‘Votes for Women!’ she yelled in a last burst of defiance as she was rushed bodily out of the door.
She had to clutch at her skirts to keep herself from tripping on them as the man who had a grip on her arm was propelling her at such a speed along the corridor and down the stairs. She could hear the stamp of angry feet close behind them, but her companion managed by dint of sheer agility and speed to get in front of the crush of people who had escaped from the hall ahead of them.
Out in the street he asked, ‘Where’s your carriage?’
‘Let go of me!’ she demanded. ‘I didn’t come in a carriage.’
‘You live nearby?’
‘No, up the hills at Blackwood House.’
‘Good God! Come on!’
‘What are you doing?’
‘At the moment I’m getting you out of a dangerous situation. What I should be doing is putting you over my knee and spanking you. Women’s suffrage! What next!’
Before she knew what had happened he had hoisted her on to a gig and they were racing along Jarvie Street and up the pitch-black Drumcross Road. It was obvious from the arrogant tone of his voice what he thought and his all-too-male attitude made her speechless with anger.
‘Does your mother know you walked this road alone in the dark tonight?’
‘That’s none of your business,’ she snapped.
‘I’m making it my business.’
She was glad of the pure, icy air fanning her cheeks. The man was only a bulky shadow sitting next to her on the wooden seat, but she could detect the resolution in his voice. Her most sensible course, she decided, was not to say any more. So she just sat very prim and straight-backed, white-gloved hands folded on lap, trying her very best to ignore him.
38
‘It will mean a lot of extra work, won’t it?’ Lorianna said worriedly.
Mrs Musgrove sat opposite her like a column of darkness on the pink damask settee.
‘I have always managed in the past, madam,’ she said.
‘You don’t foresee any problems, then?’
Mrs Musgrove’s mouth inclined to one side. ‘Not with the staff.’
‘Oh?’ Lorianna enquired, suddenly cool. ‘And what am I supposed to infer from that remark?’
‘It has crossed my mind that you may find Miss Clementina will present a problem.’
‘Miss Clementina,’ Lorianna said, ‘has always presented a problem.’
‘Yes, madam.’ Mrs Musgrove’s eyes lowered to study the notebook on her lap, leaving Lorianna in a wake of unease.
‘You mean a specific problem at the moment?’
‘Yes, madam.’
‘If you are referring to these suffragette meetings Clementina and her friends have been organising in Bathgate, I know all about them. Imagine having the temerity to even consider getting up and speaking in public, especially after what happened at that meeting when the English suffragettes were here. I don’t understand young girls nowadays. Mrs Price-Gordon is dreadfully worried about Millicent getting insulted and abused if she gets up on the platform. I’m concerned about Clementina too, of course,’ she added hastily, flushing in annoyance at the housekeeper’s sharp-eyed, sardonic glance. ‘And needless to say I have warned her against the dangers of this suffragist bee she has in her bonnet just now, and especially about speaking in public. I have told her that ladies just don’t do that. But you know Clementina, Mrs Musgrove. There’s an unladylike …’ she hesitated in genuine bewilderment ‘… tenacity about her. Where she has it from, I simply cannot imagine. She is not at all like me—or her father, for that matter. I suspect she will revel in any trouble that might arise at her meetings. I can’t help feeling sorry for the people who try to oppose her.’
Mrs Musgrove’s ironic smile once more edged across her mouth and Lorianna said, ‘You don’t agree?’
Oh yes, madam.’
‘Well, then …’
‘The specific problem I was thinking of was how Miss Clementina would conduct herself towards the men you have invited to your social gatherings.’
Lorianna shook her head perplexedly. ‘I just don’t know what to do about her.’
‘Perhaps if you tried to give more thought to why Miss Clementina feels as she does towards the male sex—’
‘Do you think Miss Viners has anything to do with the way Clementina is?’ interrupted Lorianna. ‘I have always thought she was filling the girl’s head with far too much book learning and strange ideas. Do you think I should get rid of her? Now that I come to think of it,’ she continued, not giving the housekeeper a chance to reply, ‘why should I keep paying for a governess? Clementina is too old for the schoolroom now. And anyway, she doesn’t need further education if she is going to get married.’
