Every actress longs for the applause of the crowd - the craving is an inherent part of her nature. Even criticism is better than silence. Margaret’s performance, however, had been of an unusual kind. Charles had been her only audience and, since the purpose of her performance was to deceive him, she could not allow him even to guess that she was acting, much less to praise her ability.
The need for appreciation may have been the reason why Margaret took the first opportunity after her return from St Bartholomew’s to tell Lydia what had happened, although to herself she made other excuses. Because she had confided in her friend after the fire and again after her encounter with Charles at the theatre, the young surgeon’s behaviour at the hospital had come as a shock to Lydia, and his pronounced favouritism towards her had made her uncomfortable. Margaret did not care to be pitied, so it was with a brisk satisfaction that she was able to announce the reason for Charles’s cold attitude, and the agreement they had reached for the future.
At first Lydia’s reactions were all that could be desired. She was shocked to hear about the elder Dr Scott’s condition and his relationship to Charles: she sympathized with the younger man’s difficulties and understood his reaction to them. But when it came to the solution which Margaret had produced, Lydia’s response was not praise but a frown.
‘Do you think this is wise?’ she asked. ‘It seems to me that in the circumstances Charles Scott’s decision was a good one, although his means of implementing it was harsh. If it is true that his father’s view of your family cannot be changed, it would surely be best to make the break a complete one?’
‘Are you not prepared to believe that a man and a woman can have an ordinary affectionate friendship?’ demanded Margaret, piqued by the implied criticism.
‘An older woman and an older man, perhaps.’
‘How old does one need to be? I am hardly a girl any longer.’
‘Age is not really important,’ said Lydia. ‘What matters is that you are in love with him. You are talking about friendship, but you are hoping for something more. Something which you can never have.’
‘“Never” is a very long time,’ protested Margaret. ‘Dr Scott - the father, I mean - cannot live for ever.’
‘He may live for a good many years, all the same, and it can hardly be a Christian way of life to pass one’s time hoping for the death of another. And suppose, Margaret, that your Charles believes that what you have asked for is all you sincerely want. He may give you friendship, but he could still honourably regard himself as free to look for marriage with someone else. You could waste many years in waiting, and be disappointed at the end.’
‘If I am to be disappointed in five years’ time, let us say, it could be no worse than my disappointment if we were to part for ever now, and I shall have been happy for those five years. You speak as though I were sacrificing some other lover in favour of an impossible relationship, but all I propose to do is to add a little warmth to a life which otherwise consists only of work. Once in my life already I have had to say goodbye to a man I loved, and only because I am a Lorimer. No one, surely, could expect me to do the same thing again. I must confess that I had expected more sympathy from you, Lydia.’
‘I sympathize, indeed I do. My only anxiety is that you shall not make yourself unhappy. It seems to me that the man you love is an honourable man. Because of that he will not change his mind, and because of that it will not occur to him that what you tell him and what you feel for him may not be exactly the same.’
Margaret was silent, unable to argue with the truth. By now the elated mood in which she returned from the hospital had evaporated.
‘You are quite right, of course,’ she said. ‘But the plain fact is, Lydia, that I have no choice. I cannot bring myself to say now that I will never see him again, and yet he would not let me continue his acquaintance in any way other than the one I have proposed. I may be made unhappy in the future if we have to part; but I shall certainly be unhappy if we part now. And I do sincerely believe that we can be friends.’
‘Let us hope you are right.’ The warmth of Lydia’s nature made her anxious to support her friend, and the conversation ended with an embrace. However, it provided a warning which Margaret took to heart. During the whole period of her attendance at St Bartholomew’s she was careful to behave only as an attentive student. She was not acting when she showed herself to be a helpful and reliable assistant, and her professional attitude must have dissolved any doubts which Charles still felt. He treated her as though she were a man; and this, Margaret supposed, was what she wanted.
Summer brought with it the end of her practical training and the beginning of her final M.B. examinations. On her last day at Bart’s Margaret waited until Lydia had left before she said goodbye to Charles.
‘I wish you the best of luck,’ he said. ‘If all your subjects are as good as your Surgery, you will have no cause for anxiety. What are your plans when you have qualified?’
Until the day of the fire it had been Margaret’s intention to return to Bristol as soon as she could. Charles, without knowing it, had changed all that.
‘I hope for an appointment in a London hospital which will enable me to continue studying for my M.D.,’ she said. ‘Lydia will be staying on to take a special qualification in Public Health, and the arrangement by which we share lodgings suits us both very well. I would like to specialize in obstetrics and I expect to find a greater variety of experience in London, as well as the best supervision.’
