Fragile Blossoms (36 page)

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll collect you tomorrow for church.’

‘I shall be ready.’

‘May I come and see you here tomorrow? I’ve a couple of presents for Matty I’d like to bring.’

‘Oh do come! We shall be glad to see you.’

A kiss of her hand and a tip of his hat and he left. So formal and polite if Julia didn’t understand him she’d be shocked at the seeming distance yet she does understand and is moved by his sensitivity. It is because of Stefan Adelman and Daniel Greville Masson and maybe even the Prince of Wales. It is because of possibilities attached to them that he sets himself apart. Luke has given himself, and Julia, a new page on which to write. ‘You are to be my wife, my one and only, and I am to be yours. Use this time to be certain of what you do and if you are not certain then set yourself free.’ Though no word of this passes his lips the message is clear not least from his body and his kiss.

One kiss but such a kiss! In that first touch of lip to lip she knew why she’d kept a distance and why he now did the same. The kiss was so sweet she’d clung to him. It burned. It burns still, and he knows it so and stares across his mother’s table arms folded and mouth set.

Heat in her cheek Julia looks away. She’ll not go against him. His patience soothes her soul. And this is the man Hugh Fitzwilliam would not have at his dining table, a man in trade too far down the scale to be lifted higher.

She collected her gloves. ‘Do you think perhaps we ought to go now, my dear,’ she said. ‘I have things to do and I’m sure Nan has the same.’

Sunlight breaking into blue he smiled. ‘I’ll go collect Matty from the yard.’

That ‘my dear’ was a gift to Luke; it kept him warm, which was good because as the day progressed he realised more than one disapproved of the union.

He went to Greenfields via the jewellers.

‘Did you manage it?’ he said.

The jeweller nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘And in a box and all?’

‘The best, Mr Roberts, velvet lined.’

The box in his pocket he called on Mrs Masson. Twenty minutes he was kept waiting in the Hall and when she did arrive she was cool. ‘Oh it’s you, Roberts,’ she said. ‘I don’t know that I can see you now.’

‘Right!’ He nodded. ‘I’ll be on my way then.’

‘Yes do,’ she said, ‘the weather is closing in and I wouldn’t want you caught in a storm, though perhaps I should say if your call is in respect of the roof I have decided to offer the contract elsewhere.’

‘As you wish.’ He made for the door

She followed. ‘Don’t you want to know why?’

‘Not especially. It’s your roof. You must do as you think best.’

A little woman, old but fast, she slid in front of him. ‘I’ll tell you anyway,’ she said. ‘We Yankees prefer doing business with people we trust. We don’t commit our business to anyone if we’re in any degree uncertain.’

‘Uncertain?’

‘Yes.’

Luke weighed his hat. ‘Are you suggesting the firm of Albert Roberts and Son is in some way untrustworthy?’

‘I’m not saying that.’

‘You think us unable to handle the repairs to your roof?’

‘I’m not saying that either.’

‘You think the people my father and I have served over the last twenty years, the churches and the private houses, the big jobs and the little, the major and the minor, have had cause to regret our services?’

‘I would hardly think so.’

‘No, me neither, ma’m, or we wouldn’t be getting the work. My diary wouldn’t be booked solid these next two years, nor would we have people calling all hours begging help!’

‘I imagine you are worthy of hire.’

‘I know we are.’

She was pink about her cheeks and flustered. Luke knew he should stop but he was good and mad at her, the puffed up little peahen!

‘I didn’t mean to suggest you were anything other than worthy.’

‘Then what did you mean to suggest?’

‘I was referring to a situation entirely unconnected.’

‘Then you’ll excuse me, ma’m.’ He put on his hat. ‘I’ve things to do.’

‘No wait!’ She pulled on his sleeve. ‘I do want you to look at the roof and I do want you to help. For sure I don’t want anyone else. It’s just that I am so darn cross with you! I want to know why you’re throwing your life away on a woman like that when you could do so much better.’

Luke should have walked away, should’ve turned on his heel and not stayed to defend a person who didn’t need defending. ‘A woman like that?’

‘Well, you know she’s not quite the thing.’

