment’s London office. Your brother was killed by a shell exploding at Ladysmith on December 24th 1899.”
/> “Why weren’t we told!” his mother shrieked.
“Because we weren’t listed as next of kin, Mother,” Reid replied, his grip on the document made the edges fold. He couldn’t read a word on the paper, not even a letter.
“But surely one of your father’s friends would have come to us?”
“Madam,” the little man coughed politely. “The town is under siege, not much communication is getting in or out and from what I was told only those who are listed or who are within the army are alerted to our terrible loses over there. The newspapers try to keep the nation abreast of events, but it is a never ending tide of bad news.”
“I still don’t believe it. I won’t believe it. I want more proof.”
Watching his mother wring her hands, Reid sought to find words to console her, but couldn’t. Not so long ago he would have held her, comforted her in such a time, but not now. He didn’t want to offer comfort or receive it in return. It was as though he no longer occupied his body, but watched the scene from a great height.
Waters-Smith was again searching in his bag. With a triumphant snort he pulled out an envelope and gave it to Reid. “Mr Sinclair told me to give this to you should he be killed, sir.” His harried gaze darted to Julia but she had her back to them, and was staring out of the front window.
Slitting open the envelope, his hands shaking, Reid opened the brief letter.
Reid, dear brother.
If you are reading this, then the worst has happened and I’m never coming home again. I know this will be a great shock to you, but I am in a better place now, or perhaps I’m not. Who knows? I could be dining with the Devil.
Nonetheless, my time is done, but my life hasn’t been totally wasted. I have a son, as you know, in Oxford. I’ve left him a small legacy and I hope you will take the details of his whereabouts from Waters-Smith and visit the boy one day.
Also, I have secretly married. Does this surprise you? Probably not. You know me well enough. What may astonish you though is to whom. Last summer I found a lady down on her luck, without a home or a husband for her baby. I provided both things.
Do not think me weak, brother, I would not have been so hasty if the circumstances involved anyone else other than this lady, whom I loved most dearly as a sister.
Reid, I married Aurora Pettigrew.
Reid jerked, his breath caught in his throat ready to choke him. He stifled a moan, but his mother was beside him in an instant.
“What is it? What does it say!”
He held up his hand, not trusting himself to speak. Slowly, bracing for the hurt to split him asunder, he continued to read.
Aurora is pregnant, Reid, not with my baby, but with yours. I treated her as a sister, or more importantly as a sister–in-law. The baby needed a name, the Sinclair name, and so I provided it in your stead. I hope you forgive me and her, and in time understand I behaved in the way I thought was best for all concerned. You must claim her, Reid. Don’t let pride stand in the way, hers or yours.
Your son or daughter will need you, but more than that, Aurora loves you.
Go to her.
I wish you a lifetime of happiness, brother.
Tom.
It was impossible for him to read the letter again. Tears blurred his vision and he coughed to clear his tight throat. Mr Waters-Smith looked on with sympathy and Reid straightened, having forgotten the man’s presence.
“Reid?” His mother stood beside him, glancing from the letter to his face. “Well?” She gripped his arm. “Speak. Oh, I can’t stand it!” She collapsed onto the sofa, crying hysterically and calling out Tom’s name.
He walked to the door and beckoned the solicitor to follow. In the hallway entrance he asked Denning to dismiss the carriage waiting for him, and to send Gavet to her mistress. Then he went down the hallway to his study and waited for Waters-Smith to enter.
A twisting knot of misery had hold of his insides and his throat ached from being denied the release of tears, but he had to stay in control. One slip and he would be smashed to pieces as easily as driftwood was broken up on the beach. To pretend that the letter he still held in his hand was about a stranger was the only way he could function. He flinched away from thinking about it so he could survive the next minute, the next hour.
Waters-Smith remained standing. “Sir, I will not trespass on your grief for any longer. It will take only a moment more of your time for me to read the Will.”
“My brother’s wife, she was next of kin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Shouldn’t she be here?” His throat convulsed. Oh my love, Aurrie…
“I called on Mrs Sinclair yesterday, as she is unable to attend this meeting due to her present condition.”
“There are provisions for her?” His voice came out on a croak and he slipped his finger inside his collar and pulled at it to get air. She carried his baby…
“Oh, yes, sir, handsome provisions. Mr Sinclair has left her a farm and cottage and all holdings tied to it. Also there is a good sum of money from investments.” Waters-Smith read from another sheet of paper the list of items Tom had left to his younger brothers, a property each that he himself had inherited on his majority a year and half ago, plus small personal items. To Reid he left two things, his chestnut horse stabled here at the Hall and a silver and ivory penknife that Reid had bought him for his twenty-first birthday. However, the penknife was with Tom’s other belongings in South Africa, but they would be sent on as soon as possible.
