The helplessness of a bereaved child arouses sympathy even in those who bear no responsibility. It was not sentimentality, however, which led Margaret to undertake Alexa’s support. The child was a Lorimer, and the Lori-mers must look after her. As soon as her mother had been buried, it was necessary to consider the problem of her future.
Margaret had already decided to say nothing about the rubies. Whatever she might feel about the morality of her father’s actions, the settlement he had made would best be left undisturbed. The affairs of Lorimer’s Bank had been wound up long ago. The process had continued over three years, and during that time the Portishead docks had opened at last, proving to be just as profitable as John Junius had always anticipated. The payments which flowed from them into the hands of the bank’s administrator came too late to save the shareholders, but in time to pay off a high proportion of the creditors’ claims. From the moment when David Gregson’s flight was discovered, public opinion had begun to move back towards it previous respect for John Junius Lorimer, and, strange though it might seem, this process had been helped by the sight of his son living as a rich business man in his old home. Every year saw the scandal sinking further into oblivion. Margaret herself might be disillusioned about her father’s character, but she retained sufficient family pride to conceal what she had learned from the outside world.
Not even to William did she mention the box of jewels. Although confident that he would not consider transferring their value to the bank’s creditors, she believed him capable of arguing that the genuine rubies had been a gift to his mother and should therefore have been inherited by himself, not appropriated by an outsider. Margaret did not propose to allow him that opportunity. She believed that Luisa had told her the truth and that by keeping the jewellery for Alexa she was carrying out her father’s last wishes.
The question of Alexa herself, however, was not one which could be left undiscussed. When Margaret next visited Brinsley House she took the nine-year-old girl with her, neatly dressed in new clothes. As was her custom, she went first of all to the schoolroom where she introduced Alexa as her ward and asked the governess if the little girl could stay there with the other children for an hour. Then she sought an interview with William.
He was horrified enough to learn that John Junius had fathered an illegitimate child in the last years of his life, but what Margaret went on to propose was so much more appalling that for a moment he was robbed of speech.
‘You are seriously suggesting that I should bring up such a child in my own household, with my own children?’
‘She comes between Matthew and Beatrice in age. There would be no need to make separate provision for her. She could share Beatrice’s lessons and amusements. Your establishment is a large one. You would hardly need to know that she was here.’
‘The suggestion is ridiculous. I have no responsibility for the girl.’
‘She is your sister,’ Margaret reminded him.
‘An illegitimate half-sister. That hardly constitutes a recognizable relationship.’
‘She is your father’s daughter,’ said Margaret more firmly. ‘What are the alternatives, William? She is an orphan. If we - her family - abandon her, what is to become of her? You can hardly condemn her to the workhouse.’
‘If you feel so strongly on the matter, why do you not bring her up yourself?’
‘I shall do that, certainly, if you reject my suggestion. Since I shall probably never have children of my own, it would give me pleasure. But I have little to offer her. There would be no other children for company. I cannot afford to employ a governess and in order to earn a living at all I must be out of the house for a great part of the day. Alexa would have no family life. However, if you will not help her, I shall do what I can.’
‘You would naturally not acknowledge any relationship with her.’
‘If she is to live with me, I shall do what I like, William.’ Margaret was exasperated by her brother’s assumption that he could avoid any responsibility himself and yet order the manner in which she should shoulder it. She did in fact recognize that for the sake of her father’s reputation it would be wise to conceal Alexa’s parentage, but to admit this at once would be throwing away a bargaining point in her debate with William. Certainly her declaration made him think again.
‘Where is the child now?’ he asked.
‘Matthew and Beatrice and Arthur are looking after her while I speak to you. Naturally, they know nothing about her.’
William’s forehead creased in annoyance, but he merely said, in the curtest of tones, that he would like to see her. They went together to the schoolroom and opened the door.
