Vintage Love (132 page)

Then old Matthew Kerr awoke with a start and looked about him in surprise. He reached in his vest pocket and brought out his solid gold watch, and studied its face. “Close to five,” he said. “Time we were on our way home.”

The ladies rose to leave, and there was a general saying of goodbyes and polite good wishes for her. She stayed at the door with Mark, and they exchanged polite words with the Kerr Family as they made their way out. The last to leave were Vera and young James Kerr.

Vera held Mark’s hand a trifle too long and said in a sad voice, “You know I wish you happiness.”

“To be sure I do,” Mark said to Becky with what seemed like feigned admiration.

James Kerr concentrated on her. With his sly smile, he said, “Mark is far too old for you. Think about my offer.”

She laughed. “I’m much flattered by it, but since I’m already engaged, I cannot believe you are serious.”

“He’s never serious,” Mark said harshly and gave James a curt nod as he left. When the Kerr family had all been herded out, he closed the door. With an annoyed look on his stern face, he told Becky, “Well, now you have met them all. Husband and wife and son and daughter. You had best accept them, since Kerr is my partner and there’s no escaping that!”

“I should hope not,” Elizabeth said as she rose from her tea set. “The Kerrs are fine people! Moreover, Matthew Kerr controls sixty per cent of the firm’s stock, which gives him controlling interest; he could well override your desire to stay with wooden ships if he wished. And he must feel hurt that you have spurned his daughter, who counted on becoming your wife, for another young woman!” The spinster marched off down the hall, and there was the sound of a door slammed closed as she entered her own room.

Mark was white with anger. “I fear Elizabeth has gone a bit too far this time!”

Becky said, “Were you ever engaged to Vera Kerr?”

“There was a time when we went out together, but there was no agreement between us.”

“Still, she must have expected there to be one, since you were taking her time.”

“If the girl was stupid enough to read anything into my actions, I cannot be held accountable for it,” Mark said in his stern way.

“No. I suppose not.”

“Any more than I can be held accountable for Matthew’s senile notion that iron ships will sweep sailing vessels from the ocean. It’s an old man’s idle desire to appear young-minded.”

Becky was embarrassed. She said, “In truth, I thought the argument was the other way around, that you were the one who wished to build ships of iron, and he was the partner who insisted you stay with wood.”

“You were wrong.”

“I do not know anything about it,” she said. “But from the many conversations I heard in the tavern, the majority of seamen appear to favor iron ships and think they will one day compose the majority of commercial craft.”

Mark eyed her coldly. “You are supposed to have forgotten you ever served in a tavern. Will you please remember that? I thought you had learned your lessons well from Mrs. Bell!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her face turning crimson. Not only did the reprimand hurt her but she felt ashamed that she had so agreed to hide her past. Mark had not been fair in asking her to assume a false identity, and she had not done right by herself in agreeing to his demands.

This afternoon had worried her and filled her with fear that she would be accepted neither by his sister nor by the Kerr family.

In a lowered, taut voice, she said, “Perhaps the barmaid in me can never be erased. It is still not too late for you to take back the ring and end the whole affair.”

“Rebecca!” he said sternly and seized her arm so tightly that it hurt. “Never let me hear you say such a thing again.”

She winced with pain but still said resolutely, “You may have your freedom! I do not hold you to anything!”

“I want you !” he said hoarsely. Then he let her arm go and said, “I will take you back to Grott Street now.”

As they rode back in his carriage he discussed the plans he had made for the wedding. It was to be a quiet affair in a nearby chapel. He did not feel they should have many guests—just his sister and the Kerr family. She listened, bleakly thinking of little Jimmy Davis and the Crowns, knowing that they would not be invited even though she might wish it, and that they could not fit in with her fake Birmingham past, even if they wanted to attend.

He brought her into the pleasant little flat which he’d provided. He seemed in a strange, restless mood. Normally he left almost at once, but now he lingered and showed no hint of going.

She removed her bonnet and offered to get him a drink. He quickly accepted and asked for a whiskey. She brought it to him and he downed it.

