The secret impulses of the heart may drive a young woman down unexpected paths in the maze of social observances. When she was heart-free, with no attachment - either formal or unofficial - to bind her, Margaret Lorimer had spent little time enjoying the more frivolous diversions of her contemporaries. She loved to dance, for example, but disliked the prickly hedges of etiquette which gave significance to the smallest gesture. Dances were too often organized as though they had been invented by the old for the purpose of marrying off the young.
During the months of David’s absence, she was surprised to realize that her attitude had changed. Naturally she missed him, but the security which she felt in his love made the parting bearable. Her happiness at being wanted relaxed her normally firm expression, and her new gaiety was quickly observed. It was ironic that while her heart yearned for one man only she should find herself pursued in an unaccustomed way by so many male partners, but she was easier in their company than before because she knew - although they did not - that they could never be of more than passing interest to her. She accepted invitations to evening concerts or subscription balls or private routs as though her promise to John Junius demanded it. Her father had required only silence, but she was impelled to go further, justifying each venture into mixed society as a deliberate means of concealing her true situation.
Her father encouraged this increased social activity, and pressed new gowns upon her with a generosity which caused Margaret to wonder whether they represented a disguised contribution to her future life. John Junius’s willingness to accept David as her suitor had revived all the warm affection which she had felt for her father but was not encouraged to express. Was it reciprocated? That was more difficult to tell, but perhaps he had concealed his feelings for so long that he could not now bring himself to put them into words, expressing them instead in generosities.
Yet though Margaret’s family life at this time was unusually warm and her social life unusually crowded, the days passed slowly. Spring in that year of 1878 seemed very long in coming. Bristol lay snugly protected beneath the heights of Clifton, but even in the heart of the city, to which the westerly winds usually brought warm Atlantic rain, the snow showed no sign of melting. For almost ten days in March, when the sharp heads of daffodils were pushing upwards into the frosty air, the most sheltered basins of the dock were frozen. This enabled skating parties to be added to the list of pleasures on offer, but made the month of May seem still as distant as when David had departed for London.
The need for a new distraction combined with the strain of secrecy to make Margaret seek an interview with her father one evening. She found him working at his papers in the library which he used as a study when the tower room was too cold. Georgiana rarely sat long in the drawing room, unless there were guests and the possibility of making up a table at cards. When she retired to her boudoir it was usual for John Junius to retreat to the library in order that he should be free from interruption. She could tell on this occasion that he was irritated by her intrusion and unwilling to be distracted. Sheets of figures were spread over his desk and had caused the frown-lines of displeasure to deepen between his eyes.
‘Yes?’
Margaret recognized that her intrusion was badly timed. But to retreat without speaking would be to annoy him all the more, and so would any elaborate apology. She hurried to put her request into the briefest form.
‘I would like, Papa, to invite Lydia to stay for a short visit.’
She watched him gradually pulling his mind away from whatever was worrying him and making the effort to recall which one of her friends she meant.
‘Miss Morton? Naturally you are welcome to entertain her here whenever you like. There is no necessity to inquire of me, if the date is convenient to your mother.’
Margaret had known that, of course, but needed a way of leading to her real request.
‘She has recently become engaged, Papa. She can talk of nothing but her handsome lieutenant. He has been posted to Quetta, which is why I have suggested the visit. It is to console her, for she is sure that her heart will break. You told me that I should not mention Mr Gregson’s name, nor my feelings for him, to any of my friends, and I have done as you asked. But it is very hard to have no confidante at all. And it will be doubly hard when my guest is so much burdened by her own separation.’
John Junius sighed. Reluctantly he was preparing to give his full concentration to the matter.
‘If your understanding with Mr Gregson breaks down for any reason, Margaret, and if in the meantime you have allowed it to become known, your situation will be a humiliating one.’
‘I am sure that will not happen,’ she said firmly. ‘In any case, my friend will be discreet if I ask her. Doubly so if told she is entrusted with a secret known to no one else.’
‘No doubt,’ her father replied dryly. ‘But I am aware that girls like to chatter. Although I sympathize with your wish to make your situation public, we cannot be sure that Miss Morton may not succumb to the same wish. There is only one way to keep a secret, Margaret. I must ask you to observe the wishes I have previously expressed on the subject.’
Margaret had long ago realized the wisdom of defying her father only on matters of extreme importance. It was necessary to make small surrenders if she were ever to win any battles at all, and to tell the truth her hopes of success in this particular campaign had never been high. She sighed more loudly than was necessary, but already her father had returned his frowning concentration to the figures in front of him.
