The Lorimer Legacy (3 page)

Alexa could move one further step into his mind. Only the previous evening, after dinner, Margaret had been talking about a death caused by the measles epidemic: that of a feeble-minded child. Alexa, who had often noticed the boy's shambling walk and idiotic grin, asked how such things were caused.

‘There are a good many possible reasons,' Margaret had said. ‘But the one that I blame, and the most easily prevented, is the habit of marrying within a very small community such as a village. The parents of this boy were first cousins. It means that the child had fewer grandparents than is usual. If there is any weak strain in the family already, the chance of inheriting it is greatly increased. Although it is not forbidden for cousins to marry, I would always advise against it, if I were asked. But then, young people nowadays never ask for advice until they have quite decided not to take it.'

Matthew and Alexa laughed together then, and Alexa had thought no more of it. If Matthew, taking the theoretical advice seriously, felt it necessary to check that it could have no practical application to himself, there could only be one explanation. For a second time she felt her breath snatched from her; this time by wonder. She looked across at Matthew, who sat with his head still bowed, and was almost overcome by a wish to run her fingers through his thick fair hair. He raised his head slowly to gaze at her. Alexa jumped to her feet and turned away – not because she wished to discourage him, but because she was overwhelmed by a kind of excitement she had never felt before, and needed time to steady her feelings.

‘I would like to paint you,' said Matthew, with almost as much abruptness as he had used for his earlier question.

‘Then why don't you?' Alexa pirouetted round him, her white skirts swirling and the green ribbons on her hat flying. An onlooker might have thought she was flirting, for her extravagant dips and dances contrasted strongly with Matthew's unmoving solemnity: but the gaiety which she acted was only the veneer on a sincere delight. She came to a halt in a Gainsborough pose, one arm lifted to
her filmy white hat. ‘I shall be a better model than a painter. When will you start?'

‘I'm not skilled enough to catch a likeness in water-colour,' Matthew said. ‘I would need to use oil paints, and I didn't bring them with me. If Aunt Margaret agrees, will you come to stay at Brinsley House?'

‘It would be necessary for your mother to invite me.'

‘I shall ask her to do so as soon as I arrive home. If she writes tonight you will have the invitation almost before you have completed your packing. Will you come?'

‘Can you doubt it?' Alexa gave another pirouette of pleasure. The mare and foal, disturbed by the movement, whinnied and cantered away to the far side of the field. Matthew seemed not to care that his subject had vanished. He too stood up and held out his hand towards Alexa.

His shyness might prevent him from speaking, but there was no need for words. As she allowed him to take her hand, Alexa knew that their old relationship had come to an end. At the beginning of his visit she had welcomed him as though he were a favourite brother: when he left that evening, she said goodbye to the young man she loved.

Always before she had confided in Margaret, but this was her secret, to be kept from all the world. She made the excuse to herself that there was nothing to tell. A touch of the hand – what significance had such a small gesture? Only when Matthew put his feelings into words could she be sure of his love, and admit her own.

The invitation arrived as speedily as she could have hoped. With her usual lack of grace Sophie made it clear from the wording that she was writing at Matthew's request rather than from her own choice, but this merely increased Alexa's pleasure. She held her breath as she waited for her guardian's decision.

‘The invitation comes at a good time,' Margaret commented, passing it across. ‘I'm too busy with the complications of the measles to be good company, and I shall be glad for you to be well away from the contagion. Would you like to go?'

‘Yes, please.' Alexa ran from the breakfast table to her own room and began to lay out all her clothes. She was mending and packing them with the help of Betty, their housekeeper, when Margaret came into the room to say what travelling arrangements she suggested.

‘Good heavens, child! You're not being invited to take up residence in Brinsley House for ever!'

‘I need to take so much because none of my clothes are suitable at all for such a visit,' Alexa declared with a touch of sulkiness. Her excitement at the prospect of a return to Bristol had been dampened as she tried to imagine the various kinds of entertainment which might be offered her, and in each case realized that she had nothing suitable to wear. ‘It's time that I ceased to dress like a schoolgirl. You don't seem to realize that I am eighteen now. You tell me that Beatrice is out: well, I am older than Beatrice.'

