Читать книгу Master of His Fate - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 14

Alexis Malvern stood in front of the cheval mirror positioned near the window in her bedroom. She studied herself for a moment, turning to one side and then the other, and decided she would pass muster.

At twenty-five, she knew her own mind, and some time ago she had given up wearing crinolines, except for very special evening occasions. She felt they were too cumbersome for her and the life she led. Instead she favoured the crinolette hoop, made of steel and cotton, a framework worn under the back of the skirt only. This meant that the skirt of a gown was slim at the front and the sides, with a big bustle at the back, supported by the hoop tied around the waist.

This afternoon her gown was made of a rich cream silk. It had a high neck, long slender sleeves and a tight bodice that accentuated her slender waist. From the waist down, the front of the skirt was flat, with pleats at each side, which, in turn, became the bustle.

Her clothes were designed by Madame Valance, a Frenchwoman, who was everyone’s favourite at the moment. Her clothes were elegant and stylish and not as flamboyant and flashy as some of the other fashion designers in London.

Walking over to the bed, Alexis picked up the hat which had been made to match the gown. It was a cream silk bowler, but more of an oval shape than round like the kind men wore. Trimming the rim of the hat were lengths of knotted tulle tied in a bow at the back.

Placing it on top of her auburn curls, Alexis tilted it to one side, set it at a jaunty angle, and stuck a hatpin in for safety. Now she was ready to leave at last.

Picking up her reticule, she walked to the door. She paused for a moment in the corridor, knowing she ought to go to her father’s study to say goodbye.

But she was reluctant to do so. There had been a breach in their relationship that troubled them both, and it had now gone on far too long. Perhaps this afternoon was the right time to heal that breach, and get them back to their normal relationship. But how would she begin? She stood there, thinking, knowing it was the proper thing to do, if only she could find the right words.

Although she did not know it, her father was having similar thoughts as he sat at the desk in his study. He wondered if he should go up to her room to speak to her and attempt reconciliation. Not that they had really quarrelled, and they were polite and civil with each other on a daily basis. Yet there was a coolness on her part, and he was hurting from it.

Henry sighed under his breath, rose and walked across the room, looking out at the garden, ruminating about the problem. It was Saturday 30 July 1887, and a glorious day, filled with sunshine. Yes, he wanted her back very badly, loathed her emotional withdrawal from him.

Henry Ashton Malvern was not exactly a self-made man. Rather he had taken his father’s small and rather badly run property business and turned it into a flourishing enterprise. And a big moneymaker. He had become an extremely wealthy man.

His older brother, Joshua, was his full partner in Malvern and Malvern, but did not have any ambition, no dreams of glory like Henry always had. It was Henry who had been the driving force behind the business, just as his daughter was now. She was so like him in many ways.

She was Henry’s only child, the third member of the Malvern team, and had worked by her father’s side from the age of sixteen, having refused to go to finishing school in Switzerland.

Her mother had died when Alexis was eight years old, and it was Henry who had raised her. She would often tease him and say that he had brought her up to be a boy. She was intelligent, hardworking and smart.

Alexis was his sole heir, and one day the business would be hers. She knew every aspect of it, and now, at twenty-five, she could take control of it if needs be. He had never known anyone more talented at business than his daughter; he had great respect and admiration for her.

Quite aside from this, Alexis was a rather beautiful young woman, with her auburn hair, deep green eyes and English-rose complexion. Because of her looks and her charming manner, she had had many suitors over the last few years. None of them appealed to her; also, she was wary of marriage, knowing that a husband would be the head of the family and would perhaps take control of her inheritance and the business. Frightening prospects to her.

And so, a few months ago, she had told her father that she would never get married, and had given him the reasons why. The prospect of not having a son-in-law or grandchildren appalled Henry. He also worried about the future of Malvern and Malvern after he was dead and Alexis grew older. Who would be her heirs?

A long and difficult discussion had ensued, and had brought about this breach in their loving relationship, a situation both of them genuinely hated. Nothing like this had ever happened; they felt isolated from each other.

There was a light knock at the door and, as Henry swung away from the window, Alexis walked into his study. He couldn’t speak for a moment. This afternoon she was breathtakingly lovely. The cream silk gown was a wonderful foil for her natural colouring, which appeared more vivid than ever and was most arresting.

‘Do you have a moment, Papa?’ Alexis asked, closing the door behind her, walking towards him.

‘Of course I do,’ he answered. ‘I was about to come and find you, before you left for your ladies’ tea. I hope you told Bolland to have the carriage ready for you.’

‘I did, Papa. Not that I’m going very far, only to Delia Talston’s house in Belgravia, but I can’t very well walk through the streets in a cream-coloured dress. It’ll soon be dirty.’

‘And, I might add, looking the way you do … very comely, indeed, my dear.’

