The Shadow of the Sycamores (13 page)

‘You’re right, Henry. It was none o’ my business and I’ll not tease you again. I’m pleased for you, honest I am, and I hope everything works out for you.’

Joseph Leslie, however, was not pleased. The apprehensive, white-faced Henry had hardly finished speaking when he burst out, ‘Marry Fay? Has the madness in that place rubbed off on you or were you born an idiot? What made you think I would agree to my daughter marrying a … a … how old are you, boy?’

‘Newly seventeen.’ It was said through chattering teeth.

‘A seventeen-year-old who does not have a decent job or a home to take her to! Or were you intending to make her share your bed at the asylum?’

‘That will do, Joseph.’ His wife laid a restraining hand on his sleeve. ‘Nothing will be gained by ranting and raving. Listen to the boy before you say anything else. Surely you can see that he loves our Fay.’

‘Yes, Mr Leslie,’ Henry said quietly, faltering a little as he turned his head again and met the force of the man’s venomous eyes. ‘I love Fay as I could never love any other girl and she says she loves me so it’s useless to try to split us up. We’re both old enough to marry without your permission but I would have liked, for her sake, if you’d been more … amenable to the idea.’

‘More amenable?’ Joseph roared. ‘You insolent young …’

Fay, having stood all she could, now butted in. ‘We
do
love each other, Father, and nothing you say will make us change our minds. We shall marry with or without your blessing and even if Henry does expect me to share his bed at The Sycamores
– something we have not yet had time to discuss – I would willingly do so. In fact,’ she added hastily, as the man was clearly building up to another explosion, ‘I am even prepared to go with him right now and share his bed, married or not! So there!’

Clearly shocked by this, her mother endeavoured to stay calm. ‘There is no need for that, Fay, dear. You are at liberty to live here for as long as … Your father and I need time to come to terms with this and Henry needs time to plan what he has to do.’ She smiled kindly at the boy. ‘I get the impression that you have given no thought to the material things in life. You will have to provide a proper home for a wife, money to buy food and clothes for yourselves … and for the children you will no doubt produce.’

Henry nodded wretchedly. ‘Yes, you’re quite right, Mrs Leslie. I haven’t thought it out but, as long as I know Fay is willing to wait, I’ll do my utmost to find a better job so I can give her everything she needs.’

‘I was sure you would see sense so we have no objection to you carrying on seeing Fay but I must warn you …’ Catherine halted, turning a delicate shade of pink. ‘There must be no … intimacy, no “accidents” … do you understand me?’

His own face deepening to puce, Henry muttered, ‘I understand and I can assure you there’ll be nothing like that. I respect Fay far too much to shame her.’

‘I am glad to hear it and I am quite sure that I can depend on you to keep your word. Now, I think you should go so that my husband and I can discuss the matter.’

‘Yes, of course.’ On his way to the door, Henry turned and said, ‘I’m truly sorry to have caused you so much distress, Mr Leslie, but I do love Fay.’

The girl pulled him outside and they walked a few yards from the doorway before he moaned, ‘I knew it wouldn’t be any use. I knew your father didn’t like me.’

‘He does like you. It’s the fact that you have no prospects that he doesn’t like but I don’t mind what you work at. I meant it when I said I’d marry you tomorrow and share your room at The
Sycamores, you know, and I will if the worst comes to the worst.’

‘I couldn’t let you do that. I’m sorry, Fay, my dearest, I didn’t think things through but I’ll find a better job, with a house along with it, I promise.’

She pulled him to a stop to kiss him and, after a few minutes, she whispered, breathlessly, ‘I’d better go back now … before you break your promise to my mother.’

He was ashamed of the passion her kisses had aroused in him which was plainly the reason for her last remark. ‘I’m sorry. I’m all … at sixes and sevens. Oh, I know that’s not really an excuse and I won’t let it happen again.’

She stroked his cheek. ‘I wouldn’t object if you did but it’s better that we don’t tempt fate, don’t you think?’

Max was astonished when he heard what had happened but he relieved Henry’s tension by laughing, ‘I wouldna mind if you took your lass here. She could share my bed for I’d be glad to do the needful for her if you were feared.’

