A Dream Come True (2 page)

Bridget fussed around her Mistress and talked soothingly to her.

“Come now, my Lady. Take a deep breath and inhale. You'll soon be feeling much better.”

Lucia played with the tasselled ends of the lampshade and bit her lip. Could she summon up the courage to go into the hall and pick up the telephone?

She would have preferred to take the Rolls Royce to London to Mr. Urwin's office to see him in person, but she could not leave her mother.

Long moments passed and Lucia tried to still her heart that was beating so fast she felt as if it was leaping out of her chest.

Then calmly she walked into the hall.

The telephone had just been installed at the insistence of her father, who was much concerned about her mother's health and Lucia thought it ironic that it was now he and not her mother who was the source of concern. She picked up the earpiece, put it to her ear and after a short delay, the exchange answered,

“Yes, my Lady?”

“It is Miss Mountford here, Joyce,” she said quietly, having recognised the voice of the operator. “Would you get me Chancery 212, please?”

“At once, Miss Mountford.”

At last, she heard the voice of one of Mr. Urwin's clerks on the other end.

“Hello,” she said loudly, as the line was a little faint. “Can I speak to Mr. Urwin, please? This is Miss Mountford of Shilborough calling.”

The clerk put down the receiver and she waited anxiously until at last Mr. Urwin picked it up.

“Hello, Miss Mountford.”

“Mr. Urwin. We received your telegram. Papa – ”

“I am so very sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Miss Mountford. The first word we had of it was when we heard that they had sounded the Lutine Bell at Lloyd's. I expect there will be reports of it in the newspapers tomorrow. Terrible, terrible tragedy!”

“You said that Papa was not on the first list of survivors. Is there any further news?”

“I have one my staff at the offices of the White Star Line now. He will come straight back as soon as there is anything to tell you. They are issuing lists of survivors as more reach dry land. He says that relatives have besieged the offices. Heaven only knows what it will be like by tomorrow when the reports hit the newspapers.”

“But Papa – ”

“My dear, there is every chance that he is safe. It would appear that what casualties they might be were largely crew and those who were in steerage and Second Class. The first survivors so far are nearly all First Class passengers.”

Lucia hesitated – she had been on steam ships before and she had read stories of disasters at sea. Was not the cry women and children first?

“Were there any male survivors in the first bulletins?” she asked hesitantly.

There was a long pause and Lucia's heart was gripped by a black fear. Her throat contracted.

Finally Mr. Urwin replied,

“Very few. I did not wish to alarm you unduly but, at the same time, I wished you to know before you read it in the newspapers. It is still morning on the East coast of America and no doubt we shall hear more later on.”

Lucia thanked him and put down the receiver, a million thoughts teeming through her head.

‘If anything has happened to Papa, I shall never forgive Sir Arthur McAllister for sending him to his doom,' she decided, as she walked to the drawing room.

Her mother was lying on the sofa propped up with pillows. Bridget was fussing over her still and trying to get her to drink a glass of brandy.

“Just a nip, my Lady. It will help to soothe your nerves.”

Lady Mountford opened her eyes and saw Lucia in the doorway.

“Lucia!” she cried, “what did he say?”

“There is no news of him, Mama. But Mr. Urwin says that not all survivors have reached land yet. As soon as he has any news, he will be in touch.”

“I do not think I would survive the shock if he has – ”

“Hush, Mama. While there is no definite news, there is hope.”

But in her heart Lucia felt nothing.

She knew in her bones that her father had perished.

*

 There had followed agonising weeks while Lucia tended to her prostrate mother and they waited anxiously for news. And then, on April 30
^th
, Mr. Urwin made the journey from Holborn to Shilborough to deliver the sad tidings.

“He died a hero,” he said, as Lady Mountford dissolved into tears comforted by a weeping Lucia.

“It appears that Lord Mountford had given up his place on one of the lifeboats in order that a Second Class woman with a child could take his seat. His body was recovered from the sea and identified through a letter in his wallet.”

