Cicely announced her intention to invite Oliver Arnold and his son Luke to the Christmas Eve party.
Her father’s voice betrayed astonishment but not total disapproval; in fact he seemed a little amused by the idea. ‘Are you saying you really mean to invite Oliver Arnold inside this house? Have you forgotten how he intended to add your inheritance to his own endless list of properties?’
Cicely smiled and kissed him lightly on the face, ‘No, Father, I haven’t forgotten. But that little war is over now and we have to build bridges. It won’t do to make enemies of our rivals… and there’s nothing wrong with having rivals, you’ve told me that often enough.’
He laughed. ‘Very true. And, of course, I have it on the best authority that Mr Arnold has abandoned the idea of acquiring the foundry. Any good businessman knows when to give up the ghost, and he must realise by now there was never any chance of him becoming the owner of my foundry.’ Sinking into deep thought, he pursed his lips and played his finger and thumb over his chin, his eyes downcast for the while as he said in a soft voice, ‘Yes, indeed. I feel the man is a little wiser than I gave him credit for. Perhaps, after all, it would be a sensible move… to invite him here and bury old bones, eh?’
‘I think so.’ Although she hated being hostess at any time, Cicely was obliged by tradition to arrange this end of year celebration, and had long toyed with the notion of using it as a means by which Mr Arnold and her father might meet on social terms, rather than communicating through solicitors. Indeed, she saw it as a charitable gesture that was long overdue. ‘You have said yourself that, although he has a reputation for being shrewd and tenacious, Mr Arnold has also earned the reputation of being a gentleman, with much the same principles as yourself?’
‘So I’m given to understand.’
‘And he has abandoned the prospect of buying you out?’
‘By all accounts.’ He chuckled, putting his arm round her and walking her to the half-dressed tree. ‘No doubt he saw the measure of my own determination.’
‘Then there are no objections to my sending him an invitation?’
‘My dear, you are the woman of the house. The guest list has always been your responsibility. And no, I have no objections to speak of.’ At first he had been surprised and reluctant, but now the idea was growing on him by the minute. ‘Do what you think best, my dear.’
‘But do you think it’s for the best?’ Cicely sensed that her father was not wholeheartedly convinced.
He looked at her then, a long hard look that betrayed his deep love for her. ‘What I think is this… you and me are two of a kind, Cicely Banks, too forgiving and soft-hearted by half.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length. ‘You don’t like us having enemies, do you, child?’ he asked lovingly.
‘I think it’s a great pity that we can’t see the best in each other.’
He gazed at her with a father’s pride. ‘You make me feel ashamed,’ he told her, his eyes darkening when he warned in a serious voice, ‘It’s a sad truth but sometimes we do come across people who are all bad. You’re such a gentle, trusting soul, child. I pray no one will ever take advantage of that.’
When she seemed troubled by his words, he shook her gently, his wide smile beaming down on her. ‘But of course you’re right. Yes! Yes, indeed! I think it’s a very good idea to invite Arnold Oliver. Oh, and his son of course. By all means add them to the guest list.’ He chuckled, and she could almost see him thinking. ‘Besides, I do believe it could be fun,’ he said mischievously, and when she began outlining her plans, bent his head to hers and concentrated on her every word. He was well aware that she was apprehensive about the occasion, although he was immensely proud of the fact that she grew more capable and accomplished with every such event.
Suddenly, Ruby came rushing into the hall, breathless and excited and carrying a large wicker basket which hid her from sight. ‘I found it!’ she cried, surging forward and almost going headlong when she caught her toe in the carpet-edge. ‘I found the old decorations. Oh, but what a business! I tell you Miss Cicely, I hope you never send me up the attic again. A draught from above blew the lamp out and it was pitch black, except for the chink of moonlight coming in through the hole in the roof-tiles.’
She was obviously unnerved by the experience, ‘And, do you know, I swear I could hear rats scurrying about. I didn’t waste much time, I can tell you. I found what I was looking for and then I took myself out of there like the devil was after me…’ She peeped round the side of the basket and was even more flustered when she saw the master looking at her with curious eyes.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir,’ she remarked, ‘I didn’t know you were here.’
She realised she might have interrupted a deep discussion between father and daughter. ‘I’ve been helping Miss Cicely to decorate the tree,’ she explained, pushing the basket from her with the intention of carefully setting it down before she departed. Instead, it fell from her arms and clattered to the floor, spilling its contents across her feet.
‘I am sorry, sir.’ She apologised, her aching arms falling to her sides. She stared from one to the other, feeling a fit of giggles coming on when she saw that Cicely was trying not to laugh. Ruby wasn’t to know what a sight she looked, with her dishevelled hair covered in cobwebs and her apron belt dangling lopsidedly to her boot; there were dusty marks all over her uniform, and a smut of dirt reaching from one side of her face to the other.
‘No, leave it, child.’ Jeffrey Banks stepped forward when Ruby stooped to retrieve the paper and glitter that was strewn across her feet. On seeing him come towards her, she straightened up and feared the worst. Fancy barging in like that, when these two were talking privately. He was standing before her now, surveying her from top to toe, and when he spoke, she was relieved to hear it was in tones of amusement. ‘Good heavens, child. You look as if you’ve been twice up the chimney and back down again.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby could see Cicely smiling, and prayed that the tickling feeling in her own stomach would not erupt into laughter, because while the master was kindly, he would never tolerate such rude behaviour.
