Silver (4 page)

       
John was at the door to the parlour. He was smartly dressed in a fresh black suit, officially marking a period of mourning, but it was clear from the dark rings around his eyes that he had not slept. He glanced towards Maud trying to make out what she had said.

“
That will be all thank you Maud,” he said.

             
“Very good sir.” She dipped into a brief curtsey and scuttled down the corridor, unburdened, to join her colleagues.

“
What was that all about?” I immediately enquired, noting John’s furtive glance after the maid.

“
Not here, Imogen. In my study.” He walked quickly ahead of me, his heels clipping across the polished tiles with a military air. I followed wearily, suddenly aware of how heavy my limbs felt and how empty my stomach seemed. As he closed the door of the study behind us, he checked again that there were no staff straggling in the hallway before firmly pressing the door into the frame, clicking the lock across the handle to secure us inside. He crossed the carpet and was standing in front of his desk, his arms folded and his face set in a stern countenance.

“You should have told me Imogen.”

Anger weighed down upon his brow so that his eyes, fixed on mine, appeared narrower than usual.

“
Told you what, John?”

Where a few moments before I had yearned to be safe in my own house, I felt a sudden desire to be alone again. I knew that this conversation had to be had but I was still not prepared to lend words to my own dizzying thoughts.

“John. I am so very weary and I know we need to talk but can we discuss this later?” I didn’t look at him as I spoke and I began to turn back to the door, fully expecting any understanding and sympathetic husband to let me go with an “
Of course, of course.”

             
“Later?”  His tone was shrill and his face thrown into a parody of bemusement. “Absolutely not, Imogen. We will discuss this now.”

“
John, please.” I turned again to the door. He was at my side in three strides, gripping my arm tightly.

“
I said, we will discuss this now,” he pulled me away from the door and led me to the chair opposite his desk before depositing me roughly in its seat.

“John, you’re hurting me.”

“How long did you both think to keep this from me?” He leaned over me, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. His face was sallow with lack of sleep but his eyes flickered over my face intently.

“
I beg your pardon?” His tone was so strange, his voice so authoritative. It was a side of John I had not seen before. The side of him reserved for his business associates. I was stunned into silence.

“
Well,” he asked a little more quietly. “I mean, good God, do you expect me to believe that you didn’t know?”

There was coldness in his voice and
the accusation stung me.

“
I didn’t know.” The words came out so weakly they seemed to founder in the air. It sounded foolish after the strength of John’s words. I felt like a small child in front of her father, only mine had never behaved like this. “I didn’t know,” I repeated. The words dawned on me and I shook my head slowly and my face grew hot with shame.

John had continued to watch me turn pink and seemed agitated but distracted. He drew his hand through his hair and mumbled to himself that he wanted to believe me.

“I need you to be absolutely honest and clear with me, Imogen.” He levelled his gaze at me. “Are you telling me you had no inkling? No clue? Absolutely no idea that your
‘father’
was masquerading as a man?” A small amount of spittle flew from his lips as he spat out the word ‘father’. He wiped his mouth, looking at the door before adding more quietly. “This is a ghastly business. No, it’s more than that. It’s absolutely monstrous. What on earth was he.....or I suppose I should say, SHE thinking?”

He had thrown his hands in the air, a fresh energy animating him as incredulity took hold of him. He paced in front of the desk,
continuing to run his hands through his hair.

“
Have you any idea of the scandal this is going to cause?” he waited for a response. “Have you any idea what this could do to my reputation? Your children’s reputation?”

       
At the mention of the boys, I looked up at him, his familiar features pulled into a strange look of contempt. There was a wild look of panic about him as the truth of his concerns became clear. Reputation.

“
I didn’t know, John. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” I snapped, throwing my hands into the air, my own anger finding fuel in his crass remarks and shallow self-pity. I wanted him to believe me but, more than that, I wanted him to put his arm around me and to say that it would all be right, even if it would not be. I stood up and took a step towards him but the grief, the anger, the tiredness was too much and I stumbled faintly. His instincts took hold and he stepped forwards and caught me to his chest, his arms holding my elbows.

“
Imogen,” he said simply pushing me at arm’s length so he could study my face. A modicum of sentiment returned to his voice as his concern for me momentarily overshadowed his concern for himself.  But it was to be a brief lapse in his demeanour.

             
“Please, take a hold of yourself.” His grip tightened as I sensed him cast about for somewhere to put me. Where moments before, all I had longed for was to be held in his arms to seek comfort on his broad chest, now I wanted to be out of his grip. I stepped backwards and sat back down in the chair. A noise sounded heavily on the floorboards above us as someone dropped something in one of the bedrooms. I watched as he straightened his waistcoat, walked around his desk and sat down. After a moments silence, John cleared his throat. He lowered his voice.

