Goodnight Lady (10 page)

He looked at the old woman as he gave his speech. Always a lover of drama, he injected it into his work as often as possible. He was nonplussed at the old woman’s look of utter astonishment.

‘How old is the girl, by the way?’ he asked in a whisper. He could smell a rat before it was stinking, he prided himself on that. It hadn’t occurred to him at first that the patient was a young girl, he didn’t really take much notice of women as a rule, but something in the housekeeper’s face alerted him.

‘She’s just twelve, sir. We thought it was her periods like.’

Twelve! He had put her at about fourteen or fifteen.

‘Only twelve, you say? Where’s her mother and father?’

Mrs Horlock bit her lip and thought for a second before she spoke.

‘Cissy, go down and make up the fire in the morning room. Dr Carlton, can I get you a hot drink or a whisky?’

He sniffed loudly.

‘A scotch would be agreeable, madam.’

‘Then follow me, sir.’ Cissy was already down the stairs and rekindling the fire with the poker when they came in.

‘Make me a pot of tea, Cissy, and bring it through here. Please sit down, Doctor.’

Mrs Horlock poured him a large scotch. The redness of his nose and the broken veins on his cheeks told her he liked his whisky and when he swigged it back in one go she replenished his glass without a word.

‘I look after the girl, sir, for my employer. She’s a distant relative of his, you understand, and her mother was just a bit beyond the pale. From a very good family, mind, but she run away when young and the child was the result of an unhappy union.’

She once more refilled the doctor’s glass. ‘I don’t know how this could have happened. As for Mr Dumas - well, he’ll be broken-hearted.’

At the mention of Henry’s name the doctor’s eyebrows rose. So, he thought, the child was his. Henry Dumas was married to a peer’s daughter and was respected in the local community, indeed in the whole of London. He was wealthy, from an impeccable family, and would be able to pay well. Extremely well.

‘What a wicked, wanton child, madam! Like her mother, I’d say. I can well understand the need for secrecy. Such a scandal! Not a word of it will pass my lips, madam, I do assure you, and you can pass that on to Mr Dumas as well.’ He tutted. ‘Poor Mr Dumas, to have his kindness repaid like this.’

He shook his head for maximum effect. ‘Well, I have done all I can. I’ll return in the morning to see her once more. I’ll say goodnight to you, madam.’

Mrs Horlock saw him to the door and then went back into the morning room where she helped herself to a large whisky. The child was pregnant. She had another drink to help her think. Well, maybe she’d lose it tonight. Then they’d all be able to get back to normal.

 

‘I’m what!’ Briony’s voice was incredulous.

She looked from one face to the other. Cissy’s looked as shocked as her own, but Mrs Horlock’s face was closed.

‘I can’t be, there must be some mistake.’ Briony was close to tears and Mrs Horlock took her into her arms.

‘There’s no mistake, my love. You must have fell just as your body was coming to womanhood, I’ve heard of it before.’

She didn’t say she’d experienced it before and had helped get rid of the offending child. She knew Briony’s temperament too well to say anything like that.

‘What am I gonna do?’ It was a childish wail.

‘Now don’t you worry, my angel, I’ll sort it all out for you.’

This was comforting to Briony and she settled back against the pillows plumped up around her and held tightly on to Cissy’s hand. For the first time in her life she was frightened, really frightened.

They heard the front door shut and Mrs Horlock smiled at the two girls and left the room. The sooner Henry Dumas knew what was happening, the better. He looked up at the old woman as she descended the stairs.

‘What’s the to do, Horlock? Is the child ill?’

He’d been dragged from his place of work by a note twenty minutes earlier and now he was worried.

‘In a manner of speaking, sir. Would you join me in the morning room? I took the liberty of getting a tea tray ready, I’ll just get the hot water.’

Henry went into the drawing room where there was a trolley full of tea things, cakes and sandwiches. He picked up a paper-thin paste sandwich and popped it into his mouth, carefully avoiding his moustache. He wished the old girl would hurry up, he was due home for dinner. His wife’s father was coming today and he wanted to be with Isabel when he arrived. She was acting very strangely lately, and he was concerned about what she might hint to her family. Luckily Lord Barkham was not a listener to women’s gossip, having no time for his wife or indeed his daughter. Henry was pretty certain he would pooh-pooh anything she said. Nevertheless, he would like to be there during the visit.

