A Dark and Distant Shore (70 page)

Mr and Mrs James Langley, who had hoped to persuade Gideon to stay and be the son they had never had, saw them off reluctantly, and Elinor had hugged her mother and sisters convulsively, and between them they had wept enough to raise the water in the harbour by a good two inches. Fortunately, the journey north had taken her mind off it. Fortunately, too, by the time they reached New York she had ceased to laugh gaily at her husband’s frequent mentions of warm gowns and furred pelisses, when all she had ever worn were muslins and taffetas and organdies. When it turned out that Perry Randall wasn’t in New York but in Boston, Gideon took his wife’s Mammy aside and explained to her in detail what Miz Elinor was going to need, and then, with a parting injunction to buy something warm for herself and the maids as well, removed himself from the fray. He had a momentary vision of Mammy settling in at Marchfield, and shuddered violently, thinking – not for the first time – sufficient unto the day.

It was with relief that he checked in at the Tremont House. All he had heard about it was true – the neat façade, the fine portico, the sumptuous public rooms, the chandeliers, the galleries, the piazzas. More, it had what his soul craved after all the months of overwhelming hospitality – privacy. There were single bedchambers for gentlemen who didn’t wish to share, chambers with locks on the doors; and personal bars of soap, and bathrooms with running water nearby. So, although it was on the very corner of Beacon Street, he waited until next day before sending a note to Perry Randall at the house across the road.

The scrawled message that came back said, ‘Welcome to Boston. I expect to be tied up for most of the day, but my wife and I would be happy to have you dine with us tonight. We’ll expect you just after six. – Yours, Perry R.’

The house was red brick, mellow and spacious. ‘Charles Bulfinch,’ Perry said, greeting his guest. ‘Like all the most select houses in Boston!’ The name was meaningless to Gideon, and it must have shown on his face, but Perry Randall didn’t pursue it. Instead, ‘Come and let me make you known to Mrs Randall. Your good wishes will be in order. We are only recently married.’

The marriage had been surprise enough, but Mrs Randall was another. Gideon would have expected someone rather stylish, yet she was scarcely even pretty. She couldn’t, he supposed, be more than five years older than Elinor, but whereas Elinor had no thought in her head beyond enjoying life and – he hoped – being in love with him, Mrs Randall was calm, composed, and a little austere. Her hair lay in flat braids on her cheeks under a matronly lace cap, and her smoky blue velvet gown was draped with a demure lace fichu. She looked as if she had been married for years, and the only word for her manner was gracious.

But at least it provided Gideon with an opening which allowed him to break the news of his own marriage without making too much of an occasion of it. What bothered him, as course followed course in the quiet dining-room, with its eighteenth-century portraits, gleaming table, and lyre-backed chairs, was whether he was going to be given the opportunity for a serious discussion with Perry. Was Boston etiquette like European? Would she leave them to their port and madeira? He hoped so, for he was in no doubt that it would be the worst of solecisms to mention anything as vulgar as commerce at this cultivated table.

Perry was looking strained, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes when he remarked, ‘I’ve never yet seen a Southern belle without her retinue of Mammy and maids. Are you taking them all to Scotland with you?’

Gideon said, weakly, ‘There doesn’t seem much alternative.’

‘It may not have occurred to you, Mr Lauriston,’ remarked Mrs Randall in her level, slightly nasal voice, ‘that you may be doing them a disservice. From what Mr Randall tells me, I cannot think that Southern negroes would thrive in Scotland, however attached they may be to their mistress. Which I have no doubt they are,’ she added kindly. ‘As their owner, you might find it preferable to offer them their freedom while they are still here, in the country of their birth. Their bonds will, of course, be worthless on the other side of the Atlantic.’

Despite the papers Mr Langley had given him, Gideon hadn’t thought of the slaves as anything other than ordinary servants. Without realizing it, he knew that he must have blocked out the awareness of being legal owner of three other human beings. Now, he felt all kinds of a fool, and an embarrassed one. He looked at Perry, questioningly.

‘It’s good sense, Gideon. You will have nothing but trouble if you take them with you.’ Then, spontaneously, he laughed. ‘Can you imagine your wife’s Mammy having it out with Mrs McKirdy? “Ah ain’ gwine ter stand by an’ see mah lamb ’spekted ter eat dat hawg swill yo call pawridge, sho ’nuff!”’