“
I have spoken with the staff and they have been informed of your…” he paused whilst he considered what word to use. “…father’s demise.  They were aware that there were some….irregularities…..with the death but I have made it plain that gossip will not be tolerated.”

       
He waited seemingly for some acknowledgement from me and in the absence of one he continued a little haltingly.

“
I am meeting with the police commissioner later this morning, to discuss how this thing can best be handled. As you know, the press seem to have got wind of it and those that I haven’t managed to pay to keep quiet will have it all over town by lunchtime.’ His voice wavered as his anger seemed once again to get the better of him. ‘There will be a storm to deal with this afternoon and I would prefer it if you were not around.”

       
His gaze dropped to the desk and I felt my face burn as his intentions grew clearer.

“
I shall arrange for the boys to return to Worcester until this matter has died down. I shall deal with this matter.”

“
But what about my father? The funeral? There are arrangements to be……”

“
Your father?” he answered quietly his eyes narrowed questioningly. “Who was your father, Imogen?”

       
The question took all of my breath from me, the ready answer fresh on my tongue turned stale, as John awaited a response and Oh! Forgive me but I faltered, there in my husband’s study, and instead of the pride I had always associated with my father, I felt only shame.

“
Imogen, you had no father. That woman has made fools of us all,” he spoke softly struggling to convey his anger but trying to keep his volume down. “SHE was not your father and whether you kept her secret or not, it will cost me a small fortune to try and bury it with her.”

       
In delivering this, he had sunk backwards into his chair, his large hand gripping on to the edge of the desk to prevent him slumping entirely. I felt his exhaustion wash through the both of us and I was adrift. I watched him across the desk as I struggled to find words in response but none came. John’s gaze fell to his desk upon which this situation had no doubt doubled his workload. I looked beyond him to his mantel where the clock was still, no-one having entered his study this morning to wind it. The silence it afforded in the room was all incongruous with the crowded, angry words that hung in the air around us. I felt defeated and each minute, of silence that it marked, put us beyond the others reach more acutely than any miles could. After several moments had passed awkwardly, John rose from his seat and walked around his desk to stand before me. He held out his hand for my own and he pulled me into an awkward embrace. I felt his familiar arms around me and they afforded me no solace, but I tried to find some comfort in the gesture. The next week would no doubt bring many more battles and we would both need strength to get through them.

             
Rounding Cornwall Gardens onto the Gloucester Road, the sun at their back, Avery Silver and his maid, Kate Ward, cut a path through the bustle of the busy streets up towards Kensington. Having assured Arthur that he had told his father of his intended outing, Avery’s thoughts of home were soon forgotten as the summer’s day transformed the neighbouring streets from the bleak familiarity to the sunny prospect of discovery. Avery’s step, at first quick to escape the oppressive stare of his home, slowed a little and Kate drew alongside him. Being several inches taller, Avery’s stride was longer, and, being more disposed to rush at this opportunity than Kate, he had covered some distance alone. As they fell into step with one another, Avery watched the people they passed by. Gentlemen in suits tipped their hats, ladies on their arms held parasols raised against the sun, tourists headed to the Palace or the South Kensington Museum hurried excitedly past; foreigners, struck by the vastness of the city that he was underwhelmed by. As the numbers of people on the busy thoroughfare increased, Kate was pressed to his side and he wondered how she found the hustle and bustle in comparison to a Yorkshire town.

“
Weather such as this would be much improved were it not for the number of people enjoying it. Don’t you think?” he asked. Kate rolled her eyes in acknowledgement of the masses around them.

“
Believe me, Miss, the great unwashed of London have seen far more of a bar of soap than in Harrogate or Leeds.”

       
Avery smiled, he hardly ever thought about what life Kate had before she had joined the household. She had appeared without references just as Avery had dispatched the last in a long line of useless girls. He knew from experience that she disliked talking about her previous life and he was encouraged by her mentioning her home cities to enquire further.

“
Tell me, how do you find London?”

       
He knew that most of her free time was spent around this area and he himself had noticed that she was no longer inclined to look up at the buildings in the same wonder but rather seemed to hurry on to make the most of her precious liberty. She had one or two friends she had made in service and these she would meet with occasionally, to walk in the parks or share ice cream or tea with. There was little about these meetings that he did not know, so prone was she to gabble constantly whilst she was busying herself in his rooms or around the house. During her first month, she had kept her head down and busied herself at her post being almost wary of Avery. She had seemed a morose girl and he had wondered if in fact she might not be a little slow. He had found her guardedness a challenge and he remembered how stunned he was when she unexpectedly confided in him. Aware that her strange accent made her stand out, one of the local girls had made fun of her and he had found her in his room that evening, folding clothes into his press with a face like thunder.

