Menfreya in the Morning (19 page)

“It’s very becoming,” he went on, “but with such intricate booking, four hands are better than two. Allow me.”

He turned me round and I felt first his fingers as he booked the dress and then his lips on my neck.

“Bevil!” I cried.

“My reward,” he said. “You must always expect to pay for services rendered.”

I did not turn round to face him because I knew that my face would betray my delight

He said rather abruptly: “I’m glad I found you alone. There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Yes, Bevil?”

“Come and sit down.”

He took my arm and we sat on the sofa side by side.

“I’m leaving for Cornwall today,” he said.

I did not speak; my heart was beating too fast and my throat felt constricted. I should be denied the pleasure of

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his company at the next functions, but he had something to say to me and he had come to say it I believed I knew what it was, and if I were right I would be completely happy. I wanted him to take me away to Cornwall, away from the London house to which I should surely have to return very soon,

“I’ve got to be at a meeting there,” went on Bevfl. “It’s absolutely essential; otherwise, I shouldn’t go.”

“Of course.”

“The politician’s daughter would understand. And Harriet …”

The carriage had drawn up outside the door, and my aunt and cousins were alighting. I heard my aunt’s shrill voice. “Come along, Sylvia.”

Bevil looked at me and grimaced. My aunt was in the hall. I heard her penetrating voice. “In the library.” Then she was at the door, and sweeping into the room.

“My dear Mr. Menfrey, how perfectly charming of you to call.”

I felt deflated. The moment had been at hand and had passed.

Bevil looked rueful too, I imagined.

And as Sylvia and Phyllis appeared and our little te”te-a-tete was mined, I assured myself that if he had been on the point of asking me to marry him, it would merely be a postponement, and I should not be too despondent.

It was only later that I realized the important part chance plays hi our lives and that stopping to change from gingham to faille had put an alarming question mark in my life which would haunt me for some time to come*

I felt desolate after Bevfl had left I called to see Jenny, and while I was in the house I went up to my old room to find Fanny there.

She was looking unhappy so I asked her if anything was wrong.

“I’ve been hearing about you in the papers,” she said. “They’re hinting at a wedding. I didn’t much like it”

“What didn’t you like?”

“You*re growing up now, and I reckon you think I shouldn’t be talking to you like I used. But I’m taking the liberty because to me youll always be my girl … well, I had you since you were a baby.**

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“Yes, Fanny, I know, but I’m not a baby anymore, you see; and suppose I were to marry? I’m eighteen, you know.”

“It ain’t that, Miss Harriet It’s . . , it’s the way they’re coupling your name with … Well, I like to think of you settling down and having me with you, and then the little

*uns that come along would be mine too.”

“There’s no reason why that shouldn’t happen, Fanny.** She looked fierce. “No, there’s no reason and that’s how

it would be. But I’d like to see you happy and … married

to the right man.”

“You surely wouldn’t want to choose him for me?”

**I wouldn’t think to go so far as that But there’s some you know that’s wrong ‘uns.”

WI don’t know what you’re hinting.”

*There’s gossip and rumors going the rounds, and they don’t always come to the ears of them they could be most useful to. But I’m not going to mince my words no more, Miss Harriet. I’m talking about that Mr. Bevil Menfrey, that’s who. Now it’s no use you looking at me all cold and haughty like, I know you don’t want to bear a word against him. No more do I want to say it to wound you. But a slap in the face now is better than a lifetime of misery. Now look here, Miss, don’t you get into a paddy. I’m worried. I am, and it’s all along of what you could so easily fall into.”

“What do you know about Menfrey?”

“That he’s one of them Menfreys, that’s all. They’re bad. It’s in ‘em, and there’s no bones about it. Oh, I know they’re nice enough to look at; they know how to lay on the charm. But underneath they’re bad. Look at that Miss Gwennan— letting down poor Mr. Harry at the last minute for her own whims … She’s one of them Menfreys. They’re not to be

trusted.**

“Do you know something about Mr. Menfrey?**

Fanny pursed her lips and lowered her eyes.

“Fanny!” I took her by the shoulders and shook her.