‘Then I hope I may call on you when you have finished your examinations,’ said Charles.
Margaret tried hard not to show how important it had been to her that he should suggest a future meeting, now that their working relationship had reached its end.
‘Last time you said that, your hopes were not fulfilled,’ she teasingly commented. It was a measure of the friendship which had developed between them that they were both able to smile at the memory.
He must have made a special point of seeing the results of the examinations, for as soon as they were posted he came to call, carrying bouquets of congratulation for both Margaret and Lydia. He brought a friend with him. Henry Mason was another doctor, and before leaving he invited the two young women to spend the next Saturday at his parents’ house in Kew.
‘I must give you warning of the entertainment we propose,’ Henry said. ‘My sister and I have acquired bicycles and intend to learn how to ride them. You will understand that we need to have skilled medical help at hand to mend our broken bones. Charles and I will supply the same attentions to you if you are prepared to attempt the new art.’
Margaret’s heart jumped with pleasure at the realization that Charles, because he could not invite her to his own house, must have arranged this instead. She accepted quickly, without giving Lydia time to express any doubts. But Lydia, in a carefree mood following four and a half years of hard study and a month of important examinations, expressed equal pleasure at the prospect.
Saturday, when it came, was devoted to laughter and easy conversation. Margaret was relieved to find that the two bicycles were not penny-farthings, but the much lower safety models. Henry’s sister had already mastered the technique and gave a wobbly demonstration round and round the family’s large garden before falling off at the end of the ride. It was agreed that stopping was the most difficult part of bicycling. Two at a time they embarked on their first trial trips, with a good deal of mock alarm, while Mr and Mrs Mason watched in amusement from the drawing-room window.
When it came to Margaret’s turn, it was Charles who brought the machine to her. He held it while she mounted, with one hand beneath the saddle and the other on the handlebars; but once she started to pedal, forcing him to run beside her, one of his hands moved up to her waist in order to steady her. Margaret found herself overwhelmed by his closeness. She could hardly bear her own happiness and pedalled faster and faster in her excitement. Unable to stop, she tried to turn as they approached the end of the lawn, but found herself leaning sideways. Charles’s other hand moved along the handlebar to cover her own hand and grip the brake, but it was too late to stop her falling. They toppled to the ground together, with the bicycle on top of them. Their friends were beside themselves with laughter in the distance, but for Margaret the world seemed to have gone suddenly quiet. She lay on the grass, not daring to look at Charles, and for a moment neither of them moved. Then he pushed the bicycle away with his foot and picked himself up before holding out his hands to raise her.
‘Not hurt?’ he asked.
Too much in love with him to speak, Margaret shook her head. She staggered a little as he pulled her gently to her feet, and for a second he stood very close as he steadied her.
‘Oh, my dear!’ he said, and then shook his head, sighing in distress. Margaret had already hoped that he loved her as much as she loved him: now she knew that she was right. She realized at the same time that he must be aware of her own feelings. They were both very quiet as they wheeled the bicycle back towards the house.
After this there was little incentive for Margaret to improve her performance. She claimed that her balance was poor and continued to demand support. It came each time from Charles. The recklessness with which they tacitly admitted their feelings to each other was eloquent to their friends as well. Lydia may have disapproved, but she made no attempt to interfere. After lunch, when they all chose to avoid further bruising and take a walk along the bank of the river, none of the other three appeared to notice as Margaret and Charles fell further and further behind.
For a long time they still did not dare to speak to each other. It was Margaret in the end who broke both the silence and the resolve which she had made six months earlier.
‘Would it not be possible,’ she asked without preamble, ‘to persuade your father that I have suffered almost as much as he from the collapse of my father’s business? If he could see us as victims together, he might be less disposed to blame me for my father’s faults.’
‘I think you have profited by the collapse rather than suffered,’ said Charles. ‘Your present way of life would never have been open to you while your parents lived.’
‘But so far as money is concerned I have nothing.’
‘It would be difficult to persuade my father of that.’
‘Would he not believe my word?’
‘Were you present when your father died?’ asked Charles. It seemed an abrupt change of subject, and Margaret looked at him in surprise.
‘Yes. That is to say, at the actual moment of his death I was a little way away from him, hurrying to fetch help.’
‘Then you did not hear his last words?’
‘I was not aware that he had spoken any.’
‘You will remember that my father had been called to attend him. He was bending over Mr Lorimer and heard him call out in his last agony.’
‘What did my father say?’ Margaret prompted, when Charles seemed unable to continue.