“Miss Ward? Are you alright?”

        She seemed to have been waiting for his arrival and she answered simply and honestly.

“No, Miss Silver. I’m not.”

“It looks for all the world that those clothes have slighted you Miss Ward and by all accounts you are giving them what for.” She had not smiled. He closed the door behind him and moved to the chaise longue beneath the window. Seating himself awkwardly, he had tipped his head to one side and offered the seat beside him with a well placed hand. It was a gesture that invited intimacy and evidently was all that Kate was waiting for.

“
Do you know, sometimes I can barely understand every second word that Mary-Ann utters but I hold my tongue. I don’t think her slow, I don’t think her stupid and I don’t think myself better than her.”

       
Avery had not expected any such outburst and hardly knew how to respond before she continued with her rant as she strode around the room.

“
I’ve put up with it for weeks now and today they tried to get me in hot water. I don’t go in for tireless gossip Miss Silver. Never have and never will. I won’t get into trouble because they see fit to talk about their betters. I’ve worked hard here, haven’t I? Its not fair if they get me into trouble just because I was born a hundred miles away.”

“
Kate. Kate,” Avery had had to repeat himself to halt the flow. “You’re not making any sense. What on earth has happened?”

       
Kate had drawn herself up on the spot and turned to face him properly. She hesitated, some of her own anger had dissipated in her own little tirade and she may have been content to apologise for the outburst and disappear without a further word, but Avery was intrigued by this other side to the quiet young girl.

“
Please. Don’t stop. Just tell me what has happened?” he nodded for her to continue, an encouraging smile upon his lips. He tapped the seat beside him again and, with some of the wind taken from her sails, she let out a huge sigh and flopped down beside him. It was the first, but not the last time he would feel his chest lurch at her proximity and, as she leaned back against the window frame, he was envious of the ease she seemed to feel being inside her own body. Her own chest was tight against her uniform and the material stretched around the buttons revealing a shadow where her bosom swelled. Avery felt his mouth prickle and he barely heard the remainder of her story as he imagined what lay beneath the dark cotton dress             

       
Avery had felt his cheeks grow hot as he listened to her story but could not drag his eyes away from her breasts. Evidently, two of the girls in the household had been teasing her relentlessly. She had put up with the mimicking of her accent and the deviling over her seeming slowness when she misunderstood their cockney phrases. That day, she had broken with the pressure and there had been some altercation or other below stairs. One of the girls had begun badgering Kate about her lack of references and had begun conjecturing on the reasons. It seems Mary-Ann had touched a nerve by suggesting the reason Kate had not arrived with any references was because she was running away from something.

“
Alice?” Kate’s voice startled him and he looked around to note they were now walking across Kensington Gore to the Gardens.  Glancing at Kate, he saw her waiting for him to reply.

“
I’m sorry,” he blushed. “What did you say?”

             
“I said, London is a curious place, full of curious people but it’s home now.”

“
Tell me, do you miss your family? You never speak of them Kate and you certainly have never been away from Cornwall Gardens long enough to visit.”

       
He noticed immediately the change in her body language and regretted asking the question, curious as he was to know the reason for her obvious discomfort.

“Why do you ask, Miss?”

“I suppose I know very little of your life before Cornwall Gardens and..,” he paused. “….I am curious, that’s all.” He considered her surreptitiously as they maneuvered themselves through the wrought iron gates to enter the park. He did not want Kate to feel uncomfortable, not that day, and he wanted to change the subject.

“
I am glad you feel London is home to you.”

       
They ambled along the footpath, bordered by a vibrant display of summer blooms and Avery pulled at the sleeves of his dress. The plump heads of yellow begonias drooped over lazy pink primulas and sullen golden marigolds. The park was alive with riotous colour and seemed alert with the expectation of a long and glorious day. They walked on in silence for a few minutes, taking in the heady scents, before Avery added, ‘We have come to be quite close have we not?’ There was a pause and his cheeks grew hot. He wondered if she could see any of his dreams upon his face. With few friends he was more than just fond of the intimacy he shared with Kate, they were close in age and he felt less like she was a servant to him and more of a companion. Much as this pleased him, he was cautious to remind himself daily of the proper role that he must play in their relationship.

“Yes, Miss.”

