Bendigo
Lucille gave a big sigh. Standing in her front room she was among masses of hats on their blocks, on hooks, in boxes and on the workstations waiting for repairs. A froth of lace and netting, feathers, and bits and bobs filled the benches and climbed up the walls.
Poor Mr Kingsley, her lovely David, might have a blue fit when all this paraphernalia got to his front room. Plus when Evie came back, there’d be another female working in his house. Not to mention the women who would arrive for appointments throughout the day.
She was certain she and David would find a way to work through it all soon, but that was enough thinking of these things for now. It was to be a wonderful day, they were to be married within the hour.
Turning side on, she checked her profile in the prized mahogany cheval. As would her clients when they first tried on their purchases, so grateful for a decent mirror. Lucille moved this way and that, checking her back, straightening her skirt, brushing down the loose folds, before adjusting her hat. It was wide-brimmed, and crammed with gorgeous organza flowers in ivory and pale pink that would have turned heads at the races. No demure veil for her; she wasn’t a blushing and virginal bride. She was about to be married in a registry office and could suit herself about what she wore. Stepping confidently into marriage, she’d present herself on her wedding day as a successful, poised and stylish woman.
Her gown had no bustle, thank goodness, and no frill, nor was it overdone with lace. It was an elegant and simple design in palerose satin, draping to the floor. Ever pragmatic, her only concession to wedding fashion was a demi-train that could be removed if she was to wear the dress for other occasions. She’d done all the work herself, and good for her. If she had a mind and could bear the fuss, she might venture into dressmaking. Oh, don’t be silly, Lucille. What a bother that would be. There’d be more prima donnas being fitted for their gowns than there would be at the ballet.
A knock sounded. She took one last look at herself then, with a smile to welcome her fiancé, she opened the door.
‘Well,’ David breathed, and stood back to admire her from head to toe. ‘You do look magnificent, my dear Lucille.’ Then he leaned in to press a kiss on her cheek. ‘I should get you to the registrar quick smart before you change your mind.’
‘Why on earth would I change my mind? You are too devilishly handsome, David.’ He carried a top hat, bless him, and wore a beautiful dark morning suit and coat-tails. ‘I admit, though, I had a moment of second thoughts when I looked at all this … stuff I’ll be carrying to your home.’
‘Not at all, dear lady.’ He peered around her. ‘My front room is probably twice this size. What a delight all your stuff will be to me knowing that you are in your element, safe, and right under my nose.’
‘You’re also very likely to have chattering women in and out of the place most days. Won’t that be an intrusion?’
He touched her cheek lightly with a fingertip. ‘I’ll be well out of the way, so chattering women will hardly bother me at all.’ He took her arm as they stepped outside. Pulling the door behind her, he locked up, and dropped the key into his pocket. ‘My only worry is that your children aren’t here for you today.’
‘I … will miss them, the girls certainly, on a day like today, and the boys and their wives, of course.’ For a moment she felt the smart of tears, the distance from the family acute. ‘And Evie’s not here either, but as sad at that all might be, I won’t let it—’ She stopped abruptly, blinking. There at her gate was a footman, of all people, waiting to hand her into a charming, closed carriage drawn by two white horses. ‘Oh, David,’ she said, delight in her voice.
‘We will go on a small tour of the town in our finery, to announce to all and sundry that our nuptials are imminent. Then after the ceremony, we will tour to the Shamrock, only the finest hotel in Bendigo, for our wedding lunch.’
‘This is beautiful.’ She couldn’t believe her eyes. The footman, resplendent in attire reminiscent of earlier in the century, handed her with great aplomb into the carriage then took up position in the driver’s seat. As David slipped in beside her, she said, ‘I have written to my children, explained we’ve eloped.’ She leaned towards him. ‘That sounds deliciously decadent.’
‘Eloping is absolutely fine with me, my dear.’ David took her hand in his and tapped the ceiling with his cane that had rested by the door.
The carriage lurched forward.
‘So now, Mrs Kingsley,’ David said to Lucille as the carriage dropped them back to her house. ‘You must pack something just for the evening, and we will return to the splendour of the Shamrock for our dinner and our first night as husband and wife.’
‘I’m astounded. Have I married a rich man, Mr Kingsley?’
‘Unfortunately not, dear lady. But I can certainly lavish one splendid night on my new bride with the best the city has to offer.’ He handed her through the door, into the chaos of her front room. ‘Then tomorrow it’s back to business. I’ve organised a couple of fellows to help us with the move. But for now, madam, your carriage awaits.’
Lucille headed for her room to pack a gown for dinner and fresh clothes for the next day when she heard a knock sound on the front door. She turned back but David had answered it.
‘Mr Barrett,’ David said, greeting the private detective.
‘Mr Kingsley, your neighbour told me I might find you here. I must also apologise for interrupting your wedding day—and I offer heartiest congratulations—but I thought you’d like to hear the information I’ve acquired sooner than later.’