She was sorry for her snappiness as soon as she had spoken, for she could tell that she had hurt her guardian's feelings. It was a long time since Margaret had needed to dress fashionably, but her silence now suggested that she sympathized with Alexa's outburst.

‘You are quite right,' she said quietly. ‘I have been remiss, not noticing how time has passed. When you come back from Bristol, we must have a discussion about your future. And for now – well, Betty will show you how to put your hair up for the evening. And I will send some money with you to Sophie and ask her to help you choose a gown in which you may keep Beatrice company
if she asks you to. In fact, you will need two: one for day and one for evening.'

Knowing how short money was in the household, Alexa was immediately remorseful and would have refused it. But Margaret insisted firmly that the new wardrobe was necessary, and Alexa's anxiety to show herself off as smart in front of Matthew overcame her scruples. She was happy again, and as affectionate as always, when a day later she kissed Margaret and little Robert goodbye. She could not have guessed then how much would happen before she saw them again.

Ambition feeds on discontent. In her quiet country home Alexa had often felt the desire to go out into the world and make a name for herself. With Margaret's hardworking example at hand, she was less easily persuaded than most girls of respectable family that a young woman should do no more than wait at home until someone came to offer her marriage. At the same time, she would have liked to make some financial contribution to the running of the household. So firmly had Margaret discouraged her wish to go on the stage that for a long time she had not dared to mention it. But if her future were to be discussed when she returned from Bristol, perhaps she could raise the question just once more. In her heart she suspected that it would be no use, but nevertheless she passed the time of the railway journey in planning what she would say.

Then, as the train steamed into Temple Meads, she saw Matthew waiting and realized that she wanted nothing more than to spend her life with him. Her day-dreams of
applauding crowds, of flowers strewn at her feet, of jewels and admirers – all these disappeared in the few seconds which it took him to catch sight of her. He was so grave, so handsome, so kind; and he loved her, she was sure of that. He had not told her so yet, but surely before she left Bristol he would speak – and then she would never think again of theatres and applause.

Matthew also had ambitions, rooted as firmly as her own in dissatisfaction with the life which his parents had forced on him. He had never revealed them to her before, but they emerged gradually in the course of her sittings for the portrait.

He had made a studio for himself in the tower room. Alexa looked round curiously as on her first evening Matthew led the way into it, to show her where he had set up the easel and to choose her pose, ready for a start the next day. During all her years at Brinsley House the tower had been locked and unused. It was not safe for children, Sophie had said if ever she was asked about it.

‘It was my grandfather's favourite room,' Matthew told Alexa as they stood together at one of the windows, looking down-river at the breathtaking view of the Clifton Gorge and the suspension bridge which seemed to float above it. ‘In his day, most of the Lorimer Line ships were still under sail. He used to stand here and watch as they came up the river to the Bristol Docks.'

‘Do you remember your Lorimer grandparents?' Alexa asked, recalling the portrait of John Junius which was now hanging in the drawing room of Elm Lodge, and her own fancies about him.

‘My grandmother not at all. She was ill most of the time, and found small children too noisy. But I can just remember my grandfather: a very big man. I didn't like him kissing me, because the hair on his face tickled. But he was fond of me, I think. I can recall being jogged on
his knee. And although I was only six when he died, I can remember having the odd feeling that other people were frightened of him, but that I wasn't.'

‘I've heard that he was very autocratic,' said Alexa.

‘Well, perhaps he had the right to be. He was very rich, and important at least in the society of his own city. As well as being chairman of a bank, Lorimer's Bank, he owned and managed the Lorimer Line for most of his life, as my father does now – in fact, he gave the company to my father as a twenty-first birthday present. I find it curious that nobody in Bristol ever speaks of him. Even my parents never talk about him. But sometimes I think, from the little I've heard, that Arthur and I have each inherited a separate part of his character. Arthur will be a successful man of business, just as my grandfather was. He will build up the Lorimer Line and expand it and find new companies to join to it, and make a great fortune for himself. It's curious how one can tell these things in advance. He's not yet seventeen, yet his ability is already clear.'

