Chapter 20

 

“Stop apologising, Archie. Stop castigating yourself. You didn’t believe me, and yes, my affair with Matthew was not in my mind, but it isn’t as black and white as that, is it? I’m not even sure if I’d been in your shoes that I’d have believed me. I know I wasn’t behaving calmly or rationally. I know that there was a short period when I lost touch with reality.”

Archie shook his head. “So would anyone if they were being called a fantasist, if they weren’t being believed…”

“Archie, please, I know you’re trying to make amends, but there’s no point in going to the other extreme. I’m in St. Bride’s. You’re not the reason I’m in here, neither is Matthew Taylor, though he was a trigger. It’s not going to help me to get better to shove all the blame onto you, him, or anyone else. Don’t you see? I have to work things out for myself. The doctor, Dr. Uxbridge is good, really good, I think. I need to look at the reasons, inside myself, not at other people, do you see?”

He nodded, and very awkwardly, reached across and patted the back of her hand.

“Anyway, I wasn’t expecting you today. Is anything the matter?”

“Actually, there is. Don’t look so worried, nothing is wrong, as such. There’s something a bit mysterious that you might be able to cast some light on.”

“That sounds intriguing,”

“I don’t know about intriguing, but it’s got aunt Alicia worried. You know her housekeeper, companion, the woman who used to work for Elizabeth Butler?”

Edith nodded. That woman—she knew there was something…

“Well, she had a few days holiday, all arranged, all above board and everything. But she was meant to return yesterday and she hasn’t. Aunt Alicia rang me this morning, not worried, exactly, but definitely concerned.”

“There could be lots of reasons though, a missed train, all sorts…”

Archie shrugged. “Of course, but with what happened with Mrs. Butler and these letters and Braithwaite taking off, not to mention Prudence Sowerby…”

“Well, I can tell you one thing, Archie, Prudence is back—she came back a couple of nights ago, knocked on the vicarage door as Henry and I were about to have supper together. She looked in a bit of a state, but she isn’t missing.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose. Josh Braithwaite hasn’t resurfaced though. It’s very difficult to know whether Mrs. B. is relieved or not. By the way, she’s anxious to visit you again. I told her she needs to come soon or you’ll beat her to it—be discharged home, I mean.”

Edith smiled, but she was preoccupied. There was something about Esther Kirk and Josh Braithwaite disappearing together that was disconcerting, like it rang a bell somewhere in her mind, but it was too vague to refer to it. Maybe if she threw out an innocent comment?

“They worked together at Mrs. Butler’s didn’t they? Esther Kirk and Joshua Braithwaite I mean?”

“Yes, I suppose they did, but I wouldn’t think they had a lot to do with each other. Braithwaite was on the outside looking in, in that house. Did the odd bit of heavy work and driving. I rarely saw him. Esther was a different kettle of fish.”

“I see what you mean,” said Edith. But, she was far from sure. After all, Archie wasn’t there all the time, wasn’t privy to what might have gone on in the kitchen, or anywhere else behind the scenes.”

“No, that’s ridiculous,” continued Archie, his mind jumping several steps ahead.” “I mean Esther, not being unkind, but well…and our Mrs. Braithwaite is actually quite a looker in her way…”

Edith nodded in agreement, but Archie was being too male in the way he was looking at this, being too simplistic. Attraction was a complex matter. Joshua Braithwaite struck her as the type of man who would need a woman to be in awe of him, admiring, treating him as a hero. Hannah would have long passed that stage.

* * *

“I think if we help you, help you get a job, settle you down right, you would be capable of leaving here, maybe in the not too distant future. How do you feel about that?”

How did she feel about it? There weren’t words in her vocabulary to describe how she felt. Terrified? Excited? They were as near as she could come.

Dr. Willis had not proved to be the new broom who got bored. It turned out he believed in what he said—he was probably a man well ahead of his years. He saw something in the place, in some of the patients that struck him as a waste and set about doing something about it.