A faint smile crossed her face, and she sat down on the edge of a chair. After a moment, she said, ‘I’ve been wondering how to start this conversation, Papa, and decided just to … well, blurt it out. So, I want you to know that, first of all, I’m sorry for my coolness and that there’s been a distance between us. Truly, truly sorry, and I apologize for hurting you. I would like us both to forget about our … disagreement, shall we call it? Let us put it behind us, be close again, as we’ve been all of my life.’

‘I want that more than anything in the world, Alexis. Thank you for taking the lead. I was wondering myself how to broach the matter to you a few minutes ago. You see, I’ve come to understand that you must live your life the way you wish. After all, it is your life, not mine. You must be happy and fulfilled, and if the business is enough for you, then so be it. It is your choice.’

‘Thank you, Papa. It’s not that I have anything against men, you know. I rather like them, enjoy their company. But I can’t become someone’s possession or have another person rule me. I need my freedom and I need to work in a business I love. I’m not cut out to be a housewife.’

Henry chuckled and held out his hands, pulled her to her feet. Automatically, she went into her father’s arms. He held her close for a moment, relief suffusing him, and he kissed her cheek, then released her.

Walking across to his desk, he said, over his shoulder, ‘I know you and Delia wish to launch that charity you dreamed up together last year, and that’s what this tea is all about today? I’m right, aren’t I?

‘Yes, you are,’ Alexis answered, staring after him, wondering what he was getting at.

He looked across at her and showed her an envelope. ‘There is a cheque in here which I wrote two weeks ago. I want to be the first to make a donation to your charity and wish you great success.’

Crossing the room, Alexis, accepted the envelope. She looked at the cheque. ‘Papa! How generous of you. Thank you, thank you so much.’

Delia Talston greeted Alexis in the peach-coloured drawing room of her townhouse, a smile of approval on her face. ‘You look quite divine today, Alexis. No wonder men fall all over you. I would too, if I were a man.’

Alexis laughed. ‘I should wear cream all the time, since it seems to engender compliments. I see I’m the first, so let me give you this before the others arrive.’ Opening her reticule, she handed the envelope to Delia. ‘Look inside. It’s a cheque from Papa.’

Delia raised a brow as she took the envelope from her. ‘Have you two finally reconciled? Oh, I do hope so.’

‘Everything is back to normal. I apologized to Papa just before I left, and he handed me the cheque. You’ll see he made it out two weeks ago.’

‘And he’s been so generous! How wonderful of him. Richard gave me a cheque this morning for five hundred pounds, and my father did the same last week. We now have a good sum for our kitty, because of other small donations I’ve received. Please thank your father, and I shall write him a note.’

‘I think we’re off to a good start.’ Alexis sat down on the edge of a chair, and glanced around. ‘I’ve always loved this room since you painted it peach a few years ago. It has worn well, I must say.’

‘Become too worn, I think. I was wondering the other day if I should create a new look.’

‘Oh no, don’t do that. The peach has grown mellow and warm; on a day like this, the room is so welcoming with the sunshine streaming in on us,’ Alexis observed.

‘The Persian’s somewhat tired,’ Delia murmured, glancing down at the large burgundy rug patterned in cream and moss green.

‘Leave everything alone!’ Alexis exclaimed. ‘Anyway, you won’t have time. You and I both are going to be rather busy—’

Alexis broke off as Parker, the butler, opened the door, announcing, ‘Mrs Clive, madame.’

Delia stood up and went to greet Vera Clive, an old friend, who shared her feelings about the plight of poor women in London.

After kissing each other’s cheeks, Delia escorted Vera into the room.

Alexis stood up, thrust out her hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Clive.’

‘And you too, Miss Malvern.’

At this moment, Parker returned once more, leading another young woman to the drawing room. He announced, ‘Miss Trevalian has arrived, madame.’

Once introductions had been made, the four elegant women sat down in chairs grouped near the French doors. These stood open, showing a view of the summer garden and allowing fresh air to circulate in the room.

Delia looked at her friends. ‘Welcome. I’m so happy you are here. And before we start speaking about the project, I did want to inform you that Miss Malvern’s father has made a very generous donation, my husband and father have also donated, and I’ve garnered another significant amount made up of smaller donations from members of my family. So not a bad start, wouldn’t you say?’

Vera Clive nodded. ‘My husband has given me a cheque for five hundred, I’m happy to tell you. And it is a very good start indeed.’

‘Thank you, Vera, and please thank Rupert on our behalf,’ Delia said.

Claudia Trevalian spoke up. ‘And I am giving the same amount, Delia.’ She opened her reticule, took out an envelope and passed it to Delia.

‘Thank you. How generous you’ve both been.’ Delia placed the envelopes on an occasional table next to her chair. Her eyes swept over her friends, and she began. ‘Last year Alexis told me a story that so appalled and disturbed me, I immediately agreed with her when she said she wanted to do something to help abused women. Mostly living in the East End. To start a charity, in fact.’

Glancing at Alexis, who sat opposite her, she continued. ‘Will you tell Vera and Claudia the story please, Alexis?’

