The Crimson Bed (17 page)

The wedding breakfast was a rather stiff and formal affair held at the bride's home. Once the cake had been cut, Fred and Ellie changed into their travelling clothes and set off with Henry and Mulhall in the carriage for the wedding trip, their destination unknown to all but Henry, who smilingly refused to disclose a thing, not even on pain of torment. He was to accompany them to the train and help with their luggage.

    'Try to get
some
sleep, old man!' joked Henry, giving Fred a slap on the shoulders. 'You've a beautiful bride, you lucky dog! Well, God speed and God be with you both.'

    The bride and groom smiled back at him a little uncertainly.

    Henry slammed the door and stood waving till the train had disappeared down the tracks.

    Mulhall had taken herself off to the second-class compartment and the young couple now lay back relaxed at last in their own private carriage, while the train steamed out of the fog grime, soot, and smells of London.

    'Glad to be free of London Town?' said Fred, turning to put an arm about his wife.
His wife!
He revelled in the joy of it and smiled at her, kissing her lips tenderly.

    Ellie nodded and snuggled up against him, glad all the fuss was over.

    They enjoyed a pleasant meal at their hotel and chatted and laughed as they recalled the day's events. Later they took themselves up to their room, both tired after the day's excitement and joy. Now a slight restraint seemed to come between them as if both of them were a little afraid of what they knew would lie ahead. The honeymoon bed looked inviting and deep, the sheets crisp and snowy white.

    They stood and looked at one another shyly and Ellie turned up her face towards Fred, sliding her arms about his neck. He gazed down at her, ran a gentle finger over her cheek, and touched her lips. She was so pure, so lovely and untouched. He wasn't sure he deserved her. He wasn't sure he was worthy of her. For all his belief in being a knight in armour to his Lady Fayre, the reality was different. He felt suddenly afraid of her and couldn't give the kiss she expected. She took her arms away and looked at him in faint surprise but said nothing.

    'I'll go into the dressing room,' he said awkwardly. 'Mulhall will want to come and get you ready for bed.'

    'Very well, Fred.'

    He went into the dressing room and left Ellie with Mulhall to prepare herself. He needed some time alone to work himself up for this long-awaited, yet terrifying moment. As he slowly undressed, Fred could not help the constant memory coming to his mind of the night he had seduced poor Bessie. There were encounters with other women too, loose women picked up at a cigar divan or those ready to go behind the curtain of some little milliner's shop and into the room beyond for a pretty price. Those encounters troubled him less: fleeting, fumbling experiences where the women had wanted his money and had come with him of their own accord. No, for some reason, it was the fact that he had felt a crude, drunken excitement while raping poor sluttish Bessie; it was also the fact that she had borne him an unknown daughter, one he could never acknowledge. All this remained like a blot in his heart. It had been a shameful act.

    He did not deserve his pure young bride. He felt he was tainted and that she would push him away if she knew of his past. True, she was an open-minded person and surprisingly knowing in some way. He put this down to her liberal and educated background. All the same, she could know nothing about the sexual experience, being a sheltered girl, a cosseted young woman. She could not know what things men were capable of doing. Ladies of her class were above such knowledge. She might understand – but would she forgive?

    Fred now felt afraid that he would be unable to perform his marital duties; that black memory kept intruding and deflating him. It was impossible to understand how he had been attracted to a filthy creature like Bessie. She felt like some illness, a canker in his soul.

    When he emerged at last from the dressing room, he found Ellie already in bed with nightdress and nightcap on. She had drawn the sheets up to her chin and was staring at the ceiling and the shadows thrown by the oil lamp on the walls. He turned down the lamp till it was dark and only then felt able to approach her, hardly able to see her. Her face shone a pale and ghostly white in the sliver of moonlight that shone through a crack in the curtains. This way he felt safe. Now she was no longer Ellie to stare at him with virginal, reproachful eyes but a female body to be desired and taken. His breath came forth in laboured gasps and he pulled back the sheets and pulled up the girl's nightclothes, forced down her arms and entered her with a peculiar roughness that took her by surprise.