        Avery glanced at the path ahead, which was busy with ladies sauntering in the pleasant sunshine.  After an unforgiving winter and a late spring, the weather was causing much abandon among their neighbours. A few young gents were basking on the grass, hats tipped to shield their eyes, arms behind their heads, catching a little extra sleep; the local brigade of nannies were also out en masse, pushing great black and silver perambulators, each appraising the others’ baby carriages before deciding upon whom to bestow their morning’s greetings. The Round Pond sparkled in the morning sun reflecting the great blue sky and making it seem that one could step through the very earth itself and fall through the heavens. Avoiding the throng of people in front of them, Avery veered off the main path and headed down past the waterside and up towards the Porchester Terrace Gate. He had thought long and hard about this moment and he decided it was now or never.

“
I have a favour to ask of you, Kate,” Avery stopped and Kate continued past, turning after a few steps so that they were some distance from each other, when Kate replied, “Yes Miss?”             

“
I have two things to ask of you and I am afraid you may find both strange. The first is an errand that I wish to run in St Giles,” he held up a hand as Kate’s face fell, the area around St Giles being of questionable character.  “I will explain what I wish to do in a moment and I shall understand if you will not come with me. However, if you do, I need your assurances that the details of where we go must remain with only the two of us.”

       
He kept his eyes on Kate’s as she nodded slowly at him, indicating only that she understood. She was hesitant but her curiosity forbade her from denying him.

“Yes, of course, Miss,”
she answered. “And the second thing, Miss Silver?” she asked neutrally. She seemed nervous of the serious turn that this conversation had taken but her eyes sparkled with delight. Avery’s cheek twitched as she addressed him and he hesitated, considering again what he was about to ask of her.

“
I would like you to stop calling me Miss or Alice.”

       
Her face lit up in a smile. She seemed relieved that this outlandish request was all that seemed to be vexing her young mistress. However, noticing how solemn Avery’s face became she stifled a laugh and instead enquired. “What am I to call you then?”

       
He waited nervously and the girl looked confused, her eyebrows knitted together expectantly.

“
I should like you to call me, Avery.” He stated simply. “Or perhaps you would like to call me, Sir,” he added. He kept his eyes fixed unblinkingly on her own as he waited for her reaction. His stomach knotted as something like recognition dawned over her face. There was no doubt that she was puzzled and she stepped backwards slightly to look at him.

       
To anyone who cared to consider it, Avery was a tall and handsome woman who seemed to go to extraordinary lengths to refuse to wear anything which could make him more beautiful. He always chose plain and drab dresses and refused to have either his hair or his face made up, which made him seem much older than his twenty years. Kate had always professed this to be strange and she openly coveted the fine fabrics her mistress refused to take pleasure in. Many supposed that Avery was in want of a mother figure to guide him in the fashionable changes to which a young girl ought to be devoted. Avery watched, almost shyly, as Kate continued to look puzzled by what she was being asked.

“
What is the errand in St Giles?” she asked.

“
I told you already,” he answered cautiously. “Avery needs some new clothes.”

       
Avery’s words hung in the air between them as Kate looked at him curiously. As they stood facing each other on the path, a trio of young girls passed them, their arms interlocked, giggling and pointing at a young man asleep down by the pond. A family of ducks was investigating his straw hat and was about to make off with it. The spell of their stare was broken as Avery stepped aside to allow the girls room on the path and he watched until they disappeared beyond earshot. When he looked back at Kate, she was walking away from him towards the gate. With an anxious start, Avery hurried to catch up with her and placed a restraining hand upon her arm.

“Kate?”

        She stopped and, looking up at her mistress, smiled nervously.

“
If we hurry we can catch the next bus to St Giles, Miss, ” she caught herself from finishing and looked up expectantly at Avery. The dread rush of icy cold surging to his heart was replaced, at once, by a warming pleasure and he smiled broadly. Kate returned his excited beam as she finished her sentence. “…Sir.”

~o~

             
As the Omnibus rolled off along Shaftesbury Avenue, Avery Silver and Kate Ward appeared fairly ordinary figures by the light of the splendid, summer sun. There were plenty of ladies and gentlemen ambling along towards Piccadilly Circus and few noticed the two drably dressed women as they strayed down Mercer Street. The narrow road was bustling with people intent on making hay whilst the sun shone. Several ramshackle stalls had been thrown up along the side street. Two barrow boys competed for an audience, shouting cheekily to sell their fruit and vegetables. A man in a moth-eaten suit tried to demonstrate something mechanical out of a battered suitcase. He struggled with his sales patter as some parts fell off his machine. His audience stared at him warily with a mixture of curiosity and pity and some openly laughed. A woman, shabbily dressed in the offcuts of what was once a fine dress, paraded around an upturned crate stacked high with parasols. The contents were neither new nor in very good condition and Avery eyed her suspiciously, wondering how such a down-at-heel woman could have acquired so many parasols. Kate too had spotted the woman and she quickly glanced away as the woman noticed her admiring her wares.