Loretta Proctor

by The Crimson Bed

  ‘Indeed, sir, under the auspices of the Royal Academy, no less. They accepted me after I left Oxford. I felt then that I preferred this creative way of life to all other. I’m not cut out to be a man in the City, I’m afraid. And I have many very fine teachers who are helping my progress along.’

  ‘You are serious about this way of life?’

  ‘I am indeed, sir,’ said Fred warmly. ‘I feel it’s time we brought back Art and Beauty and Goodness. My axiom is that of Keats, “Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty.” The age we live in is taken over by ugliness, industrialism, materialism and meanness of spirit. I want to create a finer environment, something rich, lovely, warm, and beautiful that the eye might look on in detail, seeing something new in it every time. Gabriel Rossetti is one of the modern exponents of colour and beauty and I was proud to be his pupil for a brief while. I don’t profess to have his talent or even that of my friend, Henry Winstone. I also appreciate that so far I have procrastinated a good deal. Now I have a purpose and an aim. I want to marry and make Eleanor happy. This is my spur and I mean to learn as much as I can and do my utmost best.’

  Joshua Farnham was pleased with this response and smiled a little at the young man’s enthusiasm.

  ‘Your sentiments are heartfelt and admirable. I am totally in accord with them myself. Well, my daughter seems determined to take you. My suggestion is that you both wait for a few years till you can prove to me that you are doing well in your chosen profession.’

  This obviously did not suit the young man at all.

  ‘I will take care of Eleanor, sir,’ he pleaded, ‘I assure you she will live as comfortably as she always has done. Must we wait? We can even now nicely afford to rent a small but pleasing house and I know Eleanor wishes to have a short engagement as much as I do.’

  ‘I do not care for short engagements,’ said Joshua firmly. ‘Rushing into marriage is very foolish. As you well know, it is a lifetime commitment and needs serious thought and certainty.’

  ‘No-one could be more certain than I am, sir,’ said Frederic.

  Joshua tapped the desk with a pencil and fell deep in thought while the young man waited in respectful silence. After some time the older man raised his head and said, ‘An engagement then. But not marriage. Not for some years. I need to be sure you can keep my daughter in comfort.’

  When Joshua spoke to his daughter, her reaction astonished him. Normally dutiful and obedient, faced with her father’s opposition, she became adamant that she wanted to marry soon.

  ‘Oh, Papa,’ she wailed, ‘I really want, yearn, to run my own home, however small it might be to begin with. It would be so delightful. Please, Papa, I don’t want to wait years and years and become old and miserable like some women I know who are still waiting for their fathers to acquiesce that their fiancés are sufficiently wealthy for marriage.’

  When her father looked as if he was going to be unyielding and difficult, she wavered between stamping her foot and bursting into tears. She was not the crying type so she went for the former. Her father sat back and regarded her in some alarm, unused to such a rebellious attitude on her part.

  ‘I will marry Fred!’ she stormed. ‘I will, Papa, even if I have to run away with him. Yes, I mean it! I don’t care a fig if it’s dishonourable… Papa, darling, do have faith. Fred is going to manage very well, I feel sure of it. I shall make sure he does,’ she added with a little laugh.

  ‘Really child, what a drama you are making of it all. There is no need to be so extreme. I am surprised at you.’ Joshua looked startled now rather than angry.

  Ellie hung her head a little and subsided, ‘I apologise, Papa, but my feelings in the matter are so strong. I hate all this waiting. I hate it. I’ve – waited long enough,’ she added, her mind returning to Alfie and all the pain of keeping that love affair secret and all for nothing.

  ‘You really love this fellow then, Eleanor?’ asked her father.

  For a moment, Ellie wavered. Her father watched her keenly but what he did not know was that unbidden, Alfie’s strong, dark features had risen before her eye. However, she looked up and spoke firmly.

  ‘I do love Fred, Papa. He is gentle, kind and a good man. He loves all the things I do; art, music, books. I know we will be very happy together.’

  ‘I suspect you will rule him with an iron hand in a velvet glove,’ said Joshua ruefully, ‘he has no chance, poor fellow.’