As she closed the library door she saw her younger brother standing in the shadow nearby. It was clear from his troubled expression that he too sought an interview with John Junius and needed time to collect his courage before facing it. He came forward as Margaret moved away.
‘I could hear that there was someone in the library,’ he said. ‘Although not the words. Were you asking for something? And did you have any luck?’
Margaret shook her head.
‘Take my advice, Ralph. Postpone your interview. Papa is not in his most amenable mood and I have already irritated him by interrupting his work. If you go in now, you will have to bear my share of his annoyance as well as your own.’
‘Thank you for the warning.’
They moved away together. Margaret’s thoughts were on the forthcoming visit from her friend, so she made no attempt to hold Ralph in conversation. After they had parted, she felt guilty, for it was clear enough that he had a problem to discuss. What could it be? If it was important, he would have mentioned it to her, she assured herself, and gave the matter no more thought as she went to give instructions that one of the guest rooms should be prepared.
Anticipation of the visit made time pass more quickly, and she was happy and excited by the time her friend arrived at Brinsley House the next Sunday. In spite of the fact that Lydia was younger than Margaret, the two girls had been friends since their earliest childhood; although they saw less of each other now that the Morton family had bought themselves a country estate near Bath. Lydia was so far from being good-looking that William had once, with the taunting typical of an elder brother, accused Margaret of seeking out as a friend the only girl in England who could make her seem beautiful by comparison. But Lydia contrived that her ugliness should not be noticed by keeping her face so much moved by animation that no one had the opportunity to study it in repose. She teased everyone she met - even, to Margaret’s astonishment, her own parents - and her merriment and perpetual good nature made her a most welcome companion. The two young women embraced each other with enthusiasm, and there was a great deal of laughter and chattering as Betty unpacked Lydia’s valise and trunk.
When the visitor was ready, they went together to Georgiana’s boudoir. At this time of year the weather outside justified the fire which roared in the big stone fireplace, making the room cosy rather than oppressive. Georgiana, too, was less petulant than usual as she welcomed her daughter’s friend. She had always liked Lydia, whose conversation was devoted to such interesting subjects as fashions and scandals and who - unlike Margaret - did not expect her to concern herself with topics like the insanitary housing conditions of the poor or the deficiencies of the city’s water supply. Bath society, unlike that of Bristol, was kept in touch with metropolitan tastes by those who still came in the season to take the cure - although Lydia was careful to point out that nowadays these visitors tended to be elderly and could not safely be assumed to be leaders of fashion.
‘But you are to have your own excitement, greater than anything Bath can offer!’ Lydia remembered. ‘The Prince of Wales!’
Margaret and Georgiana looked at each other and found that neither was enlightened.
‘Surely you have heard! The Prince of Wales is to visit Bristol in July. It is only for some dull exhibition, but the city will surely not allow the occasion to pass without celebration. There is certain to be a ball.’
‘No doubt.’ Georgiana’s eyes had sparkled with unusual interest at the mention of the Prince, but she was quick to shade them again with sulkiness. ‘However, if there is I shall not attend it.’
‘A ball graced by a royal personage - Mama, I defy you to resist!’ exclaimed Margaret, laughing.
‘I have nothing to wear.’
‘Papa would be the first to recognize that on such an occasion a new ball gown would be a necessity. He has been most generous to me in these past weeks, and for events of lesser importance.’
‘There are times when silks and satins are not enough,’ said Georgiana. ‘Look in my jewel box and tell me what you see. Garnets and glass! It is ridiculous. I have told your father over and over again that his wife might as well appear naked as display trifles so unworthy of his dignity.’
This time it was Lydia and Margaret who caught each other’s eye and decided that it was time for the guest’s arrival to be formally notified also to her host. They walked down the main staircase and through the central hall in which John Junius’s Eastern art was displayed.
‘Show me your pet squirrel,’ demanded Lydia, pausing on the way to the study door. When they were little girls together they had not, of course, been allowed to touch the jade animals. It had been one of the indications of accepted maturity when first of all Margaret and then her friends had been allowed to handle the treasures.
Margaret smiled and turned back towards the case in which the squirrel was kept. Then her smile changed to a frown.
‘Papa must have rearranged them,’ she said. She walked round the hall, looking quickly at each case. Then she made a second circuit and this time studied the collection more intently. Lydia waited to be told what the matter was.
