Midsummer's Eve

by Philippa Carr

  But all went according to plan.

  At ten o’clock I was at the window which looked out on to the street. Joe was waiting. I listened. The house was quiet. The servants were all in the kitchen having the snack which they had about this time. I hurried down to the door and let Joe in.

  I took him to a small room which was rarely used. He looked very distraught and was pale, I noticed. He took my hand and pressed it warmly.

  I said: “We are free from interruptions here. The servants won’t emerge from the kitchen for half an hour at least, and everyone else is out.”

  “Thank you. Oh, thank you.” He looked around the room. “Oh, Annora. I could do with a drink.”

  “Oh, yes. I’ll go and get something. It isn’t kept in this room. I won’t be long. You’ll be all right here. No one will come.”

  He nodded.

  I sped down to the cellar. I had to be careful because I did not want the servants to hear. They would think it so odd that I had not asked them to bring the wine. I had rarely been down here. It was dark. It was some little time before I could find what I wanted. Then I must find glasses. I must have been away for more than five minutes.

  All the time I was pondering on his strange behaviour. I could not understand why he had asked so soon for wine.

  There was a surprise for me when I reached the room. He was not there. Of course, he had been very nervous. Had he thought that someone was coming and made his escape?

  It was all very strange.

  I set down the wine and looked out on the street. There was no sign of him. It was very mysterious.

  I went upstairs. No one was about. I stood listening. I thought I heard a sound from above.

  Cautiously I went up the next flight of stairs. I was standing at the bottom of those steps which led to Uncle Peter’s sanctum. I looked up and to my astonishment saw that the door was open.

  Uncle Peter must be home.

  “Uncle Peter,” I called.

  There was no answer. I went up and looked in. Joe turned to face me. He looked pale and shaken.

  I cried: “What are you doing here? This room is always locked. How did you …”

  “Hush,” he said.

  I advanced into the room. I had never been there before. It was as I had expected it would be—an office. There was a big desk and several iron filing cabinets.

  “It’s Uncle Peter’s private office,” I said.

  Joe was putting some papers into his breast pocket.

  “I’m ready to go now,” he said.

  “You must come down at once. This door is supposed to be locked. How did you get in?”

  He did not answer that. He just said: “Let’s get down.”

  I said: “I don’t understand. Someone must have left the door open.”

  We came silently down the stairs to the hall.

  “I must go now,” he said.

  “No, no, Joe,” I cried. “I want to know what you were doing in Uncle Peter’s room.”

  I drew him into the little room into which I had first brought him.

  I said: “You have taken something. Joe, what are you doing?”

  “There was something I wanted. Understand, Annora, I have to do this. You’ll understand in time and you’ll see why.”

  “But I don’t understand. How did you know the door was open?”

  “It wasn’t. I opened it.”

  “You … you haven’t a key. No one has a key except Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis.”

  “I learned how to open locked doors. It’s an art. Someone at Frances’s place taught me how to do it. When you know how, it’s not difficult.”

  “Frances’s place!”

  “Yes. Someone whose profession it is to unlock doors.”

  “You mean a thief … a criminal!”

  “Look,” he said, “I don’t want to involve you in this, Annora.”

  “But you unlocked the door. They’ll know you’ve been there.”

  “I can’t relock it. They’ll just think they forgot to lock it.”

  “But what did you take?”

  “I can’t tell you now Annora. I must go. I have to go now … at once.”

  “So you came here … just to do that?”

  “I knew you’d help me. We’ve always been good friends. I knew you’d be on my side. I must go now … quickly. Goodbye, Annora.”

  My first thought was that no one must know he had called. I took back the wine and the glasses. Then I went to my room.

  I had thought he was going to ask me to marry him and he had come to steal something from my uncle’s study. I felt stupidly bewildered and very, very uncertain. Should I tell them? I felt a certain loyalty to Joe. And yet what of Uncle Peter?

  I tried to shut out of my mind the memory of Joe standing in Uncle Peter’s room putting papers into his breast pocket. I could not stop thinking of him any more than I could of Rolf leaping over a bonfire.

  I was in a terrible state of uncertainty. I simply did not know what I should do.

  Helena returned full of excitement about her trousseau. I pretended to listen to her prattle and did not hear a word of it.

  I expect Aunt Amaryllis thought she had failed to lock the door. She would be very upset and perhaps hastily lock it and say nothing about it. She would hate Uncle Peter to think she had been careless where his instructions were concerned.

  I was quite bemused. I could not understand it. I did not want to discuss it even with Peterkin.

  And then suddenly I learned what it was all about.

  Following on the Cresswell case it was like another chapter in the same story.

  “Corruption in High Places. Well-Known Politician in dubious Clubs Scandal”: “Exclusive story in the Gazette”: “Read all about it.”

  “I should have thought,” said Aunt Amaryllis, “that everyone is tired of reading about these political scandals. I believe a lot of them are made up just to make sensational headlines and sell the papers. I shall not read it.”

  But of course she did.

  The Cresswell case was nothing to this.