Mrs Horlock came in with the freshly made tea and as she sat down Henry smiled at her faintly.

‘Well, what’s going on?’

‘It seems Miss Briony is pregnant.’

‘She’s what!’

‘She’s pregnant, sir. I’ve had the doctor in and he’s certain.’

‘God’s teeth, woman, how did that happen?’

Mrs Horlock suppressed a smile. If you don’t know, she thought, I’m not about to enlighten you.

‘It’ll have to go, Mrs Horlock.’

‘My sentiments entirely, sir.’

‘And so will the blasted baby!’

Mrs Horlock looked hard at him and he felt a flush of shame.

‘With all due respect, sir, it’s not Briony’s fault, now is it?’

Her own words shocked her. Never before had she reproached the man for anything. She had always been a willing accomplice to his schemes, but Briony Cavanagh had got under her skin and into her heart. Oh, Maria knew the child was a mercenary little bitch, but she did what she did more for her family than herself, and for her corrupter completely to disregard the child after all she done for him over the last sixteen months brought a feeling akin to anger. Briony was the child she had never had. The girl trusted her, and there had been more fun and laughter in her life in the last year or so than ever before.

‘Really, Mrs Horlock, I think you’re forgetting yourself. Something like this is not to be taken lightly.’

Mrs Horlock smiled grimly and interrupted him. ‘I understand the situation, sir, better than you think. I will arrange with Dr Carlton for the removal of the ... of the baby. I don’t think Briony would want to have it at her age. Then we’ll have to get our thinking caps on about the best thing to do once it’s all over.’

Henry relaxed then, and sipped his tea.

‘Of course, Mrs Horlock. I’ll leave it all in your capable hands.’

She smiled at him. Thinking to herself all the while: Don’t you always leave your dirty work to me?

Five minutes later Henry was on his way back to his house, his wife and her father. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. Damn and blast the little guttersnipe to hell!

 

Isabel sat with her father and mother in the drawing room. Her father was telling one of the long-winded stories that required no answers, just an expression of rapt interest. Her father’s stories always entailed a long boring account of how he had done someone down, as he put it. He had no time for the King, the army, suffragettes, or anything else that might be a topic of conversation in more moderate households. Any mention of suffragettes would indeed result in a long diatribe on the failings of womanhood in general going back to Eve, the mother of all sin. Isabel noticed that her own mother had dropped off to sleep in front of the fire.

She was almost pleased when Henry came into the room. He walked across to her with his usual beaming smile and kissed her on the cheek. Getting up stiffly, Isabel excused herself and went down to the kitchen to see how the food was progressing, feeling the tightening in her chest. It was a feeling of complete hopelessness.

How long must I endure this existence?

O Lord, how long?

 

Briony lay back against the pillows and waited for her mother to arrive. She had insisted to Mrs Horlock that her mother be sent for as soon as possible and eventually, after some cajoling and a few tears, Mrs Horlock had reluctantly sent Cissy to collect her in a cab. Briony looked around the little room with wide eyes. Her longing for this comfort had brought her to this. She was just twelve and now she was having a baby.

A tiny part of her was thrilled at the thought. Having lived around babies all her life they were not an unknown quantity. But with all the upset over her father, and Eileen’s involvement in it, she knew that this was not a time for anything like this to be happening. It would have been bad enough at any time, but now ... She bit her lip.

She heard her mother arrive and watched the door with trepidation. Molly came into the room like a whirlwind.

‘Are you all right, child?’ Cissy’s arrival had frightened her more than she liked to admit. Briony, who had been fine up until seeing her mother, promptly burst into tears.

‘Oh Mam, Mam!’

It was what she had called her mother as a small child and Molly was reminded of the tiny red-headed baby she’d loved so well.

She pulled her child into her arms, the first time she had touched her without shrinking for over a year.