  So Joshua Farnham relented and agreed – somewhat against his better judgement – that a short engagement might after all be best. It was never easy for him to refuse his dear Eleanor anything she desired.

  Chapter 11

  The maid took Fred’s hat and gloves from him.

  ‘No, my good woman, lay the hat down on its brim,’ he told her, vexed at her carelessness.

  Obediently she did so and set it down on the hall table next to another well-brushed hat with elegant, black kid gloves lying beside it. Some other gentleman was calling, it seemed. Full of curiosity and filled with an over-riding sense of possessive jealousy unknown to him till now, Fred wondered who the visitor might be. He entered the drawing room with a frown on his face.

  Here he found his beloved Ellie looking very at ease with what appeared to be an old acquaintance. She was seated on the sofa in animated conversation with a middle-aged gentleman who had his back to Fred.

  She looked up as he came in and rose, smiling with happiness and looking full of girlish delight. Going over to Fred, she took his arm and drew him forward.

  ‘Come and be introduced to my beloved godfather, Lord Percival Dillinger. My Lord, this is my fiancé, my darling Fred. Mr Frederic Ashton Thorpe.’

  Lord Dillinger had also risen and stood a tall and imposing figure. There was a stern, autocratic look on his face and his dark eyes narrowed as he looked at Fred with a sense of summing up the young man and finding him subtly wanting.

  Fred felt him to be a cold man and for some reason felt a sense of immediate dislike pass between them.

  The two men bowed a little stiffly and Fred drew Ellie’s arm close into his own for a few moments as if to state his ownership over her. She however laughed and blew a little kiss at him whilst withdrawing herself from his controlling grasp. She then went back to her seat on the sofa, urging the two gentlemen to be seated. He was now obliged to take another seat and this annoyed him even more for Dillinger resumed both his seat beside her and his conversation as if he, Fred, had never come into the room or was of little consequence. Fred fumed quietly in the background.

  There was a slight pause as the maid brought in the tea tray and Ellie sat and poured it out for the gentlemen. Fred thought she looked lovely as she did this, a slight flush of pleasure on her cheek and a little smile playing about her lips. A simple, light green afternoon tea-gown set off her ebony-dark hair and green eyes. He noticed that Dillinger was equally enraptured by the sight and kept his eyes fastened on the girl, watching her slender fingers ply the teaspoon, stirring in sugar and milk, before handing the pretty, flowered porcelain cups to her guests.

  ‘And how is my dear Charlotte?’ she asked Lord Dillinger when this was done.

  She turned to Fred and explained, ‘Charlotte is his lordship’s youngest daughter. We were more or less brought up together. I spent a lot of my childhood at Oreton Hall.’ Here she paused suddenly and Fred looked at her enquiringly, wondering at the sudden flush that came to her cheek. Dillinger continued to regard her with his narrow-eyed, unchanging gaze and after a moment she continued

  ‘Yes, I’ve known her and her brothers since childhood. She’s a sweet shy quiet girl, quite different to her madcap older brothers. Poor Charlotte was always left behind whenever they went on any of their childhood expeditions about the Dillinger estate, her little feet and short legs incapable of keeping up with the boys. I used to stay behind and wait for her, pick her up and carry her around. We have developed a deep affection for one another over the years. She is like a sister to me. Is that not so, my lord?’


  ‘It is so,’ said Dillinger with a little smile. ‘Yes, Charlotte is very well, thank you, Eleanor. She neglects her studies somewhat but I lay the blame for that at Lady Mary’s feet, I’m afraid. Her ladyship always encourages Charlotte to play and sing to the detriment of her reading.’

  ‘Charlotte does play and sing so well. She has the voice of an angel.’

  ‘My dear, it’s merely a useful accomplishment.’

  ‘I wish it was my accomplishment.’

  ‘You have a beautiful soprano voice, Eleanor. You could, however, improve your playing.’

  ‘Oh, I know that well, sir, but I don’t have Charlotte’s dedication. I’d far rather read or paint my silly little watercolours. And you know how I love poetry. Frederic is a poet too. Aren’t you Fred?’

  ‘I try to be,’ he said diffidently.

  Lord Dillinger looked at him in some disdain for a moment or two before advising, ‘Try reading Mr Browning. He is an admirable new poet.’

