The Crimson Bed (15 page)

    'That's no excuse at all and you know it!' exclaimed Ellie. 'All the princes in the world shouldn't keep you away, if you wanted. You always found time before.' Again, she blushed as if a troubling thought had come to her and fell silent.

    Fred, watching her closely, wondered what was passing through her mind and what had caused her sudden change of mood. As for Dillinger, he also appeared to sense something and regarded her with a quiet, thoughtful look. The conversation languished and he rose to leave, taking her hand and kissing it once more – holding it, in Fred's opinion, far longer than was proper – and then turned towards the younger man.

    He looked Fred over with disparagement as if the young man was a yokel at a country show.

    'So you have captured our lovely prize?' he said in his deep, drawling voice that seemed to convey a wealth of distaste and arrogance.

    'Sir?'

    'Our beautiful Eleanor,' said Dillinger taking her hand again and smiling at the young girl who looked up at him and laughed.

    'Oh, truly sir, you make me sound as if I was up for sale!'

    'Hardly, dear child, but you
are
a glorious prize nonetheless. All your suitors will be very envious and disappointed. I hope this young man will take good care of you.'

    'Of course he will; he does already,' said Ellie with a smile for Fred. 'Fred is the kindest soul on earth.'

    'I trust so,' said Dillinger. His voice was quite severe and made Fred blink. He felt like a young boy in front of his headmaster.

    'I have met your father, professionally but not socially as yet,' his lordship added, 'but that can be arranged. We all have to keep on the right side of our bankers, don't we? D'you eventually intend to follow his profession, might I ask?'

    'I did intend to do so, but I'm not really sure I'm cut out for it.'

    'Ah yes, I hear you are more of an artistic type, mixing with... interesting and bohemian characters.'

    'Where did you hear that, sir?' said Fred, flushing at the sarcasm in that cold, measured voice and bristling at this derisive reference to his friends.

    'Oh, gossip gets around. I mean no offence,' said Dillinger with a sudden wan smile. 'I also enjoy the company of artists and actors and so forth and they love to talk about each other, being on the whole very self-absorbed people. Don't misunderstand my interest in your affairs, Mr Thorpe. I'm afraid I am very protective of our little Eleanor. I simply wish to be sure that she mixes with the right people. It's my privilege as an old acquaintance of the family, don't you think?'

    'I suppose, sir, it is your privilege,' Fred replied, still angry, 'but if Mr Farnham approves of me then I see no reason for disquiet on y
our
part. I assure you my friends are all people of scholarly and gentle background. These are the people with whom we like to spend an evening. Isn't that so, Ellie?'

    'It is indeed,' she smiled, 'but you mustn't mind being quizzed by my Dillie. He
is
my godfather after all and fussier, if that were possible, than Papa. It is all meant kindly and in my best interest.'

    'Your best interests are always close to my heart,' Dillinger replied in a grave tone. He looked again at Ellie, holding her gaze in such a manner that made Fred feel decidedly uncomfortable. That Lord Dillinger might nurture a tender feeling for his fiancée was surely ridiculous. He was a handsome man but far too old, nearly fifty by now. Surely, it was all avuncular and came from the knowledge of long acquaintance? Ellie said Percy Dillinger had been a friend of the family long before she had been born, before he had even married or inherited the Dillinger estates and become a Lord. Fred realised it was ridiculous to be jealous of the man. Of course, the fellow was over-protective in the interests of his old friend's daughter, who wouldn't be?

    Dillinger rang for the servant to fetch round his carriage, bowed again and took his leave.

    'I don't like that man,' Fred said when the peer had gone and he was alone with Ellie at last.

    'Oh, don't be silly. Dillie is a paragon of all virtues in Pa's eyes and under his stiff exterior, he's a kind man. He is truly.'

    'As kind as a snake,' Fred muttered, still feeling felt humiliated and distrustful. 'I don't care for his attitude.'

    'Whatever's the matter with you?' asked Ellie in surprise, 'You're usually so easy-going with everyone.'

