Vintage Love (138 page)

On certain nights he came to her place when all the others were safely asleep. Occasionally she would meet him in a flat belonging to a friend of his. And there were meetings for luncheons in the city, intriguing because they had always to be secretly planned and carried out.

Becky came to know much more about the handsome man. He still believed in power and violence when it was required to bring about his ends. He was the product of the London docks, where he’d spent his boyhood. Now he had accquired manners and could pass as a gentleman. But beneath the new facade there was still the ambitious and unscrupulous man who had once shanghaied drunken sailors and turned them over to captains of ships sailing far away for a price.

Often when they were together, he asked questions of her. And it turned out that as a lad he had met her father several times and admired him as a hard worker. Becky could not truly say she was deeply in love with the dark man, but she was surely fond of him. And he was supporting her emotionally at a time in her life when she desperately required such support.

She tried to spend more time with Mark, but he was so vague and disinterested she gave up. She left him with the jolly nurse most of the time. Nurse Hazel Green treated the sick man like a spoiled child and that was almost what he had become. Becky was a trifle uneasy about Elizabeth, worrying that the spinster might have guessed that she and Bart were lovers. But Elizabeth said nothing and was spending more and more time at her mission, which had been enlarged.

From all that she knew from her own observations and what Bart had told her, things at the Kerr house were much the same as they had been. Vera was more than normally devoted to her little boy, Donald, and Bart was a loving father. But they lived in separate rooms of the great mansion and were no longer all that one expected a husband and wife to be. Old Matthew Kerr relapsed to grow more feeble, leaving full management of the shipyard to Bart at a critical time. Alice Kerr devoted herself to her husband and her grandchild. Like Elizabeth, she also had numerous charities to which she gave both money and her own efforts.

There was talk that either Disraeli or Gladstone had prevailed upon Queen Victoria to give up her deep mourning for her dead Prince Consort. It was explained to her that her bleak mood had tainted the whole of her Empire, that out of consideration for her people she must show more interest in life and the desire to plunge forward and make new beginnings.

From the moment Bart changed the shipyard to the building of iron ships, all went well. Gregg & Kerr soon had more orders than they could fill. And the bank had never questioned Mark’s forged signature.

The fact that the Kerrs and the Greggs no longer did any socializing made it easier for Becky and Bart to carry on their intrigue. Becky seldom saw old Matthew Kerr except at meetings of the company board. And she did not see Alice or Vera at all. Once she met Vera on a summer afternoon with her baby in a pram.

Becky had stopped and made much of the child, telling his prim mother, “What a healthy little lad Donald is. Just like his father!”

Vera’s pale face had shown annoyance. “He is more a Kerr in manner.”

Becky smiled at the other young woman, “Then there is something about him to please you both. That is how it ought to be.”

“Yes,” Vera said brusquely. “I must take him inside; it is past the hour for his afternoon nap.” And she had hurried on with obvious relief at not having to make any other pleasantries.

Becky, somewhat hurt, for Vera had avoided her whenever possible, watched after the departing mother and pram and thought what a selfish, spoiled prig Vera had become—no doubt under her frigid mother’s tutelage. Had she been a proper wife to Bart it was not likely that he would have turned elsewhere for love, since he had great pride in his marriage and son. Being linked to the Kerr family meant a good deal to him.

It was to be expected that sooner or later the lovers would be caught. And it happened quietly one night when Becky in nightgown and bathrobe was escorting a fully-dressed Bart from her bedroom to the french doors downstairs, which he regularly used to make his secret visits.

They were emerging from her bedroom, his arm around her, when suddenly Mark appeared in the hall in robe and pajamas. It was unheard of for him to be out of his room at this time of night. Becky could scarcely believe her eyes.

Leaving Bart, she took a step towards her husband and said, “Mark! You should be in bed!”

The prematurely-aged man who barely resembled the stern, square-jawed leader whom she’d married, stared at her in a vague, mournful fashion and said nothing. Then he turned and, leaning on his cane, limped back into the darkness at the end of the hall to vanish in his own room.