Despite his bitter disappointment and his chagrin at not having planned ahead, Henry was forced to smile at this … and boast. ‘If there’s any needs on her side, I’ll be the one to fulfil them and be damned to her father.’

Janet Emslie had wrestled with her fears for several weeks. As Innes kept telling her, there was nothing to stop them being married now but she still held back. The deaths – first her mother’s and then his wife’s – bothered her. They were far too convenient to be coincidences – one, perhaps, but not two. Gradually, however, his persistence wore her down. There really were no encumbrances so why shouldn’t she grab what would likely be her last chance of happiness?

Innes, naturally, was absolutely delighted, announcing their betrothal at breakfast the day after she had told him of her decision. His thoughts were concentrated now on making arrangements, asking their own chaplain to carry out the ceremony. He also insisted on accompanying her to Aberdeen to buy a wedding gown for her, although she told him it was unlucky for the groom to see it before the wedding.

‘Old wives’ tales,’ he laughed. ‘How could it be unlucky when I have waited so many years to make you mine?’

This confession that he had loved her since they were in their teens made her uneasier than ever but the die had been cast. He had invitations printed, giving one to every employee and patient at The Sycamores, with wives or lady friends welcome.

‘You must take your girlfriend with you, Henry,’ Janet smiled. ‘We all want to meet her.’

The wedding day dawned amid grey clouds, which Janet took to be a bad omen, but, even before breakfast was over, the sky had cleared and the sun was sending out rays of comforting heat as well as light. The bride, despite being forbidden to enter the kitchen that day, had gone down to cook breakfast as usual but felt quite embarrassed by the banter round the table, although nothing truly outrageous was said.

Then her groom-to-be ordered her to go to her room and rest until it was time for her to get ready and she was quite glad of the hour she lay down on her bed. Then one of the maids brought up a kettle of hot water for her to wash, asking, rather cheekily, if she wanted a hand to get dressed.

‘I’ve dressed myself for over forty years,’ Janet smiled. ‘I think I can manage today.’

She managed very well as she discovered an hour or so later. She had gone down the top flight of stairs in the Albert wing, which was mostly occupied by staff – the other wing, for the patients, was called Victoria – and had reached the main wide staircase when there was a burst of applause from the people gathered below and murmurs of, ‘Oh, isn’t she bonnie?’ and, ‘She’s a perfect picture.’

This gave her flagging spirits a tremendous boost, which intensified when she caught sight of herself in the huge mirror on the middle landing as she went slowly down. She had said she just wanted a nice new dress, nothing fancy, but Innes had chosen, and paid for, a trousseau fit for a society wedding. The deep ivory of the dress, absolutely plain and shaped to
make her look slimmer, was lightened by the paler, almost white lace veil, which was embroidered with tiny sprigs of pale pink rosebuds. Instead of the usual tight bun at the nape of her neck, she had fashioned her long hair into an elegant chignon, round which she had pinned a small strip of similarly embroidered lace as a headdress. She wore elbow length gloves, matching the gown, and dainty ivory satin shoes. She not only felt like a queen, she also looked like a queen.

When she was on the last step, Innes stepped forward, handed her a white bible with a small spray of rosebuds the same pink as on her veil, then tucked her arm under his. He, too, was in formal wedding attire – black tailcoat, grey striped trousers and matching top hat. He smiled at the ripple of admiration that went round the assemblage. ‘We do make a lovely couple,’ he whispered.

The bride and groom led the way to the quaint little chapel behind the house itself. It was the place of worship the original owner of The Sycamores had built for his family. The ceremony itself was fairly short, fairly basic, with Roderick Emslie giving his sister away and the oldest nurse as the other witness. Most of the guests had made some effort to be wedding-like, their best clothes decorated with posies or single flowers – whatever they could find.

Having been pronounced husband and wife and signed the register, Mr and Mrs Innes Ledingham led the party back to the large dining hall which, in its former glory, had once been a ballroom, although there was nothing so grand planned for this occasion. The meal had been prepared beforehand by Janet, who was not allowed to raise a finger while it was being served, and everything passed off without a hitch.

