The Crimson Bed (23 page)

    'You know full well it need not be your task to worry about that. That's the work of the butler and the housekeeper, so let the servants get on with it. That's what you pay them for and most of them have been around since we were children. They know exactly what to do and hardly need your guidance. You just sit there and look beautiful and play the charming hostess.'

    'I'm afraid of that too. I'm still rather young to be out and many disapprove, I feel sure. Papa insists in making me accompany him to the theatre and appear at all the dinner parties in London and ignores all the whispers and talk. He is so cruel at times. He little understands how it makes me feel an object of pity and perhaps even contempt.'

    'Oh, nonsense, Lottie! As if a sweet girl like yourself could ever be such a thing. Pity you they may – for you have much on your young shoulders. But contempt? Hardly. Everyone admires you a great deal.'

    'Do they, truly?' The young girl was pleased and flattered.

    'Indeed they do. I hear nothing but kind and admiring words said about you, dearest. The waiting will soon be over and then you will be married to Jack Pendleton and run your home just as you please and your father is right. All this training you receive now will stand you in very good stead.'

    They both looked fondly upon the little lad who now sat on Ellie's lap, gazing up at his mother with round, interested blue eyes until, tired of her confining arm, he wriggled his way down to the floor and began to toddle about the grass, exploring everything he came across with an intense interest and delight.

    'You see, he is already a Pre-Raphaelite at heart,' laughed Ellie, 'every blade of grass fascinates him.'

To the surprise of the two young women, Lord Dillinger came home a little sooner than expected.

    'And how have you been managing, Charlotte?'

    Charlotte always shrank a little whenever her father addressed her. Ellie could never understand why the girl seemed so afraid of him. It was true that his manner towards her was always cold and stern. With all his own children he was critical, subjecting them to an unrelenting stare of disapproval. He was a martinet for punctuality and orderliness and wanted everything to run like clockwork. The whole household seemed to change in atmosphere as soon as he came home.

    Charlotte stammered out a reply.

    'I... I think everything... everything is well, papa.'

    'You think, child? I don't want you to think. I want you to know. Are the accounts up to date?'

    'Yes, I went over them with Mrs Tyson the other day.'

    'Hmm. Well, you are in good hands with that lady. Pay diligent attention to all she teaches you. Then you may make a fair enough wife some day.'

    'I do pay attention, Papa. I do try hard to learn.'

    'I believe you. But you spend a good deal too much time at the piano, young lady.'

    'No, truly, Papa, only two hours a day.'

    'That is more than enough. I prefer you to study and get a little knowledge in that silly head of yours. However, you may play tonight and entertain us and we shall see how you are progressing. I like you to be able to perform well but not to make it too important in your life. You will have far more to deal with when you are married and an all-round approach to life is the best quality in a wife. Intelligent but not too much so.'

    He then bent towards Ellie who was seated by the window with her embroidery, listening to this exchange and feeling sorry for poor Charlotte who had blushed red and looked like a little rabbit in a snare struggling to escape.

    'And how are
you
, dearest Ellie?' Lord Dillinger took her proffered hand and brushed it with a touch of his lips. His eyes softened as he looked at her.

    'I am very well, sir... how lovely to see you home. We weren't expecting you back for some time.'

    'I managed to escape for a day or two.' Dillinger smiled and added, 'I seldom see you these days, my dear Ellie. It's my turn to scold you now as you once scolded me.'

    'Ah, well, I'm a busy lady nowadays, am I not? I have two little ones to care for now. But they're both very good children and no trouble. However, there seems such a lot to deal with every day that time flies away and the years roll by. I'm beginning to feel middle-aged.'

    'What nonsense! You're scarce in your twenties. You always strike me as a very dutiful and devoted wife and Charlotte could do no better than to emulate your capabilities. Are the children here with you?'

    'They are. Shall we fetch them to say hullo?'

    'Later perhaps. Small children, lovable or not, are generally tiresome.'