Bart stood frowning. “Shall I speak to him?”

“No,” she said, turning to him. “I don’t think he really took in the situation. It probably will seem only a bad dream to him.”

“He seemed to know me,” Bart worried.

“I saw no recognition,” she said, realizing she was allowing her fervent wish to make her accept this as truth.

Bart gave a deep sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“It will be all right,” she said. “I’m sure.”

Bart said, “Let me know. If you need me, I will come back at once.”

“I will not need you,” she said. “Now go on.” And she urged him on his way.

Later, after Bart had gone, she went to the door of Mark’s room and found it closed. She did not attempt to open it and go in for fear of waking him if he’d returned to sleep. Better to leave things as they were.

She slept restlessly that night. She knew this liaison between herself and Bart was wrong. But from another viewpoint, it had saved them both from the bleakest of lives. Now she had come to rely so much on Bart for understanding and comfort she could not give him up. If Mark had seen and understood and had been well enough to raise a fuss, she would have accepted his condemnation and would have urged him to divorce her. She had no doubt that Bart, despite his desire for the Kerr cloak of respectability, would have agreed to have Vera divorce him. Later, despite the scandal, they would have married.

She was in bed thinking about this the next morning when there was a knock on her door. She called out for whoever it was to enter, and Nurse Hazel Green came rushing into the room. The stout woman was sobbing.

“He’s gone, Mrs. Gregg! He’s gone!”

She sat up in bed. “Gone?” she echoed sharply.

“Dead, ma’am,” the stout nurse said brokenly. “When I went to him a while ago, I thought he was sleeping. So I left him. Then I went back just now, and he’s cold, ma’am! Cold in death!”

Becky threw back the clothes and reached for her dressing gown. “I’ll go to him!” Becky followed her as she quickly made her way to Mark’s room.

When she reached his bedside, his eyes were closed and his worn face was placid. It was easy to understand why the nurse had thought him asleep. It was clear he had died during the night. A stab of guilt went through her, and tears filled her eyes.

Nurse Green comforted her and placed an arm around her. “You must not feel badly, Mrs. Gregg. He passed quietly in his sleep, a wonderful way for a life to end.”

“Yes,” she said in a low voice. “I suppose so.”

“He could not have lived much longer,” the nurse went on. “Dr. Trevalyn said that only the other day. The doctor was afraid he’d have still another stroke and suffer more before he died. This way, God has been just!”

Becky nodded. “Have you told his sister?”

“Not yet.”

“Better go upstairs to her room at once,” she urged. “And break it to her gently as possible. We must keep our wits; there are many preparations to look after!”

“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse said and went on out, leaving her alone in the room with her dead husband.

She gazed down at the worn face at last in repose. She whispered, “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Mark. Once there was something between us, just a small happiness for a short while. I shall treasure that memory and forget the cruel and ugly things that followed.” And she bent and touched her lips to his cold forehead. It was odd, she knew, but she felt closer to him at this moment than she had for some years.

Elizabeth came into the room still in her nightcap and dressing gown. The thin woman was crying brokenly. She brushed by Becky and knelt by her dead brother. Her head bent on his folded hands, she continued to sob.

Becky said, “Perhaps it is a blessing,”

Elizabeth turned her thin, tear-stained face upwards to gaze at her with shocking hatred. Her sister-in-law said, “I’m sure it is for you!”

She gasped. “How dare you say that?”

“I hope you wind up in a bar where you came from,” the thin woman said, her voice raised shrilly.

Becky sighed and turned to see Nurse Green standing there shocked by what she’d hear. Becky shrugged and went on out of the room. Elizabeth was so near collapse a doctor had to be fetched. Mark’s sister was no help at all in the many preparations which had to be made. Becky went about everything with a determination not to let down Mark in his final hours before burial.

Word was sent next door. Old Matthew Kerr was the first to call on her. He had grown almost thin, and his voice had become quavering. Sadly he told her, “I expected to be the first to go because of my age.”

“We can never tell about those things,” she said.

