A Dream of her Own (14 page)
‘Of course.’
‘I’ll be going then but, remember, if you need help ...’
‘Help?’
‘When John’s mother ... when she gets a bad turn. I’m just next door. You’re welcome to call any time.’
‘Thank you, I’ll remember that.’
Mrs Green hurried away to take her leave of Frances Edington.
‘I see that you have made a friend.’
Constance spun round. Esther Barton was pulling on her gloves. She was ready to leave and her crimson coat and vivid colouring made her conspicuous in the drab setting of the dining room. Friend? Was she referring to Rosemary Elliot?
‘Mrs Green.’ Esther’s dark eyes expressed amused boredom as she glanced towards the brisk little woman who was now shepherding her husband and her son towards the door.
‘I heard her inviting you to call next door. I can’t imagine why you would want to, but then I suppose you are used to that kind of person.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
‘Oh, yes you are.’ Esther’s voice rose and her air of sophistication wavered. ‘Don’t pretend to be so clever and ladylike.’ Suddenly, she became aware that she was being observed by Rosemary and Hannah Beattie, and her chin tilted defiantly.
She assumed her air of worldly wisdom again but she made no attempt to lower her voice. ‘And don’t imagine that it will be any advantage to have Rosemary Elliot as a friend. Rosemary has no
savoir-faire,
no sense of who is the right kind of person; she treats everyone as though they were her equal. But she will forget you as soon as she takes up with another of her lost causes.’
savoir-faire,
no sense of who is the right kind of person; she treats everyone as though they were her equal. But she will forget you as soon as she takes up with another of her lost causes.’
‘Esther, our carriage is here.’ Muriel Barton appeared beside her daughter.
‘Oh, thank goodness. I can’t wait to get home.’
Mother and daughter swept out of the room without another word to Constance.
Walter Barton did not leave with his wife and daughter but not long afterwards he came to say goodbye. ‘I must go now, but I’ll try not to keep John too long.’
‘Keep him? I didn’t know that he was going anywhere.’
‘Didn’t he tell you? John must come back with me to head office. It is Saturday, all the branch managers must make their reports and there is certain business that must be attended to even on his wedding day.’
‘I see.’
‘Don’t sound so forlorn. I’ll send him home to you as soon as I can. Certainly in time for you to have a romantic little supper
à deux!’
Walter Barton took her hand and Constance felt that he, at least, held no animosity towards her.
à deux!’
Walter Barton took her hand and Constance felt that he, at least, held no animosity towards her.
Rosemary’s face was flushed and earnest as she took her leave. ‘Constance, you must let Beattie and me call on you, and you should come to us.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. And, Rosemary, thank you. I’m so grateful to both of you, not just for your generous gifts—’ both Rosemary and Hannah Beattie began to smile and shake their heads and Constance hurried on—‘I’m truly grateful to have had friends here today.’
Matthew was waiting for them by the door. He did not come over to say goodbye; he simply inclined his head and smiled faintly before following Rosemary and Hannah Beattie out.
Everyone else had gone and John and his uncle helped Frances Edington rise from the chaise longue. She looked drained of strength but she smiled at Constance. ‘Walter will take me up to my room so that you and John can have a moment together.’ Her breathing was shallow and Constance sensed the effort as she continued, ‘I’m very tired. Polly will help me to bed. Come and see me in the morning.’
Walter Barton lifted his sister up into his arms and carried her out of the room as if she were a child.
Constance and John were alone but she felt strangely reluctant to face him. The gaslight above her dimmed, flared and then steadied again as a lamp was lit upstairs. John was behind her and she turned, expecting him to embrace her, but he took hold of her shoulders and held her at arm’s length, smiling ruefully.
‘I have neglected you, Constance.’
‘No, you had to talk to your guests.’ Why had she said that? He had spent most of the time talking to Matthew.
But her answer had pleased him. ‘And you also. What do you make of my family?’
‘I like your uncle.’
‘Do you?’ He sounded surprised. ‘Why?’
‘He seems to be kind.’
‘In that case he must have decided to like you. If he had not, he would seem to be very unkind. But what of Aunt Muriel and my cousin, Esther?’
‘They ... I don’t think they—’
‘They’re monsters, both of them. Admit it!’
‘No, not monsters, it’s just that I don’t think they like me.’
‘Of course they don’t! But don’t look so wounded. Surely you realize that it’s of no importance? I like you and that’s all that matters. Now, come with me. I’ve just time to show you my wedding present before Uncle Walter carries me off to the hub of the Barton empire!’ John took her hand and led her out of the room.
The passage was narrow and the stairs only wide enough for one person. John hurried up ahead and pulled her along behind him until they reached the landing at the top of the main stairway. He stopped and said, ‘Close your eyes!’
‘Why?’
‘Your wedding present, it’s in the room ahead. I want to surprise you.’
Constance closed her eyes and allowed him to lead her.
‘No, don’t open them yet!’
They had stopped outside a door at the back of the house. John let go of her hand and, after a few seconds she heard a key turning in the lock, then she felt a slight draught as the door opened.
