Читать книгу A Fallen Woman - Nancy Carson - Страница 12

Content that he was about to enjoy some sensuality and tenderness at last, Benjamin was sitting on Maude Atkins’ bed in his long johns, undressing himself by the light of a spluttering candle, as he anticipated the warmth and smoothness of her body entwined with his.

‘So how was the wedding?’ Maude asked, as she pulled her chemise over her head, tousling her curls.

‘Can’t say I enjoyed it much, stuck with that Algie Stokes and his dull wife.’

‘I thought Algie Stokes’s wife was supposed to be a looker.’

‘Yes, I suppose she is a looker…in a plebeian sort of way. She’s still dull.’

In the spartan bedroom of the small house he had provided stood a makeshift wardrobe, a dressing table bought second-hand, and an ottoman, on top of which was accruing assorted articles of Maude’s attire as she divested herself of it. The floor was bare boards apart from two small rugs – one each side of the bed – hand-podged by Maude herself from scraps of material. Even though the house was small, and not what he was used to, Benjamin felt comfortable in it, relieved to be with Maude where he could relax, indulge himself – and be wanted, especially after that wedding circus, peopled by clowns.

‘Aren’t you taking your socks off?’

‘What’s the point?’

Maude meticulously folded her chemise and laid it on the ottoman that stood under the window, netted and curtained for privacy. ‘Did the groom seem happy?’

‘He seemed in good humour, now you mention it. So did his bride. But what he sees in her beats me.’ He stood up and downed his long johns.

‘Clarence knows her better than you do,’ Maude remarked logically, untying the waist ribbons of her drawers. ‘I expect he sees in her something you don’t.’

‘He must do. She’s agreeable company I admit, and said to be virtuous too. But being agreeable and virtuous won’t necessarily make a woman exciting.’

‘Time will tell.’ Maude stepped out of her drawers and stood tantalisingly naked on the opposite side of the bed as he turned to see her.

As Benjamin stepped out of his long johns, she could see that he was already aroused.

‘Time will tell, I daresay,’ he agreed. ‘Let’s hope she keeps him happy.’ He pulled back the covers and sank into the bed.

‘So that he doesn’t feel inclined to pester Aurelia, you mean?’ Aware that this might be the start of a discussion which could delay and even inhibit lovemaking, she pulled back the bed covers on her side and slid into bed, snuggling up to him for the pleasure that his skin against hers afforded, as well as for warmth.

He wrapped his arms around her, welcoming her smooth, warm body. However, this niggling concept, just reintroduced, was pressing in its significance. It diverted him. ‘You know, Maude,’ he said, suddenly more earnest, raising his head and propping himself up by his arm, ‘I don’t think Clarence Froggatt has been pestering Aurelia. I don’t think anything has gone on between them at all.’

‘Oh, come on, Ben,’ Maude protested. ‘You must be mistaken. Or you’re just naïve.’

‘No, I don’t reckon so. I watched them as they spoke to one another at the wedding. There seemed no guile there, you know what I mean? No hint whatsoever in the way they reacted to one another. There was nothing that makes me suspect something’s been going on. Oh, I know they were engaged once, but it’s obvious it’s all water under the bridge. They’re only on nodding terms these days.’

‘You surprise me,’ she remarked incredulously, and gave him a peck on the lips.

‘Why is it surprising?’ He let his hand run down her back, lingering at one fleshy cheek of her small backside, and then he pulled her to him. ‘However…’

‘However, what?’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s been having a bit of a fling with that article Algie Stokes. There’s definitely something between them. Something too familiar. I watched them. You can see it in the way they are with each other, the way they look at each other. She even kissed him – on the lips. I saw it. A young woman – a married woman – wouldn’t kiss a man on the lips unless she knew him very well, would she? And him with that very pretty wife of his.’

‘You said she was dull a minute ago…and plebeian.’

‘Well, she comes from plebeian stock.’ Benjamin always conveniently overlooked the fact that his own father was less than nothing in the world until he realised he could be what he wanted to be, and made it happen. ‘Her family works the narrowboats.’

‘So what?’ Maude resented the implication – her own family was lowly and working class too. ‘If she’s made something of herself…’

‘Well, yes…At least she doesn’t look like a wench from the narrowboats, I have to admit, but I suppose if Algie Stokes can afford to indulge her regal fancies with his ill-gotten gains…’

‘She’s very likely had some tuition from Aurelia,’ Maude suggested. ‘They’re as thick as thieves, those two, you said. On the other hand, though, would they be as thick as thieves, if Aurelia had been having a fling with this girl’s husband? I daresay there’d be some resentment.’

‘From Aurelia, you mean?’