‘All my favourites have gone,’ said Margaret. ‘And also all those which Papa told me were the best pieces, though I might not admire them myself. There are some new animals here. I am no very good judge, but to me they look much inferior to the old.’ She unlocked the nearest case and took out a coiled snake. Still frowning, she stroked it slowly. But it felt wrong to the touch, and the carving was crude compared to the missing pieces. Her mind was still on the small mystery as she led Lydia into her father’s library.
On Sundays John Junius did not work. But after the rituals of morning service and midday Sunday dinner had been observed he allowed himself to read any journals which had arrived during the week; and even for this relaxation he preferred the high-backed leather chair behind his desk to the elegant but uncomfortable sofas of the drawing room.
Margaret could tell as soon as she went in that her father was in an affable mood. She despised herself for the feeling of anxiety which afflicted her on each approach to his presence, but it had its reward in the relief when the atmosphere proved to be serene. John Junius welcomed Lydia politely. He remembered to congratulate her on her engagement and even listened with no visible boredom to her description of her lieutenant’s charms. His general good temper emboldened Lydia to repeat to him the conversation she had recently had with his wife.
‘I fear I have done you a grave disservice, Mr Lorimer,’ she said, after the coming of the Prince of Wales had been described. ‘Mrs Lorimer may at this moment be designing for herself the hugest and most expensive bodice ornament that Bristol society will ever have seen. Nothing less than diamonds, I fear, will satisfy her.’
It seemed to Margaret, who knew her father better, a dangerous joke; and indeed there was a pause which, although short, was curiously intense. Then, without speaking at once, John Junius unlocked a drawer and took out a small casket which he set on the desk.
‘Do you think Mrs Lorimer might be persuaded to forgo her diamonds for these?’ he asked. He took the lid off the casket and tipped its contents out.
Margaret and Lydia held their breath together as the pile of red stones grew. They were of different sizes, but carefully matched as to colour. They had already been cut and polished, and even in the cold winter light they glowed with warmth.
‘Rubies?’ asked Margaret.
John Junius gave the short nod which meant that a question was not worth his answer.
‘Pick them up,’ he said. ‘This is how a precious stone should be enjoyed. Set it in a necklace and it becomes lifeless in imprisonment. But let a dozen run through your fingers and you will understand why so many crimes are committed for what are only piles of stones.’
Margaret did as he said, allowing the rubies to dribble between her fingers back on to the desk. Without speaking, Lydia followed her example. Taking a sign from her father as an instruction, Margaret spared his stiffer fingers the task of returning the stones to the casket.
‘I had intended to surprise Mrs Lorimer with the finished piece,’John Junius said. ‘I have the design ready, and have already instructed the jeweller to collect small diamonds in which these larger stones may be set. But it seems I must reveal my intentions at once, before either disappointment or the desire for some other stone bites too deeply.’
‘You knew already then, Papa, about the Prince’s visit?’
‘I had been informed, yes. Miss Morton is correct in assuming that there will be a ball on the eve of the exhibition. Will you tell Mrs Lorimer that I will wait on her in five minutes’ time. And I hope, Miss Morton, that your stay with us will be a pleasant one.’
The excitement of seeing the rubies had driven the matter of the jade out of Margaret’s mind, but she remembered it just as she reached the door, and turned back to enquire.
‘The squirrel in which I take such pleasure is missing from its case, Papa,’ she said. ‘I hope there has been no accident.’
For the second time within a few minutes her father appeared to be taken aback; but again he recovered himself quickly.
‘You are very quick in observation, Margaret,’ he said. ‘The squirrel, and some other of the more valuable pieces, were removed only yesterday. On Friday there was a meeting of the Board of Directors at Lorimer’s. In the moment of social conversation which preceded it, Mr Eddison mentioned that his house had received the attention of robbers on the previous evening; and this prompted Mr Crankshaw to remark that his closest neighbours had suffered in the same way within the week. My collection and its value is so well known in the city that I began to fear its presence here might invite a similar attention. I have therefore arranged for the most precious pieces to be stored in Lorimer’s strong room until law and order can be preserved more efficiently. I have also ensured that a paragraph mentioning the transfer will appear tomorrow in the Bristol Times and Mirror. So we may hope that Brinsley House will no longer appear too tempting a target.’
‘You seem to assume that all robbers can read, Mr Lorimer,’ said Lydia, who had waited with her friend in the doorway. ‘But we are assured, are we not, that all the products of the board schools are honest and industrious members of society. So must we not think that those who break into other people’s houses have already shown their ingenuity by evading the fetters of education?’