Julianna Dryden not the thing? He could only stare. Then as Mrs Masson began to ramble he began to wonder if she wasn’t a little mad.

‘These women are like spiders. They come out of nowhere with their clever minds and they’re winning ways and they take up residence not a stone’s throw away and they lure us into their webs.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Emancipation! It’s all you hear nowadays, modern misses wanting to be on top of everything. Do you know they’re asking for the right to vote? I never had the right to vote. I did as I was told. It’s why I left England. Education does it. They get a few facts in their heads and think they know the world.’

‘I’m sorry I have to go. If you want me to look at the roof just let me know when I can start, or better yet I’ll talk to your son when he’s here.’

‘Oh it’s no good talking to him! He’s besotted with her. It’s why he is away and I am here alone. I imagine he’s hoping distance will make her fonder. It won’t, you are the living proof. He’s lost her and I shall get the blame.’

Luke tried to break free but her fingers were gnarled matchsticks. It made him afraid to touch her. ‘Mrs Masson. I think you need to sit down.’

‘No not sit! Lie down in my grave! Oh!’ she groaned. ‘I don’t know why I should be alive when she is dead. But you are young and must steer clear! It’s for your own good. You don’t want to be caught in her snare as I was caught. Did you know she can speak Latin? Bright as anything. I stood where you are once. She was talking to Henry of Ovid. They were quoting some tract and laughing. I had no idea what they were ta...’

Mid sentence she stopped, a light gone out.

Luke took her hand. ‘Mrs Masson?’

‘What?’ She gazed at him and then the light went back on. ‘Oh Mr Roberts!’ she said. ‘I’m glad you dropped by. I wanted to thank you for the crib.’

‘The crib?’

‘I thought the play went well. And the children were so cute, especially Matty. I liked the way you came on together, father and son, so to speak. He loves you that much is obvious. He didn’t care for Daniel and so you see even if I had encouraged them it wouldn’t have worked.’ She looked about her. ‘Doesn’t the tree look nice? It’s good of you to call at Christmas. It is Christmas isn’t it?’

‘It is.’

‘It doesn’t feel like it. Kiddies make Christmas and if you don’t have kiddies you don’t have Christmas. It’s no holiday for me, not with my son away.’ Click the light changed. ‘It’s her fault he is away! If she were to do right he’d be here but she plays fast and loose with the Prince of Wales. You need to bear that in mind, Luke Roberts. Call all the banns you like but you’re not married yet.’

‘Mizz Callie!’ The maid, a black-winged bat, was swooping down the stairs. ‘It’s time you were taking a nap!’ A forlorn child now the old lady stood still. The maid covered her with a shawl and called on the manservant for help.

‘You must excuse her,’ said the maid. ‘She’s not too well.’

‘So it would seem. Is there anything I can do?’

‘Depends on what you heard.’

‘I heard a lot but none of it made sense.’

‘My poor lady’s wits are befuddled. She means no harm. It’s best you forget what she said, Mr Luke, and carry on as before with the roof.’

‘I don’t think so. Your mistress has a problem with that.’

‘She doesn’t, least not with the roof.’

Luke buttoned up his coat. ‘Whatever, there’s nothing anyone can do in this weather. I’ll wait and speak with Mr Masson.’

The maid eyed him, a plea for kindness. ‘About what?’

Luke shrugged. ‘The roof! What else?’

‘Mister Wolf!’ Matty threw himself at Luke.

Luke swung him up. ‘Hang on there,’ he said. ‘It’s only a couple of hours since we parted. Anyone would think we hadn’t seen one another in years.’

‘Yes and while we’re here together, Matty,’ said Julia, ‘I want this to the very last time you refer to Mr Roberts as Mister Wolf.’

‘Why can’t I call him so?’

‘Because it’s not right. It was never right and soon will be even more wrong.’

‘Why, what’s going to happen?’

‘Yes.’ Luke smiled over Matty’s head. ‘What is going to happen?’

‘We are to be married.’

‘What?’

‘Mister Wolf, I mean Mr Roberts and I are to wed.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means we will be together all three of us.’

‘Here at the Nanny?’