‘I’ll have the roof-tile fixed, of course.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We can’t have the wind and rain coming in and rotting the timbers, can we now, eh?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Still, you found what you wanted, and you’re to be commended.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He looked at her more closely, scrutinising her lovely face, and seeming to search for something there. Suddenly time fled away and he was looking at her mother; Ruby had the same trim figure that Lizzie had had at her age, and the same proud presence. He remembered how she had felt in his arms on the night when they had made illicit love, when each was married to another and he the father of that little girl who was now Cicely, woman of the house. So many years, so much had happened between, and still he suffered a deal of affection for the young maid who had worked in this house and whom he had taken shameful advantage of, although he believed with all his heart that Lizzie had loved him too. There were days and nights when he had fought hard against his instincts to persuade her away from her husband. Even now, deep down inside, he still regretted the day when she turned her back on him; even though she had since become a plump and motherly soul. He and she had come face to face some two years back when he was walking through the town. He knew her at once, and there was still a great warmth between them. Her eyes were still bright and pretty, and she had that certain feminine way that attracted a man and made him feel comfortable inside. He had wanted so much to talk with her, but Lizzie appeared greatly flustered, hurrying away before he could stop her.
‘Shall I clear the mess away now, sir?’ Both Cicely and Ruby were puzzled by his long silence.
He felt his face colour, and was smitten with a cruel pang of conscience as he brought his attention back to her. What would Lizzie’s daughter say, he wondered, if she knew how he had seduced her mother? He liked the name by which Lizzie had called her. Ruby was a handsome name, with a particular strength. The girl had the most marvellous eyes, deepest blue and marbled with black… they were fathomless. He thought how they were nothing like her mother’s eyes; oddly enough, he clearly recalled Lizzie’s eyes which were not particularly unique but the warmest, prettiest shade of brown.
Suddenly a great feeling of loneliness came over him and he longed to see her again. It didn’t matter that she was not slim or young any more. All that mattered was that they had shared wonderful moments together; perhaps even more wonderful because they were forbidden. It wasn’t just a master taking advantage of his maidservant. Lizzie Miller had made him feel like a real man, and he truly loved her. He wondered if he did still. He wondered also whether he would ever shake off the memory of Lizzie. ‘Your mother was maidservant here, did you know that?’ he asked in a strained voice. ‘You bring the same delight into this house as she did.’
Such was the strangeness of his voice that Ruby was made to stare at him and Cicely actually stepped forward. At once he sensed their curiosity and smiled brightly, saying, ‘But of course you know. If I remember rightly, you gave your mother as a reference when you applied?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘And is she well?’ He was greatly relieved that the moment had passed, and warned himself never to lower his guard like that again.
‘She’s very well, sir, thank you.’
‘Like yourself, she was a very valued member of this household. You do her proud. Tell her that, won’t you?’
‘Thank you, sir. I will.’
‘Good!’ He began to turn away. ‘Very well then. I’ll leave you two young people to your task.’
‘Excuse me, sir.’ When he stopped and turned to face her, Ruby came forward.
‘What is it, child?’
‘I want to thank you… for helping my dad to get a job in your foundry.’
Seeming embarrassed, he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘No need to thank me,’ he said abruptly. He glanced at Ruby and thought again of Lizzie, then he smiled at his daughter and thought of her mother, the woman who had deserted them both. The comparison was painful to him, and he went quickly from the room.
When the tree was dressed, Cicely took Ruby up to her room. ‘These are for you,’ she said. One by one she brought out a number of dresses and laid them gently over the brass bedhead.
Ruby could hardly believe her eyes. The dresses were the loveliest she had ever seen. There was a sea green one with black lace at the hem and throat, a slimmer cream-coloured one with a little evening bag to match, a blue one with a huge flouncy skirt, and a most beautiful dress in richest burgundy, with layer upon layer of fine ribbon encircling the skirt from hem to waist. ‘Oh!’ That was all she could say, because the breath caught in her throat and choked her. She felt the tears well up in her eyes as she collected the burgundy gown and pressed it to her face; it felt like smooth running water against her skin.
‘Try it on.’ Cicely was excited, taking Ruby by the hand and ushering her to the long mirror where she told her, ‘Look! Oh, Ruby, it’s just the right colour for you. Try it on. Do try it on!’
‘I can’t. I’ve still got a deal of work to do before I’m finished, and Cook will be chasing after me any minute now.’
‘Then we’ll just have to chase her away, won’t we?’ Cicely laughed. She was thoroughly enjoying herself. ‘Oh, Ruby. You must try it on. Please?’ Seeing how Ruby was just itching to try the dress on, she began undoing the buttons on the back of her work-dress. ‘With your dark eyes and rich brown hair, the colour is perfect for you.’ She chatted on, working quickly to undress the slim small figure. ‘Of course, it will need to be shortened and altered here and there, but you’re not to worry about that. I’ll arrange for the dressmaker to come in and we’ll get you a fitting.’ She looked in the mirror and saw her own excitement reflected in Ruby’s face. Somehow it made her sad. ‘You’re so lovely, Ruby… far more beautiful that I could ever be. You should always be dressed in the finest gowns that money can buy.’
Ruby shivered exquisitely as the gown touched her bare shoulders. ‘Don’t say that,’ she chastised gently. ‘I think you are beautiful.’ Just like the china doll in the window, she thought.
Cicely made no reply. She knew her own limitations, and knew too that Ruby was very special. It had often crossed her mind how cruel Fate was, to give one girl such beauty yet place her where she might never know the better things in life, and to make another girl merely plain and pleasant, with all the money and material things that she could ever want. But then she reminded herself of how she had only her father, while Ruby had her family, a family she doted on. Life was a strange and unpredictable carousel of ups and downs, and it was a great pity when some people had more than their fair share of downs. ‘Let me look at you,’ she said, dashing with her handkerchief at the smut on Ruby’s face.
Taking up the silver-backed hair-brush from the dresser, she swept it through Ruby’s thick dark-brown hair. Then she fastened the last button at the tiny waist and fluffed out the sleeves of the gown before drawing Ruby into the centre of the room. ‘Where I can see you better,’ she explained, stepping back to take a look. And she looked so wonderful that Cicely was moved to cry out, ‘Oh, Ruby! You look like a princess.’ Even though the hem of the dress trailed on the carpet, and the sleeves were too long, the gown might have been made for her. It was as though wearing it had touched something deep inside her, making her especially vibrant and grand; she appeared much taller and wonderfully elegant. Her hair shone in the light from the window, and her eyes glowed like burning embers. She was proud and defiant and exquisite, and Cicely was suddenly afraid that she had unlocked some dark and wonderful demon. ‘You look… different,’ she said, her voice quiet and strangely reverent. In all her life she had never seen such loveliness.