‘Stand there a moment while I light the lamp.’
Constance waited. Her heart was racing. She had caught John’s excitement but it was more than that. What kind of present was it that had to be kept in a locked room? She laughed nervously.
‘Now, give me your hand and come in, but keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them.’
He led her forward; the air was cool on her face. He let go of her hand and she heard him moving away from her and then the rattle of metal rings being dragged along a brass pole as he closed the curtains.
‘Now, now you may open your eyes.’
Constance stared around the room. There was a fireplace with coals neatly laid but unlit, two velvet-covered easy chairs set near the hearth and, nearby, a low occasional table. A small silver box was on the table and, for a moment, her gaze lingered on the burnished metal reflecting in the polished rosewood, but then her eyes were drawn towards the object set on a larger and more workmanlike table near the curtained window. John nodded his encouragement.
‘A sewing machine?’ She suppressed a feeling of disappointment. Was this her wedding present? She was good at dressmaking; she had excelled in the lessons in plain sewing in the workhouse and gone on to teach herself much more. But this was only because she had been determined never to accept the badly fitting standard uniform or the cast-off charity clothes that the other girls had to wear.
What had she imagined would happen when she married John?
She remembered one day when they had been walking through the new arcade in town, taking refuge from a late summer shower. The arcade was brightly lit and the shop windows attractive. Matthew was with them, as always.
He stopped before a display of dressmaking fabrics and exclaimed, ‘Do look at that blue velvet. What do you think, John?’
‘It’s charming.’
‘Not charming - magnificent! I can’t wait to see her ladyship draped in that!’
John laughed. ‘What about the emerald taffeta?’
‘No, too bold. But there’s enough choice here for a whole new wardrobe, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes, so long as they’ll allow me a trade discount.’
‘Ah, the trade discount! Won’t you ever allow me to forget that you’re just a little shopkeeper?’
Constance had looked quickly at John’s face to see if he had been hurt by Matthew’s jibe but he was laughing. She stood and waited, half pleased and half puzzled, as they discussed the fabrics and the styles of the new clothes they intended for her without once asking her opinion. At last she had decided it was all a game, they were not really planning a new wardrobe for her, it was simply a light-hearted fancy.
‘Constance?’ Now John was staring at her and he looked piqued.
‘I’m sorry. Did you say something?’
‘Yes. Not just a sewing machine, Constance, look.’
He pulled open a drawer in the table to reveal scissors, pins, tape measures and chalk. Constance did not have time to take it all in before he took her hand and hurried her across the room again.
‘Come and look in the cupboard.’
He opened the door and then stood aside like a conjurer as he gestured towards the shelves set on the wall. They were full of bolts of cloth. Constance recognized the colours and textures; he must have gone back and bought up the whole window display, even the emerald-green taffeta.
‘John, there’s so much!’
‘Ah well, the fabrics are Matthew’s gift, but the sewing machine is from me and so is this.’
He leaned into a recess behind the cupboard door and brought out a dressmaking body form. ‘There you are, my wedding present. A complete sewing room!’
‘John, I ...’
‘Aren’t you pleased?’
‘Of course, but—’
‘I thought you would be delighted.’
‘I am. It’s just that I don’t know if my sewing skills are good enough. I might not be able to—’
‘Oh, my dear, surely you don’t think that you’re going to have to sit here and sew all by yourself?’ He smiled again, his hurt vanished. ‘That I’m going to lock you in here every night like the miller’s daughter in the fairy tale, and expect to find a room full of newly made garments every morning?’
‘Well, what—I mean, are you going to get a dressmaker?’
‘No, not exactly.’
‘Then what?’
‘We are going to make your new gowns together!’
‘Together?’
‘Yes, you and I. I have some marvellous ideas - designs. You know that some of the best couturiers are men, don’t you?’
‘Couturiers?’
‘High-class dressmakers. Doucet, Paquin, Poiret, Worth! But I haven’t time to tell you properly now. My uncle has ordered a cab and it will be here soon.’
‘John, do you have to go?’
‘I must, even although I would rather stay and tell you all my plans.’
Constance watched as John closed the cupboard and then reached up to turn off the gaslamp. He took her hand and guided her towards the door. She had never been so close to him, so completely alone and in such an intimate situation. She found that she was longing for him to stop and turn towards her and perhaps take her in his arms. But, as her heart began to race, the memory of Gerald and what he had done to her suddenly intruded. She gasped and pulled her hand free.
‘What is it?’ John was instantly concerned.
‘N-nothing ... the dark ...’
‘Look,’ John pulled the door wide open and they stepped out on to the landing, ‘there is nothing to fear.’
But she found that she was still trembling and John’s smile was infinitely kind. ‘My poor darling. I had no idea that you were such a child. So sweet, so innocent.’
‘Oh, John, I’m sorry.’ Her cry was involuntary.
‘Don’t worry, dearest, I think I will love you all the more for that. Now, I really must go.’ He closed the door and began to hurry down the stairs.
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