‘There now, me pet, what’s wrong? Have you a pain?’ Cissy had told Molly nothing other than that Briony wasn’t very well.

‘Oh, Mam, I’m going to have a baby!’

Molly pushed her back against the pillows and stared into her face. ‘You’re what?’

Briony nodded, her little face streaming with tears.

‘Dear God in heaven, save us!’

Briony threw herself into her mother’s arms, a child once more despite the life inside her. Suddenly, faced with her mother, the enormity of what had happened over the last few days hit her.

‘Me poor dad. Me poor dad. I want me dad.’

Molly held her close, fear replacing the anger and shock. All she needed now was Briony to blurt out the whole sorry business with Eileen and her da.

‘Hush now, Briony. You’re not ever to tell about that. Promise me?’

She looked into the fear-filled face. ‘Promise me, Briony?’

‘I promise, Mum. Oh, what am I gonna do?’

‘We’ll think of something, Briony, I promise you.’

As she spoke Mrs Horlock brought them all in tea and for the first time the two women came face to face.

‘Mrs Cavanagh.’

Molly curled her lip in distaste at the older woman, who was to her mind no better than Nellie Deakins.

‘Mrs Horlock.’

The old woman gave Briony her tea and, looking at Molly, said gently, ‘I think me and you should have a talk.’

Molly nodded, running her tongue around her teeth. ‘I think we better had. The sooner the better, to my mind.’

Both women having established exactly what they thought of the other through a few choice words, they retired from Briony’s bedroom and went down to the kitchen for the first battle between them.

It was a battle neither could win without Briony’s say so, but they enjoyed it nonetheless.

Henry Dumas had been watching his wife carefully during the meal. As usual the table was impeccably laid. In fairness to her, he conceded, Isabel really was an exemplary wife in some respects. The crystal gleamed, the cutlery was of the very best, and the food was well above par. Once Isabel lost these notions she had begun to acquire, she would once more be his meek and obedient wife.

He had just taken a slice of apple pie when his wife spoke to her mother loudly.

‘Mama, are you still working in the East End? I understand they have just opened another home for wayward girls there?’

She glanced at Henry as she spoke and then looked immediately back to her mother.

Venetia Barkham nodded.

‘Yes, God knows they’re more in need than ever. Some of the girls are only twelve or thirteen.’ She lowered her voice as she leant across the table towards her daughter. ‘It’s a scandal, Isabel, what some men will do!’

Lord Barkham, who approved of his wife’s charitable works because she mixed with the cream of the aristocracy, nodded sagely.

‘My dears, you don’t understand the lower classes like I do. Some of those girls could turn a veritable saint’s head. They’re evil, preying on men who are otherwise exemplary.’

Isabel looked at her father, avoiding Henry’s warning glance. ‘So, Papa, am I to understand that men cannot help these appetites? Even men of good birth?’

Lord Barkham began to choke on his apple pie.

‘Don’t be silly, Isabel. A doxy’s a doxy, whatever her age. There’s many a good man who’s been taken in by a pretty face. These girls, some of them little more than children as your mother pointed out, are natural sluts. It’s inbred in them. A woman of good birth never acts the strumpet. You wouldn’t understand, Isabel. You see, my child, men must be iron-willed and have faith in God and their own constitution. Look at me.’ He waved his arms expansively. ‘I attend church regularly, and even in the thickest snow I never wear a heavy coat. It’s in the constitution, you see? Sound in mind and body, I am, and always have been.

‘The namby-pamby men who get involved with these chits are obviously mentally unstable. They have no place in civilised society. They can’t resist temptation, just haven’t the willpower of stronger, more intelligent men, and these chits know it.’

‘Thank you, Papa, for explaining it so eloquently. I really do understand exactly what you mean. Don’t you, Henry?’

Henry paled and cleared his throat before answering. ‘I think it’s hardly a suitable subject for discussion in front of ladies.’

Immediately he realised his mistake. He had just implicitly criticised Lord Barkham.

Barkham glared at his son-in-law, a milkwater sop if ever he’d encountered one!