    'Ellie, you were flirting with the man. He's twice your age, for Heaven's sake!'

    She stared at him and looked astonished at his reaction.

    'I've always been playful with my dear Dillie. I think you're just jealous because I love him too. How foolish you men are! Can't you see the difference in my love for you?'

    'You truly love me, Ellie, dearest Ellie?' he asked, a little mollified by her genuine surprise. 'You still want me, really, really want me?'

    In reply, she turned up her face for a kiss and when his rejoinder began to grow a trifle over-passionate, skipped blithely away and went over to the window to look down at the garden below. It was beginning to glow with colour as the leaves turned red and golden, gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

    Fred followed her and put his arm about her shoulders and she leant against him and murmured, 'Fred, dear Fred, I always feel so comfortable in your affectionate, warm presence. I feel safe and nurtured as if nothing could ever harm me when you are near.'

    'I would defend you with my life,' he said with passion, 'I will always protect you and nurture you, Ellie.'

    They remained for some time in tender, companionable silence, Ellie gazing thoughtfully out of the window, Fred gazing down at Ellie with an intense and rapt admiration.

    'I love the autumn,' she said, 'the colours are so rich and warm and varied. Don't the trees look lovely now?'

    'Yes, they are beautiful. But it is all so brief. Autumn has such sadness about it. For Keats it was the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, for me it has an air of lushness and ripeness that so soon will turn rotten, over-ripe, the bright bonny leaves brown and trampled underfoot.'

    'How can you see just the decay?' she said, laughing and looking up at him in surprise, 'how dismal of you, Fred! I see the beauty, the rich colour and you see the decay. Why is that?'

    Fred had no answer. He always saw the flaws, the undercoating of ugliness to everything and yet he worshipped Beauty. It was a paradox and he had no answer for it.

    'I can't help it. It's the way I am,' he said. His voice was sad.

    'Then I must help you to be different,' she said.

    'You must indeed,' he said eagerly. 'I feel you
do
help me, Ellie. You help me to be more positive about life. I used to feel so little was worth living for but now I have everything to live for. I love you so much it hurts, Ellie. I want to possess you. I want you for always and into eternity. I feel now that I have always wanted to be with you from the womb to the tomb.'

    For a moment, Ellie shivered at these words.

    'Oh, Fred! To be possessed as if I was a beautiful object!'

    He looked down at her, his eyes full of loving feeling.

    'You know that's not so. You mean far more than that to me. I love everything about you, your beauty, your soul, your nature. You're my companion and my soul mate, soon to be my wife.'

    'Dear Fred, you are so kind. I know you want my happiness.'

    'More than anything else – more than anything else in this world,' was his heartfelt response as he kissed her.

    Ellie smiled and looked wistful for a moment, and turned to look out of the window once more. Fred sensed that her thoughts had now become heavy and sad. Why this sadness? She should be so happy now. Yet something intangible had come between them both and he wished Lord Dillinger had not come to see her, with his frightening talk of wars and things. That gentleman's visit had disturbed Ellie, of that he felt certain, but he dared probe no more.

Chapter 12

The wedding date was now set for January. As the time approached, Fred began to have trouble sleeping at night. He thought of Ellie constantly, his heart swelling with longing to be with her forever, master in his own home, no longer subordinate to his parents and their ideas. He was now twenty-eight years old and realised that he should have cleared out long ago, taken his own chambers like Henry, Gabriel Rossetti, Johnnie Millais and the others. Lazy habit and a marked disinclination for work had kept him at home living on the comfortable allowance his father gave him, plus some handouts from his mother when his debts began to pile too perilously high.

    The memory of Bessie still clouded his glorious horizon. He had pushed it all to the back of his mind and intended it to remain there but it was not to be. The other day, his mother had called him over to her as he was passing the little back parlour. She sat as always, spread out languidly upon a sofa, book in hand.

    She sat fanning herself for a few moments with her book and staring at her son. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and wondered what on earth she was thinking about and what she wanted to ask of him. It was usually something immensely inconvenient and he wanted to hurry off to collect Ellie and take her out along with Henry and another friend to one of their favourite eating-places in the Strand.

