A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘Slander?’ he echoed nervously. ‘My dear Miss Millish, I had no—’

  ‘Pray don’t trouble yourself further. May I assume that you’ve spoken of this to no one other than Mr Taylor?’

  ‘Oh, quite. I can assure you I’ve been discreet.’

  ‘In that case I’m willing to let the matter rest, regarding your part in it.’ She had frightened him enough, Sarah decided. ‘In fact I thank you for bringing Mr Taylor’s behaviour to my attention.’

  Mr Ballard beamed in evident relief. ‘Only too glad to have cleared things up. Please feel free to call on me at any time if I can ever be of assistance.’

  That, Sarah reflected, would be difficult, given that she would not be permitted on the premises. But she nodded graciously and allowed Mr Ballard to take his leave.

  Knowing what she did of Taylor’s character, there was no reason to be startled by Mr Ballard’s revelation. Nor, now that she had had time to absorb the facts, would she allow herself to waste energy on anger. Taylor was simply a problem to be solved, and she meant to solve it once and for all. Fortunately, she had taken certain steps against such an eventuality. That would make matters more straightforward now.

  There were two letters to be written. The first was a short note to Mr Henry Kendall, directing him to call on her at his earliest convenience. The note suggested that his earliest convenience should be considered to be at or about ten o’clock the following morning.

  The other letter took more thought. Sarah considered it for some time before writing a carefully-worded invitation. For this, she used her personal notepaper rather than the businesslike stationery she had used for Mr Kendall’s message.

  With both notes sealed, and despatched with the gardener’s boy, Sarah sat back in her chair to consider the finer details of what she was about to put into effect.

  18

  Sarah spent much of the following two days in meetings with Mr Kendall. She satisfied herself that he understood what was required, then left the details in his hands. So she was alone in her study on the morning Charlotte Taylor came to call.

  It would not be a pleasant occasion, Sarah knew. But she felt she owed Mrs Taylor this meeting. The blame for her husband’s actions was not hers.

  Sarah had Charlotte brought into her study, but rather than shelter behind her desk she sat at a small table to one side of the room. It was a spot where Amy had often sat, reading or stitching, and Sarah felt herself heartened by the memory. She invited Charlotte to take the chair beside hers, and had the maid bring tea and dainty biscuits.

  Charlotte was a picture of understated elegance in her tailored costume of dark green wool, a cream silk blouse frothy with lace visible under the jacket. She wore a matching hat, her blonde hair making a striking effect against the dark green.

  They exchanged pointless remarks about the weather as they drank their tea. Sarah was aware that Charlotte was darting glances around the room; she suspected her visitor would not be particularly impressed. The room was comfortable, and the furniture of high quality, but it was functional rather than luxurious.

  She saw Charlotte’s eyes fall on Sarah’s photograph of herself with Amy. ‘That’s the person who was staying with you, isn’t it?’ Charlotte said when she realised she was being observed. ‘Mrs Stewart, was it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sarah. ‘She’s returned to the countryside for the moment. I must say I miss her.’ She took a quick glance at the photograph to strengthen herself for what must come next. ‘You’re probably wondering why I asked you to call, Mrs Taylor.’

  ‘I’ll confess that’s so. We’re not well acquainted, though we do move in similar circles.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not for a particularly pleasant reason.’ Sarah saw the look of surprise in the other woman’s eyes. She had rehearsed the words many times; that did not seem to be making the process easier. ‘It’s regarding your husband.’

  Charlotte’s expression tightened. ‘Then it’s my husband you should speak with.’

  ‘Unfortunately, this concerns you as well. Your husband has behaved in a manner that—’

  ‘Miss Millish,’ Charlotte interrupted, ‘I did not come here to listen to distasteful remarks. If you’ve been incautious enough to place your reputation in jeopardy, I hardly see that burdening me with the unpleasant details is the appropriate course of action.’

  Charlotte had kept her voice well schooled, but her convulsive grip on the arm of her chair betrayed agitation. Sarah stared at her in confusion for a moment before she took her meaning.