‘I doubt if Miss Viners can be blamed for Miss Clementina’s rebellious nature. I cannot say I blame her for rebelling on this occasion—why should she want anything to do with men? They will only mean trouble for her, just as they meant trouble for you. And they will mean trouble for you again if you’re not careful.’
‘If you are referring to Mr Stirling, Mrs Musgrove—although you have no right …’
Mrs Musgrove raised an eyebrow. ‘You have a short memory.’
There was something in the sharp, straight stare that frightened Lorianna. The housekeeper’s eyes reminded her of the quick black eyes of the crows which used to cause so much damage to her father’s fields. Her father had waged ceaseless war against them, but could never defeat them or chase them away no matter how hard he tried.
‘Mr Stirling is my friend, that’s all.’
Lorianna turned away to gaze vaguely out of the sitting-room window, her yellow dress like a dazzle of sunshine against the dull backcloth of the cloudy day. She fingered the sparkling crystals looped across her neck and bosom.
‘I still think it’s time Miss Viners’ term of employment ceased. She has been here a long time and I appreciate her good qualities, but she is no longer required. I shall speak to her today and give her notice. And an excellent character, of course.’
‘What about your son?’
Lorianna whirled round, transformed into a beacon of enthusiasm. ‘Oh, he’s perfectly happy with Nanny Hawthorne. She looks after him so well, does she not? He won’t require a tutor for years yet and then later he must go to one of the best schools we can find. I shall get Mr Stirling to advise me about that when the time comes. Eventually, of course, he will go to University. I am sure he’s going to be terribly clever. Already he shows signs of an exceptional intelligence, don’t you think? And such a strong independent spirit!’
Mrs Musgrove, mouth tip-tilted in the expression which Lorianna could never quite define as being a calm smile or a secret sarcasm, replied ‘Yes, madam.’
Lorianna was relieved when the housekeeper left. And yet some dregs of uneasiness remained. Sometimes she thought the woman was inhuman; Mrs Musgrove’s complete disregard and distaste for men didn’t seem natural.
Seldom free of the terrible need for physical contact with a man, the madness of Lorianna’s grief for Robert had exhausted itself. The wildness of her distress had petered out and she only suffered the occasional spasm of anguish on the rack of memory.
But her body still cried out, thirstily, hungrily, for loving. She had learned of course to keep such emotions decently hidden and in check within the conventional armour of ladylike behaviour and pursuits.
She was devoted to her son and savoured every moment she spent with him—touching him, holding him, kissing him, rubbing her cheek like a purring cat against him.
When she was not with Jamie, she threw all her energies into good works. She took posies of blooms and sweetmeats, home-made preserves or other little delicacies to any woman on the estate who was sick or in childbed. She kept a record of every child on the estate and every Christmas she travelled round in the carriage with a little gift for each. Many of these gifts, like miniature rag dolls, embroidered handkerchiefs or pincushions, she
made herself, the work conscientiously filling the long winter hours.
Then of course there were the reciprocal visits of Gilbert and Hilda, and Malcolm and Mary Ann who had produced a sweet little girl. Not such a darling child as Jamie, of course, but a nice little girl nevertheless. One of the gifts Malcolm had given her for Christmas was a beautiful family photograph of himself, Mary Ann and little Victoria, taken at Townsend’s at the corner of Whitburn Road and South Bridge Street. It was there she always bought her sheet music and had several times taken Jamie to be photographed.
Thinking of her son, she glanced lovingly at the ornate silver-framed photographs crowding the table near where she was sitting: Jamie as an infant in her arms; Jamie in his first short gown; Jamie standing like a little man in his sailor suit. She lifted up the most recent photograph to study it more closely. Even at five years of age there was a serious ‘I’m my own man’ kind of look in the child’s eyes which reminded her of Robert. She kissed the cool glass before replacing the photograph on the table.