    'Sit down, dear, don't stand towering over me,' said his mother and he seated himself on the edge of a chair opposite her, halfpoised for flight.

    'Soon you are to be married,' said Beatrice grandly, 'and I would like to think all will go well for you. Miss Farnham is a delicately nurtured young lady who will know very little about what is expected on her wedding night. I want to be sure that you don't, in a moment of lover-like candour, say anything that might upset the girl. I trust you have not?'

    He felt a flush slowly creeping up from under his cravat and cast his eyes downwards. He knew what she was getting at and hated his mother for even reminding him. Why did she have to say anything about it in that slightly mocking manner she sometimes had? Why dredge up the past? He had only been seventeen at the time, for Heaven's sake. He wanted no one to know of the events that had followed his treatment of the unhappy Bessie.

    'I'm not stupid, mother. Of course I have said nothing.'

    And nothing ought to have been said of the matter by anyone, for even that slut, Susanna, kept her mouth shut and refused to corroborate poor Bessie's tale when needed.

    Bessie, to her dismay, had found herself pregnant after the event. In the face of the desolation that lay ahead of her, the hapless girl plucked up her courage and lay in wait, catching her mistress one day as she walked close to the kitchen, a part of the house to which Beatrice seldom descended unless obliged.

    'How dare you accuse my son of such a thing!' said Beatrice in a fury, looking at the girl as if she had just crawled out of the gutters. 'Who in the world would believe such an outrageous idea? You probably have some other young fellow you've been walking out with. Now you're trying to be clever and see what can be gained from the matter!'

    'No Mum, truly, truly. 'E made me do it, the young master made me do it. I ain't got no young man of my own. My Pa will kill me, mum, you won't turn me out, please don't turn me out. I ain't got nowhere to go!' Bessie wailed.

    'Be quiet. Do we want the world to hear your ridiculous story! You should have thought of that, stupid girl, before getting yourself into this predicament,' said Beatrice, looking at the slovenly girl with loathing. 'As if my son would come near a creature like yourself! Be off with you! I will dismiss you for a liar and a slattern and give you no character.'

    In despair, the girl waited for Fred outside the area steps, accosting him as he came home and begging to speak with him. Alarmed, Fred drew her aside, praying no one would notice them and she poured it all out. The shock made him turn pale and weak with fright.

    'Mistress will send me to the workhouse,' the girl pleaded, 'please 'elp me, sir.'

    'Shush, shush!' he said uneasily, 'let me see what can be done.'

    Fred, horrified by his own act, had tried hard to forget that he, a man who would never hurt a fly, had treated a woman like this. He dared not speak to his father who had very strong views upon the immorality of servants and the working classes. So he went to his mother and confessed his stupidity.

    'Well, I ain't
too
surprised, my boy. You take after your Grandfather, it seems. My father was a libertine in his day, everyone knew that,' his mother remarked unconcernedly. 'Nobody took such umbrage over these matters in those days but now it's quite another thing. Now when I was a young gal I overheard Father saying to one of my brothers who had got a maid in trouble that 'all servant women enjoy cock on the side and that they were rather proud to have a gentleman cover them.' That's what he said, oh yes. I had little enough idea what he had meant at the time, but I remembered his words, for sure! And right enough he was as well. Maids! – sluts the lot of them.'

    She looked amused by her son's shocked expression. 'Oh, for goodness sakes, Frederic! You're such a prude one minute and a libertine the next. Just like all modern young men. Men in my day were men and not ashamed of it. Your foolish act ain't such a disgrace as you think but there
are
limits, you know. A scullery girl! Really, Frederic, have you no propriety? That is sinking a trifle too low. We must certainly make sure your father never hears of this matter. You utter fool of a boy!' Seeing her favourite son hang his head and look downcast and stricken, she softened her tone. 'Now don't go getting all put down. It's what a man does, after all. Just be sure not to go so far another time. You understand what I refer to? Hasn't anyone taught you anything?'