Gideon clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Gemini! I hadn’t thought of Mrs McKirdy. You’re right, she’d have a fit! “Mistress Lauriston! If yon woman sets foot in my kitchen one more time, I’ll not answer for the consequences!” But what can I do? I shouldn’t think Elinor could manage without her servants.’ It didn’t need Perry’s quizzical eyebrow to remind him that, however much he adored his bride, marrying her hadn’t been the most intelligent thing he’d ever done. In Charleston, he had contemplated her adjustment to a new life with unalloyed optimism, but it had faded with every mile of the journey north.

Mrs Randall looked at her husband. ‘My dear, I wonder whether Miss Tully might answer?’

Miss Tully, it transpired, was an Englishwoman who had been abigail to several ladies of the first consequence before coming, at last, to the regretful conclusion that she was not entirely in sympathy with the New World. For some time, she had been wanting to go home, but could do so only if she found a lady willing to employ her. It was not easy for an abigail, even one as superior as Miss Tully, to save money. Mrs Randall promised that, as soon as Elinor agreed, she would arrange matters. Gideon could have embraced her. Suddenly, she looked a great deal prettier.

Even so, he was relieved when Perry rose to draw back his wife’s chair and she said, smiling faintly, ‘I am sure you have things to discuss. I will tell Fogarty to take the decanters to your study, my dear. You will be more comfortable there.’

‘Thank you, Sara.’ Gideon could see that they understood each other.

The study was comfortable, smelling of leather and books and tobacco. Gideon, a few months older now and several years wiser, wondered whether Perry’s reserve was new since they had met in Baltimore, or whether he himself – so concerned with choosing his words in case he should betray the truth about Drew – had been less observant than he might have been. Then, with a mental shrug, he did as Theo had instructed and raised the matter of representation.

Perry wasn’t encouraging. He was not, he said, about to back out of the arrangement they had discussed, but since his return home he had become concerned over the way things were going. Speculation was wild, and getting wilder by the hour. ‘Another year and there could be an almighty crash. God knows, this country can’t exist without credit, but credit’s dangerous if expansion doesn’t keep pace with it, and I don’t see how it can. My advice to Lauristons’ would be, keep your horns in for now, as I’m doing myself. If you start exporting here in the next few months, you may find you’ve trouble getting paid.’

‘It’s like that, is it?’

‘And could get worse, if the banks were to close their doors – which they might. Leave it for now, Gideon. Let Marsden go on for the time being, and make it clear to him you want every cent the moment it’s due. If the crash comes, it could come fast. Let things ride for a couple of years and then we can think about it again.’

Perry, studying the boy, hoped he had convinced him. The argument was valid, sure enough, but, only too aware of the fact that the arrangement had been discussed with Theo and Drew before he had gone to France, Perry’s main concern was to leave Vilia a way of wriggling out of it without too much fuss. Did he want out of it himself? He didn’t know any more. He had sailed home direct from France with nothing in his heart but shock, a dull despair, and an overpowering need to cut the ties that had bound him for so long. Well, they were cut now, he supposed. And yet... And yet... And yet he still wasn’t free. Even the prospect of seeing Gideon today had been almost too much for him. Sara had noticed, of course; marriage of convenience or not, she had her own perceptions. He had no intention of hurting her, and in time, perhaps, he would forget. He said, ‘Have you heard from home? How is everyone?’

Gideon made the lie sound as convincing as he could. ‘Very well indeed, I gather. And by the way, you will soon be a grandfather again, if you don’t already know. Shona is expecting another baby in June.’

There was an infinitesimal pause, while Perry lit another cigarillo. He seemed to have been smoking a great deal this evening, Gideon thought. Then he raised his eyes from the glowing tip and said, ‘How delightful. I imagine she would like a girl this time?’

Gideon said, ‘I imagine so.’ The pause must have been coincidental, mustn’t it? Perry Randall couldn’t
possibly
know. Gideon put it firmly out of his mind, in case he might make the mistake of mentioning it to Theo when he got home.

The ship docked at last, and Gideon thought the worst was over. But it had scarcely begun.