‘Well, don’t you think so? They’re half-sisters, aren’t they?’

‘Mmm…’ he mused. ‘But if the plebeian little wife ain’t aware something’s been going on, she’s hardly likely to show any resentment, is she?’

‘So…’ Maude gave him another peck on the lips. ‘If you reckon something has gone on, or is going on with Algie Stokes – which I doubt, by the way, ’cause he’s a nobody either, and Aurelia does think she’s somebody special after all – then what do you intend doing about it?’

‘I could always question her.’

‘I suppose you could. Not that she’d admit to anything, of course. But if something has been going on and it could be proved, you would have grounds for divorce.’

‘Divorce? Mmm…Could be messy – and expensive – but I must say, Maude, divorce has a distinct appeal.’ It would be a means of escape, he privately pondered, despite the stigma that might attach to one or other of them as a result. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, squeezing a pliant breast.

‘You should think about it, Benjamin. But afterwards, when you’ve left here, eh?’ She slid on top of him and began kissing him ardently.

* * *

A couple of hours later the growler conveying the Stokeses and Aurelia turned into the drive of Holly Hall House and drew to a halt. The driver jumped down and deferentially opened the carriage door.

‘Algie, why don’t you see Aurelia safely inside?’ Marigold suggested.

‘All right,’ he agreed at once, and made to follow her.

‘No, please don’t trouble yourself, Algie,’ Aurelia replied, her voice insistent as she leaned forward to make her exit. ‘I only have to walk through the front door, as I have thousands of times before.’

‘If you’re sure…’

‘Yes, I’m sure. In any case, Jane will still be up.’

‘Goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight each.’ She stepped down from the cab, lifting the hem of her dress.

‘Goodnight, ma’am.’ The driver shut the cab door behind her, clambered back to his seat and flicked the reins. Out of habit he touched his hat, but in the darkness it went unnoticed.

Aurelia stood and watched the growler turn and transit the driveway to the crunch of gravel beneath its wheels. She had enjoyed the day, enjoyed the company of Marigold, Algie and the Meese girls, the gaiety and good humour of the wedding. Returning home was an anti-climax. The feeling of loneliness enveloped her again, more intensely now. Returning to this mausoleum, to Benjamin, was so thoroughly depressing. Why could she not be returning home to the warm embrace of a man she loved? She was desperate for happiness, for contentment, for a settled life, to be free of this soul-destroying misery and uncertainty. Her concern was not just for herself, but equally for her children. What future did they have, brought up in a marriage that was devoid of affection but rich in hostility? The love she had been prepared to give Benjamin, the marital support, was all wasted on him. She was not appreciated, not understood, betrayed, disregarded. Worse, she was manifestly scorned.

The night was humid and a warm breeze wafted sultrily through the canopy of the elms. She turned away with increasing despondency from the departing growler, and gazed at the house. Despite the warmth outside, inside it would remain cold and soulless, as if all the history and life the place had previously seen and contained had evaporated without trace. She longed for the day when she might never have to return to it. Yet it seemed destined to be her quarters for the rest of her life. As soon as she opened the door and went inside, her melancholy returned.

The maid had indeed waited up, and declared that no sound had come from upstairs where the children and their nanny were evidently sleeping soundly.

‘Mr Sampson has been called elsewhere, Jane,’ Aurelia said, contriving to explain her return alone, ‘but I’m sure he won’t be too long. There’s no need for you to wait up. Please go to bed. I’ll brew myself some tea before I go up.’

‘Let me do it, ma’am,’ Jane felt obliged to offer out of sympathy, for she was well aware that all was not as it should be between her mistress and master, and that Aurelia was getting the worst of it. ‘There’s hot water in the kettle on the range. It’ll soon boil up again.’

Aurelia smiled appreciatively. ‘No need, Jane. Please do as I say. I prefer to do it myself this time. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Very well, ma’am. Did you enjoy the wedding, ma’am?’

‘Yes, Jane, thank you.’ Aurelia smiled again, indulging the maid, content to recall the pleasant incidents and the conversations that had peppered it. ‘It all went off very smoothly and we had a lovely time. And the bride looked radiant.’

‘’Tis good to know, ma’am.’ Jane returned the smile and bobbed a curtsey before duly scurrying up the stairs to her bed in the attic.

Aurelia made her way to the scullery and lifted the kettle to assess how much water was inside. There seemed sufficient, so she swung it over the glowing coals, hanging it from its gale hook, and then located a teapot.

In that large house, although peopled also at that moment by a maid, a sleeping nanny and her two sleeping children, she felt acutely her loneliness. She sat and looked absently at the fading coals slipping in the grate that were gradually, degree by slow degree, heating the water in the kettle towards boiling point.