She decided she must take Jamie to Townsend’s again very soon and have a picture taken of him in his new kilt and tartan tammy. Gilbert had made her laugh recently when she, Nanny Hawthorne and Jamie had visited his house for tea. Jamie had been wearing his kilt and bonnet but as Nanny had put it, ‘… very reluctantly, to say the least.’
Gilbert had said, ‘Today he reminds me of a thistle… .’
They had all laughed except Jamie, who stood looking more prickly than ever but to her, at least, absolutely adorable.
Gilbert and Hilda, who had twins—a girl and a boy—seemed very fond of Jamie. ‘He will be a great help to his uncle Gilbert in the factory one day,’ Gilbert liked to prophesy.
Lorianna was worriedly hesitant, having no idea what factory management entailed. She had never set foot in any factory in her life far less their own, and she didn’t want Jamie to be pushed into work in which he might not feel happy.
‘Do you think that’s the sort of thing he should do, Gilbert? Would it be a congenial vocation for him?’
‘The family business? Why not? You’re surely not thinking, dear step-mamma, of trying to turn him into a namby-pamby creature like Malcolm? Putting Jamie into the cloth? No, never! Our Jamie will prosper best in the factory alongside me and my Gordon.’
‘Oh well,’ Lorianna smiled, ‘there are quite a few years to go before he needs to do anything. Except acquire a good education, of course.’
Thinking of Jamie made her remember that she had promised to take him down to Bathgate today to give him a glimpse of the cattle market and the shows across the road from the ring in which the cattle and sheep were sold. The last time she had done this more by accident than intent. She had taken Jamie to Bathgate to be fitted for new shoes and when she had set out in the victoria with Jacobs at the reins she had forgotten that it was market day. At first, seeing a leisurely stir of cows being herded up the hills from the market, she felt annoyance at the delay they would cause to the victoria’s progress. But on seeing the interest and delight they gave to Jamie her reaction quickly changed to one of pleasure. Anything that made Jamie happy gave happiness to her. How he had laughed and clapped his hands in excitement and actually tried to lean from the victoria and endeavour to touch the animals. He had not been at all afraid and she had felt so proud of him. She had explained about the market and cattle-ring where the animals were paraded and bought by the farmers and then herded up the hills as often as not by some Bathgate boys to whom the farmer paid a few pennies.
Jamie had been fascinated and she was pleased and flattered by his rapt attention. Then he had pleaded to be taken to see the cattle-ring. She had eventually given in and ordered Jacobs to take the victoria as near to it as possible.
Now Lorianna was looking forward to today’s outing and was just about to ring for her maid to discuss what she should wear when the sitting-room door opened and Clementina entered. The sight of her immediately dispelled any pleasurable emotion.
‘Yes, dear?’ Lorianna enquired in a carefully controlled voice.
When Clementina shut the door, came purposefully into the room and sat down, Lorianna groaned mentally. ‘What now?’ she thought, detecting a hint of desperation in Clementina’s emerald eyes. But of course the girl was always so earnest it was difficult to be sure.
‘Mother, it’s not always possible for me to have the use of the victoria or the brougham and I am sure you don’t want me to walk down to Bathgate. You have told me before how unladylike you believe it is to indulge in such long hikes, especially on public roads.’
‘What have you been up to now?’ Lorianna asked automatically.
‘Nothing, Mother. But I do think that I ought to have a bicycle.’
‘A bicycle?’ Lorianna gasped, forgetting her self-control in the unexpected horror of the moment.
‘There is absolutely nothing wrong in having a bicycle, Mother. It’s the modern way for young ladies to get around nowadays. Everybody has one.’
‘I’m sure every lady has not got a bicycle, Clementina.’ Lorianna pressed one hand to her bosom in an effort to contain her palpitating fluster. ‘I can just imagine you flying around on one of these dreadful contraptions, your ankles showing and your hat being blown off in the wind.’ She closed her eyes in an effort to shut out the picture.