By the time they reached Edinburgh, even Miss Tully, a tower of strength on the voyage, had abandoned her patriotic commentary on the beauties of the countryside and the thriving industry of the towns, for the landscape looked dour and grey, and the towns full not only of warehouses and factories, but of sickly, dirty, hollow-cheeked people, and gin shops, and poverty, and squalor. Edinburgh itself was half hidden in smoke and mist, the air reeking of coal, fog, and sleet, and by the time they reached Marchfield they could scarcely see it through the dirty yellow blanket that enveloped it, broken only by the incandescent glare of the lamps flanking the door.

As Gideon helped Elinor down from the carriage and led her up to the front steps, slippery with damp, he was overcome by a wave of guilt at having brought this pampered child of sun and warmth and leisure to such a grey, grim land. He squeezed her elbow and murmured, ‘Don’t worry. They’ll all adore you and you’ll feel at home in no time.’ But her answering smile was tremulous, and their welcome was not what he had hoped.

The fog had filtered into the hall and hung, a dulling miasma, over everything and everyone. When Vilia came forward, smiling, to kiss Elinor’s cheek, her bright hair was colourless, her complexion drained, and her eyes lightless and blank over the sombre grey morning gown. She moved like an automaton, and her smile had no meaning. Gideon torn between shock at her appearance and fearfulness for his wife, threw an agonized glance at his brothers, but Theo had clearly no intention of becoming involved, and Drew was simply standing there with his company smile on his face and his arm round Shona’s ample waist.

And then Shona, darling that she was, ran clumsily forward and threw her arms round Elinor, the words of welcome spilling out in an inane but comforting stream. ‘We’re so
happy
to have you here, but you must be chilled to the bone in this horrid weather. Do come and get warm, and then I can show you the rooms we’ve prepared for you. I’m sure you’ll like them. Goodness, but you look so pretty and smart! You make me feel like a dowdy. Mama and I stayed in our morning gowns to that you wouldn’t have to change out of your travelling dress, but...’

Still chattering, she led Elinor into the drawing-room, and the awkward moment had passed.

Gideon kissed his mother’s raised cheek. ‘How are you?’

‘Very well, my dear. I hope you had a pleasant’ – she frowned as if she couldn’t quite remember why he had been away – ‘a pleasant visit?’

He could never have mistaken it for sarcasm, and, catching Theo’s eye, knew that the distress must show in his own.

In the privacy of their room that night, Gideon turned to Elinor, needing her as desperately as he thought she must need him. But she didn’t. All the way from Charleston to New York they had gone laughing to bed together, however tiring the day’s journey, however poor the hotel. He had been unfailingly gentle, unfailingly careful with her, and he had thought she was learning to enjoy making love. Even though the spell had been broken five days out of New York, he had told himself that it would all come right again when they were able to lie together peacefully at home, in their own bed at last. Afterwards, he realized that he had asked too much of her, too soon. She was unresponsive at first, and then pettish, and then reluctantly cooperative until the moment when, fully and urgently aroused, he was half inside her; and then with a wail of ‘No!’ she tore herself away from him and curled herself into a ball at the farthest side of the bed, and began to cry as if her heart would break. He cried himself, soundlessly, while he brought his body back under control. She was lost, poor lamb, a helpless stranger in an alien world. She wouldn’t let him touch her for a long time, but at last she fell asleep with his arms about her.

He had no choice next morning but to leave her for the foundry, and it was to be several weeks – weeks of working seven days a week, from seven in the morning until seven or eight at night – before he was able to spare a whole day for her. He knew how unhappy she was; she who had always been the centre of attraction at home, the eldest of three pretty sisters, her days filled with visits, and parties, and flirtations. And now she had been brought to a strange house where no one had any time for her, not even her husband. Where she had only Shona for company – Shona who couldn’t appear in public now that she was pregnant, couldn’t ride, or drive in to Edinburgh to look at the shops and warehouses; who didn’t, in fact, want to, but was happier to stay at home and play with Jermyn, or sew for the baby, or gossip. Gideon, harassed, promised that the moment it could be arranged he would take Elinor out to meet new people, perhaps even to stay with friends on the Borders.

But it was an empty promise. Mentally and physically, Gideon was soon wearier than he had ever been in his life before. It wasn’t a matter simply of isolating and then correcting all the errors that had been made in the past months, but of trying to extract from Vilia what had been done that shouldn’t have been done, and what hadn’t been done that should. He was in and out of her office like a jack-in-the-box, and found her, time after time, sitting at her desk staring into infinity. When she spoke, it was with the slow exactitude of someone who was exceedingly drunk.