‘Well,’ Julia hesitated. ‘We don’t really know where. We haven’t really spoken about that. I suppose here from the start?’ She looked to Luke for help but he wasn’t helping. He was hugging Matty and loving her with his eyes.

‘Do you mean here at nights?’ said Matty, who was playing with Luke’s tie, tying and retying. ‘With me, and you, and Kaiser?’

Julia blushed. ‘Yes, you, me and Kaiser.’

Matty nodded. ‘I like that. If you’re here nights I won’t be afraid of crows.’

‘Don’t you worry,’ said Luke, ‘I’ll keep the crows away.’

‘Does Maggie Jeffers know you’re coming?’

Luke laughed. ‘I reckon so. She’s knows everything else.’

‘Yes and isn’t overly quiet about it,’ said Julia lifting Matty away. ‘It’s time you took your bath.’

‘Can Mr Roberts do it?’

‘Not yet, dear heart, perhaps afterward we are married, if he wants to.’

‘Of course!’ Luke grinned. ‘Why else would we be getting wed?’

‘Can he take me bed tonight?’

‘Do you not want me to take you?’

‘I want you both.’

‘Then this one time, as it is Christmas Eve, we will both take you. But you must be good not try to hang it out.’

Matty safely in bed Luke looked at the clock. ‘I should be going.’

‘I suppose.’

He took her hand. ‘You know I’d sooner die than leave you.’

‘Oh don’t die, dearest. I need you alive.’

‘It kills me to walk away from you and Matty, but knowing I can come back makes me better.’ He took the box from his pocket. ‘I have this for you.’

She opened the box. ‘This is your ring.’

‘It was my ring. It’s yours now.’ He slid it on her finger. ‘I had it made smaller. Not too loose, is it?’

‘It fits very well.’

‘I got it in Italy. The stone is of the mountains.’

She turned the ring on her finger. ‘You were there with Eve Carrington?’

‘Not on that trip.’

‘You and Eve? Is that connection broken?’

‘It is. What about you and Stefan Adelman?’

She was a while answering. ‘Stefan is my friend,’ she said. ‘If he were to ask my help I would go to him. I’d want to be loyal whatever my situation.’

Luke was silent.

She took his hand. ‘If Eve came seeking help would you deny her? Surely time spent together makes such a refusal impossible?’

‘I wouldn’t see her struggling but I’d go as a friend and a friend only.’

‘Then let us cherish our friends while we have them.’

He drew her close, cosying her head on his shoulder. ‘And let me then cherish you for as long as I have you.’

‘You mean for better or for worse?’

He nodded. ‘For richer and for poorer.’

‘In sickness and in health?’

‘Until death us do part.’

A cable arrived this morning from Stefan offering the season’s greetings. Sensing his loneliness, as though it was he who now stared at a wall, Julia thought to cable back but settled instead to write her news. She wrote a cheerful letter telling of the Christmas preparations and of Matty’s Nativity Play. She described Greenfields and the tree, she told of Callie’s pink hat and the donkey’s crooked tail, and the angel with tissue-paper wings. She said how much she missed him and she sent love to Karoline. Of Luke she said nothing thinking that news best left to the new year.

Then Matty wanted to add his love and a pencil drawing of Kaiser and the knitted Lamb. The letter sealed Julia put on her cape and walked to the village.

The post office was crowded with last minute mail. Julia posted the letter and was turning away when a voice whispered in her ear, ‘
tell him of Luke
.’

‘What?’ She turned to see who had spoken but there was no one close by, no one she knew and everyone else busy with their own affairs.

Thinking it imagined she walked on.

‘
Tell him now
.’

It happened again. Shocked, she ground to a halt listening but could only hear blood pounding in her ears and the world turning about her, horses neighing, a child in a garden building a snowman and postmen collecting mail.

When it came again, ‘
tell him of Luke
,’ she returned to the front desk and sent a cable. It was brief, what else could it be. ‘Luke Roberts and I are to wed. Be happy for me.’ It was a long walk back to the cottage and would be a long time before she would forget that moment. You see she knew the voice. She’d heard it in dreams and at the séance, a woman’s voice, musical, who three times had said, ‘
I’m afraid the Professor is busy. May I take a message
?’