William’s three children were sitting in a row in their wooden chairs. In front of them, on the table, Alexa was dancing. She was singing as well to provide herself with a musical accompaniment. The audience, with its back to the door, did not notice the arrival of the adults, but the effect on Alexa was to stimulate her into even more energetic movements, culminating in a high kick which revealed her undergarments. William stepped backwards out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
‘A guttersnipe!’ he exclaimed. ‘Straight out of the slums! And you consider her fit company for three well-brought-up children? You must be out of your mind, Margaret. I cannot possibly consider a proposition of that sort.’
Margaret’s heart had sunk at the sight of Alexa’s ill-timed exhibition, and her brother’s reaction was what she expected. But for Alexa’s sake she could not abandon her request.
‘The girl has had little education, William. She has been brought up in poverty. When her circumstances are altered, her behaviour will alter as well. She is the daughter of a gentleman and has natural good manners. All that is required is discipline and an ordered programme of learning - and at nine years old she is not too old to be amenable. At the moment she possesses only one talent, although it is a considerable one. It is natural that she should wish to display it.’
The sound of clapping could be heard through the door. William opened it for a second time, and on this occasion they both went inside. Matthew was helping Alexa down from the table with great care, while his young brother still jumped up and down with excitement at the impromptu concert. Only Beatrice stood a little aloof, looking at the visitor with prim disapproval.
Poor Beatrice, thought Margaret suddenly. She had inherited her father’s sharp features instead of Sophie’s calm good looks, and she was old enough now to realize that she was ill-favoured. The arrival of such a beautiful rival for the affections of her adored elder brother was clearly a source of grievance.
‘This is Alexa, Father,’ said Matthew, presenting her in a proprietorial manner.
‘Yes,’ said William. There was no warmth in his voice, but at least he was not rude.
Unaware that she had made a bad impression, Alexa smiled shyly. How could William fail to be affected by her beauty? Margaret wondered. On the stage of the music hall, and again as she danced on the table a few moments earlier, Alexa’s face had been vivacious, extravagantly mobile as it expressed pathos or mischief or vulgarity. In repose it changed character completely, its oval shape and perfectly proportioned features becoming peaceful, almost placid; a Venus from a Renaissance painting. The new garments which Margaret had bought for her - a high-necked smocked blouse, plain skirt and black stockings and boots - were demure and unostentatious, and a wide hair ribbon held back the strawberry blonde hair which was her most striking feature; but no degree of restraint in her clothing could dim her beauty.
Matthew made a fit partner for her as they stood side by side. He had recently started to grow taller at a great rate, but at twelve years old his face retained an almost feminine attractiveness, with its soft complexion and long dark eyelashes. He made no secret of the effect Alexa had had on him. Margaret remembered his unexpected reaction to the treasures of the Paris museums. Like his grandfather, Matthew was an admirer of beautiful things.
‘Will you bring Alexa with you again when you come here, Aunt Margaret?’ he asked.
Margaret waited for a second before she answered, in the hope that William would make some gesture. When he remained silent, she could only say, ‘I’il see,’ and stretch out her hand to take Alexa away.
‘I’ll write to you,’ said William abruptly. ‘I need time to consider. You will not speak of this to anyone, I imagine, nor rush into any arrangement which you may later regret.’
Margaret acknowledged the concession with a bow of her head. It suggested that her brother might after all accept his responsibility as head of the Lorimer family. As she took Alexa back to Dr Miller’s home, so cramped and dark compared to Brinsley House, Margaret wondered whether she truly wanted him to.
She had spoken the truth when she told him that she would take pleasure in bringing up Alexa herself. But the prospect was frightening as well as exciting. Nothing in Margaret’s own upbringing had prepared her for the strains and complications of living as an unsupported woman. From the day of her birth it had been assumed by everyone she knew - and for a long time also by herself - that she would pass from the protection of a father to that of a husband. If she was not lucky enough to find a husband, one of her two brothers would have the obligation of caring for her.
To break away from all these assumptions and embark on a medical training had required a good deal of courage, but she had not been without the support which came from companionship at that time. Other women facing the same problems had provided reassurance and their Dean was helpful with advice. The very difficulty of the syllabus, with its frequent tests and written examinations and the movement from one form of practical training to another, had provided a framework which left little time for doubts. Afterwards, when she took employment in London, the routines of hospital life gave her the same kind of support.