  “Mr. Peter Lansdon, the well-known politician, and the expected choice for the new Vice Enquiry, is revealed as the man behind many of the leading clubs which are the haunts of prostitutes and gamblers. This multi-millionaire, whose daughter is about to marry into one of our oldest families, has made his fortune out of vice. Documents have been brought to us to prove this. There is no doubt of their authenticity.”

  It seemed that the house in the square was to be dealt a similar blow to that which had befallen the Cresswells.

  There were crowds round the house and we could not go out. Aunt Amaryllis was stunned. She declared that it was all lies. Peterkin was bewildered. He told me that he had never really understood what his father’s business was. There were warehouses dealing with imports from Jamaica he had known, but it seemed these were a cover for other, more lucrative interests; and he had always wondered why his father did not wish him to go into his business.

  “This will ruin Uncle Peter,” I said, “as the Cresswells have been ruined.”

  “It will be the end of his parliamentary career,” said Peterkin. “He’ll still have his businesses. Knowing him I daresay he acts within the law. It has always been known what those clubs were and they have not been abolished. I think too many people in high places are interested in them. They want them to remain. It’s the old hypocrisy. Let them remain but don’t let us know about them. I wonder why it has come out just now.”

  I did not wonder. I knew. This was Joe’s revenge. He suspected Uncle Peter and he had determined to avenge his father. I could imagine his feelings seeing his career destroyed and his father branded as a lascivious hypocrite; he had looked about for one who had brought this disaster on his family and had suspected Uncle Peter. What had he known about Uncle Peter? And had my uncle set a trap for Joseph Cresswell? There was no doubt that he had wanted this chairmanship. Could it really have been as Joe had suspected?


  Uncle Peter was the one who amazed me. He almost shrugged it aside. He faced us all at dinner with what I can only call equilibrium.

  “Well,” he said. “It’s out at last. Yes, this is how I have made my fortune. You have all benefitted from it and so there is no need for you, at least, to take up a sanctimonious role. All the charities which I have upheld have profited from it. When they asked me for money they did not want to know how it had been earned. I have been at great pains to keep the nature of my business from you all, not because I am ashamed of it, but because I thought it might distress you. And there is no doubt that it would have had a restricting effect on my activities. Now it is out. There have been other occasions when I thought it might have been discovered. I shall follow Joseph Cresswell’s example and resign my seat and slip out of politics for a while. It is a pity. I could have done so much and my ill-gotten wealth would have been of great service in many causes. However, as far as I am concerned, there are other roads which will be interesting to follow.”

  He went on calmly eating his dinner.

  I talked to Aunt Amaryllis afterwards. She said: “I am so sad, Annora. This is all my fault. Somebody stole papers from your uncle’s study, and he got in because I had left the door open.”

  I said: “Aunt Amaryllis, there are ways of getting in even when doors are locked. It is quite easy with people who do that sort of thing for a living.”

  “You mean thieves? Do you think we had a thief in the house?”

  “We must have done,” I said grimly.

  Helena was worried.

  “I don’t know what effect this will have on the Duke,” she said.

  “It will depend on how much he wants your father’s money,” I replied bitterly.

  “That it should have happened now! I thought it was too good to be true.”

  I comforted her. “It’ll be all right,” I said. “John loves you. What your father does is nothing to do with you.”

  There was silence from the ducal family for some days. Then Uncle Peter received a letter. The Duke felt that in view of recent revelations it would be understood by a man of the world that an alliance of the two families was now not desirable.

  Poor Helena was heartbroken.

  I felt guilty. If I had not let Joe in that day … But I was sure he would have found some other means. He was so intent on revenge.

  I thought Helena was going to be ill; she lost interest in everything. It was a sad, quiet household. I heard some of the servants whispering to each other. They were going to give notice. They could not be expected to work in such a household. But none of them did. Whatever Uncle Peter’s profession, he kept a good staff and paid them better than most; and weighing the matter up they must have decided that it was better to forget about a little vice for the sake of comforts and good posts.

  I had to admire Uncle Peter. He went on as though nothing had happened. It was true that he followed Joseph Cresswell’s example and resigned his seat. He just washed his hands of politics.

  He was so rich that he could snap his fingers at respectability. I thought how different he was from Joseph Cresswell.

  There were a few enquiries about the clubs, but their activities were well covered up. They were run as clubs, and gambling was not against the law. As for prostitution, occasionally there were attempts but nothing could be done to stop it entirely. We were a country in which the freedom of the individual was considered to be of the utmost importance. Any attempt to curb it would result in an outcry. Uncle Peter had been careful not to break any laws. He had protected his interests well and it was almost as though he had prepared himself for the kind of accusations which were being brought against him; and being the man he was, even the press grew tired of vilifying him and his activities.

  He was not such an obvious victim as Joseph Cresswell. The one who really suffered was Helena.

  I did see Joe again. He was in the Park and I think he wanted to see me for he felt he owed me some explanation.

  I was with Peterkin when we met him.

  We faced each other, tongue-tied. Neither of us could think of anything to say. On one hand I understood his need to avenge his father; and on the other I saw him as the destroyer of Helena’s happiness.