Sunlight on snow-covered willows making a second Hanging Gardens of Babylon it is Christmas Day and a beautiful day. Karoline is gazing out on the scene her hand glass-on-glass and her breath misting the window.

‘My darling?’ Stefan covered her hand with his. ‘When the air is warmer we shall take the sleigh around the Lake. Shall you like that?’

Lips stretched over teeth she smiled, an odd smile but a smile nevertheless.

‘Frau Adelman is happy today,’ said the nurse.

‘I hope so.’ Stefan sighed. ‘Did she sleep at all during the night?’

‘The new drug helps. She lay still and quiet but her eyes as you see are red and inflamed. Might I suggest a bandage?’

‘No bandage. Bathe her eyes, if you please.’

‘Then perhaps at night, Herr Doktor? A bandage over her eyes would shut out the light and give her rest.’

‘I understand you but no. It has been tried before and didn’t work. Frau Adelman tore it away.’ Stefan got to his feet. ‘Her eyes shall not be bandaged, nor will she be restrained. My wife isn’t a naturally violent person. She is ill and needs to be watched not tied down as by that other foolish woman. A hint of any such and the perpetrator will be instantly removed.’

‘I understand.’

‘Make sure you do. You are paid to assist Frau Adelman not to be her jailor.’

Stefan left the nurse and the maid to the bathing and dressing. It is all so very difficult. Heaven knows what he’d hoped for when bringing her home. If he imagined life would be easier he could not have been more mistaken. It’s been weeks of hell. Now he sees just how efficient they were at Bradbury, more importantly he sees the point of opium.

Ten weeks they’ve been at the house, day-after-day of extreme frustration and most of it his. She can’t be left not even for a moment. It isn’t a question of how she is it is where she is and what damage she might be doing. Ten weeks and previous objections regarding the use of sedatives are forgotten.

It is the nurses she hates, those whose job it is to clean her up. She hates that she has soiled herself and she loathes their touch. At any opportunity she will spit and scratch, small wonder one of them tried to restrain her. Today she smiles. She may be happy or more likely she is becalmed and life and its bitter pain coming to her on the perfumed breeze of a poppy field.

Such a relief! No shouting or throwing things and no need to hide dangerous objects, one push of the syringe and it is done. Stefan is tempted to inject himself if only to sleep free of guilt. Until now he thought he was a good man, no hero or trail-blazer, a hard-working God-fearing soul. Such self-endorsement comes of years of listening to grateful patients, ‘
thank you, Herr Doktor. You are such a good man. We could not have done without you
!’ In the past he brushed such comments aside and yet in his heart was always gratified. Earlier this year he received a letter signed by Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, saying how much she appreciated his loyal service. This from a queen! Now he sees Stefan Adelman as he really is, a weak man who would sooner give morphine to his wife than suffer discomfort.

The trouble started the moment they left Bradbury. Parted from her wall she started screaming and continued with only brief periods of quiet all the way until they reached Dresden by which time she was hoarse and Stefan close to throttling her. Even with a glass partition between them the chauffeur quailed at the thought of another such journey. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he’d said, ‘but you’ll have to hire another driver. I can’t keep my mind on the road.’

She’d be better dead and so would he!

‘I mean who is she? ’ Stefan stares out of tomorrow and the horrors it will bring. ‘I don’t know her.’ His Karoline was meticulous of person. She bathed morning and evening, her clothes were dainty and her manners precise. The woman that spat at him on the ferry coming over from Dover and called him whoremonger is not his wife. She is a parody of a human being filthy of mind and habit. In such moments she knows who he is and curses him for Anselm’s death. Most of the time resentment is underground. But anger builds until raw with pain she cries out telling the world Herr Doktor is a liar and a cheat.

When it happened, when she miscarried, she was here at the country house. So many years ago nonetheless Stefan remembers it as yesterday. Karoline was out walking. On the far side of the lake she tripped over a tree root and fell. Eight months pregnant she called for help but no one heard and no one came. Stefan was at the hospital or should have been. His message that morning, ‘I shall be home as soon as I can. I have business to attend to.’

The business was a colleague, Maria Boucher, a theatre nurse; they were at her apartment in Wilsdruffer Strasse.