‘Of course, of course. Come in.’ He cast about, careful where he put his feet. ‘Although with two of us gentlemen in Lucille’s front room I’m afraid we might be a little cramped.’ They were amid dozens of hats, rolls of fabric, yards and yards of feminine fluff and frippery, and barely a square inch other than dainty chairs on which to sit.
‘No bother.’ Mr Barrett removed his hat.
Lucille had come to stand at the studio door. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Barrett.’
‘Mrs Downing. Kingsley. My congratulations.’ He dipped his head. ‘I was about to tell Mr Kingsley that my sister has discovered two announcements from our Mr Cooper, one he posted in the Bendigo Advertiser some three years ago, and another just over two years ago. It seems he’s been kept well occupied, poor fellow, being the brunt of rejection and filing for breaches of contract.’
‘I bet.’ David hadn’t missed the sarcasm. ‘Two? And were there court appearances?’
‘For the earlier one. He was awarded a considerable sum against a Miss Corinne Hampstead. We’ve yet to find anything for the more recent breach.’
‘Hampstead. We know that name,’ David said and looked to Lucille for confirmation.
‘A well-to-do family in Melbourne,’ she said.
‘Yes. Her father is in construction, doing well now that the economy has turned for the better,’ Mr Barrett said. ‘His company has had some contracts up this way.’ He rolled the rim of his hat in his hands. ‘Maybe the idea of all that new money made her an easy target.’
‘Indeed. And the family paid?’ David asked.
‘Oh yes, thirty-five hundred pounds and damages.’
‘What?’
‘Cooper produced witness statements that attested Miss Hampstead had made it quite clear that she intended marrying him. And there were even more unpleasant implications, which I won’t go into. The sum demanded was much more initially, but he finally agreed to the lesser sum the family offered. They were fortunate to be well rid of him.’
‘What a business,’ David said. ‘And nothing on the second episode?’
‘Only the lady’s name so far, a Miss Horton. But if it did go to court, we will find the paperwork. We’ll be able to present solid proof to Mr Campbell that, in fact, this gentleman’—again the sarcasm—‘has rorted the system, and other ladies before he’s had a go at Miss Emerson.’
Lucille huffed. ‘Miss Emerson shouldn’t need a defence against such an unsavoury character.’
‘Indeed.’ Mr Barrett smiled. ‘It will go towards shining a light on just the sort of rat he is. With a bit of luck and good management, Mr Campbell should have him run out of town.’
‘And what of Miss Thompson of the Pink?’ Lucille asked.
‘Needed some persuasion to tell, but finally said that she was paid to be at the railway station at a certain time on the particular day so that Miss Emerson saw her with Mr Cooper.’ He spread his hands. ‘That’s all I have to report at this time.’
‘Scandalous woman,’ Lucille said, tut-tutting. ‘Dreadful man.’
‘Mr Barrett, please send me your invoice when convenient,’ David said, beckoning Lucille.
‘My services are rendered to Mr Campbell’s office.’
‘No, no, please let me take care of this, at least, for Evie,’ David said, a glance at Lucille for her approval.
‘Very well, thank you. And now I’ll leave you to your happy day and bid you goodbye.’ Mr Barrett headed for the door, sidling past the heavily stacked benches and tables.
‘Mr Barrett, one more thing,’ Lucille said following him. ‘Will Miss Emerson have to defend herself in court against the charge?’
‘She should be there if it comes to that, but Mr Campbell of course would front the magistrate for her.’ Mr Barrett smiled again, and that intriguing white lock of hair fell onto his forehead before he donned his hat. ‘And believe me, he’s something to see in action. A wolf in the courtroom.’
Later that evening, with no thoughts for anything but themselves, they sprawled on a bed in the Shamrock hotel’s finest room. Lucille’s head was on David’s chest, her fingertips running lightly over the wiry silver hair that covered it. His arms were around her.
‘I have to admit,’ she murmured, ‘I wasn’t completely sure how I’d manage that.’
‘That makes two of us, Mrs Kingsley. But if I do say so myself, I think we managed rather well.’
‘Splendidly, in fact,’ she said and tilted her head to kiss him on the mouth.
‘I had no idea your hair was so long and so soft,’ he said, and picked up a lock to wind its silky waves in his fingers. ‘I look forward to seeing it in all its glory every day for the rest of my life.’ Then he kissed her, caressed a full breast, and hugged her closer, his hand sliding to her bottom.
Naked on the bed, her leg over his hip, with the sheets askew and two champagne coupes beside an empty bottle, Lucille Kingsley thought she’d done surprisingly well. Her body had changed considerably once she’d entered her fifties. And an enormous amount of time had passed since she was last with a man, her late husband. She’d had a moment’s apprehension earlier, wondering if … things could still be … accommodated, but there’d been no need to worry. Things worked very well.
David’s hand slid between their bodies, lightly brushing her pubic hair, back and forth, a tingle beginning under his fingers.
Lucille closed her eyes and nestled closer, believing they would do just as well again, very soon.