*Tell me. I insist.”

“You won’t like ft, Miss.”

“Ill like it still less if you attempt to keep anything from me.**

“Women. That’s what it is. I’ve heard that he keeps a mistress in a little house at St. John’s Wood. And you remember Miss Jessie, the doctor’s daughter? Well, she’s a

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governess to a family in Park Lane, and I hear that Mr. Men-frey’s a frequent visitor—above- and belowstajrs.”

“It’s all tittle-tattle,” I cried.

“Perhaps it is, Miss, but when I see you concerned in it then I prick up my ears .. .sharp.”

“Why are you telling me all this, Fanny?”

“I’ll answer that by telling you something, Miss Harriet I’ve never talked to you, have I, about my little ‘un … my little girl. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to. I could talk to you about the orphanage and all that misery … but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about my little *un. I had a baby girl. See, when I left the orphanage I went into service, and the housemaid there had a brother. Billy … Billy Carter. He was a sailor and we got married. We hadn’t been married a year when the sea took him. Going down to that place in Cornwall brought it all back. I’d lie awake at night and listen to the sea—all noisy and wild—and I’d say, That’s the sea that took my Billy,’ The baby was well on the way, and I used to tell myself of nights that it *ud be better when the baby was born. They said it was all I’d gone through … the shock and that She only lived a day … my little baby. I thought I’d die. Then I come to you. There was a little girl baby, the same age as mine, and she’d lost her mother. You see, there was a baby without a mother and a mother without a baby. It stood to reason. I was the wet nurse, and so in a way I got my baby.”

“Oh, Fanny,” I said, and I threw myself into her arms,

“My baby!” she crooned, stroking my hair. “You see … my little one wouldn’t have had a father, and it was like as if you didn’t have one either. But then it was different I didn’t cry myself to sleep. I had my baby to think of. It was like Providence. I’d got a baby after all. And that’s why I reckon I’ve got a right to warn you, love. We’re close, dearie, you and me … and if I had to look on and see you not happy, I reckon it would just about break my heart”

“Dear Fanny,” I said, “don’t think I don’t understand . .. don’t think I don’t appreciate. We’ll always be together … and my children will be yours as well. But you’re wrong about Bevil and the Menfreys.”

She shook her head sadly. “And you, my love, you’re bewitched by ‘em. Do you think I don’t know you? Do you think 1 ain’t seen this coming? You know I’m right, don’t you? You believe what I’ve told you?”

I felt as though I wanted to burst into tears. It was unfair of her to thrust her sentimentality at me and then talk scandalously of the man I loved.

I turned away from her. “I don’t like gossip, Fanny,” I said. “Oh don’t think I don’t know that your concern is all for me. I’ve always known I could trust you, and you know you can me. But I know the Menfreys better than you ever can.”

“I’m worried,” she insisted.

I put my arms about her. “Fanny, haven’t you learned yet that I can take care of myself?”

But she only shook her head.

When Fanny had left me I sat on the edge of my bed. I was miserable because although I pretended not to believe Fanny’s accusations against Bevil, my common sense told me that there was a very good chance of their being true. It was the Menfrey way of life. Infidelity was as natural to them as breathing. I was foolishly romantic if I thought that Bevil would change the habits of a lifetime merely because he had met me. Had I not always known this? Yes. But I had had a foolish idea that once he was my husband he would miraculously become all that I desired him to be. And what I asked of Bevil was that he should be exactly as he was and always had been except in one respect—he should be faithful to one woman, and I was that woman.

Even now I was deceiving myself. I could not trust Bevil if while he was paying court to me—and surely he was doing so—he had a mistress in St John’s Wood and at the same time was in love with Jessica Trelarken. Only a man with an elastic morality could behave so—but was that the Menfrey morality?

Could anyone who was capable of such deceit be the lock on which one longed to build one’s future life? How could I trust such a man? How could I feel secure?

That was what I needed, what I had always missed. Security. The desperate desire of the young and vulnerable. My father had withheld it and I had found it in Fanny; and now Fanny was warning me, trying to protect me from straying into the morass of marriage with what she considered an undesirable husband in the same way as she bad snatched me up once, I remember, as I was about to run into a bed of nettles.

