‘So I get fucking drunk.’
She winced in distaste. ‘Will you never learn to behave like a gentleman? Think of your position. Think of the society we are mixing with now . . . .’
‘Augusta,’ he interrupted. ‘Piss off!’
She stood for a moment like a rosy-cheeked doll. In her sprigged patterned dress and with tiny flowers nestling in her ringlets she looked exquisite. He wanted to thrash her all round the exquisite room. He wanted to break something, everything.
‘Get out of my sight, and quickly,’ he said. ‘Before I do something I’ll be sorry for.’
Without a word she pattered from the room, closing the door behind her.
At first she did not know where to go or what to do. She was afraid of Luther when he was in this kind of mood. There was a volcanic menace about him that was impossible to cope with. The only safe thing for her to do was to keep as far away from him as possible until his mood had changed. The drawing-room, the bedroom, even the kitchen, she suspected, were not safe enough retreats on this occasion.
She decided it would be a good time to slip away and visit her mama. Today had been Maureen’s turn to go and help but of course it had not been possible for Maureen to fulfil her normal duties these past few days.
Thankful that the parlour was at the back of the tall terrace house and Luther would not see the coach drawing up at the front, she tied on her bonnet, then after collecting a basket with a few items like home-made preserves, a sultana cake, a piece of boiled ham and a bottle of Madeira she quietly eased from the front door and hurried away.
The coach and horses could not essay the narrow track up to the line of whitewashed cottages so Augusta was forced to alight, put on an old pair of pattens to save her slippers and raise her feet from the dirt, and walk to her mother’s place. Obviously some sort of farm animals used the path because it was much fouled with dung. Yet the sun glistening on the trees that clustered around and on the rough white walls of the cottages made quite a pleasant rural scene. It gave a feeling of peaceful isolation although in fact it was only a short drive from Glasgow.
‘Augusta! Augusta!’ Mrs Cameron flew to meet her with outstretched arms. ‘Oh, my dear, how afraid I have been. How dreadfully I have suffered these past few days.’
‘Mama, Maureen was here two days ago and I was here only a couple of days before that. We are coming as often as we can.’
‘That dreadful common Irish creature. What use is she as a lady’s maid? Augusta, I am astonished at your lack of taste and good judgment in employing her. She is rough and vulgar in both speech and manner.’
‘I know that, Mama, but she is also very kind and generous-hearted. I have told her to show you how to do necessary tasks, not to do them for you. You must stop forcing her to do everything. That way you will never learn.’
‘As for doing my hair, she is absolutely hopeless. She had me in such a state of impatience and frustration with her the last time, I just screamed. I just screamed and screamed.’
Augusta sighed. ‘It won’t do any good, Mama. You must brush your hair and pin it back the way I showed you. Would you like to come with me for a ride in my carriage? It is waiting at the end of the lane.’
Mrs Cameron’s face immediately brightened. ‘Oh, yes, dear. That would be delightful.’
‘Put your bonnet on then.’
The older’s woman’s excitement was so intense, however, and her fingers fumbled so much with the tyers of the bonnet that Augusta had to secure it for her.
The drive was a great success. Augusta had risked going through the town as a special treat and her mama had seen much to remark on and gossip about. She never stopped chattering all the way back to the cottage. It was only when Augusta made to leave that Mrs Cameron’s light-hearted mood abruptly changed to tragic sobbing and pleading. Augusta had to tear her roughly aside to free herself and run from the house to her carriage. Then as the horses galloped swiftly away she struggled to calm her own distress before reaching Blythswood Square. She patted the beflowered ringlets that peeped from her bonnet, neatly arranged the folds of her dress, then sat with gloved hands on her lap and eyes tightly closed.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Alexander and Samuel were running and tumbling and jumping for joy and even Mary Jane could barely be contained by Nurse’s firm hand.
‘A wonderful place for children,’ Luther said.
Augusta had to agree. Strolling along through the fresh and leafy suburb of Kelvinside by the banks of the River Kelvin was a delightful experience. The fine old trees which stretched along the valley gladdened her eye with their rich soft beauty.
Reaching the tall wrought-iron gates of their new mansion Luther pushed them open.
‘I must see that the gardens are properly organised.’
‘Yes, an elegant and formal setting is important,’ Augusta remarked. ‘And of course a good herb garden and vegetable garden are essential too.’
‘What about the extra staff you engaged? Are they sufficient to run the place?’
‘I may have to make a few changes.’
She was thinking of Maureen. Now that they were settled in Gunnet House and she was handling larger sums of money, in fact everything on a larger scale, it was proving much easier to provide little necessities for her mother without fear of detection. Indeed Augusta now believed that she could risk installing Maureen in the cottage with her mama as a full-time maid.
There were other reasons for Maureen leaving Gunnet House.
For some time now she had sensed a bond between Maureen and Luther, and she was convinced for the good of all concerned it had to be severed. Caution and tact were called for, however. Luther had sympathy with the kitchen maid, which was understandable. She was fond of Maureen herself. But the depth of Luther’s compassion was embarrassingly improper. The master of a large establishment should have no interest or concern whatsoever with the lower members of staff. The only time the master and the members of the domestic staff should have any connection was when they gathered in the drawing-room on Sundays and the master took family prayers.
