The Lorimer Line (46 page)

Matthew made a fit partner for her as they stood side by side. He had recently started to grow taller at a great rate, but at twelve years old his face retained an almost feminine
attractiveness, with its soft complexion and long dark eyelashes. He made no secret of the effect Alexa had had on him. Margaret remembered his unexpected reaction to the treasures of the Paris museums. Like his grandfather, Matthew was an admirer of beautiful things.

‘Will you bring Alexa with you again when you come here, Aunt Margaret?' he asked.

Margaret waited for a second before she answered, in the hope that William would make some gesture. When he remained silent, she could only say, ‘I'il see,' and stretch out her hand to take Alexa away.

‘I'll write to you,' said William abruptly. ‘I need time to consider. You will not speak of this to anyone, I imagine, nor rush into any arrangement which you may later regret.'

Margaret acknowledged the concession with a bow of her head. It suggested that her brother might after all accept his responsibility as head of the Lorimer family. As she took Alexa back to Dr Miller's home, so cramped and dark compared to Brinsley House, Margaret wondered whether she truly wanted him to.

She had spoken the truth when she told him that she would take pleasure in bringing up Alexa herself. But the prospect was frightening as well as exciting. Nothing in Margaret's own upbringing had prepared her for the strains and complications of living as an unsupported woman. From the day of her birth it had been assumed by everyone she knew - and for a long time also by herself - that she would pass from the protection of a father to that of a husband. If she was not lucky enough to find a husband, one of her two brothers would have the obligation of caring for her.

To break away from all these assumptions and embark on a medical training had required a good deal of courage, but she had not been without the support which came from companionship at that time. Other women facing the same problems had provided reassurance and their Dean was helpful with advice. The very difficulty of the syllabus,
with its frequent tests and written examinations and the movement from one form of practical training to another, had provided a framework which left little time for doubts. Afterwards, when she took employment in London, the routines of hospital life gave her the same kind of support.

That time was over. Now she had to plan for a future which was the rest of her life and not simply the period before the next examination. To accept the responsibility for a child's life when she hardly knew whether she could manage her own was not something lightly to be undertaken.

William had promised to write, but instead he came to call on her, looking with distaste around Dr Miller's gloomy sitting room.

‘How long do you propose to remain here?' he asked.

‘The arrangement is temporary,' Margaret told him. ‘I hope to find a permanent appointment in a hospital for women or children. Once I have secure employment, I shall decide what kind of home I want and can afford.'

‘I have a suggestion to make,' said William stiffly. ‘Where is the child?'

‘Asleep.'

‘Good,' he said. ‘Now then, the post of physician at the Ashley Down orphanage is vacant. Would work of that sort interest you? You probably know that Father was very generous to the orphanage when it was founded. I have succeeded him as one of the trustees. Assuming that you can offer satisfactory references, I could make sure that the trustees do not allow your sex to prejudice them. The salary is lower than might be offered by an ordinary hospital, so there may not be many applicants.'

‘I cannot live on less than anyone else,' said Margaret.

‘Please let me finish,' said William. ‘I have not yet come to the end of my suggestions. You asked me to take responsibility for our father's - for Alexa. With reluctance - with
great
reluctance - I accept that something will have to be done for her. I am agreeable to educating her with
my own children as you ask, for a trial period of four years. That would also be the term of your initial appointment at Ashley Down. But it would have to be clearly understood that in no circumstances am I prepared to acknowledge any relationship. If she should ever try to claim one, I would consider that fair grounds for her instant removal.'

‘She doesn't know …' Margaret began, but her brother interrupted her curtly.

‘Quite. And she must not know. The arrangement I propose is this. What the world in general may be told is that she was the daughter of a patient of yours who died; that you were sorry for her orphaned state and decided to bring her up as your own child. So much is true. Alexa herself will know in addition that the patient concerned was an acquaintance of yours, but that detail need not be broadcast. She may be called Alexa Lorimer by virtue of your guardianship. You know that I have never approved of your decision to return to Bristol and be seen working for money as though I were too poor or mean to provide for you. But if you are adamant on the subject I would regard charitable work of the kind offered by the orphanage as more suitable to your station in life. To recompense you for the lower salary I invite you and Alexa to live at Brinsley House. Society will consider it entirely proper that you yourself should live with me while you are in Bristol, and Alexa's presence under my roof will be all the easier to explain if you have already assumed responsibility for her.'

There was a calculated coldness in William's voice which tempted Margaret to reject his proposals and resolve her affairs for herself. But prudence prompted her to consider his offer seriously. The medical care of a large number of orphaned children would be a satisfying field of employment, for she would be able to look after their health all the time, practising preventative medicine. William's promise to use his influence did not disturb her conscience - she knew from her experience in London how few appointments were free from considerations of this kind.
Ashley Down was woman's work and she was well qualified for it. Whatever reservations she might have about living with William and Sophie, the arrangement would be the best possible one for Alexa. Even while she was asking her brother to allow her a day for consideration, she had already made up her mind.

After William had left, she went into the bedroom where Alexa was sleeping. Except for the jewel box, which Margaret kept in her own care, all the child's possessions, such as they were, had been brought into this room. The portrait of John Junius Lorimer was propped up against the wall. Margaret stared at it for a long time. Alexa did not know who the subject was. Margaret, who had loved her father, wondered how much even she had known him.

She laughed silently - but without merriment - at the unexpectedness of life. After the collapse of her father's empire she had thought that the doors of Brinsley House were closed to her for ever. But now, after seven years of independence, it was to be her home once more. Even more strange was the fact that the portrait of John Junius Lorimer, sold in shame, bought with furtiveness and housed in squalor, would also be returning to its ancestral home.