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I went thoughtfully back to my aunt’s house.

We were in the sewing room with Miss Glenister and there were yards of white satin decorated with tiny gold flowers spread out on the table.

Aunt Clarissa had bought the material cheaply and was crowing over her bargain. Miss Glenister was nervously measuring it and calculating what sort of a gown it would make, while Sylvia and Phyllis Were quarreling as to which of them it would most become.

I listened as I was listening during these days, with amusement and interest. I wanted to think of such trivial matters; it was one way of stopping my thoughts running in uncomfortable directions.

“Bishops’ sleeves,” cooed Sylvia.

“They don’t become you. You are too plump,” retorted Phyllis.

“Perhaps, Miss, you would like a flounced skirt … in which, I can tell you, you look very stubby,”

“Now,” cried Aunt Clarissa, “if you are going to be naughty, I shall wish I had not found this bargain. Miss Glenister will say what can be done, and then we shall decide for whom the dress shall be made.”

“It must be in time for Lady Carront’s ball,” said Sylvia-

“And that is in two days* time,” I pointed out

“Oh, I’d sit up all night if need be to finish the gown,” declared Miss Glenister meekly.

I fingered the material and, holding it up to my face* glanced at myself in the mirror.

Sylvia laughed. “Mamma did buy it for one of us, Cousin,” she reminded me.

“I know that, but I thought there would be no objection to my examining it.”

“It is too delicate for you.”

“Perhaps for us all,” I said. “It is quite elegant**

“Any why should we not be elegant?”

“We should if we could, of course.”

“Clever, as usual. Well, your cleverness didn’t stop a certain person from putting to flight, did it?”

“Who has put to flight?”

“You know full well. After making you rather conspicuous he took fright, I suppose, in case you had ideas.”

I was hot with anger and turned furiously on my cousin,

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but just at that moment there was a knock on the door and one of the maids entered.

“It’s one of the maids from Westminster square, madam. She’s asking for Miss Harriet.”

I ran out of the room, down the hall where Fanny was waiting. I knew at once that something was wrong … terribly wrong. For a few seconds she looked as though she were vainly searching for the right words to convey the enormity of this calamity.

“Miss Harriet … it’s your stepmother.”

-She’s ill?”

Fanny shook her head.

“She’s dead,” she said.

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6

The days had become unreal. I could not believe this

was actually happening. Scenes kept coming into my

mind like hideous pictures painted by a madman. 1 saw

the faces of Polden, Mrs. Trant and the servants—scared yet

excited, horrified yet delighted. This was a tragedy such as

they read of, and they at the center of it!

They were saying that my stepmother had been poisoned. There was going to be an inquest, and then they would know for sure and they would find out why she had died, who had been responsible for her death.

Aunt Clarissa summoned me to the library. She looked five years older than she had that morning when she had been discussing the gold-embroidered satin.

“Harriet, this is shocking!”

“Yes, Aunt.”

“Some overdose of drug, they’re saying. It’s terrible, rhere’ll be a scandal. And in the middle of the season. This could be disastrous . .. quite disastrous.”

“Oh!” I said, and I heard my voice breaking into a laugh, which alarmed me. “The season?”

“It’s no laughing matter, I can tell you.” Poor Aunt Clarissa, she had no sensitivity of her own and failed to recognize it in others. “Who do you think would want to link themselves with a family in which such scandals occur? This will be fatal to all our hopes. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”

“It couldn’t have been worse whenever it happened,” I said. “Aunt Clarissa, she’s dead … dead!”

“Don’t shriek. The servants will hear. They’re no doubt discussing this now. I really think, Harriet, that you shouldn’t stay here. After all, if you arent here, it won’t be so blatantly connected with us, will it? Of course, it will come out that she was Edward’s wife. Oh how could he have been so

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Mind? He was always so wise … except in this one thing. Infatuated by this dreadful woman … and although she is dead I still say it … infatuated by a woman who as soon as he is dead kills herself … or worse still allows someone to kill her.”