“Will we have to travel to America to bring him home?” asked Lucia, composing herself whilst her mother wailed beside her. “Mama would not hear of him being buried in an American cemetery. There have been reports in the newspapers that some are to be buried in Nova Scotia or at sea.”

“The body will be shipped back to England in the next few weeks,” advised Mr. Urwin, his face as grey as ash. have arranged for a hearse to transfer the coffin from Euston Station to the Hall at my own expense. As a mark of my respect, I will not hear of you putting your hand in your pocket on this occasion.”

Mr. Urwin had been as good as his word. A few weeks later, Lord Mountford arrived back home at Bingham Hall.

At the funeral, some days afterwards, Lucia stood mute before the same altar where she now stood, watching her mother marry the man whom she held responsible for her father's untimely death.

‘I hate him! I hate him!' she told herself, as the Reverend Brown concluded the service. ‘If it were not for him and his stupid schemes, Papa would be alive today.'

“I now pronounce you, man and wife.”

Sir Arthur leaned forward and kissed his new wife on the cheek. The organ swelled into life, but Lucia was not listening.

She simmered with resentment as the new Lady McAllister walked down the aisle smiling and happy.

Lucia could see that some of the congregation were far from smiling. Many of the relatives who now gathered in the Church had disapproving looks on their faces. Could they, too, be remembering that it was only the previous year that they had gathered here to witness her father's funeral?

‘Surely Mama could not have forgotten Papa already?' thought Lucia, as they emerged into the spring sunshine. ‘We are but a few steps away from his grave.'

But the new Lady McAllister did not cast so much as a glance at the imposing tomb to the right of the Church door

‘I wish it had rained,' she fumed, as her mother and stepfather approached the immaculate Rolls Royce specially decorated for the occasion.

A new chauffeur, Briggs, held open the door for them and saluted as they climbed in.

‘And all these new staff,' she groaned. ‘There was no need to employ a chauffeur. Jack, the head groom, is perfectly adequate.'

But she knew that by bringing in new staff, Sir Arthur was asserting his authority. It galled her that he would now be in charge of Bingham Hall, where the Mountfords had always been the Lords and Masters. But Lucia did not have any brothers or sisters, and, given her mother's age, it was unlikely that she would.

‘I should be grateful for that, I suppose,' she thought, as she climbed into a smart white landau. It had been hired for the occasion, a statement to the people of Shilborough that Sir Arthur was a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

Lucia watched as the Rolls Royce growled into life. She wondered what it might be like to be behind the wheel. Would it, she wondered, be as exciting as being on Starlight as he galloped across the hills?

The route back to the Hall took them through the village. If the happy couple had expected villagers to throng the streets and cheering, they were mistaken.

A few surly people watched as the car purred down the main street. Many were simply curious to see the vehicle, as it was such a rare sight. Small children ran after it, shouting with delight, but they were the only ones with smiling faces.

‘They all think that Mama has been foolish,' thought Lucia, as she gripped the sides of the open-topped carriage.

Bingham Hall had been a hive of activity since the early hours of the morning. The servants had had little or no sleep as preparations began for the lavish meal that was to be held in the ballroom.

There was a marquee erected in the garden, so that guests might wander outside and look at the daffodils and primroses. Lucia thought bitterly of how in the previous spring she had been enjoying them just before her world fell apart.

After Lord Mountford's funeral, her mother had become bedridden with an illness that any number of doctors seamed unable to cure.

Specialists from Harley Street made the journey to Bingham Hall, one after the other, leaving expensive bills in their wake.

Lucia had been forced to take charge of the accounts, but it was all new to her and she did not understand how the books worked.

It did not feel right dealing with her father's bank and so when the letter came informing them that no more cheques would be honoured until more funds were placed in the account, she did not know where to turn.

Thankfully Henry Urwin had proved to be a rock and soon afterwards her mother began to show signs of improvement. During those long days, Sir Arthur McAllister became a frequent visitor to the Hall.