  ‘My friend Rossetti admires him too,’ said Fred. ‘I cannot say he appeals to me quite so much. I think I prefer Mrs Browning’s poetry.’

  ‘I don’t like him, either,’ declared Ellie, ‘I don’t understand a half of what he says; it’s too abstruse and clever. I too prefer Mrs Browning but nothing could be better than my beloved Lord Tennyson and Le Morte D’Arthur.’

  ‘Romantic rubbish!’ said Dillinger. ‘You have far more intelligence than that, Eleanor. You should be reading Virgil or Plato or something to improve your mind, not all this nonsense about King Arthur and his Lady Fayre, etcetera.’

  ‘Oh, Dillie, what a killjoy you are!… I have read Virgil and all those other boring people when I learnt Latin and I hated it. I’m sorry to tell you, romance appeals far more… so there!’ Laughing, she tapped him on his cheek with a playful finger.

  Lord Dillinger took that little admonishing hand and kissed her fingers, smiling at her with a foolish, indulgent look.

  ‘Ah well, you are young yet, my dear.’

  Fred thought, this old fool is in love with Ellie! And she is so familiar with him, she calls him Dillie!… she calls Lord Dillinger, who knows the Prince Consort, Dillie. How intimate that seems! Damn the fellow. He is taking advantage of their long-standing acquaintance and somehow Ellie doesn’t see it. In fact, I swear she likes flirting with the old man. I don’t like the idea of a flirt for a wife. Damn it, does she love me or doesn’t she?

  They all sipped their tea and a slight awkward silence now fell as if Fred’s angry thoughts had become written in the air in dark red smoke.

  ‘Dillie hasn’t called for such a long time, have you?’ Ellie said, turning to her godfather again. ‘Where have you been for so long and why haven’t you called, you naughty man? Even Father was complaining he seldom sees you these days.’

  ‘My dear child, you know how hectic things have been of late! I have so much business to which I must attend and meetings with various cabinet members. In addition, His Highness is in a constant state of worry over the problems of training up our armies and insists we need to reconstitute our militia. I speak between us here; there is a war brewing up with the Russians and Turks and we shall have no option but to support the Sultan. The Prince is convinced that matters will go badly for us and we need to take steps to calm things down. He is such a melancholic fellow you have no idea. Full of German pessimism.’

  ‘That’s no excuse at all and you know it!’ exclaimed Ellie. ‘All the princes in the world shouldn’t keep you away, if you wanted. You always found time before.’ Again, she blushed as if a troubling thought had come to her and fell silent.

  Fred, watching her closely, wondered what was passing through her mind and what had caused her sudden change of mood. As for Dillinger, he also appeared to sense something and regarded her with a quiet, thoughtful look. The conversation languished and he rose to leave, taking her hand and kissing it once more – holding it, in Fred’s opinion, far longer than was proper – and then turned towards the younger man.

  He looked Fred over with disparagement as if the young man was a yokel at a country show.

  ‘So you have captured our lovely prize?’ he said in his deep, drawling voice that seemed to convey a wealth of distaste and arrogance.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Our beautiful Eleanor,’ said Dillinger taking her hand again and smiling at the young girl who looked up at him and laughed.

  ‘Oh, truly sir, you make me sound as if I was up for sale!’

  ‘Hardly, dear child, but you are a glorious prize nonetheless. All your suitors will be very envious and disappointed. I hope this young man will take good care of you.’

  ‘Of course he will; he does already,’ said Ellie with a smile for Fred. ‘Fred is the kindest soul on earth.’

  ‘I trust so,’ said Dillinger. His voice was quite severe and made Fred blink. He felt like a young boy in front of his headmaster.

  ‘I have met your father, professionally but not socially as yet,’ his lordship added, ‘but that can be arranged. We all have to keep on the right side of our bankers, don’t we? D’you eventually intend to follow his profession, might I ask?’

  ‘I did intend to do so, but I’m not really sure I’m cut out for it.’

  ‘Ah yes, I hear you are more of an artistic type, mixing with… interesting and bohemian characters.’