Good news becomes bad news when the wrong man brings it. Seven years after her parting with Charles, Margaret still secretly hoped that he might one day come to tell her that he was free of responsibility for his father. But it was William who said at breakfast one morning, ‘I hear that Dr Scott is dead.'

For a moment Margaret's heart stood still. ‘You mean our old physician?' she asked, controlling her voice with difficulty.

‘Who else?' William's face expressed surprise at the
question. ‘I understand that for many years he has been out of his mind. His death must have come as a merciful release.'

‘How did you learn the news?'

‘His son is in Bristol and has informed several of his father's old patients.' William returned to his kedgeree and
The Times,
indicating that he would be grateful for silence in which to study Mr Gladstone's latest proposals for Irish Home Rule.

Margaret willingly obliged, hoping that the agitation in her mind would not betray itself on her face. If Charles was telling others and not herself the news of his release from his claims of duty, what grounds had she for hope? She had told him to forget her, and this was evidence that he had succeeded in doing so. Quietly she left the table before her misery could be detected.

It was part of her arrangement with William that she would take sole charge of Alexa on Saturdays and Sundays. On these days she was not required to attend at the orphanage except in the event of some medical emergency. But today was a special occasion, an Open Day when those benefactors who contributed to the cost of caring for the children, or who might be persuaded to do so, were invited to inspect the building and its inmates, which they did rather in the manner of visitors to Clifton Zoo. Margaret, as a member of the staff, was expected to act as one of the hosts or keepers.

She went to see whether Alexa was ready to leave, and found her ward still untying the rags from her hair. Alexa turned every public appearance into a performance. In her own room she was untidy, but before leaving the house for any purpose at all she would spend hours making sure that every pleat was in place, every ribbon precisely tied, every hair of her head brushed and shining. Margaret chivvied her affectionately and they set off together to Ashley Down.

In the long dining room examples of the girls' needlework and the boys' woodwork were on display, ready to be
admired and, if possible, sold. The children themselves, brushed and scrubbed and uniformly dressed in blue smocks, stood in demure lines along the walls, their hands clasped in front of them.

The sight was enough to make Alexa show off, tossing her head in a disdainful manner as though she were one of the rich ladies who were already beginning to perambulate through the hall. She disliked the orphanage, possibly because she guessed how near she had come to entering it herself. She was concerned to make it clear to everyone who saw her that she was not one of its residents, but the demonstration was hardly necessary. The shimmering waves of reddish-gold hair which framed her face were in striking contrast to the tight plaits strained off the foreheads of the less fortunate girls present.

As the visitors began to arrive, Margaret forced herself to do her duty. She was reassuring to trustees and encouraging to anyone who might be persuaded to be generous to the orphanage. It was necessary to tread a delicate path, making it clear at one and the same time that the children were well fed and cared for while every possible economy was practised. But although she said and did everything that could be expected of her, beneath the professional mask her feelings were in turmoil. Where was Charles at this moment? Did he know that she was in Bristol? Would he come to see her? If he did not, was there any way in which she could without impropriety visit him? Did she even care about propriety? The questions churned and jostled in her mind even while she was defending to one of the trustees the cost of heating water for washing the hair of the orphans.

The first of her questions was answered almost at once. She was still talking to the trustee when Charles Scott came into the hall. In mid-sentence she abandoned what she was saying and stared wordlessly across the room. Although she had known he was in Bristol - although she was at that very second hoping to see him - his sudden
appearance came as such a shock that her heart seemed to stop beating: for a moment she was even unable to breathe.

Charles was escorting two ladies: Mrs Braithwaite, a widow who was one of the patrons of the orphanage, and her unmarried daughter. The daughter was pretty, and Margaret had to control a second reaction, of jealousy and apprehension. Suppose it was not herself but someone else who had drawn him back to Bristol. Margaret had set him free to form other attachments, but she could not bear to think that he might have done so.

Charles's attention was not wholly on his companions. He was looking round the hall, studying each face in turn. Suddenly his eyes alighted on Margaret and he stood stock still, bringing the two ladies to an unexpected halt beside him.

As he stared at Margaret, so she gazed steadily back at him across the room, wondering whether she could bear it if he were to speak to her and knowing that she could not bear it if he were to turn away. She saw him bend and say something to Mrs Braithwaite, who looked round just as he himself had done a moment earlier. The trustee who had been talking to Margaret, sensing her distraction, moved politely away. To conceal her confusion, Margaret began to speak to Alexa, chattering any sort of nonsense that came into her head.

It was Alexa who drew her attention to the trio approaching them.

‘How are you, Mrs Braithwaite?' Margaret addressed the plump widow, but she could not take her eyes off Charles.

‘Not as well as I would wish, Dr Lorimer, but it is kind of you to enquire. May I present Dr Charles Scott to you?'

Margaret swallowed the lump in her throat and held out her hand. ‘We are already acquainted,' she murmured, hardly conscious of what she was saying. Charles was gripping her fingers so tightly that for a moment she thought she would faint.

Mrs Braithwaite showed signs of annoyance. ‘Already acquainted? Then why did you insist on being presented, Dr Scott?'

‘So many years have passed since our last meeting that I could hardly expect Dr Lorimer to recognize me,' he said. He was still holding her hand.

The superintendent of the orphanage, recognizing Mrs Braithwaite as a valuable benefactor, came up to greet her unctuously and to bear her and her daughter away for an inspection of the samplers embroidered by the girls. Alexa attached herself to them, and Margaret and Charles stood alone in the crowded room.

‘I suppose that after all this time you could not be sure that you recognized me,' said Margaret, although in truth she felt that she had changed little. Her eyes might sparkle less than in the battling days of her youth, but the bright redness of her hair, she knew, showed no signs of fading -and unlike her married friends who had become stout with childbearing, she had retained her trim figure.