    The act was short and swift and totally lacking in tenderness.

    Ellie lay beside him afterwards as he fell asleep and felt the deepest disappointment. Fred was such a romantic man yet he had treated her without any thought or consideration, too urgent to notice her virginity or lack of it. This had been a constant source of worry in her heart but at least that part was all right and she could feel safe now. She hoped that this was just his wedding night nerves and that things might get more loving and tender as time went by.

Chapter 14

Lord Dillinger and Lady Mary Dillinger invited Fred and Ellie over to a celebratory dinner party at their town house near Kensington Gardens. This was the young married couple's first major society engagement. Ellie took great trouble to look her very best that night and Fred remarked upon the fact. He came into the bedroom just as Mulhall was putting the finishing touches to her hair and stood behind her. They regarded each other's reflection in the mirror.

    'Will you not wear the diamonds I gave you, dearest?' he asked, taking them up from her dressing table and handing them to her with a smile.

    'Of course. These are my favourites,' she said and allowed him to put them around her throat while she hooked on the earrings. She was wearing a dress of pale rose satin with a lace-encrusted 'Bertha' neckline that showed off the slope of her creamy shoulders and long, graceful neck. . It complemented her dark glossy hair, which she now liked to wear slightly loose and looped up at the back, something in the manner in which Lizzie Siddal, Gabriel Rossetti's favourite model, dressed her hair. She admired this style as being more soft and casual. Little dark curls escaped onto her neck and Fred kissed them and then kissed her hand and left her to Mulhall to finish her toilette.

    He was as romantic, thoughtful, and adoring as ever but she thought with regret that his lovemaking had not improved. It would not have been an issue if she had nothing with which to compare him. Then she would have supposed that was how all men behaved. But
she
knew differently and the contrast would always be there.

    She felt sure that Fred had not been a virgin when they wed. Was any man? There was something dark and hidden in him too and she could not lay her finger on what it might be. However, they agreed with one another in almost all other matters and she felt that it was just the way things were, to be borne as patiently as all other women bore their husband's attentions in this area. Perhaps she was lucky that his appetites were infrequent and swift. One of her friends assured her that her cold severe husband never left her in peace for one night without demanding his conjugal rights and that he was undemonstrative not only in this but in all other areas of their life. How tedious. At least Fred was warm and affectionate in every other way.

Lord Dillinger had sent his carriage to bring them over to his London residence. Their household expenses did not yet run to keeping their own vehicle. As they approached the Bayswater Road, Fred began to look ill at ease. Ellie knew that he had not been at all enthusiastic about this dinner engagement but she made sure he had no reason to refuse, rather that he should feel it an honour. His mother, Beatrice, certainly thought so and was quite delighted. Fred knew full well that Ellie would put her foot down and create a scene if he did not. He had begun to realise that she was very good at creating a scene when she wanted something badly.

    They were ushered to the salon at the Dillinger's luxurious home and announced to the gathered assembly. Lady Mary came forward to greet the bridal couple and wish them well. Ellie, tilting her head, looked upwards at the chandeliers. They shimmered and sparkled, dazzling light refracted from a hundred facets. The entire room glowed brightly with candelabra set in every alcove. The air was smoky and warm but also pleasingly scented in some manner. Along the salon walls hung artificial roses of a deep pink and red and to everyone's delight and amazement a small fountain played in the centre of the room. It was like some Arabian garden, but filled with ladies in sumptuous, rustling silk evening dresses, their necks sparkling with diamonds, the gentlemen elegant in evening dress. The sound of conversation hummed and flowed up and down in polite cadences.

    Ellie kept well away from the majestic marble fireplace in which a log fire was roaring. Full-skirted crinolines were all the rage and very charming and feminine but she had heard tales of them catching fire. In fact, some houses took the precaution of having a thick rug on the piano in case of such an event. She had no desire whatsoever to ruin her lovely satin dress. She felt very attractive tonight; her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. Belladonna drops helped to make her eyes even brighter than usual.