“Mark was years my junior,” the old man said with awe. “Well, the old guard will all soon vanish. You have my sympathy, my dear. The ladies will pay their respects in due time. And I’m sure Bart Woods will be by shortly. He had left for the shipyard before word reached us of this sad business.”

“I’m sure he will come,” Becky said.

And he did. He arrived in a carriage about an hour later. The undertaker was already busy preparing Mark’s body for display in a fine coffin in the great living room. So Becky saw the handsome dark man in one of the rear parlors.

After she’d closed the door, she went to Bart’s arms and he kissed her and held her close to him for a long time. She said, “He died peacefully in his sleep.”

Bart frowned, “Do you think he saw us and understood?”

“He saw us, but there was no understanding,” she said. “He probably didn’t know who we were. He’d been so lost mentally of late. I think this urge to move about must have been a last restless exertion brought on by his approaching death.”

“Then you feel he died without knowing?”

“I’m certain of it.”

Bart looked relieved. “Thank God,” he said. “I would not have wanted it to happen otherwise when I could not offer amends.”

“You must not think about it,” she said.

“How has Elizabeth taken it?”

“Badly. She suggested that I was happy he was dead!”

His eyebrows lifted. “Do you think?”

“That she suspects?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid so. It could be she has spied on your comings and goings,” Becky told him.

“I shall talk with her,” Bart said firmly.

“No,” Becky told him. “Better to say nothing. I doubt that she will want to darken the family name by bringing up such a scandal now.”

“I will not let her make your life miserable.”

“She won’t,” Becky said. “I do not propose to live on here. This house has too many bitter memories. There is a charming little brick house across the street that is for sale. I think I will buy it and move there. I’d like to live simply in a smaller place with only a single servant. This is Elizabeth’s family house; she can remain here.”

Bart showed interest. “You seem to have thought about this earlier. Before you knew Mark was going to die.”

Her eyes met his. “Yes.”

“What first gave you the idea?”

She said, “Because I’m going to have a child, Bart. Your child.”

An uneasy truce lasted between Mark’s sister and Becky until after the funeral. A few days following the burial she confronted the thin spinster in the big living room where Mark had so recently rested in his coffin.

“I have decided to buy myself a smaller house,” she told Elizabeth.

Her sister-in-law said coldly, “Perhaps that would be best. I do not wish to share this house with you.”

Becky said, “I assumed that. The Lordley house is available nearby. I will need only a housekeeper-cook to run it. I think it will suit my needs.”

“When will you be making the move?”

“As soon as possible,” she said.

“That is satisfactory to me,” Elizabeth said coldly.

“The will Mark left makes a generous provision for you as well as for me,” Becky said. “So you will have no problem keeping up this place.”

“It will do me for the rest of my days,” the older woman said.

Becky rose and moved a step away. Then over her shoulder, she said, “There is one other thing.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. I’m going to have a baby.”

Elizabeth looked outraged. “You are what?”

“I expect a baby in the early autumn,” she said.

Elizabeth sprang to her feet, tiny patches of red on her pale cheeks. “His baby!” she cried.

“I plan to give it Mark’s name,” she said. “I do not think he would mind.”

“Strumpet!” Elizabeth shrilled at her.

“I had to let you know,” she said, careful to control her own emotions. “I did not wish you to hear it from anyone else.”

“It is scandalous!”

“Not unless you make it so,” Becky told her. “No one can say that Mark and I weren’t active sexually, even though he was ill.”

“I know better!”

“Could you swear it in court?” she asked. “Could you take an oath that while everyone else was sleeping Mark and I did not meet in his room?”

Elizabeth gasped. “You are evil!”

“I must be when it comes to protecting Mark’s name,” she said.

“You weren’t concerned with his name when you entertained your fancy man almost every night!” the thin woman accused her.

“I will not try to explain my feelings to you. Nor the feelings of anyone else. You would not understand, in any case. I’ll only say that if there is a scandal now, if the name of Gregg is soiled, it will be you who will be responsible. Think about that!”