‘I feel wonderful!’ Ruby cried, spinning round and round until she was dizzy. ‘Oh, Miss Cicely. I never dreamed I would own anything so fine.’ When she came to a stop, Ruby was laughing so much she was crying, ‘How can I ever thank you?’ she asked sincerely.
Cicely’s answer was to grab Ruby in her arms and dance her round the room. ‘By coming to the Christmas Eve celebrations, that’s how!’ she replied, breathless with excitement. The idea had occurred to her in the moment when she first saw Ruby in the gown, and already she was having fun thinking about how the other guests would react to Ruby’s flawless beauty. ‘Everyone will think you’re the most exquisite creature they’ve ever seen.’ She brought Ruby to a halt and stared at her with wide childlike eyes. ‘Oh, Ruby, you know how I hate these parties. Please say you’ll come? It will be such a treat for both of us.’
Ruby was thrilled and horrified all at the same time. ‘I can’t do that,’ she protested. ‘Whatever would your father say? And my mam too?’ she added with a shock.
‘They won’t say anything, because we won’t tell them.’
‘But they’ll find out, and then there’ll be hell to pay,’ Ruby said. Her stomach was turning somersaults and she wanted to fling her arms round Cicely’s neck and shout: ‘I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY SAY.’ But she was afraid. And she was angry because she was afraid.
Cicely was laughing. ‘Oh, what fun! Can you imagine their faces when I bring you in? All the young men will be panting to meet you, and every woman in the room will hate you at first sight.’
‘You devil. You’ll get us both locked up,’ Ruby chided, but in her mind’s eye she could see it all: the music playing from the stand, the guests all dressed in their finery, then she would sweep in beside the hostess and all eyes would turn in their direction. It wouldn’t frighten her. She wouldn’t want to hide behind Cicely. Instead she would be proud and defiant, and she would look them in the eyes and say in her mind, ‘This is me, and I’m as good as any of you.’ Oh, how wonderful it would be! The thought excited her beyond reason. ‘Oh, Cicely, you’re right. It would be fun,’ she had to agree.
‘Then you’ll come to the party?’
‘Oh, yes. YES!’ No sooner were the words out of Ruby’s mouth than she and Cicely fell into each other’s arms and hugged and laughed until the wretched girl came with the news that Cook had sent her to fetch Ruby. ‘On account of she wasn’t born with four pair of hands,’ she said in parrot fashion, whereupon Cicely sent her away with instructions that Ruby was presently employed and would be down shortly.
After the wretched girl scurried away, Cicely returned to the room to find that Ruby had already slipped out of the gown and was in her work-dress. ‘I’d better go,’ she said anxiously. ‘Or Cook will have me scrubbing ’taters for a week.’ She would much rather have stayed here with Cicely, but she must never forget her place in this house. Better folk then her had overstepped their mark and lost their job. As to this idea of Cicely’s, well, it was probably spur of the moment high-spirits that she was regretting already. ‘Can I really have the dresses?’ she asked hesitantly.
Cicely was shocked. ‘Of course you can, Ruby. Haven’t I already said so? And I meant what I said, about having them altered to fit you.’
‘I’m very grateful, Miss Cicely. But I had a mind to alter all but the burgundy one, to fit my mam.’ Thoughts of Lizzie had a sobering effect on her and her heart sank to her boots. How could she have imagined that she could actually go to a gentry party? A maidservant, dressed like a lady and mingling with the wealth of Blackburn? The like had never been known. What foolish notions would she be thinking next? she asked herself crossly. By! If her mam could have been in this room not five minutes since, seeing her and Cicely swinging each other round and making such outrageous plans, she would have given her daughter what for and no mistake! ‘If you’ll excuse me, miss, I must get back to my work.’ For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, Ruby was deeply angry.
‘Ruby.’ Cicely stepped forward, bending her head a little so as to see Ruby’s face the better. She knew there was something going on in that quick mind, and feared it would put an end to their wonderful arrangement.
‘Yes, miss?’ Like the atmosphere in the room, Ruby was subdued, and it showed in her voice.
‘You haven’t forgotten what we planned?’ Her voice was soft, persuasive.
Ruby looked up. There was surprise in her face, astonishment in her voice. ‘So you did really mean it? The party and everything?’ She daren’t think about it now. It was too wonderfully frightening.
‘I meant every word. You will be there, won’t you, Ruby?’ The corners of Cicely’s mouth were lifting in a smile, and her bright blue eyes were twinkling. ‘You did promise,’ she reminded Ruby.
Ruby’s face was a picture of delight. ‘If we can do it without arousing my mam’s suspicions, I’m all for it,’ she said. Before anything could happen to change things, she clutched the handle and flung open the door. ‘You’ll stay with me, though? I mean, you won’t leave me at the mercy of everyone?’ Suddenly it was too real. After waiting hand and foot on the privileged, it would be a strange thing to be on the other side of the fence. Somehow, though, Ruby had a feeling that was where she belonged.
‘I’ll be at your shoulder all night if you want me to,’ Cicely said. ‘And we’ll think of a way to allay both your mother’s and my father’s suspicions. Trust me.’ She slipped her long fingers into Ruby’s small hand, saying softly, ‘It will be fun, but most of all I want you there because you’re my one and only friend.’
‘I’m glad.’ Ruby could only imagine how lonely Cicely must be, and the thought of being an only child was abhorrent to her. ‘I’ll try not to let you down.’ As she went out of the door, Ruby could hear Cicely’s voice reminding her, ‘I’ll arrange for the burgundy dress to be altered, and I’ll have the others packed and waiting for you when you go home.’ Ruby refused Cicely’s suggestion that Ruby should take a cab at her expense. What! Her mam would have a fit when she arrived home with a pile of ‘fancy’ clothes, never mind about turning up in a cab paid for by the gentry.