    It was some time since she had been to the Dillinger's home in London. She had come with her mind made up to be merry. She was happy to be there, glad to renew her friendship and her presence in this family, which had always felt so much like her own. Little Charlotte was still too young to attend such soirees but Alfie's younger brothers were there and she liked the two boys very well. They had teased her a good deal when they were young and been regular scamps but she had always got the better of them. Now they were both studying at Oxford, still full of fun and student pranks. They greeted her with enthusiasm and made her smile with their teasing jokes and chaffing banter.

    Lord Dillinger came over to her, bowed and smiled as he said, 'We are delighted to receive you as a bride, dear Ellie. As you know, my dear, this dinner party is especially for you and your husband.' He gave her a kiss on both cheeks and shook hands with Fred who tried to look affable and pleased while under his wife's steely eye.

    'You look utterly delightful tonight, my dear,' said Dillinger lifting her chin up and taking a good look at her face. Ellie laughed and patted the tip of his nose with her finger with her usual easy familiarity. They both looked at one another for a long time as if absorbed and fascinated with one another. She thought how much whiter Dillie's hair had become, he how beautiful she looked.

    'I suppose it is a good while since you came over here, is it not?' said Lord Dillinger.

    'It is, sir.' She leant towards him and murmured in his ear, 'We have been strangers, naughty Dillie.' She did not dare address him thus in public, careful to observe the formalities.

    'Well, we must not let that happen again,' he said, taking her hand for a moment, his usual dry voice peculiarly tender.

    Fred shifted uncomfortably. He could not put his finger on their odd sense of intimacy or why it made him feel so troubled. Perhaps because it seemed to exclude outsiders and made him feel as if he did not exist. It was nothing to trouble over, he kept telling himself, he really should get used to it. It meant nothing; just Ellie's charming, delightful, teasing way. He excused himself after a while and moved away to talk with other acquaintances. Every now and then, he would glance over at them then look away again, telling himself he was a fool. He would have to stop this nonsense. Instead, he concentrated on his conversation with his pleasant hostess, Lady Mary. He found her to be an admirable lady, well read, a lover of poetry and an admirer of John Everett Millais and Holman Hunt.

    Just as well perhaps that he was otherwise occupied or a few moments later he would have had real cause for concern. A tall, elegant and handsome young man had entered the room, looked around as if searching for someone and then came swiftly over to Ellie and Lord Dillinger.

When Ellie caught sight of the young man, her face underwent an enormous change. The colour drained from her cheeks and she looked struck with something akin to fear while her hand went involuntarily to her breast. Dillinger, startled by her reaction, looked around and saw his eldest son coming towards them.

    'Alfred, dear boy, come and greet your old playmate!' he said jovially. 'Is she not a beautiful bride now?'

    Ellie gathered her wits together and tried to compose herself but a flush had come over her face and to her surprise, it was reflected by an answering flush on Alfie's face also. He took her hand, kissed it, and smiled at her but not as he would once have done. All was now distant and gentlemanly. Once, free from restraint, he would have taken her aside to chatter and make jokes and gossip about the company. Was this her old playmate? Her erstwhile lover?

    Lord Dillinger, who was watching them both narrowly, seemed satisfied as he heard them pass pleasantries in a cool, distant manner.

    'Alfred is briefly at home on leave,' he said. 'We were not expecting him till next week, however, so 'tis a splendid surprise for us all, is it not?'

    'Indeed, a great surprise,' said Ellie, fanning herself with vigour to hide the flush in her cheek. She had now recovered her
sang froid
and felt a sense of grievance and anger arise in her. So Dillinger had timed this occasion too, timed it to occur
before
Alfie's arrival home. It was definite then that the family did not wish them to be together. For no reason, that was the injustice of it. She had aristocratic connections through her grandmother, Sara Templeton, and therefore they could have had no objection to such a marriage. She was a gentleman's daughter and a fit match for their son. Moreover, she would have brought them money and the gentry always needed 'tin' as Henry would say.