  ‘Oh! Oh no, Mrs Taylor, you misunderstand me. I meant nothing of that sort. My dealings with Mr Taylor have been… there has been no…’ She stopped, furious at herself for the blush she could feel, and for her inability to find the right words. She was floundering in unfamiliar waters. ‘I’m sorry for having given such an impression,’ she went on more collectedly. ‘It’s more a matter of business—though there’s a personal element as well.’

  Charlotte was studying her warily, but her hands had relaxed. ‘I still fail to see how it concerns me.’

  Sarah glanced at Amy’s picture again before returning her attention to Charlotte. ‘I’m not sure if you’re aware, Mrs Taylor, that I was not born a Millish. I was adopted into this family as an infant.’

  Charlotte looked puzzled at the apparent change of subject, but she nodded. ‘Yes, I’d heard that.’

  ‘Well, some time ago I was fortunate enough to find my mother—my other mother, I should say. I’ve the great fortune to have had two.’ She smiled, but Charlotte’s expression remained distant. ‘When we met after the concert last year, I referred to Mrs Stewart as my very dear friend. And she most certainly is. But she’s even more to me than that. She is my mother.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Charlotte. ‘I see.’

  Sarah took a deep breath before plunging on. ‘But it was more recently that I discovered who my…’ Again, she found herself briefly lost for words. “Father” was not a word she was willing to use for Mr Taylor. ‘Who the man involved was.’ She saw a dawning awareness in Charlotte’s eyes. ‘It was Mr Taylor.’

  She waited for Charlotte’s response, with no idea what form it might take. Would the woman angrily deny it? Would she storm out? Might she dissolve into tears?

  Charlotte Taylor did none of those things. She sat as if carved in stone. She seemed to be staring into some invisible distance, so absorbed in her thoughts that Sarah did not feel able to interrupt them.

  Silence filled the room like a heavy, muffling blanket. Sarah waited until the absence of sound became unbearable. ‘This happened before you and Mr Taylor were married,’ she said cautiously. ‘It was before he went to Australia. I believe I’m the reason he went there, actually.’ Charlotte’s gaze was on her now, and Sarah saw a deep resentment there.

  ‘I gather your husband has never spoken of this to you?’ A barely perceptible twist in Charlotte’s mouth was the nearest approach she made to an answer. Sarah ploughed on. ‘Believe me, Mrs Taylor, I would rather not have been obliged to bring this to your attention. I realise it must be somewhat painful.’

  For a moment Charlotte’s guard slipped, and a wounded creature looked out through her eyes. “Painful”, Sarah realised, might be an inadequate word. But Charlotte’s mask of composure was restored so quickly that Sarah almost doubted what she had seen.

  ‘Mr Taylor learned of our… connection even more recently than I did,’ she went on. ‘I don’t know how he came to discover it��it certainly wasn’t from Mrs Stewart. If having been responsible for the existence of a child had slipped his mind, perhaps seeing her again that evening after the concert reminded him. The very fact that she was staying with me probably contributed.

  ‘However it was that he discovered it, frankly I wish we had both remained in ignorance on the subject. When he came to see me—yes, he called on me,’ she said, seeing Charlotte’s expression. ‘I made it plain to him I had no desire for any closer contact. I hoped that would
be an end to the matter. Unfortunately, he chose to take advantage of the situation.’

  Sarah was feeling increasingly uncomfortable at the one-sided nature of this conversation, but Charlotte showed no sign of wishing to speak. Sarah might almost have thought her bored with the whole affair, had it not been for the intensity of her gaze.

  ‘Mr Taylor used our supposed relationship to gain certain financial benefits. To be frank, he took actions that I regard as fraudulent. After the first such incident came to my notice, I warned him there would be serious consequences if he did not desist. I’m afraid that my warning appears to have gone unheeded—in the most recent event he’s descended into slandering me—and I now find myself obliged to take action.’

  There was no point in going on without some sign that the woman was following her. Sarah waited, and Charlotte spoke at last.

  ‘Does she want him back?’