Then she heard a sound conveyed via the chimney, unmistakably carriage wheels scrunching over gravel again. Soon after, a door opened and closed at the other side of the house.

Benjamin.

Maybe he would like some tea as well. He failed to appear in the scullery, however. Instead, he went upstairs, and she hoped he’d gone directly to bed. A floorboard creaked above her. She looked upwards as if she might be able to see through the plastered ceiling, then picked up the poker and gave the coals a stir, disturbing the kettle’s equilibrium. It swung gently on the gale hook and sighed, eliciting a thin gasp of steam through the swan-neck spout. Upstairs, a door opened and closed noisily. More creaking floorboards. Eventually, footsteps on the stairs again. Benjamin was on his way down. Was he looking for her? She braced herself. Why couldn’t he simply go to bed and leave her be?

The door to the scullery opened and Benjamin, hand on the doorknob, his hair looking as if it had been freshly brushed, stood regarding her, expressionless.

‘So you ain’t gone to bed yet.’

‘I’ve not long got back,’ she replied. ‘I sent Jane to bed and decided to make myself some tea. Would you like some?’

He closed the door, took one of the chairs at the other side of the table and sat facing her.

‘Thank you. I could do justice to a cup of tea.’

Thank you. Glory be, he’d offered a thank you. What had she done to deserve such consideration?

‘Kettle’s nearly boiling. I’ll get two cups and saucers.’

‘Have we got any cakes or biscuits? I’m starving.’

She found two jam tarts, put them on a plate and handed them to him. He devoured them avidly.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Aurelia,’ he said as he put the plate on the table and rubbed his fingers free of crumbs.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. And I’d like a truthful answer.’

‘If it’s something I know about,’ she said, reaching into a cupboard, ‘then I’ll give you an honest answer.’ She retrieved a couple of cups and saucers, turned and placed them on the table. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘I’ve had my suspicions about you for some time – since before Christina was born,’ he said calmly.

‘Suspicions?’ Her heart thumped. As she spooned tea leaves into a ceramic teapot, her back was towards him, so he could not see the consternation in her expression or her reddening face. ‘What sort of suspicions?’

‘Well…’ He hesitated; trying to formulate his thoughts into words that he was determined to deliver in a tone of reasonableness. With any luck she might respond rationally, without argument and resentment. With reasonableness, he’d be more likely to get to the truth. ‘You left me, not so many months ago, Aurelia,’ he went on smoothly. ‘Why?’

‘You know very well why,’ she answered, likewise tempering an inclination to haughtiness. ‘Because of your affair with Maude Atkins. I failed to see why I should put up with it.’

At last the kettle began to bubble and steam so she lifted it from the gale hook and poured the hot water into the teapot, her back still towards him.

‘And yet you came back.’

‘Because I was carrying a child.’ She gave the tea a stir, placed the lid on the pot, then reached for a tea cosy and covered it. ‘I realised within a few days after I left that I was with child. It was my duty to come back. I could hardly rob you of your own child. I could hardly rob the child of its father.’

‘Yes, I remember the occasion well enough. What I can’t remember, for the life of me, is the two of us coupling at the time you must have conceived.’

‘Oh, don’t be absurd, Benjamin.’ She poured milk into the two cups ready for the tea, which was steeping. ‘I agree it only happened occasionally, but of course we coupled. I suppose it was one of those times you’d had too much to drink and don’t remember.’

‘My suspicions are that somebody else fathered Christina,’ he declared.

Their eyes met, but neither husband nor wife gave anything away in that expressionless, emotionless glance.

‘That’s a serious allegation, Benjamin.’

‘So it is. So come on, Aurelia. Out with it. Why else would you have left me in the first place, unless you’d had a better offer?’

‘I left you because I was desperately unhappy, because of your affair with Maude Atkins. As a matter of fact, I still am. I know you’re still very much involved with her,’ she added scornfully. Now seemed as good a time as any to let him know she was not as blind as he would like her to be. ‘I also know you fathered a child with her. I imagine you’re keeping them both somewhere. I suppose that’s where you’ve been tonight.’

‘Where I’ve been tonight is not in question,’ he replied dismissively, for keeping a mistress and fathering a bastard was his absolute right. ‘But I reckon there’s more to it than what you claim. You see, I reckon you’d been having an affair yourself, got pregnant and decided to leave me so you could go and live in sin with this person. But when this person realised you were pregnant he decided he wanted neither you, nor the responsibility of a bastard child, so he dropped you like a hot brick, leaving you no alternative but to come back here.’