That time was over. Now she had to plan for a future which was the rest of her life and not simply the period before the next examination. To accept the responsibility for a child’s life when she hardly knew whether she could manage her own was not something lightly to be undertaken.
William had promised to write, but instead he came to call on her, looking with distaste around Dr Miller’s gloomy sitting room.
‘How long do you propose to remain here?’ he asked.
‘The arrangement is temporary,’ Margaret told him. ‘I hope to find a permanent appointment in a hospital for women or children. Once I have secure employment, I shall decide what kind of home I want and can afford.’
‘I have a suggestion to make,’ said William stiffly. ‘Where is the child?’
‘Asleep.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now then, the post of physician at the Ashley Down orphanage is vacant. Would work of that sort interest you? You probably know that Father was very generous to the orphanage when it was founded. I have succeeded him as one of the trustees. Assuming that you can offer satisfactory references, I could make sure that the trustees do not allow your sex to prejudice them. The salary is lower than might be offered by an ordinary hospital, so there may not be many applicants.’
‘I cannot live on less than anyone else,’ said Margaret.
‘Please let me finish,’ said William. ‘I have not yet come to the end of my suggestions. You asked me to take responsibility for our father’s - for Alexa. With reluctance - with great reluctance - I accept that something will have to be done for her. I am agreeable to educating her with my own children as you ask, for a trial period of four years. That would also be the term of your initial appointment at Ashley Down. But it would have to be clearly understood that in no circumstances am I prepared to acknowledge any relationship. If she should ever try to claim one, I would consider that fair grounds for her instant removal.’
‘She doesn’t know …’ Margaret began, but her brother interrupted her curtly.
‘Quite. And she must not know. The arrangement I propose is this. What the world in general may be told is that she was the daughter of a patient of yours who died; that you were sorry for her orphaned state and decided to bring her up as your own child. So much is true. Alexa herself will know in addition that the patient concerned was an acquaintance of yours, but that detail need not be broadcast. She may be called Alexa Lorimer by virtue of your guardianship. You know that I have never approved of your decision to return to Bristol and be seen working for money as though I were too poor or mean to provide for you. But if you are adamant on the subject I would regard charitable work of the kind offered by the orphanage as more suitable to your station in life. To recompense you for the lower salary I invite you and Alexa to live at Brinsley House. Society will consider it entirely proper that you yourself should live with me while you are in Bristol, and Alexa’s presence under my roof will be all the easier to explain if you have already assumed responsibility for her.’
There was a calculated coldness in William’s voice which tempted Margaret to reject his proposals and resolve her affairs for herself. But prudence prompted her to consider his offer seriously. The medical care of a large number of orphaned children would be a satisfying field of employment, for she would be able to look after their health all the time, practising preventative medicine. William’s promise to use his influence did not disturb her conscience - she knew from her experience in London how few appointments were free from considerations of this kind. Ashley Down was woman’s work and she was well qualified for it. Whatever reservations she might have about living with William and Sophie, the arrangement would be the best possible one for Alexa. Even while she was asking her brother to allow her a day for consideration, she had already made up her mind.
After William had left, she went into the bedroom where Alexa was sleeping. Except for the jewel box, which Margaret kept in her own care, all the child’s possessions, such as they were, had been brought into this room. The portrait of John Junius Lorimer was propped up against the wall. Margaret stared at it for a long time. Alexa did not know who the subject was. Margaret, who had loved her father, wondered how much even she had known him.
She laughed silently - but without merriment - at the unexpectedness of life. After the collapse of her father’s empire she had thought that the doors of Brinsley House were closed to her for ever. But now, after seven years of independence, it was to be her home once more. Even more strange was the fact that the portrait of John Junius Lorimer, sold in shame, bought with furtiveness and housed in squalor, would also be returning to its ancestral home.