  ‘What?’ Sarah said, thrown off balance by the unexpected response. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t—’

  ‘Her.’ Charlotte flicked a hand in the direction of Amy’s photograph. ‘Does she want him back? Is that why she came to Auckland?’

  Sarah fought down the sharp retort that was her instinctive response to the implied slur on Amy’s character. She could only guess at how distressing this must be for Charlotte. ‘No, Mrs Taylor, she does not.’ She debated within herself how much she should reveal, then came to a decision. Charlotte Taylor had the right to know everything in her husband’s behaviour that was behind Sarah’s course of action.

  ‘When Mrs Stewart found herself face to face with Mr Taylor that evening after the concert,’ Sarah said, ‘he persuaded her to meet him the next day.’ Charlotte said nothing, but Sarah saw her eyes widen slightly. ‘I realise it was unwise of her to agree, but she was taken by surprise. She took care to meet him in a public place, but even so…’ She found she could not meet Charlotte’s eyes. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Taylor, I know this is distasteful. He made certain suggestions to Mrs Stewart. He seems to have thought that she might want to… to re-establish their former relations.’

  When Sarah made herself look, Charlotte again resembled a figure carved from marble. It was almost frightening to observe such rigid self-control grafted over what must be an inner turmoil. ‘Mrs Stewart was deeply distressed by the incident,’ Sarah said, unable to keep a tremble out of her voice. It was not easy to speak of such things. ‘In fact, I suspect she’s reluctant to return to Auckland for fear of another such encounter. No, Mrs Taylor, I believe few things would make Mrs Stewart happier than to know she would never have to see Mr Taylor again.’

  ‘Then perhaps she and I have something in common.’ Charlotte’s voice was brittle. ‘Though I suppose that rather goes without saying.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned an apparently composed face on Sarah. ‘You spoke of taking action, Miss Millish. What is it you propose to do?’

  It was a relief to move on from such uncomfortable matters. ‘I propose to ruin your husband, Mrs Taylor.’

  Charlotte did not seem shocked by the announcement. She gave a nod of understanding.

  ‘I very much regret the unpleasantness this will cause you,’ Sarah said, ‘but I’m afraid it’s necessary. I hope that you can take steps to avoid the wreckage for yourself.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Charlotte murmured.

  ‘I will not permit Mr Taylor to continue in his present situation. I consider that by his actions he’s sacrificed a certain measure of freedom. Exactly what happens to him next depends to some extent on you.’

  Charlotte raised her eyebrows a fraction. ‘Indeed? In what way?’

  ‘I don’t wish to pry into your affairs, but with the imminent change in your husband’s circumstances, I wonder if you’ll wish to continue living in Auckland.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Then—forgive my frankness—if you decide to return to Australia, I imagine the choice is yours as to whether or not Mr Taylor accompanies you.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘If he does not—’

  ‘If he does not, Miss Millish,’ Charlotte interrupted, ‘his situation will no longer be any concern of mine.’

  It was something of a relief to have Charlotte Taylor match Sarah’s own frankness. ‘No, I suppose it won’t. And if that turns out to be the case, I’ll deal with his situation myself.’

  She knew that Charlotte would have no more desire for a further meeting than she did herself. ‘Perhaps you’d be so good as to let Mr Kendall know when you’ve made your decision. Forgive me, Mrs Taylor, but I require that it be made promptly.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem.’ Charlotte rose to leave. ‘I suppose I ought to thank you.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘No, I rather think there isn’t.’ She studied Sarah, and gave a small nod. ‘There’s quite a strong likeness. I’m almost surprised I’ve never noticed it before.’

  Sarah smiled, and brushed her fingers across the frame of Amy’s photograph. ‘Not as much as I might wish.’

  Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t mean a likeness to her.’

  *

  Jimmy strolled home from his office in the late afternoon. He would rather have gone to the club first, but things might be awkward there. A letter had arrived recently with the club’s address on the back; he had thrown it into a drawer, but he suspected it contained further demands for the payment of his account. And given that he had outstanding debts to some of his fellow card players there, it would be as well to avoid the place for the moment.