The rest of the day was spent in a frantic rush. Ruby believed that Cook had it in for her, because she piled so much work on her that there was hardly time to breathe. By the time she put on her coat at the end of the day, Ruby had cleaned all the silver in every cupboard throughout the house, each and every mat had been taken out and slung over the line, where it was beaten until it hung like a limp rag, the legs of every table and chair had been first dusted and then polished: ‘Until I can see my face in it,’ threatened Cook peevishly. Following that, Ruby was made to take the long feather-duster and sweep the many curtain valances throughout the house.
‘You old bugger, Cook,’ she muttered when the older woman’s voice called out a merry ‘goodnight’ as she left for the evening, with the carefully wrapped bundle of gowns tucked under her arm. ‘Thanks to you, I feel bow-legged and worn to a frazzle!’
All the same, Cook had not been able to dim her excitement about the coming event. All the while Ruby had been going about her work, she had counted the days to Christmas Eve. It was now the twenty-fourth of September. In just over twelve weeks’ time, on the very day before her fifteenth birthday, Ruby believed she would be attending the most important occasion of her entire life.
As she boarded the tram and sat in the farthest corner where she could be alone with her daydreams, the thought of herself in that gown, at that party, made her shiver with delight. The thought of her mam finding out made her shiver with horror.
Lizzie was adamant. ‘You’ll take them rags straight back where you got ’em. You’ll never see the day when I take charity from the rich.’
‘But it’s not charity!’ Ruby was devastated. She had come into the house quietly and hidden the bundle in the front parlour. All evening she had been bursting to tell her mam about her wonderful surprise. Now, when her father was snoozing in the chair and the young ’uns were abed, she had taken her mam into the parlour and proudly unfurled the gowns at her feet. There were tears in her eyes as she and Lizzie faced each other now.
‘If it ain’t charity, what the divil is it then?’
‘It’s a present.’
‘I don’t want no “presents” from gentry.’ Even as she spoke, Lizzie was thinking about another ‘present’. That present was her own precious Ruby. And wasn’t she got from the gentry? she asked herself. Got in a tide of love? Got between two people who had a passion for each other? And wasn’t it more than passion? Wasn’t it something very wonderful? A longing for each other that Lizzie felt even to this day, in spite of the fact that she had enough love for her husband to keep him content? In her deepest heart, Lizzie was made to acknowledge the truth and it was this… in the whole of her life, two things had happened to bring her a deal of joy that would carry her to the end of her days. The genuine love of Jeffrey Banks, and the birth of her darling daughter.
Lizzie knew she had many reasons to be grateful to the good Lord. After all, he had seen them through some very bad times, he had forgiven her for the shocking thing she did, and had brought her happiness many times over with the birth of her beloved children. But, to Lizzie’s mind, every woman deserved to keep a secret, and that secret should bring them the greatest happiness of all. Through the years, because of what she had done outside her marriage, Lizzie had suffered in all manner of ways; she had been first ashamed, then guilty, fearful, then lonely; she had been torn in so many ways, and there were times when she believed that the good Lord would turn away from her forever.
Now, though, she had come through all of that, and every time she looked at Ruby, her heart would soar at the memory of how that delightful girl came to be. She looked at her now, and her heart swelled with love and gratitude. In that fearful moment, Lizzie was closer to confessing the truth than she had ever been.
‘Please, Mam?’ Ruby had seen how her mam had gone into a quiet mood. She had seen the hardness melt from her eyes, and sensed that it would take only a little persuasion for Lizzie to accept Cicely’s wonderful gift. ‘Won’t you at least try one on… for me?’ She deliberately chose the cream-coloured one to hold against the candlelight; it was slimmer in style than the others, and she believed the soft colouring would flatter her mam’s light brown hair and pretty hazel eyes. ‘Cicely is a wonderful, kind lady, and she did so want us to have them.’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, lass.’ Her face creased into a smile, and Ruby knew her mood was changed. ‘Whatever would the neighbours think? And wherever would I go in such a fancy thing? That’s provided I could get into it in the first place!’
‘The neighbours would think you were very lucky,’ Ruby said hopefully. ‘You could wear it every Sunday to church. And I can alter it to fit you. Thanks to you, I’m an excellent seamstress, so I can put your teaching to good use.’ While her mam was still considering, Ruby held the dress against her. ‘It won’t take a lot of work,’ she fibbed.
Lizzie threw back her head and laughed loudly. ‘Oh, yer little liar, Ruby Miller!’ she cried. ‘May the good Lord forgive yer. It would take a wagon and four to get me into that there dress, and well you know it.’ She pushed it away. ‘No, sweetheart. Once upon a time it might have fitted yer mam… when she were slim and the fellers cocked an eye at her, but after nine bairns, a body goes to seed. No. You tell your lady I’m grateful, but such things is wasted on the likes of me.’ Suddenly there was a movement at the door, and Lizzie swung round to see her husband standing there.
‘You’re too hard on yourself, Lizzie Miller,’ he murmured lovingly. ‘You may not be the dainty little thing you once was, but any man with half an eye could see that even in the sad clothes I can afford you, you’re still a fine handsome woman. You always will be. What’s more, I think you should let Ruby alter that pretty gown to fit you, because nobody could look more fetching in it than my lovely wife. Ruby asked you to wear it for her,’ he said softly. ‘If you won’t do it for her, then will you wear it for me?’ He had said what was in his heart, and now he gazed at her with smiling eyes and a proud look in his face.
‘Oh, Ted.’ Lizzie was overwhelmed. The tears trembled in her bright eyes as she looked at him, this humble, hard-working man whom she had wronged so long ago, the man who had been at her side through thick and thin. And, yes, although she would always keep a special place in her heart for Ruby’s real father, she loved this man in a different and wonderful way. She went to him then, and he opened his arms to embrace her. ‘I don’t tell you often enough how much you mean to me,’ he murmured, pressing her close to him.