For Luther to visit the kitchen and chat to Maureen or order her upstairs to ask how she was feeling was bad enough. The common roots Maureen and Luther shared in working-class society were a danger that Augusta was acutely aware of. Even worse, however, was the familiarity that she suspected might exist between them. She had seen the old devilment return to Luther’s eyes and his quick appreciation of a shapely body or slender ankle. Maureen was far too immodestly curvaceous and she had a roguishness of eye that matched Luther’s.
It was Augusta’s duty as his wife and the mother of his children to see that his place in society was properly protected and all the decencies preserved. The more she thought about the dangerous emotion that existed between her husband and her maid, the more she became convinced that Maureen would have to go. She chose a time when Luther was safely away at the diggings before summoning the Irishwoman upstairs.
In the parlour she was sitting at her escritoire finishing off a letter when Maureen entered.
‘One moment, please,’ she said without turning round.
She penned her signature to the letter, carefully blotting it, folded it, tucked it into an envelope, sealed the envelope and addressed it. When she turned in her chair, Maureen was standing gazing around with interest at the bric-à-brac and objects d’art that covered every surface of the room.
‘I wish to speak to you, Maureen.’
‘Sure, Mrs.’
‘I must be frank with you. You do not fit in here.’
‘Aw, Jaysus, what have I done now?’
‘I do not wish you to continue working in Gunnet House.’
‘Who’s been complaining about my work? Who is it? I’ll bate the divil with me own two fists.’
‘Lower your voice,’ Augusta said coldly.
‘I’ll throttle the living daylights out of the two-faced . . . .’
‘No one has said anyth
ing about you that has influenced my decision. It is not your work. You are not suitable. However I can offer you other employment.’
‘Oh, and what might that be, Mrs?’
‘You may move in with Mrs Cameron as her full-time servant.’
‘Holy mother o’ God!’
‘I told you to keep your voice down. Shouting and screeching and lack of self-discipline simply cannot be tolerated in an establishment such as this. At least in a labourer’s cottage it will not be so outrageously out of place.’
‘Will that be why you put your divil of a mother there?’
‘How dare you!’ Augusta went pale with shock at the Irishwoman’s impertinence.
‘If you’re putting me out, Mrs, out I’ll go and there’s an end to it. I won’t be going to that woman.’
Augusta took a deep breath. ‘I would see that you had plenty of time off. Every weekend perhaps. And I would pay you well.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs. I’d rather just pack my box and go.’
Augusta turned back to the escritoire. After a short pause she managed, ‘Very well. Here are the wages due to you. I would prefer if you left immediately. One moment.’ She penned a few words on a piece of paper. ‘Here is a short testimonial to say that you are a willing worker and are honest and good-hearted. I hope it helps you to find other employment, something more suitable—farmwork perhaps.’
‘Thank you kindly, Mrs. Ach, haven’t I always said you’ve a heart as big as a bucket?’
After the door shut and Augusta was alone she felt unexpectedly disconsolate. She had not realised how deeply attached she was to Maureen. Quickly she took a grip of herself. She did not regret removing the Irishwoman from Gunnet House. It was not only improper but dangerous for her to remain.
She would have to tell Luther but she hoped this duty could be postponed for as long as possible. There was also the problem of finding other help for her mother. She would of course continue to assist her as much as she could. But with such a large establishment as Gunnet House to run, her time was limited.
An added responsibility was the entertaining she and Luther did and the invitations and engagements they had to fulfil. She enjoyed these occasions of course and Luther obviously revelled in them. He was a most fashionable dresser and all his old swagger and joie-de-vivre had returned. So much so indeed that it worried her. At all times she felt it her duty to keep a discreet but sharp eye on him. At soirées and balls many a flirtatious glance had been fluttered in his direction from above a fan and his wicked grin or outrageous wink had not escaped her notice.
As far as Maureen was concerned, several days elapsed before Luther discovered she had gone. He had been at the stables at the back and entering the house through the kitchen had sought her out. Cook told him that the kitchen maid had been dismissed.
‘What the hell’s happened to Maureen?’
Augusta looked up from her embroidery. ‘Shut the door, please. And I would be obliged if you would refrain from shouting in that coarse and undisciplined manner.’
He lifted his foot and sent the door crashing shut. ‘Answer my question.’
‘I dismissed her.’
‘Why did you dismiss her?’
‘She was unsuitable for this establishment. I could have found her other employment but she refused. I therefore gave her money and a testimonial and she left.’
‘Why was she unsuitable?’
‘Luther, I do not question your judgement regarding the navvies that you employ or dismiss.’
‘Where is she?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You bitch!’
‘I do not see why you should indulge in such an emotional display over a kitchen maid, Luther, and what is worse, abuse your wife because of her. It is most improper.’
‘You’re always talking about duty. Can’t you see we’ve a duty to her?’
‘I have fulfilled my duty to her. I was a good employer, and when she left I gave her full wages and a good testimonial. I could do no more. Nor should I be expected to do any more.’