At first, Lucia could not believe that her mother received him, but when Sir Arthur said that he wished to discuss her father's business affairs with her, Lucia could not object.

She was very mindful of the letters arriving from the bank that she now forwarded to Mr. Urwin.

Something told her that perhaps things were not right, but until the day that Mr. Urwin told her as much, she ignored her suspicions.

*

“Lucia, how lovely you look.”

Lucia was jolted from her thoughts by the voice of Geoffrey Charlton, the brother of one of her dearest friends, Emmeline. Geoffrey took her hand and kissed it.

“You look as if you are rather cold,” he observed.

“The landau was probably not the best idea in the middle of March!”

Lucia laughed.

She was enormously fond of Geoffrey although she would never think of him as anything other than Emmeline's naughty little brother.

“Yes, I am rather chilly,” replied Lucia. “I will ask Moston to bring me a warmer wrap.”

“It was a lovely service, wasn't it? Your Mama looked beautiful.”

“Geoffrey, you are not usually so tactful.”

“It is not for me to pass comment on such hasty nuptials,” added Geoffrey mischievously.

“You just have,” answered Lucia. “Now, come, take me into the ballroom, please. Otherwise I shall be waylaid by one of Sir Arthur's cronies.”

“He is from the North, is he not?”

“Yes, Manchester,” replied Lucia, as they made their way to the ballroom. “He owns a factory there, but also has investments in America and South Africa.”

“With such a name, he must have Scottish ancestry?”

“I believe so, although it is a long way back. Mama was rather vague about it when I asked her.”

“I do believe I can see a tinge of red in that beard,” commented Geoffrey with a wry smile, “so I would say that he is definitely part-Scotch!”

Lucia was happy that Geoffrey had come to the wedding as Emmeline had been forced to stay at home with a bad cold that had already lasted a week.

“Walk with me to my table, Geoffrey, do be a dear,” urged Lucia, as they were ushered into the magnificent ballroom, which had been decorated lavishly and the tables were groaning with silver candelabra and bowls of flowers.

“Mama was up half the night arranging them,” pointed out Lucia. “She insisted on doing as many of the floral arrangements as possible even though she knows her health might suffer. It's one of her hobbies.”

Lucia arrived at the top table where her mother and stepfather were already seated. Her mother smiled brilliantly at her and patted the chair next to hers.

“You are here, darling, and Geoffrey, you are on the table with my sister.

Geoffrey smiled politely and bade Lucia a temporary farewell.

As she sank down into her chair, she wished that he could have stayed with her. Instead, her dining companion was her deaf Great-Uncle Hubert. He had made the journey from London and seemed thoroughly bemused that his niece was getting married for the second time.

“A man needs a wife!” he boomed. “I myself have been married three times, but no lady will have an old man like me now.”

Lucia thought that he must be seventy-five if he was a day and sympathised with him over the lack of suitable companions.

“I don't care to take a young wife,” he continued, as the first course was served. “I prefer a more mature woman.”

Lucia found herself smiling, even though she knew he did not mean to be amusing.

All through the five-course banquet, Lucia watched her new stepfather.

He was tall and well-built without being corpulent and his face was neither unattractive nor handsome. His brown hair was greying and he wore a full beard that gave him a somewhat nautical appearance.

‘It was a pity it was not him on board the Titanic,' she fumed darkly as he laughed gaily with her mother. ‘Why can Mama not see through him? He must have been thrilled to acquire yet another property for the great McAllister empire.'

Even though he boasted a title, Lucia knew that it was only a Knighthood. He stood to gain a great deal, she believed, by being associated with the Mountford family.

The thought suddenly struck her. What would happen to her if her mother died? Would she be penniless? Surely, her mother would not leave the house and what money remained to her new husband?

Lucia fell silent as she pondered her fate. She wished she did not have to be there at all pretending to smile when she felt so utterly miserable.

After the long meal had finished, Lucia made her excuses and went upstairs to change her clothes. Her maid, Mary-Anne, was waiting with her ball gown ready and pressed.