It was amazing to Margaret that Lydia should dare to tease a man like her father, and even more astonishing that the lightness of her tone should arouse no disapproval. John Junius never laughed, but he nodded his head now in what was the equivalent of a smile.
‘The rubies must also be of great value though, Papa,’ said Margaret. ‘And easier both to steal and to sell than carvings which could be recognized if they were to appear in any other collection.’
‘The presence of the rubies in the house is not known to anyone outside it,’ said John Junius. ‘And they will leave it tomorrow, to be handed over to Parker so that the setting may be made. I think you may sleep easily enough in your beds tonight. And now, you were about to convey my message to your mother.’
They returned to Georgiana’s room at once to do so. Marie-Claire, wearing her afternoon cap and lace apron, had just served a dish of hot chocolate to her mistress, with an extra saucer so that the pug might share it. On hearing the warning of John Junius’s visit she made a show of tidying the room in preparation, although she was not prepared as a rule to save the housemaid a journey for even as small a chore as the plumping of a cushion. Inspired by her friend’s light-heartedness, Margaret could not resist a tease.
‘I advise you not to go too far from my mother, Marie-Claire,’ she said. ‘In six minutes’ time she may well have need of her salts.’
The advice was unnecessary - the whole household knew that any word spoken in Mrs Lorimer’s boudoir would be overheard by her lady’s maid. Nevertheless, it enabled Margaret and her friend to laugh as helplessly as schoolgirls as they emerged from the overheated room.
‘Wait for me just a moment in your own room, Lydia,’ asked Margaret. ‘I have one more message of my own to carry.’
She hurried to Ralph’s room and found him sitting at his books, although his startled jump when she opened his door suggested that his mind had not been on his work.
‘I gave you warning before of Papa’s black mood,’ she said. ‘Have you had with him yet the interview you sought at that time?’
Ralph shook his head and his handsome face looked alarmed, as though she had guessed the subject he needed to discuss.
‘Then I am come to tell you that I have not for many months seen Papa so generously disposed as he is at this moment. I ask only that if your request is likely to cloud the sunshine again for the rest of us, you should postpone it to the end of the day.’
If she had not already observed that her brother was under some strain, she could have discovered it now. He jumped up at her first words to go straight to their father’s study, and then seized with relief on the excuse for a further postponement. Margaret did not wait to see what he would decide. She was anxious not to leave her friend alone for too long.
There was a great deal of news to be exchanged. Naturally the most important item came first. A locket containing the likeness of Lieutenant Gerald Chapman was produced and his virtues expounded in detail. His seat on a horse, his grace at a dance, the elegant curl of his moustaches, all were the finest that had been seen in Bath that season. He was handsome and brave. Now that the system of obtaining promotion by purchasing commissions had been abolished, he would be able to rise on his own merits to become a general in no time at all.
‘Is it, then, your ambition to become a general’s lady, Lydia?’ laughed Margaret.
Until that moment Lydia had allowed Margaret to tease her and had joined in the laughter at her own expense, recognizing the over-exuberance of her enthusiasm. But the laughter faded from her face as she looked down at the locket cradled in her hand.
‘My ambition has never been more than to find someone who would love me,’ she said. ‘I shall never have any fortune, because my father’s estate is entailed; and I know well enough that I am not to be admired for my beauty. I have spent many hours weeping over the length of my nose and the sallowness of my complexion. But Mr Chapman thinks these things of no importance. For all I care, he may remain a lieutenant all his life, with nothing but his pay to live on, and I shall never cease to love him for loving me.’
The sincerity of her voice affected Margaret more than she dared admit. She knew and shared Lydia’s feeling, and the temptation to reveal her secret was very strong. The two girls sat in silence. Margaret was yearning for David, and it was certain that Lydia was in the grip of a similar emotion.
Their thoughts were distracted in the end by the sound of a carriage pulling to a standstill outside the house. Margaret looked from the window and saw that it was drawn by William’s chestnuts, not their own piebalds. She frowned to herself in surprise as she saw Sophie waiting to be handed down. Even within the family, this was a curious time for a call of which no warning had been given. As the coachman hurried to ring the doorbell, Margaret could see that her sister-in-law was in a fury. What could have happened at The Ivies to cause Sophie’s usually placid face to frown so angrily and her foot to tap with such impatience?