Thrilled and silenced by the depth of emotion between these two people whom she adored, Ruby gently laid the dress down and prepared to tiptoe past them. But Lizzie turned round to tell her softly, ‘See what you can do then, lass.’ She might have said more, but Ted took her by the hand and led her down the candlelit passage, then on up the stairs, leaving Ruby alone with thoughts of a young man only a few steps away from where she was.
Earlier, when she had gone in to see Maureen, Johnny had sat in with them for a while. Afterwards he had walked her home. When it seemed he would kiss her at the door, Ruby had pulled away. She regretted it now. After all, what was in a kiss?
Oliver Arnold came into the dining-room where his three children awaited his arrival. The table was laid to perfection, the chandeliers were lit, and he bestowed a smile on each of his children in turn, before bowing his head to: ‘Thank the Almighty for the food we are about to eat, and for the well-being of all those who are gathered at this table.’ He was not unaware of the impatience of his son, who fidgeted throughout and whose attention was caught by every little movement. Somewhat irritated, he curtailed Grace and gave the customary signal, a discreet nod of the head, for the meal to begin.
At once the maids stepped forward: neat little figures in black garments and starched white aprons with their hair scraped back beneath frilly caps, and their faces impassive as they served the first course. The evening meal was a traditional ceremony, beginning with Grace, eaten in silence, and ending only when the man at the head of the table placed his neatly folded napkin on the china plate beside him.
The room was splendid with mellowed oak panels all around the walls; against the far wall stood a magnificent huge dresser displaying silver tureens surrounded by all manner of glassware and pretty condiment sets. The grand table was covered with a stark white cloth and dressed with the very best that money could buy: beautifully embroidered napkins, hallmarked cutlery, best china, and food enough to feed a small army.
The meal always began at seven and ended precisely one and a half hours later. For Oliver it was a time of complete relaxation, when he could be with his family – yet remain quiet with his own thoughts. For Luke it was precious time wasted, when he would rather have been elsewhere; preferably with a woman of the town who would show him a good time without shame or conscience. The eldest daughter saw it as an occasion when she could play at being mistress of the house; while the youngest member of the family saw only that her beloved father was home. During the meal she would glance at him with soft green eyes and he would discreetly reward her with a smile. On Oliver Arnold’s instructions, there was no discussion at the table. They were gentry, and it was not the done thing to speak while eating.
Later though, when the meal was over and the family retired to the drawing-room, the talk spilled over. Young Ida sat by her father’s knee and excitedly outlined every minute of her day, of how the tutor was pleased with her Latin, and how she had played the piano to excellence. ‘And I finished my whole sample of embroidery.’ She sprang up and ran to the dresser, bringing him the very sample. ‘There!’ she said proudly, her pleasant round face beaming from ear to ear as she held up the beautiful piece to show him.
‘Well now, let’s see.’ Oliver Arnold took the embroidery from her chubby fingers and turning it this way and that, he made a great fuss of examining it. ‘And what’s this?’ he asked, pointing to a strange shape sewn in bright orange thread.
‘That’s you!’ Disappointment clouding her eyes, she pressed herself between him and the sample. ‘Look…’ She pointed to the odd shape, painstakingly tracing her finger over it. ‘There’s your nose, and that’s your mouth, and these little bits are your eyes.’ She lifted her gaze from the sample and smiled brightly. ‘See?’ she asked hopefully. Ida was twelve years old, but delightfully immature for her age.
He nodded his head. ‘Of course! I see it all now,’ he lied. ‘It’s a wonderful likeness.’
‘And you love it, don’t you?’
‘I love it.’
‘Here you are then. It’s a present.’ She placed the piece into his hands. ‘You can hang it on the wall over your bed if you like.’
‘And I will,’ he promised. ‘Where else would I keep such a splendid portrait of myself?’
He was teasing her and she knew it. ‘Oh, you…’ She laughed, throwing herself into his arms. ‘I do love you,’ she whispered into his ear.
‘And I love you,’ he whispered back. Kissing her on the forehead, he held her at arm’s length. ‘Leave me now, Ida. Your brother and I need to talk.’ He glanced up at Luke who was standing with his back to the fireplace, his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets and a sullen look on his face At his father’s words, he groaned and jerked his head to one side, staring down at the casement doors and out to the star-lit night beyond. He wanted to be away, laughing and frolicking in some whore-house with better company than he would find here. Damn his father. Damn the bloody business, he thought vehemently. But then he reminded himself that he must be careful not to let his father suspect his deep resentment. As it was, it had taken far too long already to fool him into believing his son was coming to accept the weighty responsibilities of his inheritance.
‘What about me?’ Teresa stood up then, her face set hard as she stared from her father to Luke, and finally at her sister, who was still lovingly enfolded in her father’s arms. Teresa Arnold was as different from her sister Ida as it was possible to be. Where Ida was small and round, with curly fair hair, bright green eyes and a wide open face that was quick to smile, Teresa was tall and elegant, with a certain cold beauty; her auburn hair was long and straight, sometimes drawn up in a coil into the nape of her neck, and sometimes hanging down her back to her waist, always brushed into a high sheen, and jealously treasured as her best feature. Her large oval-shaped eyes were almost the same shade as her hair, reddish brown, but wonderfully brilliant and often frightening to look upon. Through her eyes, Teresa could be all things. She could be bold or coy, loving or hateful, she could draw a body to her or cause them to cringe away. As she spoke again, her eyes almost snapped and her whole countenance was hostile. ‘I asked to speak to you after dinner, Father. Surely you remember?’ The words were spat out. Continuing to stare at him, she came forward and awaited his answer.
‘Of course. I’m sorry, my dear. Speak out then?’