No one asked why he couldn’t be found that day, Karoline certainly didn’t ask. Her husband is a doctor and therefore needed everywhere. No one asked and he wouldn’t tell but somebody knew and from then on the truth was an iron fist between him and the world. At first Karoline, humble soul that she is, blamed herself. ‘I shouldn’t have gone out alone. You said not to go without Clara. I thought to catch the narcissus in bloom. I am sorry.’

She apologised and he with the stink of Maria still on his fingers! For months she continued to apologise but then as with all dirty secrets someone talked. It killed all hope of tomorrow. Since then every minute of every day he asks why Maria Boucher when all he ever wanted was at home. The answer is simple, availability and Maria’s breasts. Maria had breasts the size and shape of perfect melons. Working with the woman every day the melons, and how they jiggled when she walked, became an obsession. Then one lazy wet afternoon in autumn he asked over a glass of tea if he might touch. She said she didn’t mind, availability, and no particular price to pay, what man could resist.

There was a price to pay, a miscarried son and post-partum depression. With the truth out Karoline faded before his eyes. At first it was a refusal to try for another child. ‘No, not yet!’ her eyes would start out of her head if he approached her. ‘You can’t ask it of me! I’m not ready. You must be patient and wait.’ Week after week she’d turn away. He didn’t fight her. Without the burden of guilt he might have tried harder to reconcile but being guilty he retreated. There was a brief summer when things improved. It was when her mother came to stay and brought redcurrant bushes. Karoline found peace that season in the garden. One day, the bushes heavy with fruit, she allowed him into her bed. They made love, her lips sweet with juice of the fruit. The next morning the redcurrant bushes had been stripped. She’d forgotten to cover them. There wasn’t a single berry left, birds had eaten every one.

Why he’ll never know but for some dark reason she associated that overnight reaping with the loss of Anselm and from that moment she too was dead.

One day they fought. He shouted told her to pull herself together and stop being a crazy woman or he’d have her committed. The next he knew she was in his dressing room stabbing her wrists with his razor. She was confined to Sonnenstein Asylum. ‘I fear she may never recover,’ the doctor said. ‘As with all fragile blossoms they perish if left too long in the cold.’

It is cold outside and crisp and still, ideal weather for a sleigh ride. Stefan spoke with the gardener yesterday, the sleigh to be brought to the house at two. It will be their first time out together like that and their last. He has decided. It must end today, their last Christmas. It cannot wait. His heart is failing. He must not allow his nerve to do the same.

He has suffered two major infarctions. He had thought he might get away with it but no, his heart is now badly compromised. The pain was terrible as is the dread. The last time he was at Osborne House he spoke with James Reid, asked his opinion. Sir James smiled sadly. ‘Haven’t you worked it out, my dear fellow?’ Stefan has worked it out. The last attack was here in Dresden. He fell to the floor and lay unable to rise. A strange thing happened then, he could hear Karoline, and as absurd as it sounds, he could see her! She was downstairs in the long sitting room her chair parked against the window.

It was as though he was outside in the snow looking in! He could see her so very clearly. A bag of nuts hanging from the Cypress tree was thronged with birds. She was trying to reach up to the window to touch the birds but couldn’t lift her arms; the nurse had tied her hands and feet to the chair, the cords cutting into Karoline’s skin.

Outraged Stefan had shouted. He’d roared, but not a sound had left his lips. When finally he did manage to recover and make his way downstairs the restraints were gone but Karoline’s wrists were bleeding. He fired the nurse that day and hired another but what the scene haunted him. What happens if he should die? Who comes between her then and such torturers?

Karoline has been a trial for many years but she is still his wife. That’s why today they will take a sleigh ride. She will be bundled up warm in her furs. He will take a flask and some strudel and napkins. He plans to take his cello! He will also take a syringe.

November he drew up a Last Will and Testament. Three envelopes wait to be posted, one for his lawyer, one for Mrs Peggy Carstairs of Stepney, and another for Master Matthew Dryden in Norfolk. Life is full of choices. These last years have been dark. While he was in England Julianna gave light to the day as Peggy gave warmth to the night.