Then, his eyes burning in a strange way, he said, “I heard what James Kerr said today. That I was too old for you. Do you feel that way?”

She shook her head. “I would not marry you if I did.”

“Perhaps you might,” he said in the same taut fashion. “It could be you agreed to marry me merely to improve your lot in life!”

“You cannot believe that!” she protested, though in her own heart she knew there was some truth in it. She had fought the idea and told herself the hatred she’d once felt for him had turned to love and respect. But had it? She worried about this as she face the angry older man.

“I’m a man of strength,” Mark went on angrily. “Not a foolish fop like young James! I will show you whether I’m too old to wed or not!”

And before she could say or do anything he lifted her up in his arms and carried her struggling into her bedroom. He threw her on the bed. Tears filled her eyes as she stared up at him and saw him grimly removing his jacket and then his other clothing. In a moment he was tearing at her clothes without consideration. He was deaf to her protests as he prepared to rape her!

He penetrated her with the same air of cruel dominance. His lovemaking was fierce; it frightened her, for there was no hint of gentleness in it. He was perspiring and breathing heavily as he finally finished with her and abruptly left her!

Shamed and hurt, she covered her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand, thinking that she was no better than his paid harlot. All the fine manners and kindness to her had ended in this ugliness. She had not been wrong about him! Under the veneer was a streak of cruelty which could ruin anyone.

After what seemed like a long while, so long she hoped that he had silently left the room, he spoke to her in his stern voice, “Rebecca!” And when she made no reply. “Rebecca, please look at me!”

She raised her hand and looked up to see he was fully dressed again, though she lay there partially nude, her clothing torn and dishevelled.

He eyed her grimly. “I’m sorry. That was not the way I wished to take you. But I had to show you I am a man! A man of strength who takes what he wishes.”

“You have shown me that and much more,” she said in a broken whisper.

He looked down at his shoes. “I will not remain here begging your forgiveness. I only ask you to try and understand. This afternoon was not easy for me. This is what came of it.” And with this rather lame apology he turned and left the flat.

Becky lay there as he’d left her for a long while. She was too stunned and hurt to make even the slightest physical move. She could only wonder if the unhappy life she had known this far might be going to lead to a still more unhappy future. Had she allowed herself to be lured into an impossible position with a selfish and cruel man?

Only once in her short life had she been truly happy. That was when Davy had appeared. But Davy was dead and she was alone.

The next morning a lad arrived at the apartment with a huge bouquet of roses for her and a note which said, “My dearest Rebecca, forgive the madness which my love for you made me exhibit last night. If you will forgive me, I promise nothing of the sort will ever happen again, your loving Mark.”

She read it sadly and gazed at the lovely flowers. There was no doubt that be believed he meant what he’d written, but she could not. She wished now she’d told him when they met that she was the one who had tossed back his golden coins offered coldly for her father’s needless death. But she hadn’t told him then, and now it was too late.

For more than a week she refused to see him. Then she had a surprise call from his sister, Elizabeth. The gaunt woman entered uneasily and sat with awkwardness in the chair she offered her.

After a long pause, the spinster said, “I am here on behalf of my brother, Mark.”

She stood rather coolly, listening. “Oh?”

“Yes, Miss Lee,” the thin-faced woman said bitterly. “Is it your wish to destroy him?”

“What do you mean?”

“He is shattered by your turning your back on him. Mark is a proud man!”

“We all have some pride, Miss Gregg.”

“You do not understand!” Elizabeth said in a near-hysterical manner. “It is a near madness with Mark. Since you’ve refused to see him, he has been drinking to such excess that I fear something dreadful will happen to him.”

Becky said, “That would seem to me to be weakness in him rather than strength. He claims to be strong!”

“He isn’t!” Elizabeth said. “Inside, he is not strong. I know! It was the same when he was a boy! Do not let him destroy himself, I beg you. Save him!”

Becky went to the sobbing woman and attempted to comfort her. “I’m sorry we had this misunderstanding. I will talk to Mark. Tell him I will see him whenever he wishes.”

Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes and nose with a hankie. “I thank you, Miss Lee!” And she got to her feet. “I must seem a silly woman to you but Mark is important to me.”

“It is all right,” she said wearily. “Have you a carriage waiting?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I will tell Mark what you said as soon as he is in a state to listen.”

“Please do,” she said, seeing the woman out.

After Elizabeth left, there was a terrible let down. Becky went to the window and watched the carriage with its two gray horses drive away, and it seemed that all her hope was fading with it. She had agreed to see Mark and try to reason with him. But she knew that nothing would satisfy him but her submission. That he must conquer or be enraged. It wasn’t a pleasant prospect.

So she did see Mark as she’d promised. He looked so bad from his drinking binge that she was shocked. He was humble and pleading, and in the end she forgave him and agreed to go ahead with the marriage. She would later think of this as one of her major mistakes.

They had the quiet ceremony he’d suggested and afterwards a reception at the Kerrs, with old Matthew Kerr making a speech of congratulations while his wife and Mark’s sister Elizabeth, stood grimly by. To cap the occasion, Vera Kerr sniffed all through the ceremony and reception as if it were Mark’s funeral, and not his wedding. Young James Kerr seemed heartily amused and entertained by it all. And the only emotion felt by Becky was that of taking part in a strange charade.

Their wedding night was spent at the Strand Hotel. It was not surprising that the groom fumbled in the consummation of the event and that she was not at all aroused. This was an unhappy beginning of a pattern that made any joyous loving between them an exception rather than the rule.

But for many weeks he was on his best behaviour in every other way. She took over the running of the house, and Elizabeth discreetly spent most of her time working at the East End Mission which she had established for the poor. For a while Becky thought there was a possibility of a modest amount of happiness in her marriage.

She was tortured by one thing, though—the memory of what had happened to her sister, Peg, and an urgent desire to find her and try and save her. One evening when she felt Mark was in a good mood, she told him about Peg. He listened with impatience, and when she finished he delivered his judgement.

“I think you should forget all about her,” he said.

“She is my sister!” she pleaded.

“I would say she has forfeited that relationship,” her husband said coldly.

“I can’t get her out of my mind,” she worried.

“That is unfortunate, but you must discipline yourself in this matter,” he said. “Now if you will forgive me, I have some business papers to go over.”

She made no further protest. But that night she came to a decision. She had an allowance to run the house and for her own dress purchases. She would stint on everything and gradually save enough money to do what she had in mind. She would hire a private detective agency to try and find Peg.

It was about this time that labor trouble broke out in the shipyard. To meet the threat of a strike, Mark enlisted the help of a young man who’d gained a reputation in management circles as a strike breaker. He had his own band of hoodlums who would fight the regular workers and take over until the laborers gave in.

Mark had the young man visit him at the house one evening. He explained to her that he did not want to be known as hiring a strikebreaker, and it was more discreet to have meetings with him at home than at the office.

So she came to meet young, sullen Bart Woods. He was a muscular young man with a handsome face, dark hair, and lively dark eyes. He said little, but when she smiled at her, she could not help but be thrilled at his masculinity. At Mark’s bidding she left them together.

When Mark had finished with him and joined her in their bedroom later, he looked weary. He told her, “That young man struck a hard bargain with me.”

“Really?”

Mark Gregg nodded grimly as he stood in the glow of a rose shaded lamp. “He will only agree to break the strike if I make him works manager.”

“You already have a works manager.”

“Aye. And a good one. But there’s little I can do. I cannot afford the strike to go on. So I’ll have to give this fellow his way.”

“He’s a strange person. He’s very silent, but he exudes power,” she said.

Mark gave her a troubled look. “I would rather not hire him. He has a black background. Before he became a strike breaker, he was the leader of a gang of thugs who shanghaied seamen for a fee! But I cannot afford to lose! So it must be!”

Becky was no longer listening. Her thoughts had wandered to other days and the man whom she’d loved, the man who had been shanghaied and delivered dead on a ship bound for Australia for blood money!