‘It’s not like that at all, Mother. It’s very dignified,’ Clementina persisted. ‘And I can assure you that all my friends do have bicycles. Cycling clubs are now the rage.’
‘Quite apart from any other consideration, Clementina, your friends are all older than you.’
‘Surely, Mother, if I am old enough to get married—as you obviously believe I am—I am old enough to have a bicycle.’
Lorianna leaned back on the cushions, wishing with all her heart that Gilbert or Malcolm or John would suddenly appear to deal with Clementina and relieve her of the exhausting worry. ‘It’s not just a question of age,’ she began.
‘Well, what is it a question of, Mother?’
‘I am doing my best, Clementina, to teach you how to be ladylike, so that you will one day attract a gentleman who will wish to devote the rest of his life to protecting you and taking care of you. I don’t want you to end up an old maid. You won’t always have me, you know. Or even Gilbert or Malcolm.’
‘Two points occur to me, Mother, apropos of what you have just said. That is, if we leave aside for the moment the whole question of the other, and to my mind more fulfilling, roles in life that a woman could and should have apart from marriage …’
Lorianna’s gaze wandered helplessly around as if seeking some means of escape, but ignoring her mother’s apparent lack of interest Clementina pressed on ‘… One, the opportunity to meet gentlemen and two, being attractive to them. Firstly, I must say, Mother, that you are somewhat out of touch with modern thoughts and habits. Being a member of a cycling club is an excellent way of meeting gentlemen. Two, being able to cycle is nowadays an attractive accomplishment much admired by modern young men. So, in effect, looking at the question from your point of view, the fact is that to own a bicycle would enhance my marriage prospects rather than diminish them.’
Lorianna had noticed the time—she was going to be late for her outing with Jamie. She rose in panic.
‘You are making me late for an important engagement with all your silly talk.’
She had just reached the door when Clementina said doggedly, ‘Can I have a bicycle, Mother?’
Sparks began exploding in Lorianna’s head and she had to close her eyes and cling to the door handle for support.
‘We’ll see,’ she managed to say by some miracle of self-control before escaping from the room.
39
Later that evening Lorianna had barely swallowed her first spoonful of Cook’s special orange and tomato soup and was just settling down to enjoy its fragrant bouquet and delicate flavour when Clementina said, ‘I have seen a bicycle in Bathgate that would suit me perfectly, Mother
.’
Lorianna went on spooning soup as if by merely ignoring Clementina she would cease to exist.
‘I could show it to you tomorrow, Mother. We could go down together in the victoria. I would be very grateful to have your opinion.’
Lorianna dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a pristine white napkin. ‘You know perfectly well, Clementina, that I know nothing about bicycles and so could give you no opinion at all. I would be genuinely interested to know, however, what their attraction is.’
‘Well, in the first place,’ Clementina warmed to the subject, happy and excited to be sitting alone with her mother in the dining-room for the very first time, ‘I need one as a handy method of transportation—’
‘All right,’ Lorianna interrupted. ‘Now this is what I will do. I will instruct Jacobs to purchase a nice little gig and he can press one of the riding horses into service, so that you can have it at your disposal as often as you want.’
‘All I want is a bicycle, Mother.’
Lorianna gave up trying to concentrate on her soup. ‘But why, darling? I honestly don’t understand. A gig would be so much more comfortable. Perhaps we could even get one with a hood?’
‘Comfort is not the only criterion in life. I enjoy new and challenging things and I believe in healthy exercise in the fresh air.’
‘Why can’t you just be content with walking for exercise? And you play tennis and have learned to ride now.’
‘I have just told you, Mother, that I enjoy new and challenging things and all my friends have bicycles. Why won’t you believe me?’
‘Oh, I can believe that all your suffragette friends will have one.’
‘Well then …’
Lorianna signalled for the maid to remove her soup plate. ‘It’s all quite beyond me.’
Clementina finished every last drop of her soup with obvious relish before remarking, ‘That’s because you are getting old, Mother.’
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