‘Not in front of these two,’ she said bitterly, nodding her head first at Ida and then at her brother. ‘It has nothing to do with either of them.’
Her father frowned. ‘Can it wait then? I do have a business matter to discuss with your brother.’
‘No, it cannot wait.’ She flared her nostrils angrily.
Sensing another of her tiresome complaints, he sighed wearily. ‘Oh, very well.’ Leaning forward in his chair, he put the younger girl on her feet. ‘Sorry,’ he said simply.
Ida’s buoyant mood was spoiled, and she suspected, quite wrongly this time, that her sister had done it on purpose to separate her from her father. ‘You will come up and say goodnight, won’t you?’ she asked. When he answered that he would, her bright smile returned and, after hugging him fondly, she went away satisfied.
‘Now then, Teresa. What is it that’s troubling you?’
‘Huh! Need you ask?’ She tossed her head indignantly.
‘Well, yes, my dear,’ he replied with immense patience, ‘I do need to ask, otherwise I won’t know what I’m supposed to be dealing with.’
She seemed suddenly to realise that her brother was still in the room. ‘I would like him to leave,’ she said sulkily, stiffening when Luke merely smiled at her in that infuriating manner.
Her father’s impatience deepened. ‘There is no time for that, Teresa. As I have just explained, your brother and I have an important business matter to discuss. Either say what’s on your mind now, or leave and we can talk about it tomorrow.’
Seeing that he was irritable, she reluctantly told him, ‘It’s that old fool in the stables.’
‘Thomas, you mean?’ He knew exactly who she meant, because hadn’t she derided that harmless old man time and again? In fact, as she went on, he found to his dismay that he knew every word even before she spoke it, he had heard them so many times before. And so he listened while she predictably complained about how Thomas was growing senile and unreliable, how he took a particular delight in antagonising her.
‘He’s neglecting his duties, sleeping most of the time while his assistant does twice the work. It’s shameful, I tell you. Do we pay him to sleep? What’s more, he smells to high heaven. I shouldn’t think he ever uses soap and water. In fact, I don’t believe he’s washed at the pump in these many months.’
Luke infuriated her by laughing and accusing in a meaningful voice, ‘And you should know.’ He stopped short of saying he had seen her watching from her bedroom window while Johnny Ackroyd strip-washed every night at that very pump. If their father ever suspected, he wouldn’t hesitate to send the young man packing and Luke would lose his hold over Teresa. That would never do. Not when there was still much sport to be had from this whole amusing business, before the arrogant Ackroyd was made to meet his downfall.
‘That’s a very unkind thing to say, my dear.’ This was a new one on her father, and he disliked hearing such a thing. ‘Thomas’s personal hygiene is really a matter for him only. I must admit, I haven’t noticed anything untoward.’
‘That apart, what do you intend doing about his neglect of his duties?’
‘What would you have me do?’
‘Get rid of him, of course!’
‘I see.’ He hadn’t realised how callous she could be. ‘You know Thomas has been in my employ for many years, and that he has no other home than what we provide?’
‘Then he must find another.’
‘Oh? And who would we put in his place?’
‘Why, his young assistant of course. That young man works long and hard, and his behaviour is highly commendable.’ She almost bit her tongue when those particular words came out, because she was still smarting from the way Johnny had let it be known that he was not interested in her. All the same, she believed that, once she got the old one out of the way, Johnny would be hers for the taking. ‘Give his work to young Mr Ackroyd and take on a new assistant,’ she suggested, and the belief that she was finally persuading her father brought a ready smile to her face.
The smile, however, was quickly wiped off her face with her father’s grim reply. ‘You shame me, Teresa. But you have put your case, and now I must put mine. You are of course the eldest daughter, and as such are entitled to some say in this house. But I say Thomas stays. I have never found him lacking in his duties, and I have never seen him sleeping when he should be working. I spend the most time in his company, when he saddles my horse or takes me about in the carriage, or when he leans across my desk to collect his well-earned wages. And not once have I ever had occasion to wrinkle my nose at this smell you mention.’
‘Then you think I’m a liar?’ Her voice trembled and her hands shook with temper as she glared at him.
‘No, I do not say that.’ He too was angry, and was giving her no quarter. These constant complaints about a good man had gone on long enough, and it was time they were put a stop to. ‘What I’m saying is that you are sorely mistaken in your findings. Apart from which, I think you should bear in mind that Thomas has been a good and loyal servant to this household for many years… long before you were even born, my dear.’
He let the implication sink in, before he went on, ‘As for young Mr Ackroyd, I do agree, he is a fine young man with a strong sense of duty, and it has been on my mind these past weeks to entrust him with more responsibility. Consequently he will be paid a considerably higher wage, which no doubt will be welcomed by his mother who, I’m given to understand, has a sickly daughter and a feckless husband to cope with. Also, you might be interested to learn that it was Thomas himself who put the young man’s name forward.’
He drew himself to his full height and squared his shoulders, ‘No, my dear,’ he said determinedly, ‘Thomas will stay for as long as I think fit. And as yet, I see no reason to turn him out of his home. I doubt if I shall ever be called upon to do such a thing.’
‘Then in spite of my being the eldest daughter with a right to speak, my opinion counts for nothing in the end?’
‘That seems a little harsh, my dear. But, yes, on this occasion, it is my opinion that matters. Now, can we let that be an end to it?’
She gave no answer. Instead, she turned stiffly on her heel and departed the room in a huff; going all the quicker when she heard Luke’s soft irritating laughter behind her.
When the door was closed and the echo of her steps had died away, Oliver gestured for his son to be seated. ‘That a daughter of mine could be so unfeeling is beyond me!’ he sighed. Waiting until his son was seated in the brown leather chair to one side of the fireplace, he went to the dresser where he poured two brandies, a double one for himself and a smaller measure for his son. After all, bad habits were too easily formed. ‘You don’t believe I was too harsh on your sister, do you?’ he asked, handing the glass to Luke. ‘I’m afraid she did infuriate me though.’ He sank into the chair opposite. ‘Sadly, Teresa has always been able to bring out the worst in me.’ He sipped at the brandy, smacking his lips and sinking further down into the chair.