‘“Who will care for my treasure?” He said it twice, and then he died. “Who will care for my treasure?” My father has never forgotten the words. He dreams of finding the treasure. In the middle of the night he goes out into my small garden and digs it up, because he is so sure that somewhere in the earth John Junius Lorimer hid his fortune away from his creditors.’
‘There is no fortune,’ Margaret assured him, troubled.
‘How can I persuade him of that? His belief has become irrational, but it must have some fact as its basis. I believe that your father did speak those words. He may have been irrational himself at the moment of death - he may have believed that he was still rich and must now by dying abandon his riches. I can explain the possibilities to myself, but not to my father. The obsession goes too deep. And even if you tried to explain your own position, he would point to that of your brother.’
‘Ralph?’
‘No. Your elder brother. He lives in Brinsley House, I understand, as your father did before him. His shipping company has survived the misfortunes from which almost every other business in Bristol suffered. He does not live in the style of a man who has been ruined.’
‘My sister-in-law had money of her own,’ said Margaret. ‘It came to her on her father’s death, after the crash, and was not affected by the legal proceedings.’ She spoke as confidently as she could in her anxiety to persuade Charles, but an uneasiness stirred in her mind. She knew that William had been saved from the distresses of the other shareholders in Lorimer’s Bank by the accident of selling his own holding shortly before the collapse. She knew also that the insurance money paid for the Georgiana had enabled him to buy the family home at a distress price. But she too had been surprised at the speed with which he had managed to re-establish the name of Lorimer amongst that part of the Bristol community which respected a man according to the degree of his wealth and trading power.
They had been walking only slowly, but now Charles came to a complete halt and looked earnestly down at her.
‘You must understand that I am not speaking on my own account,’ he said. ‘To me, you are yourself and I - I value you only as yourself. You cannot have been to blame in any way for the past. I am answering your question only because you asked it, trying to make you realize what my father thinks, not what I think myself. He was upset when he lost all his money, as any man might be. It was when he heard those dying words of your father’s that he became deranged. I came to Bristol at that time, to comfort my mother and to do what I could to calm him. I know that what fed his madness was the business of the rubies.’
‘The rubies?’ Margaret was genuinely puzzled.
‘The rubies which your mother wore to a ball in Bristol shortly before her death. They were thought to be worth a fortune, but after your father died were found to be worthless. It was not possible for me or for anyone else to persuade my father that the Lorimers had no secret fortune when it seemed - to others beside himself - that not everything had been satisfactorily explained. This makes no difference to my own feelings for you, but it will come between my father and any member of your family as long as he lives. There is no chance at all that I can persuade him to change his view. I even think it would be better if you and I did not discuss the past.’
Margaret still hesitated for a moment, but Charles’s opinion was so definite that she did not feel able to argue: nor did she wish to spoil a day which had been full of happiness. That evening, however, she wrote to William.
Charles had mentioned the rubies in particular, and Margaret remembered now that she too had been puzzled at the time by the discovery that the jewels deposited in the bank were imitations. There was that other matter, as well, which she had not mentioned to Charles. She had asked her father on one occasion what had happened to the jade animals which she so much liked, and which were reputed to be of great value, and he had answered that these too were held by the bank for safe keeping. It occurred to her now that no one had made any mention of the jade collection when the value of John Junius’s assets were under public scrutiny. She asked William about both these mysteries and waited anxiously for an answer.
His letter, when it came, did little to reassure her. He wrote with unusual frankness, telling her that their father had sold the most valuable pieces of jade in a manner which could only be described as surreptitious; the replacements which he had purchased to fill the gaps in his cabinets were of little value.
‘My own view,’ William continued, ‘is that the money raised from the sale of the jade was used to purchase the stones - the genuine stones - for the present of jewellery which he gave to our mother. I then think — although it can only be a guess on my part - that after he had ordered Parker to set the real stones, he had a copy made at some establishment outside Bristol where he was not well known. We know that the copy was deposited in the bank. Perhaps we shall never learn what happened to the real jewels. My personal opinion is that they must exist, but have been hidden and are unlikely to be recovered, unless by chance. I need hardly tell you that this surmise is for your own eyes only. It would be most unwise to discuss the matter with anyone else at all. You should destroy this letter.’
Margaret stared at it unhappily. She found it a terrible thing that William should be accusing their father of what seemed to be a deliberate deception. If his theory was a true one, it would add substance to the ravings of Charles’s father: certainly, it could not be used to challenge his suspicions. She sighed to herself once more as she tore the letter up. It seemed that she had no choice but to accept Charles’s opinion. The subject was indeed one which should not be discussed between them again. Her friendship with Charles must remain one which forgot the past and did not allow any hope for the future.