  ‘Where did you hear that, sir?’ said Fred, flushing at the sarcasm in that cold, measured voice and bristling at this derisive reference to his friends.

  ‘Oh, gossip gets around. I mean no offence,’ said Dillinger with a sudden wan smile. ‘I also enjoy the company of artists and actors and so forth and they love to talk about each other, being on the whole very self-absorbed people. Don’t misunderstand my interest in your affairs, Mr Thorpe. I’m afraid I am very protective of our little Eleanor. I simply wish to be sure that she mixes with the right people. It’s my privilege as an old acquaintance of the family, don’t you think?’

  ‘I suppose, sir, it is your privilege,’ Fred replied, still angry, ‘but if Mr Farnham approves of me then I see no reason for disquiet on your part. I assure you my friends are all people of scholarly and gentle background. These are the people with whom we like to spend an evening. Isn’t that so, Ellie?’

  ‘It is indeed,’ she smiled, ‘but you mustn’t mind being quizzed by my Dillie. He is my godfather after all and fussier, if that were possible, than Papa. It is all meant kindly and in my best interest.’

  ‘Your best interests are always close to my heart,’ Dillinger replied in a grave tone. He looked again at Ellie, holding her gaze in such a manner that made Fred feel decidedly uncomfortable. That Lord Dillinger might nurture a tender feeling for his fiancée was surely ridiculous. He was a handsome man but far too old, nearly fifty by now. Surely, it was all avuncular and came from the knowledge of long acquaintance? Ellie said Percy Dillinger had been a friend of the family long before she had been born, before he had even married or inherited the Dillinger estates and become a Lord. Fred realised it was ridiculous to be jealous of the man. Of course, the fellow was over-protective in the interests of his old friend’s daughter, who wouldn’t be?

  Dillinger rang for the servant to fetch round his carriage, bowed again and took his leave.

  ‘I don’t like that man,’ Fred said when the peer had gone and he was alone with Ellie at last.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly. Dillie is a paragon of all virtues in Pa’s eyes and under his stiff exterior, he’s a kind man. He is truly.’

  ‘As kind as a snake,’ Fred muttered, still feeling felt humiliated and distrustful. ‘I don’t care for his attitude.’

  ‘Whatever’s the matter with you?’ asked Ellie in surprise, ‘You’re usually so easy-going with everyone.’

  ‘Ellie, you were flirting with the man. He’s twice your age, for Heaven’s sake!’

  She stared at him and looked astonished at his reaction.

  ‘I’ve always been playful with my dear Dillie. I
think you’re just jealous because I love him too. How foolish you men are! Can’t you see the difference in my love for you?’

  ‘You truly love me, Ellie, dearest Ellie?’ he asked, a little mollified by her genuine surprise. ‘You still want me, really, really want me?’

  In reply, she turned up her face for a kiss and when his rejoinder began to grow a trifle over-passionate, skipped blithely away and went over to the window to look down at the garden below. It was beginning to glow with colour as the leaves turned red and golden, gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

  Fred followed her and put his arm about her shoulders and she leant against him and murmured, ‘Fred, dear Fred, I always feel so comfortable in your affectionate, warm presence. I feel safe and nurtured as if nothing could ever harm me when you are near.’

  ‘I would defend you with my life,’ he said with passion, ‘I will always protect you and nurture you, Ellie.’

  They remained for some time in tender, companionable silence, Ellie gazing thoughtfully out of the window, Fred gazing down at Ellie with an intense and rapt admiration.

  ‘I love the autumn,’ she said, ‘the colours are so rich and warm and varied. Don’t the trees look lovely now?’

  ‘Yes, they are beautiful. But it is all so brief. Autumn has such sadness about it. For Keats it was the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, for me it has an air of lushness and ripeness that so soon will turn rotten, over-ripe, the bright bonny leaves brown and trampled underfoot.’

  ‘How can you see just the decay?’ she said, laughing and looking up at him in surprise, ‘how dismal of you, Fred! I see the beauty, the rich colour and you see the decay. Why is that?’

  Fred had no answer. He always saw the flaws, the undercoating of ugliness to everything and yet he worshipped Beauty. It was a paradox and he had no answer for it.