    'That's very uncivil of you, Dillie. These are
my
children, you know. How could they possibly be tiresome!' Ellie laughed as she spoke and Dillinger also smiled and made a little bow.

    'You are right to rebuke me. A mother must never be offended over her children. To the raven, her offspring is as lovely as that of the swan.'

    'Oh, now you have r
eally
offended me. Am I then the raven, sir!'

    'Now, Madam, you are twisting my remarks on purpose. What are you up to, teasing me like this?'

    'I tease you, Dillie, because you are unkind to Charlotte and make her miserable.'

    'Whatever do you mean? I am never unkind.'

    'You are. And why should a woman not be intelligent, might I ask? Would you prefer it if Lady Mary or I had been stupid?'

    'No, I would not. But you misunderstand, my dear. Charlotte is not too bright by nature, I'm afraid, and so she needs to take in as much as can be glued into that vacant little head of hers. However, I have no wish to overdo the matter, even if that was possible. Jack Pendleton is a good match and I know his tastes. He's a sportsman and has no desire for a bluestocking as a wife.'

    'He wants someone ornamental, I suppose.'

    'Beauty, of course. What man doesn't want a beauty for a

wife? And Charlotte is growing very attractive so she will certainly do well there. However, a good manager to help him when he inherits his house and estates is also a necessity. Lady Mary was a very good manager.'

    His face clouded over when he mentioned his wife's name and Ellie remained silent in sympathy.

After dinner that evening, Charlotte played for them in the drawing room. She played beautifully and the listeners remained silent for a little while after the last note had died away.

    'I think Charlotte could have joined an orchestra if she was a man; she could have been a famous pianist,' Ellie said with enthusiasm after they listened to the young girl's brilliant rendering of a Beethoven Piano sonata which she was able to play the whole way through without a pause or even looking at the music before her.

    'Thankfully, she isn't a man,' Dillinger replied coldly. 'No relation of mine would be allowed to become a public performer, male or female. She needs no praises, Ellie. You flatter her too much.'

    'Oh, Dillie... how stern you are! I will praise Charlotte as much as I like for she deserves it. I think she is a marvel and I wish I had half her talent.'

    Charlotte gathered together her music and blushed. Ellie's easy banter with her father alarmed and fascinated her in equal measures. To talk to Dillinger so saucily and get away with it! She didn't resent it. Rather she admired Ellie very much and looked upon her as a fearless Daniel who braved the lion in his very den. Ellie had a mind and will of her own and was not afraid to show it or challenge the men around her. Yet she was also so beautiful and charming that they never called her rude names or considered her to be unfeminine. High-spirited, they called it, when referring to someone as beautiful as Ellie.

    Ellie had been the only person who had kept her wild and wayward brother Alfie in any sort of order, even her mother had said so. If only Ellie and Alfie had married and then she would be a sister as well as a friend. That would have been so wonderful. How stupid of Alfie to go and join the Army and go off to war and get himself killed. No amount of medals and glory were worth the sacrifice of his young life and dear Mama might still be alive and well and she, Charlotte, not having to try her best to take care of such a big household.

Chapter 20

'I'm devastated, Fred. I swear I can't go on living!'

    Henry paced up and down the drawing room in an agitated, almost frenzied manner.

    'But Henry, I did warn you she was no good. You wouldn't listen, you were so besotted—'

    'Shush, Fred,' said Ellie, 'saying that won't make poor Henry feel better. He loved the girl.'

    'Humph!' Fred retired to the window where he looked out feeling something akin to anger. Anger with Henry for being a fool and anger with Rosie Gamm who, as everyone but Henry had expected, had run off from her ladies' academy and disappeared. She had stolen all Henry's savings and few decent possessions and made off with some low-life lover to places unknown. There wasn't even the dignity of running away with a Lord or someone. In the end she had reverted to type. Though why be angry? He had known all along she was a cheat.

    'Here, Henry, have a glass of whisky,' Ellie said.

    The artist accepted this gratefully and drained it back in a gulp. Ellie re-filled the glass, which went the same way. Henry sat down at last and put his head in his hands.