‘Of course,’ Alexis said. ‘As you are no doubt aware, my father owns the Malvern Market in Camden. Last year, he went on one of his regular visits to the market to meet with stallholders, and one of them – Jack Holden – approached him. He wanted to know if my father knew of any safe shelters for women in distress.’

Alexis paused for a moment, shifting on the edge of the chair. ‘My father did not, and he asked Jack Holden why he needed this information. Seemingly, a neighbour of the Holdens had come to their home late one night seeking help. She had been so badly beaten that they knew they had to get her to the nearest hospital at once. Which they did. The poor woman had been attacked violently by her husband, and for such a long time that she had massive internal bleeding. Sadly, she died in the hospital later that week. Mr Holden’s startling comment to my father that abusive husbands were ‘two a penny’, and that they exist all over different areas of London, shocked Papa. He recounted all this to me, and so I went to see Mr Holden to gather more facts. I decided there and then I was going to find a house and turn it into a refuge for these distressed and helpless women.’

‘That is very commendable of you,’ Vera Clive remarked. ‘You can count on me to help you.’

‘And I would also like to volunteer,’ Claudia said. ‘Can we perhaps look for the right place together?’

‘I found the house six months ago,’ Alexis explained. ‘And I bought it. The interiors needed a great deal of work, and I had to add baths. And also water closets. I can only say thank goodness for Thomas Crapper and his products. I bought his WCs, which work well.’

‘That must have been a very expensive operation,’ Vera said, a frown furrowing her brow. ‘Perhaps we should give you some of the money we’ve donated to help with these costs.’

‘No, no, I don’t need it, but thank you for the offer. You see, Malvern and Malvern, our family company, does a lot of building in the course of the year. And I was able to negotiate some excellent deals with the building firms we constantly use. I have a legacy from my late mother and I paid for the refurbishing of the house with some of that. I think she would have approved.’

‘The good news is that Alexis now has the house ready,’ Delia interjected. ‘And we have found a good woman who will be in charge of it. She is helping us to put together a staff of five women, three of whom will live there with her. She’s called Madeleine Thompson; she will be the manager of the house.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly done an awful lot already. When can we see the house? And what can we do to help?’ Claudia asked.

‘I can take you to see the house any day next week,’ Alexis said. ‘It’s in Whitechapel near Commercial Street. Just round the corner, before you come to Whitechapel High Street. There is plenty of room there. It’s simply furnished, and this just occurred to me – if you’re thinking of throwing any pieces away, consider the house first.’

‘Oh, goodness me! I have several comfortable chairs and a sofa I want to get rid of,’ Vera said. ‘I’ll arrange for them to be taken over whenever it’s convenient for you.’

‘Thank you very much,’ Alexis said. ‘You see, Delia and I don’t want the funds we’ve raised to be used for purchasing furniture and the like. Rather we need the money to pay for food, medicines, and Mrs Thompson’s wages, of course.’

‘What about the other women who will work there?’ Claudia asked. ‘Will they be paid also?’

‘The three who will live in are former battered women and in need of a roof over their heads – a safe place to live. Since they have that, we will be paying them only a small amount of money, but they will get all of their meals,’ Alexis told them. ‘They too want to help women who have suffered.’

Delia said, ‘There’s another thing you can do, Vera, and you too, Claudia. Discarded clothing would be most useful, especially coats, cloaks, shawls, skirts, and blouses. Nothing too fancy. And even undergarments. When the women come to the house, they will literally have nothing at all with them except the clothes they’re wearing.’

At this moment, Parker arrived in the doorway and looked across at Delia, a questioning expression on his face. She merely nodded her head, and he hurried away.

‘Parker is about to bring us tea and biscuits,’ she said, smiling at her guests. ‘If you have any more questions, we will answer them. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re willing to join with us. And I know Alexis is as well. All suggestions are welcome.’

Claudia, looking thoughtful for a moment or two, finally asked, ‘The two other women who agreed to help … are they volunteers?’

‘Yes, they are,’ Delia replied. ‘The three who will be living in will cook and clean, and do everything they can to help the battered women.’

‘What happens if they fall ill?’ Vera looked from Delia to Alexis. ‘Will you pay for a doctor?’

‘Yes, we will. And, if necessary, we will send them to hospital. After all, we are a safe house offering temporary protection, and helping the women to get on their feet. We can’t look after the sick. If possible, we want them to move on and start a new life.’

Parker and two young maids entered the drawing room, placed several trays on a table nearby. Parker poured the tea and the maids served the ladies, and the butler followed with a plate of biscuits.

Once they were alone again, Vera asked, ‘What about bed linen and towels? I can have my housekeeper go through our linen closet. I’m sure we can spare quite a lot of items.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Alexis nodded. ‘Delia and I did the same thing, and Delia’s mother paid for some beds.’

Delia said, ‘This is all turning out very well, and I think it goes without saying that we will literally take anything you can give—’

‘Or cadge,’ Alexis cut in, happy that Delia’s friends were so enthusiastic.