‘That’s preposterous,’ she replied, with an aloofness that was becoming harder to maintain. It occurred to her that if that’s what he was really thinking, he was being very reasonable about it – quite unaccountably.

‘Aurelia, all I want is the truth.’ He was maintaining an unnerving calmness. With an open gesture of the hands, he added, ‘Just the truth…And the name of this other man.’

She shrugged. ‘Always supposing there was another man.’

‘Give me his name and I’ll start divorce proceedings. You’ll be free. I’ll be free. It’s what you want anyway, isn’t it?’

Aurelia lifted the tea cosy, took the lid off the pot and gave the liquid another stir, then began to pour. The offer of a divorce was inordinately tempting. Only in her wildest dreams…She would be free of Benjamin Sampson, free of his cold indifference, free of his soulless house. But in return she would have to give up little Benjie, and that she was not prepared to do. Nor would she, or could she, reveal and embarrass the father of Christina.

‘Even if there was somebody else,’ she replied coolly, handing him a cup and saucer with false aplomb, ‘do you honestly believe I would give you the satisfaction of knowing who it was? No, Benjamin, if it’s divorce you want, then the only way you’ll get it is by deserting me. Go and live with your precious lie-by and I’ll divorce you for desertion. That way I’ll stand a chance of keeping my children.’

‘Shall I tell you what I think, Aurelia?’ He sipped the hot tea circumspectly, and then put the cup down. ‘Shall I tell you what I firmly believe?’

‘Do I have a choice?’ she replied with a huff of frustration and indignation. His manifest contempt for what he believed she had done, yet his utter lack of self-condemnation of his own extramarital transgressions outraged her.

‘I believe you had an affair with Algie Stokes, but only the Lord above knows what you saw in him. Furthermore, I believe you not merely had an affair with Algie Stokes, but that he also fathered Christina.’

‘Benjamin, how can you possibly think such a thing? It’s a ludicrous suggestion.’ She was trying desperately to remain unruffled.

‘I can think it because I watched the two of you together today in close conversation. You spent more time with him than was decent. You acted like clandestine lovers. You looked like clandestine lovers. I actually saw you kiss him. I saw the way you reacted to each other, your familiarity. Your movements, your gestures when you were together spoke louder than any words could.’

‘That’s preposterous, Benjamin, and you know it. Algie Stokes is my half-sister’s husband. You don’t for a minute think I’d cross her do you?’ It might be just the sort of reasoning that would satisfy him, she thought.

‘Ah, but…how long have you known Marigold to be your half-sister?’ he asked, prompted by a remarkable notion that suddenly struck him, but which he considered highly plausible now that it had.

Aurelia shrugged. ‘I’ve known her from the day her daughter was born.’

‘Which was when?’

‘April last year.’

‘And how long after that was Christina born?’

‘In the August.’

He recited the names of the months in turn, counting them on his fingers. ‘Five months.’ This was an enlightened argument and he intended to press it ruthlessly. ‘This means you conceived Christina about four months before Marigold’s brat was born. During that time, Algie Stokes had lost contact with her. Isn’t that so?’

‘My goodness, Benjamin,’ Aurelia exclaimed, unable to control her reserve, her anger rising. ‘That doesn’t prove a thing. You’re clutching at straws if you think that proves anything at all. You really do sound desperate for a divorce.’ She sipped her tea and replaced the cup in its saucer with a clatter.

‘But it makes sense,’ he proclaimed with an exuberance that suggested he might have just stumbled upon the meaning of life. ‘So, when Marigold was then reunited with Algie, you were left with little option but to wish the couple well, in a reunion that was rather untimely as far as you were concerned. Your only option as a result was to pass off the child you were carrying as mine. Maude has often reported to me that the days and nights I was away on business, you went out and didn’t come home till the next day.’

‘How would she know?’ Aurelia protested vehemently. ‘The nights she normally had off were the same nights that you were away on business. So she was in no position to claim any such thing. I’m not stupid, Benjamin. I know she was with you at least on some of those nights. I can only assume she must be a whole lot of fun in bed. Is she?’

He did not reply.

‘Yet this is all about me and your accusing me of being unfaithful. So it is perfectly acceptable for Maude to have borne you a child – out of wedlock – yet you try and berate me because you think I committed the same sin as you. You’re a hypocrite, Benjamin Sampson. A hypocrite through and through.’

‘Hypocrite or no, I don’t see why I should be expected to keep a child that I haven’t fathered. Christina is not mine, Aurelia. Algie Stokes is Christina’s father as far as I’m concerned.’

‘You’ll never be able to prove that, Benjamin.’

‘Oh, won’t I? We’ll see…And when I do, Algie Stokes can pay for her keep.’

* * *