After finishing the reading, Waters-Smith gathered up his papers and prepared to leave.
“I thank you for your time,” Reid said, shaking the man’s hand and seeing him to the door.
“I wish it had been on happier terms, Mr Sinclair. My details are on the letterhead if you or your brothers wish to contact me. Good day, sir.” He gave him several sheets of documents and made his farewell out to the hired cab.
Reid hesitated in the hall, not knowing what to do or where to go next. He felt numb all over. Two maids scuttled past, giving him shy looks.
Dry-eyed, all though her eyelids were puffy from recent crying, his mother stood in the doorway of the drawing room. “My son has truly gone then?”
He nodded and barging past her went to the drink’s cabinet and poured out a large brandy.
“I’ll have one too, please.”
He splashed some of the golden liquid into another balloon glass and handed it to her, then took a deep swallow of his own.
His mother sipped her drink, her face gray. “We will have a memorial for him. In London. We must arrange a plaque to go alongside your father’s on the tomb.” She took another sip. “I cannot believe I won’t see him again. He always brightened a room, didn’t he?” her voice caught. “Oh, he was naughty at times, I know that. On certain occasions he drove me to distraction, but he was my boy. My handsome happy son, who people liked and respected. He filled a cloudy room with sunshine. And now he is gone, like his father …”
Reid stared out of the window, seeing nothing, feeling even less.
“Whom did he marry?” His mother’s voice was low, rumbling in her chest like a wolf’s growl. “Was it that whore from Oxford, the one who gave him a child? The young man she married died of fever, you know, within a month of marrying her. I’ve been worried that Tom would do something rash. I was hoping he’d never find out. I paid the chit enough money to keep her quiet and not contact him. Yet, you never know with these people.”
“No. It isn’t her.” He finished his drink, silently begging for her to be quiet. Every word she spoke was as sharp as a knife piercing his gut.
“I suppose it is some other tramp?”
“You know her.” Oh yes, they all knew her, but she had gone, run from them all.
“God lord.” A nerve twitched in her left eyelid. “Stupid boy to keep it a secret. Is she high or low?”
“Depends on your perspective.” He had to go to Aurrie, to see her, to hear her voice say she loved him. Only fear sto
pped him. Did she love him? Did she hate him, forcing a child upon her, making her leave home, all that she’s known? Yes, she must loathe him. He bowed his head in shame.
“Stop playing games, Reid!” His mother’s nostrils flared. “Who is it?”
“Mother, please, leave it alone for now.” He had to get out of this room. He needed air.
She jerked to her feet. “I will not! Why should I? I am his mother. I have a right to know. Why do you boys insist on keeping secrets from me?”
“Perhaps because you behave this way? Because you are always interfering in our lives. Look at what you did last week with James. He wants to join the navy, Mother, but you refuse to give him your permission.”
“The navy is dangerous. I’m keeping him safe. This is just a whim of his.”
“No it isn’t. James doesn’t have whims. A commission in the navy was what he has been wanting for years. He talked to Father about it and Father agreed to it. So, why do you go back on his word?”
“Have you seen what the navy spits out? Maimed men. Young men sent home without arms or legs, or not sent home at all, but dropped to the sea depths. They are away from home for years, cooped up with other men and things, filthy things, happen!” She shook her head wildly. “I know as I lady I shouldn’t be aware of these occurrences, but I am. I listen, I find out facts.”
“Mother—”
“No, Reid. I won’t let him go. The army has taken Tom. Do you honestly believe I would allow James to go now? He stays home. In England and I won’t be dissuaded on that.”
“Then you are a selfish woman.”
“I am his mother.” Her eyes flashed her rage at him. “He stays where I can watch over him.”
“You’re keeping him close to you so you can be in command over his every decision. It’s not normal. They have to make their own mistakes and learn from them.”
“What? Like Tom?” She glared at him. “What I do is for the betterment of you all.”
“It is so you can keep in control of us, Mother, don’t deny it.”
“That is a shameful thing to say.”
“Yet, the truth.”
She turned away and fiddled with the jeweled rings on her fingers. “Today is not the day to argue. We’ve had a shock. A terrible tragedy has happened.”