  At last Joe said: “I’ve been hanging about here for several days hoping to see you.” He looked at me anxiously. “I didn’t know whether you would want to see me again.”

  I was silent and Peterkin said: “Why?”

  Joe looked at me. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  I said: “I think I had better explain to Peterkin. One day when you were all out, Joe came to see me. When I went out of the room to get some wine he went up to your father’s room, forced the lock in some way and got into your father’s papers. I suppose they gave details of his business.”

  “Listen,” cut in Joe. “I knew my father had been trapped. He would never have gone home with that girl except to help her. And I guessed that the whole thing had been planned in order to blacken my father’s reputation. Wouldn’t you …?”

  “In your case perhaps,” said Peterkin.

  “I wasn’t going to let it rest. I got hold of that girl … Chloe. I threatened her, I bribed her, and at last I got the story. She had been commanded to do what she did. She wasn’t knocked over. The driver was in it and so was the man who broke in. It was a well-organized plot. And who was able to set that in motion? Your father. He hadn’t seen the girl himself. His minions told her what she must do. But she had caught glimpses of him once or twice going into the private offices where the books and records were kept. She had found out who he was when she had seen pictures in the papers. My father had said long ago that this woman who called herself Madame Delarge was not really the owner. There was someone behind her. I thought I knew, in fact I was almost certain. You see, there was the motive.”

  “You mean this chairmanship?” said Peterkin.

  Joe nodded. “My father was his rival in more ways than that. It was a despicable thing to do. I had to have my revenge. Wouldn’t you?”

  “For my own father … perhaps not,” said Peterkin. “For yours … yes, I understand, Joe.”

  He looked at me. “So you don’t blame me?”

  I could not answer him. I could only see Helena’s wretched face. I had let him into the house. I was responsible for Helena’s misery. I knew I could never love Joe. There was a barrier between us as Midsummer’s Eve was between Rolf and me.

  “Annora,” he went on, and laid his hand on my arm.

  I said: “You didn’t tell me why you wanted to come to my uncle’s house.”

  “How could I?”

  “You sent me from the room on a pretext so that you could go upstairs and break into my uncle’s study.”

  “It was the only way. You wouldn’t have helped me do that. And how could I have asked you to?”

  “No, you certainly could not.”

  “I had to do it, Annora.”

  “Yes,” said Peterkin. “I see how you felt.”

  “It has done no good,” I cried. “It has not helped your father and it has ruined Helena’s happiness.”

  “If John Milward can’t stand out against his family, he wouldn’t have been much of a husband.”

  “Helena doesn’t think that and I … I don’t know what to think.”

  We sat wretchedly looking at Achilles, so strong, so formidable, and it made me think of the weaknesses of mankind.

  After a while we got up to go.

  Joe took my hands and looked at me earnestly. “Annora,” he said. “Do try to understand.”

  “I do understand. It was revenge you wanted. Two scandals instead of one.”

  “I’m going to clear my father’s name,” said Joe.

  “How?” asked Peterkin.

  “I’m going to make Chloe’s confession public.”

  “My father will treat it all as if it were of little significance,” said Peterkin.

  “His parliamentary care
er will be ruined as my father’s has been.”

  “He has already finished with politics. He says the whole world is his field. You’ll do no good. You will just bring it all up again and it will be more distressing to your family than ours.”

  “I suppose,” said Joe sadly, “this means that communication between us is impossible.”

  We said goodbye. Peterkin shook hands with Joe, and Joe held mine for some time looking at me appealingly; but I was too bewildered to give him the encouragement he obviously sought. I could not get Helena’s sad face out of my mind.

  “He’s right,” said Peterkin as we walked away. “It does make friendship between our families out of the question.”

  I think Joe did try to get Chloe’s account of what happened into the press, but he failed to do so. I imagine this was due to Peter’s influence because, as had been said of him before, he had his fingers into many pies. He could do a great deal of manipulation in many directions and I was sure that if he had not been taken by surprise and the story of his business had not been given to a particularly scurrilous newspaper in the first place he would have been able to prevent the facts being published. But of course, once the story was out all the papers had to make what sensation they could from it. Joe must have been frustrated in his schemes but at least he had driven Uncle Peter from Parliament.

  Moreover there was a great deal about the coronation festivities in the papers and people were more interested in that then anything else at the moment.

  A Coronation Fair had been opened in Hyde Park and the Queen herself had been there to see it. Accounts of it filled the papers and the people were so busy reading about that, that the impact of Chloe’s story would be lost upon them. They had finished with Joseph Cresswell and Peter Lansdon. They had both supplied scandalous titbits which had been gratefully received, but the element of surprise had gone; they had both been knocked off their high perches and there was nothing else which could be done to them. The coronation festivities, the Queen with her little figure and regal manner—that was what they wanted to read about. She reviewed five thousand troops in Hyde Park and the people cheered her wildly. Everything was going to be different now we had a young girl on the throne to take the place of those doddery rather boring old gentlemen.