There was no dancing, no real frivolity, but no one seemed to mind. It was enough for the staff that they could circulate through each other, being idle and still being paid for it, and the patients were obviously enjoying watching what was going on – whether they understood that it was a wedding, of course, was debatable. Fay Leslie found herself shaking dozens of hands, although the smile raised by the first, ‘It’ll be you and
Henry’s turn next,’ became somewhat fixed after the umpteenth time of hearing it.

Her one big surprise, quite a shock really, had been when Henry introduced his friend. She’d had no idea that the only other boy she had ever gone out with also worked at The Sycamores and she was extremely thankful when he gave no indication that they had met before. His dark eyes had twinkled mischievously each time they met hers for the rest of the afternoon yet, when he managed to speak to her on her own at one point, all he said was, ‘Henry’s a lucky beggar but he deserves some happiness. He’s a right decent lad.’

‘I know that.’ She allowed Max to envelop her hand in a crushing grip before he moved away.

The bride and groom disappeared to change into travelling clothes and it was just after six o’clock when the well-wishers waved them off in the landau that was to take them to the Crossroads Hotel, a small inn some miles away, where they were to spend a three-day honeymoon. Things fell a little flat after their departure – the maids having to clear up, the nurses having to shepherd their charges back to their rooms and settle them down after all the unaccustomed excitement. The married men went home with their wives and only the bachelors were left, some bemoaning the fact that ‘Ledingham was a hungry bugger, nae laying on ony booze’.

An exhausted Fay was quite glad when her father came to collect her in his gig, although he didn’t say a word to Henry, merely gave him a curt nod as they drove off.

Catherine Leslie never divulged to her daughter or to her intended son-in-law how she had succeeded in changing her husband’s mind about their marriage. It was no one’s business that her lord and master, as he certainly must appear in the eyes of the public, could be held to ransom by the words, ‘If you do not do as I say, I will tell everyone that you are … impotent.’

It had taken a full eighteen months – during which she had hardly ever had one night’s peace, had given birth once and
had three miscarriages – before salvation came. It had happened gradually, just a sort of winding down, until she realised the truth but, once she found the flaw, she had made good use of it.

Not knowing the reason behind her father’s change of heart, Fay was delighted when he told her that he had been over-hasty in his judgement. ‘I am now quite
amenable
to the marriage. Furthermore,’ he had continued, his chest swelling with pride at his own generosity, ‘I have decided to make you a wedding gift of sufficient money to let you buy a house or …’

‘Or do whatever you want,’ Catherine butted in.

‘Perhaps Henry could start some kind of business … doing whatever he considers himself capable of doing,’ Joseph had added, resentment at being so manipulated by his own wife making him unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Luckily, his daughter was too happy to notice his last few words and, when Henry arrived and was told the good news, great was the jubilation in the house above the pharmacy that night.

It was Max who caused him some aggravation some hours later. ‘You’ll need to show your birth certificate to the minister, mind,’ he told his friend.

‘Aye,’ Henry nodded. ‘I know my Gramma kept all that kind of things and Abby likely still has it somewhere.’

‘So you’ve never seen it yoursel’?’

‘I’ve never needed to see it.’

‘Aye, well.’

His euphoria ebbing, Henry wondered what Max was hinting at. Something was behind his remarks, that was certain … unless he was just warning him that it might be lost. Without proof of his date of birth and his legitimacy, he might not be allowed to marry Fay at all.

That Sunday, instead of going to Drymill, he asked Max if he could borrow his bicycle and went to Ardbirtle to see his sister. He hadn’t seen her since her wedding to Pogie Laing, not quite five months before, and was quite unprepared for what he
found. Abby was well on in pregnancy, seven or eight months at least, though he wasn’t an expert in judging such matters.

‘Aye,’ she admitted, her face flaming at the accusation in his eyes, ‘I’m in the family way but you needn’t look at me like that.’

‘You swore to me you hadn’t done …’

She laughed now. ‘So you think it was made before the wedding? No, I said I wouldn’t let Pogie touch me and he didn’t. I’m just four month gone but I’m as big as a baby elephant.’

Relieved that she hadn’t blotted her copybook, Henry teased, ‘Maybe you’re having twins – or triplets?’

‘I hope no’. It’ll be bad enough having one, though Nessie says she’ll come and help. She’s really good to me, Henry, and you got on with her at the wedding, didn’t you?’