Luke grinned foolishly, restless to be gone from there. ‘Teresa is her own worst enemy,’ he stated boldly, thinking she had not yet learned the art of true conniving. There were occasions when it was most unwise to speak your mind about certain matters. Often it was far wiser to say one thing and mean another. That way you deceived your enemies and gave yourself time to review the situation.
‘There are things she still has to learn,’ came the reply, and it appealed to Luke’s warped sense of humour because he had been thinking along those very same lines himself.
‘You said you had business to discuss?’ he asked. Teresa was a fool, and he had little time for fools.
Oliver straightened himself in the chair and his mood changed. ‘Well, of course there are “end of week” matters we need to discuss. No doubt you have your report completed?’
Luke smothered his feeling of anxiety. When his father gave him responsibility for safety measures at the Eanam foundry, it was understood that he must submit regular reports. So far he had managed to satisfy his father that everything was being taken care of. Indeed, he had the manager’s own reports to substantiate this. But he was playing a dangerous game, and was always made nervous when his father took the ‘end of week’ reports to read in the privacy of his own study. If it was ever made known that he and the manager were accounting for top grade materials, when in fact they used sub-standard… well, Luke dared not even think about the consequences. Outwardly he bristled with self-confidence, but inwardly he shrank from his father’s gaze. He knew from experience that Oliver was no fool. That was why he had gone to great lengths in order to cover his tracks; even the supplier had no idea who was purchasing his goods. The entire plan had worked better than he had envisaged, and his private bank account was swelling by the minute. ‘Of course my report is ready,’ he said with disarming charm, ‘I’ve taken the liberty of placing it on your desk.’
‘Good!’ Oliver beamed at him, delighted that his son had responded so well to the responsibilities of management, and even exceeding his father’s highest expectations. ‘I have to admit that I had certain reservations about placing such a heavy burden on your shoulders.’
‘I know that, Father, and in view of my irresponsible behaviour in the past, I can’t blame you for being cautious.’ He gulped as he went on to voice the daring thought that had been burning in his mind for a long time. ‘I do believe I’m ready to take on a great deal more authority.’ There! It was said, and he was shockingly pleased with himself.
Oliver laughed out loud, ‘Do you indeed?’ He became quiet then, staring at his son through narrowed eyes, as though he was looking beneath the surface. Presently, he took a small gulp of brandy, smiled, and replied in a strong voice, ‘Not yet, son.’
‘But why not?’ Bitter disappointment showed in his face as he sat on the edge of his chair, silently pleading for his father to change his mind. ‘I’ve done as you asked. There isn’t a rusty nail or a shaky platform anywhere to be seen in the Eanam foundry. Even the men are saying they feel safer than they have for years,’ he lied. ‘I’ve done a good job, you can’t deny that.’ He felt cheated and bitter. He had so many plans, and besides, was beginning to enjoy a feeling of power.
‘Everything you say is true,’ Oliver admitted. ‘Your manager bears you out, and your reports are excellent. I have seen for myself how you’ve greatly improved the safety measures.’
‘Then why can’t I take on more responsibility?’
‘Oh, the day will come, I promise you. But not yet.’
‘But I’m your son! An Arnold. You just said yourself that I’ve proved myself to be capable?’
‘Indeed. But you’re still young, I think. Too young to be taking on an empire. As it is, you have virtually a free rein, and a workable budget, which you manage exceedingly well. The other premises are in good hands for the minute.’ He smiled benevolently, urging, ‘Be patient, son.’ He saw the disappointment in Luke’s face, but it did not change his mind. The safety of his men was too important an issue for him to let his heart rule his head. For the moment Luke had quite enough responsibility. Later of course he would be given more, but slowly, and cautiously. ‘Don’t be disheartened. Your time will come soon enough.’
‘You don’t trust me!’
‘It isn’t altogether a question of trust.’
‘Then what is it? Are you punishing me?’
‘For what?’ He thought that a very strange thing for Luke to say.
‘For all the years you say I shamed you.’
Oliver bent his head. Even now it hurt to think of the way his son had deliberately gone out of his way to bring this family into disrepute. But he tried so hard not to think about those times, and it hurt for Luke to mention them now. ‘That’s a cruel thing to say. And, no, I’m not punishing you. You forget, I have already given you the opportunity to redeem yourself, and of course you have done so. But I still can’t turn over any more responsibility to you, not for a while at least.’
‘But I don’t see your argument.’
‘There is no argument.’ Oliver had a certain way of smiling which effectively brought a discussion to an end. He was smiling in that manner now. ‘I have something to show you,’ he said with a brighter face. He reached inside his waistcoat pocket and produced a small white envelope which he handed to his son. ‘I think you’ll find it interesting.’
Grudgingly, Luke opened the envelope and drew out a stiff white card which he read with increasing surprise. It was an invitation in the most beautiful handwriting:
Mr Jeffrey Banks and his daughter, Cicely, would be pleased to receive you and your son at Billenge House on Christmas Eve
The festivities will begin at 8 p.m.
Replies, please, to Miss Cicely Banks,
Billenge House,
Billenge End Road,
BLACKBURN,
Lancs.
Luke was astonished. ‘I can’t believe it!’ he gasped. ‘The man must be mad… inviting an enemy to his table.’
‘And what makes you think I’m his enemy?’
‘Huh! What else would you be, when you’ve been trying for years to prise his foundry away from him?’
‘It’s true I would dearly love to buy Banks’s foundry,’ Oliver freely admitted.
‘There you are then.’
‘But I haven’t been trying to steal it. Nor have I employed underhand methods by which I might acquire it. Any offers I’ve made to Jeffrey Banks have been all above board. And very generous too, I might add.’