‘Augusta, Boozer was my friend. I slaved side by side with him when I was a navvy. I caroused with him. And when I became a ganger, then contractor, he was one of my best and most loyal workers. He followed me all across the country with his pick and shovel over his shoulder and a grin on his face.’
‘Boozer is dead.’
‘I owe it to him to make sure Maureen doesn’t starve or walk the streets.’
‘I do not agree, Luther. But Maureen will neither starve nor walk the streets, I am quite sure. I suggested farmwork. I think she came from a farm in Ireland, did she not?’
‘I could have arranged for Tibs to employ her. Then I would have known she was all right.’
Augusta picked up her embroidery again. ‘She will be all right, Luther. Try to put her out of your mind. What would people think if they heard you making such a fuss about such a person? They might misunderstand. They might believe there was some serious attachment between you . . . . ‘
‘Do you?’
She widened her blue eyes and stared unblinkingly up at him.
‘I believe you are far too intelligent to risk a scandal that would adversely affect your hard-earned social position, or your wife and children.’
He stood with thumbs hooked in waistcoat staring down at her. And suddenly she felt the animal attraction that he could so unexpectedly exude.
Hastily she retreated her attention to her embroidery. It deeply disturbed her to realise that he could still affect her like this. From the first delirious moment when she had experienced his exploring fingers that night of the blizzard so long ago, the intensity of her physical response to him had never waned. If anything it had intensified. It was a weakness, a madness of which she was ashamed.
‘Don’t try to get clever with me, Augusta,’ he said. ‘It won’t work.’
Chapter Thirty-eight
Easing up her skirts with one hand because she was carrying the flat-ended basket of flowers in the other, Augusta picked her way across the lawn. Dew still sparkled on the ground and she could feel the dampness beginning to penetrate through her slippers. Nevertheless she paused for a few seconds to admire the house. It had a considerable frontage of red sandstone and looked very solid and handsome. Inside, the vestibule supported by pillars led into a marble hall from which opened various public rooms, including a spacious saloon. Luther had said the saloon could be used as a ballroom or for any large social gatherings that they might wish to give. As it happened it was going to prove most useful. The opening of the Glasgow and Edinburgh line was promising to be a most spectacular affair and both cities were to be en fête for the occasion. An enormous banquet had been planned in Dundas Street Station. Later that evening the top dignitaries of both cities would be arriving at Gunnet House for a special ball to celebrate the event. There was no doubt in Luther’s mind of the importance of this new railway.
‘Apart from linking the two major cities of Scotland, Augusta, it’s giving us a trade outlet to the sea. The implications are enormous. February 1842 is going to be an important date in the history of Scottish affairs.’
The difficulties in organising such a social event were enormous too. Not that she would dream of complaining, or of shirking her duty. She was only sorry that on items like floral decoration she could not do better. Flowers in any quantity were not easy to come by at this time of year. Still, she was determined that the ballroom, indeed the whole house, would be most attractively displayed.
‘A few more flowers,’ she said, giving the basket to a servant. Then she went upstairs to change into dry shoes.
In the bedroom she found Luther examining his wardrobe. She could not help laughing.
‘You will be the best dressed man at the opening, and the ball. I fear you will even outshine me.’
‘It’s the first railroad in Scotland and I built it.’
‘You did indeed.’
‘Luther Gunnet from the Briggait
.’ He savoured the words with obvious satisfaction.
‘No,’ she correctly firmly, ‘Luther Gunnet from Gunnet House, Kelvinside.’
He tossed her a sarcastic glance then said, ‘I’ve organised a celebration for the navvies as well. A dinner with boiled hams, bread and cheese and of course plenty of beer and whisky.’
‘At the same time as the Dundas Street banquet?’
‘No, later. I promised I’d be there to toast them.’
‘Luther, that is not possible.’
‘I’ll be there.’
‘But after the banquet you have to return here with me to change into our evening clothes.’
‘Everything’s ready. I’ve just checked.’
‘Yes, but you must be in plenty of time to receive our guests. Oh, Luther, such important ladies and gentlemen!’
‘The banquet’s at half-past two in the afternoon. The ball isn’t till evening, for God’s sake.’
‘But, Luther . . . .’
‘Stop nagging.’
She felt offended. She had only been anxious to ensure that everything would go smoothly on what might be called their day of crowning glory. After all, not only the provost of Glasgow would be coming to the ball but the provost of Edinburgh, the capital city. Military gentlemen like Colonel Fleming and some of his brother officers would be present. There would also be important people like Lord and Lady Hill. It was really too bad of Luther to put a further strain on her already keyed up nerves by disappearing to carouse with thousands of navvies. She went into a huff and did not speak to him again until they were both dressed and ready to leave for the opening. Then he grinned at her, tipped his top hat to a jaunty angle and said,
‘How does it feel to be escorted by the smartest man in town?’
‘Luther, you are incorrigible!’
She was gratified to see by his quick appreciative look that he thought her appearance matched his in elegance. Her pale blue and white striped skirt was of gleaming silk and set off with a dark blue skirted jacket. Her white bonnet was tied in a large bow under her chin with ribbons the same blue as her eyes.
The Dark Side of Pleasure Page 26