This morning he received a cable telling of Julianna’s forthcoming marriage and asking him to approve her choice. Silly girl! What else can he do but approve. An old man sick unto death he’s in no position to challenge. Luke Roberts is a good man. A workhorse proud and stiff of neck he will be there when others fall away. One can only hope he is willing to bend, if not it’s likely his pride will tear them both to pieces. That she weds for love is certain, being Julianna it can’t be any other way. If she sees this marriage as security for her and her son then Matty’s bequest offers another choice.

With Matty’s bequest, plus a major share in the tea-rooms, she has all the security needs, which is providential as alignment to a man like Luke Roberts will close society’s doors. How like Julianna to choose a plain-speaking man over Daniel Masson who on the surface has more to offer, not least the chance of a title. No one can tell the heart where to run; it goes its own way.

Stefan is alone and has been since Karoline drifted away. Until they are reunited he will continue to be alone. God willing the choice he makes today will not prevent them meeting in eternity.

The sleepless watching over the sleepless Stefan sits every night by Karoline’s bed. The room is shaded, one candle burning. In Bradbury she’d stare at the same patch of wall. Here in Dresden before the tapestry was found and sedatives applied she would lie night after night staring at nothing. Such a blank gaze, the constant state of wakefulness was dreadful to behold. Not knowing what to do Stefan wrote to Julianna. In her returning letter she mentioned tapestries Karoline used to sew, he was to ‘look for a blue cherub and give his wife back her wall.’

Blue cherub? Give her back her wall? It was an odd statement but willing to try anything Stefan searched and found such a piece hidden away, indeed it was a cherub with blue wings, the last tapestry she worked many years ago when she was pregnant. The following day Karoline was in great pain ulcers on her leg in need of dressing. With no particular hope in his heart he offered the tapestry. ‘Here you are, my dear, a pretty memory to look at.’ He left it on the pillow. When he returned she was asleep, tears on her cheek and the cloth held to her breast. Now the tapestry is her wall. It offers peace if only for a short time.

Last night he went to Midnight Mass. The church was packed people standing at the back. He took his place at along with the rest. About to commit murder his soul stands on the edge of Perdition and so he comes to beg forgiveness.

At the end of the service a queue began to form the front pew first to the altar followed by the next. Stefan joined the queue. People shuffled forward in pairs the priest offering sacrament. Along with others he knelt at the rail for his pellet of bread and sip of sour wine. Seeking hope in the painted face of the Saviour he prayed as never before. The organ played the fifth movement of Brahms’ Requiem, an Angel consoling those in grief. ‘
You who now suffer in sorrow shall meet again and your heart shall rejoice
.’

As he was getting up a pain flashed through his chest all but cutting him in half. He staggered back. A soldier helped him to a seat. ‘You need to rest old man,’ he loosened Stefan’s collar. ‘Leave the celebrating until tomorrow.’

So much for praying! He thought Stefan was drunk.

From the church he took the carriage the long route home. He loves this stretch of countryside and since this is the last time he’ll see it he wants to make the most of it. When the police come, as they will, Stefan planning to admit what the deed and not hide behind his doctor’s badge, then if death hasn’t soon claimed him a prison cell will. Last night the road was busy with carriages decorated with holly-covered lanterns, revellers smiling and waving. The church bells were ringing and people spilling out of their houses onto the sidewalk the doors behind them flung open and lights blazing. Many were singing. He’d rolled down the window to listen but unable to bear the moment rolled it up again. No happy Christmas for him! It’s too late. He wasn’t to be fooled by the Ghosts of Christmas Past and of Christmas Present. Holly berries and singing is for the young. It is for soldiers and maids. They can have it and welcome.

Two o clock and the sleigh slides into the yard, Gustave, a good and sober horse in the shafts and a carillon of golden bells attached to the reins.

The gardener would’ve carried Karoline aboard but Stefan wanted to do it.

‘I can manage. She is no weight.’ It’s true she is no weight, but whether it’s the circumstance or a leftover from last night’s lengthy drive he found her the weight of the world and he exhausted.

The maid tucked a rug about her knees. ‘I have madam’s tapestry. I washed it last night while she was sleeping.’