‘You haven’t got it though, have you?’ Luke said with a cunning expression. ‘For all your “above board’’ dealings, and “generous offers”, you still haven’t got it.’
‘No, I haven’t got it.’
‘So you’ll go on as before?’ Luke found himself being drawn into the fray, and strangely enough he liked it. At the back of his devious mind, a plan was taking shape. ‘You’ll go on making “generous” offers and being turned down, until one or the other of you tires?’
Oliver was delighted to see his son showing such interest. ‘What else would you have me do?’ he teased with a wry little smile, thinking the young man still had a great deal to learn about business matters.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He must be careful here. ‘But you would really love to have that foundry, wouldn’t you?’
‘It has been an ambition of mine for too long now.’ A curious thing occurred to him then, and the words tasted bitter in Oliver’s mouth as he asked, ‘You’re surely not suggesting that I should have been less than honourable in my dealings with Jeffrey Banks?’
‘Good heavens, no!’ Luke sounded suitably horrified.
‘I’m glad to hear that. And you might be glad to learn that at long last I have come to a decision about the Banks’s foundry.’
‘What kind of decision?’
‘That he will never part with it. And that I will make no more offers.’ By the look on his son’s face, he knew this had come as a shock.
You’re letting him win?’ Luke had never before seen his father the loser, and along with astonishment came a feeling of pleasure. He had been convinced that tonight his father would trust him enough to grant everything he asked – which to his mind wasn’t too much, merely to be in charge of all safety measures in each of the Arnold establishments. With that kind of free hand, and the budget allocated, he saw himself becoming immensely wealthy in a very short time.
It wasn’t altogether the money, though. It was the rush of power that excited him, and even more than that, the idea that he would be out-manoeuvring his own father, the same father who was so revered in the business world, the same father who had been ashamed of his son, the same father who tired of sending him to school where he might yet again be expelled, and who had instead shamed his only son by keeping him at home and including him in instruction classes with his two younger sisters. Luke had never forgotten the humiliation, nor the way in which the tutor took malicious enjoyment in drawing him out and making an example of him. During that time a deep hatred had grown inside the boy, and it was there now in the man, a deep dark hatred that never went away. Hatred for his father. Hatred for everything that was good. A consuming hatred that dictated his every move. ‘Will you go… to this party?’ he asked, something deliciously wicked spiralling up inside him.
‘First, I do not look on my decision to stop pestering Jeffrey Banks for his foundry, as “letting him win’’. It was never a fight, only a business proposition. As for attending the party? What do you think?’
Luke dropped his gaze to the carpet, pretending to give it careful consideration. He thought about the wording on the invitation. Jeffrey Banks and his daughter, Cicely… Replies please to Cicely Banks. Luke remembered the one occasion when he had gone to a certain business function with his father. Jeffrey Banks was there, and so was his daughter. He hadn’t received a strong impression of her, because he was restless to get away. Now, though, it occurred to him that she must have considerable influence on her father or he most certainly would not have taken her to a business function. Perhaps he had even signed part of the foundry into her name? After all, she was an only child.
My! That was a thought. A woman owning property; perhaps even having a say in the running of a business. But no, that could never be. All the same, her father clearly doted on her, and that could bode well for a certain little plan that had blossomed even while his father was speaking. In his mind’s eye he could see Cicely as she had been those twelve months ago, not a handsome young woman by any stretch of the imagination. If he remembered rightly, she was too thin, too fair, not to his taste at all. But then, she did appear to be a soft and trusting soul, and that was certainly to his taste. ‘I think you should go,’ he said in answer to his father’s pointed question.
Oliver was amused. ‘You do?’
‘Well, he’s asked you, hasn’t he? So it follows that he bears you no grudges,’ Luke said cunningly.
His father was pleased. ‘My sentiments exactly,’ he confirmed proudly. ‘I have already accepted the invitation. It’s a pleasure to be civilised about these things.’
Another small brandy and a short discussion about trade in general, before Oliver Arnold dismissed his son. ‘Trust me,’ he said, seeing him out of the drawing room, ‘I do know best, and my judgement is usually sound.’
Luke was too disappointed to offer an answer. Instead he curtly nodded his head and went, seething, out into the hallway, where he almost collided with the wretched girl who was hurrying towards the drawing-room with the master’s late night toddy. Ooh! I’m sorry, sir,’ she stuttered, staring up at him with fearful eyes. When he bade her to, ‘Take that in, you little fool, then summon Thomas to deliver himself and the carriage to the front entrance,’ she began trembling and nodding her head feverishly. ‘Be quick then!’ he ordered, and she went on nodding her head until he sighed noisily and strode away, muttering ‘Dolts and idiots everywhere!’
It was dark and cold, and as he climbed into the carriage his mood matched the night well. When Thomas clicked the horses on and the carriage moved away, Luke settled back in the soft leather seat and began to reflect on the way his father had dismissed any idea of handing over more responsibility.
Suddenly he was smiling to himself in the darkness, his mind running with mischievous thoughts. Wouldn’t it be something if he succeeded in acquiring the Banks foundry where his father had failed? Wouldn’t it show his father how he had wronged his only son in not trusting his ability? And wouldn’t it be wonderfully satisfying to set himself up against his father? ‘To ruin him once and for all,’ he muttered, laughing softly at the very idea. It could be done, he calculated. ‘It’s time to settle this between us, Father,’ he said grimly. ‘Perhaps then you’ll see that your “wayward” son is a better man than you are.’
As he came boldly into the club, the sound of music permeated the air, and lewd laughter, and the unmistakable smell of fancy whores. ‘There’s a private party in the back room,’ the doorman explained with a knowing wink.
Luke was reminded of another party. And he could hardly wait. Before Christmas Eve was over, Cicely Banks would be eating out of his hand. She was the means by which he could acquire not only the Banks foundry, but in time the absolute trust of his father; especially if she was to bear him a son. The thought amused him immensely. All women were fools, and Cicely Banks would be no exception.