    'I did, I did love her!' he said mournfully, 'Ellie,
you
understand. I loved Rosie. How could she treat me like this after all I have done for her? How could she be so ungrateful? I sacrificed for her, I wanted to marry her. Where did I go wrong?'

    'You went wrong when you trusted her,' said Fred. 'Set the police to find her and get your money and possessions back at least.'

    'I
won't
do that. I won't have her put in some foul prison. Let it be my lesson. Yes, you were right, damn you. God, who's a man to trust? I'll never love or trust another woman.'

    'Oh, Henry, you'll be in love again in a fortnight.'

    'Never! I will never love again.'

    'Well, you'll soon find another model and I'm sure she will help to console you.'

    'Damnation! You're a cynic, Fred. And I always thought you a romantic. '

    'He's not a bit romantic,' said Ellie.

    'What d'you mean?' asked Fred, stung by this comment.

    'It's all in your head, that's what she means,' said Henry looking fierce, 'not in your heart.'

    'I take exception to that remark. I'm a very feeling man. Come Ellie, you'll agree with me!'

    'Oh, I agree you are a f
eeling
man... but not a romantic.'

Henry was a cause for some concern. He did not rally round as swiftly as Fred had supposed or as he had done in the past after a failed love affair.

    Fred called at his chambers a week or so later and was dismayed to see that the normal artistic chaos was downright slovenly. He saw no signs of any work in progress but found Henry slumped in a chair staring moodily into a dismal, sullen fire that smouldered in the grate. It was mid-morning but he clutched a glass of whisky in his hand already and looked set to spend the day in this forlorn manner.

    Fred picked his way through mounds of rubbish and paper with a wrinkled nose that expressed his disgust.

    'For God's sake, Henry! Let the housemaid in at least. It's impossible to move in this place. Come, pull yourself together like a man!'

    Henry looked up at him, his face mournful and eyes redrimmed with lack of sleep.

    'Nothing's worth living for,' he groaned, 'you were right after all, Fred.

... Life's just a sigh among the treetops

A little ripple on Life's never ending stream...

    . . . I thought you were being poetic and fashionably miserable but now I understand what you were saying. For you there's Ellie and you've been saved. For me there's nothing. I'm done for!'

    'Don't be foolish, Henry. You're a brilliant artist. There's so much to live for and your work has always been important to you. There are a dozen commissions lined up and I could get you so many more if you would only stir yourself a little.'

    'I haven't the heart or the energy, Fred.'

    Fred lost patience now. 'For Heaven's sakes! How can you give up on life over a stupid girl like Rosie Gamm? A common guttersnipe that couldn't be saved from herself despite all your best efforts. Can't you see that, Henry? Can't you admit it? There's plenty of other lovely girls for you to discover. Come on, old man, stir yourself up and get back to work and you'll be fine in no time.'

    Henry just sighed and picked up the whisky bottle and drank straight from the neck, not even troubling to refill the dirty glass at his side.

    'Give me a cigar, Fred,' he pleaded.

    'I have none on me. I'll send the boy for some if you're that desperate.'

    'Don't trouble.' Henry sunk even further into his gloom.

    Fred looked about him and shook his head. How could a man descend to such degradation? And over a woman?

    'Well, just try to finish Mrs Margoyle's commission at least,' he said. 'She paid up front and you've likely spent the cash on whisky by now. Just get on with it, will you, Henry? You've got to earn something; you can't keep living on hand-outs from your friends.'

    'I'll finish her bloody commission, if that's all you care about, though what it'll be like I won't answer for,' said Henry, angry at last. 'I'll not be beholden to you or anyone, Fred. If you're regretting helping me out, then take your damned money. There's half a sovereign left in the drawer there. Take it!'

    'Oh, of course, I don't regret helping you out, you fool! You know you can always ask me. But other people may not be so pleased and just at present you damn well need that half-sovereign. The creditors if not the bailiffs will be at your door if you don't get a move on.'