It was risky. She wondered if he realised how risky. Something could easily go wrong in his endeavours to progress and there would be enough people in this hospital who would jump at it and use it as a reason to prove they knew best, that their way was the right way and locking up and throwing away the key was the answer.

“I’d like that,” she said.

* * *

They had a ridiculous argument about whether they should sit or stand.

“Please sit down, Helena, dear. You’re not making it any easier.”

“Making what easier for heaven’s sake, mother, dad? What on earth is all this about? Anyway, I feel like standing.”

Dorothea sighed. She could slap the girl. “Your father wants to sit down, so please do this small thing for us.”

Helena went to the armchair opposite where her father was standing by the fireplace and sat down.

Thank goodness. She caught a glimpse of something in her daughter’s face that gave her pause. Maybe Helena’s obtuseness and immaturity was masking something. Maybe she was terrified, as well she might be, because what they were about to tell her was going to change her world as she had always known it.

She and Arthur had agreed she would do the talking, though he had been reluctant to pass the burden to her. She had eventually persuaded him this was the better course.

“We made mistakes when we were young, Helena and maybe that’s the reason I worry about you, though I know you cannot live anyone else’s life for them.”

“Oh, so all this is just going to be another lecture about my style of life and my friends, for goodness’ sake, mother.” She started to get up.

“It isn’t. Stay where you are, please, Helena.” She looked across at her husband, who looked back at her and gave her a sad, tiny smile. He’s changed. It was if something inside him had wound back several reels and she was looking at the man he had once been. But, there was no time now to wonder at that.

“When daddy and I first married, it was difficult for us in many ways. Your grandparents were still here, reluctant to move, but our hands were still tied as to what we could do. Grandfather was insistent that your father be involved in the running of everything. It was just that they weren’t quite ready to step down, either.”

Helena shifted in her chair. Dorothea could see her eyes glancing about the room and could tell that she was losing interest—this was all old hat to her, and a sustained ability to concentrate was not Helena’s strong suit. She sighed.

“Anyway, it all changed very abruptly when grandfather died quite suddenly. Then we moved in here and grandmother—well you remember where she moved, into the lodge. Your father and I moved in here and for a while, well, let’s say, we lived the high life.”

Helen’s head jerked around and Dorothea saw that she had her full attention now.

She smiled. “Yes, we weren’t always the old fogeys you see before you.” She stopped smiling. This wasn’t funny, and it seemed very important Helena should realise that.

“There were weekend parties, plenty drinking, riding, dancing—all quite hedonistic, looking back on it now. We had no children yet, money wasn’t an impediment, and we were young. I suppose we thought we were invincible…”

“Dorothea,” her husband looked at her, stricken, obviously finding it a struggle to maintain the agreed silence.

“Arthur, it’s all right. I’m fine. We agreed that I would tell the story.”

“Helena, I want you to know that both of us behaved badly, irresponsibly. It wasn’t just your father. But it was his behaviour that had the most serious consequences.”

“Mummy, I’m not sure I want to hear the rest of this”

Helena had reverted to childhood, all signs of the sophisticated woman about town, vanished.

“I’m not going to stop now. Anyway, it wasn’t so awful. We had a parlour maid working here at the time—a very good-looking girl. Your father had a short-lived liaison with her and she became pregnant.” Dorothea looked at her husband first, whose eyes were cast down and then at Helena who had a hand up to her mouth.

“You could say that all the hedonistic behaviour came back to haunt us with a vengeance. Because when it came right down to it, we weren’t that sort of people, who could laugh off these types of consequence and quietly deal with them, hush them up and then carry on as normal. We were in a terrible state I was very hurt, maybe more so, because at that point we hadn’t yet had a child of our own. Your father, and he won’t mind me speaking for him on this occasion, was guilt-ridden and devastated at the harm he caused to the young woman and the hurt he caused to me. We both learned the hard way that this sort of “fun” has a very heavy price.”

“God,” said Helena, who looked at her father, with a look more of shock than anger.