‘But you are the elder son,' Alexa protested. ‘You are the one who will inherit the Lorimer Line.'

‘Not if my father has any sense,' laughed Matthew. ‘Already he can see how much I hate the work. I lack the talent as well as the taste for it. My father moves me round his office and his ships, so that I spend a few months at each task. At the end I am expected to put all my experience together to provide a complete understanding of the running of a shipping line. But I am inefficient in every matter of business which is set before me. Whenever I attempt to command a column of figures I find myself faced with a mutiny. Last week I accepted twice as much cargo for New York as the ship I was filling could carry.'

Alexa smiled sympathetically. ‘What have you inherited
from your grandfather, then, if not his business ability?' she asked.

‘I would like to be an artist,' said Matthew. ‘But that's easier to say than to do. I know I have talent, but talent is not enough by itself. I should need to be trained, and at the end of the training I should find myself in the most precarious of professions – and perhaps still lacking in the ability or the luck to succeed in it. I feel that it's a crime to waste my one talent – yet it would be wicked to hurt my parents by disregarding their wishes.'

‘I know exactly how you feel!' exclaimed Alexa. She had not intended to say anything to Matthew about her ambition to sing in public, but the similarity of their situations prompted her to be indiscreet.

‘There is a difference between us, all the same,' he commented when he heard her wistful day-dreams. ‘A young man trying to earn a living as a painter can suffer nothing worse than starvation. But a young woman who goes on the stage –'

It was out of respect for her innocence, Alexa supposed, that he did not finish the sentence. But she knew what he was thinking. The argument was one which she had heard too often from Margaret, and it still had the power to annoy her.

‘That depends, surely, on the young woman,' she expostulated. ‘There is nothing immoral in itself in appearing before an audience.'

‘Perhaps not,' he said doubtfully. ‘But you must admit that the temptations facing an actress or a singer are very great indeed. A young woman living quietly at home with her mother or guardian is automatically protected against unpleasant advances of any kind. But when the same young woman displays herself on the stage, she seems almost to be inviting such advances, and she must repel
them for herself. It is not to be wondered at if she fails, because she is expected to fail.'

Just in time, Alexa remembered that this was a subject on which she no longer wanted to argue. She changed the subject back to an earlier part of their conversation. ‘You were saying that you had inherited some of your grandfather's characteristics,' she reminded him. ‘He was not an artist, was he?'

‘No. Doubtless painting was thought as unsuitable a pastime for a gentleman in his time as it is now. But he was a patron of artists. And he bought carvings and Eastern paintings, the best he could find. He had a love of beautiful things. That is what I have inherited. I love beautiful things too.' He turned away from the window to look at her. ‘And you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Alexa.'

His kiss was gentle, but she could feel the violence of his heartbeat as he held her close. They did not speak again until it was time for them to go in for dinner.

The next two weeks passed in a haze of happiness for Alexa. She did her best to control her hopes. If Matthew was serious in wanting to become an artist, many years were likely to pass before he would be able to support a wife. And yet, although she was inexperienced in the ways of the world, she knew that by kissing her Matthew had declared his love and made a commitment – and she, accepting the kiss, had accepted that she too was committed. If they concealed the state of affairs from the household, it was in order that they might continue to enjoy the unusual freedom which was a consequence of their equally unusual closeness of upbringing. Matthew hurried home from the shipping office as early as he could each evening and worked on her portrait until the light faded. He kissed her only at the end of each sitting, as they prepared to return to the company of the family,
but the anticipation of this moment excited Alexa all the time she was posing, and the memory of it carried her through the following day. She tried to hide her feelings, but Sophie must have sensed them, for on the second Saturday, when Matthew was free in the afternoon as well as the evening, the sitting was interrupted by the opening of the tower room door. Beatrice came in, bad-tempered, and sat down on a chair. They waited for her to speak.