  He was going to have to do something about those debts. Being obliged to stay away from the club was a serious inconvenience. There was clearly nothing to be hoped for from Sarah for the time being; he wished he had not been so careless as to let slip her name to Ballard that evening. The more he considered the matter, the more he realised he was going to have to ingratiate himself with Charlotte. It was not a prospect he relished.

  As if that weren’t annoying enough, Henry had been sending him increasingly pressing messages, insisting that Jimmy needed to come into his office for some sort of meeting. No doubt it was to lecture him on the state of his finances. Henry could be priggish at times.

  He let himself in his front door to find the house barely recognisable. Boxes were piled up in the entrance hall, along with vast quantities of cotton dust covers, and the maids were dragging a heavy-looking trunk down the stairs. There was barely room to move between the staircase and the wall. Jimmy stood still in shock for a moment, then followed the sound of Charlotte’s voice through to the drawing room.

  She was standing in the middle of the room, talking to the housekeeper, Mrs Rushton. When she saw Jimmy, she abruptly dismissed Mrs Rushton, who left the room with barely a glance in Jimmy’s direction.

  ‘Charlotte, what in the world is going on?’ Jimmy asked as soon as they were alone.

  She closed the door before turning to face him. ‘I’m going home,’ she said simply.

  If Jimmy had not been so aware of his need to get into Charlotte’s good graces, he might have snapped at her. Instead he managed a semblance of a smile as he spoke. ‘A holiday’s a fine idea—I know you’ve been rather down lately—but you might have given me fair warning! We’ll need to make some arrangements before you leave.’ Given the amount of baggage she seemed to be amassing, she must be planning a long holiday; in any case, it would hardly be worth her while going to Melbourne for anything less than several months. He would need to be sure he had access to the necessary funds before he could allow her to be away for so long.

  ‘It’s not a holiday. I’m doing what I should have done years ago. I’m going home for good.’ She fixed him with a steady gaze while Jimmy struggled to find words.

  ‘Wh-what are you talking about?’ he managed at last. ‘You can’t mean it! What’s brought this on?’

  She took a few steps towards him. ‘I had a very enlightening conversation this morning. With your daughter.’
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  A band seemed to be wrapped around his chest, squeezing it painfully. ‘You spoke to Sarah?’ Her lips compressed as she heard the name; he saw them whiten. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry you had to find out like that. I was going to tell you myself.’

  ‘Oh, really? And yet you’ve felt no need in the twenty years we’ve been married to tell me that you had a child.’

  ‘There was no point in upsetting you, when I had no idea what had even become of it. I’d put all that behind me by the time I met you. I know it was a foolish thing to have let happen, but I wasn’t much more than a boy! It meant nothing, Charlotte.’

  ‘It meant nothing to you that you had a child? Is that why it slipped your mind?’ Her eyes were dry, but he saw that the skin around them was red and swollen, as if she had done a good deal of crying that day.

  Jimmy scrambled for words that might rescue him from the peril he knew he faced. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you. Especially when you were so upset about not being able to have a child of your own.’ That had been a mistake, he realised the moment he had said it. Her mouth trembled briefly, then set into a thin line. ‘It was before I even met you! Surely you know that from the moment we met there’s never been anyone for me but you?’ For a moment, swayed by his own eloquence, he almost believed what he said.

  ‘Don’t take me for a fool, Jimmy. All those nights you haven’t come home till the early hours? I know perfectly well you haven’t always been at the club. And when we’ve been out to the theatre or to concerts, I’ve seen the looks you’ve exchanged with some of the women who hover about such places.’ He sputtered an ineffectual attempt at denial, but Charlotte ignored it. ‘I know such things happen. As long as you were prepared to be discreet, I was prepared to act as if I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘And you were quite right,’ Jimmy said, reeling from the revelation that Charlotte had been aware of activities he had thought himself so cautious about. ‘Why upset yourself over something that didn’t matter? Oh, I’ll admit that I’ve slipped up once or twice, especially when you weren’t well. Remember all those times you were ill?’