“The girl was very upset. There was no chance of her family being of any help. Indeed, it was of the first importance the pregnancy be kept from them. We talked at length with her. By then, I knew. Your father told me.

In the end, we sent the girl to stay with Sarann, your father’s old nanny, who’d retired down south. Sarann was a loyal woman, a friend really and she was privy to the whole story.”

“I can’t believe all this has been kept from me, all this time. What happened to the baby?” Helena was upset, on the verge of tears.

“I’m so sorry darling, for causing you this upset.” Arthur wasn’t able to desist from interjecting, any longer.

Helena didn’t acknowledge his comment beyond giving him a quick glance and then looking back at her mother.

“We kept in touch as much as we could. It all went well, the baby was born, and Sarann and the girl seemed to get along well. The plans were very tentative. All would depend on what the girl wanted to do.”

“You keep referring to her as ‘the girl’ mother. What was her name? Surely she deserves to be called by her name.”

“I don’t want to say her name, for now, Helena. Please try to be understanding. This is all very difficult; just let me tell you the story in my own way for now.”

“All right.”

It might not have been said very graciously, but Dorothea realised that this was as much of a concession as she was going to get. “But it didn’t continue to go well. We had discussed that maybe the baby’s mother could get a job somewhere, not with a friend of ours, but maybe through a connection. She was a good worker. We thought that maybe passing off as a widow with a child…”

“Such hypocrisy, pass it all off, brush it all under the carpet. Sickening.” Helena’s voice was full of righteous indignation.

Dorothea kept a rein on her temper. What it was to be able to be so judgemental. Though, this was a horrid shock for their daughter and she certainly hadn’t had enough time to come to terms with it.

“We did what seemed to be the best. We weren’t overwhelmed with alternatives. Those were unforgiving times, Helena. Don’t forget that the war swept away a lot of the Victorian attitudes to this sort of situation. Anyway, six weeks after the baby’s birth, the girl suffered a severe mental breakdown. Really bad. She attempted to take her own life and Sarann didn’t think she was safe alone with the baby. She loved him dearly, but also seemed fixed on the idea that because of their circumstances, the world was going to be particularly hard on them. Not completely a delusion. Bear in mind Sarann was also getting older and was finding it difficult to cope with all of this.”

She paused, to try to gather her resources. “One thing played into our hands when we made our next decision. In those days, it wasn’t uncommon for a couple to take a long honeymoon—to travel on the continent quite often. Daddy and I had not gone on honeymoon at all because of grandfather’s earlier stroke, so no eyebrows were raised when we headed off, starting with a cruise.

In the time we were away, we let it be known that I had given birth. That in fact, it had been quite a surprise to us as well. If anybody thought the baby was a trifle advanced, if was never commented upon. But, I don’t think anyone ever did. Luckily, Charles had been quite a tiny baby, three weeks or so premature.”

“Charles, our Charles, my brother, Charles? What are you saying? That Charles is not my brother?”

“Calm down, Helena. Becoming hysterical won’t change anything. He is your brother. The difference being that I didn’t give birth to him. I did come to love him, though. How could I not?”

“But, how on earth did you agree to such a thing, mother, taking dad’s…”

“Careful, Helena,” Dorothea said. She sighed. “It is all such a long time ago. It is almost difficult to recall all the emotion. There were a lot of tears, a lot of agonising. But, besides all that, there was a baby without a home whose only other option was adoption, and there was a sick woman. Those were the stark choices. It wasn’t easy at first. But, it was the right thing to do. And sometimes doing the right thing brings its own reward. In this case, it certainly did. Then a couple of years later, Edward came along then you and, I suppose it all became normal. With the exception that there were no more boisterous weekend parties at the house. We both valued what we had far too much to jeopardise it ever again.

“Mother,” Helena’s voice was arresting, filled with apprehension.

“Why are you telling me this story now?”

Arthur came to Dorothea’s side and took her hand in his.

“Because Charles’ mother came back,” he said.