Cater Street Hangman (24 page)

Her mind kept going back to the woman. What kind of a woman was she? Had she loved Edward, committed any lasting part of herself to him; or was it an affair, something to be set against profit and loss, so much social prestige, so much money or security, so much fun? What was it she gave him that Caroline could not?

She tried to think back to the way she had felt in those first years. Sarah must have been a small child, Charlotte newly born, Emily not yet thought of. Was that it? Had she been too involved with the children? Had she ignored him? Surely not. She thought she could remember many hours spent together, long evenings at home, nights out at dinners, parties, even concerts. Or were they later? Time was confused, telescoping.

Had he loved that other woman, or was she a diversion, something to fill a need, an appetite? Was all the past a lie?

The thought that he had loved Mrs. Attwood was appalling, something that hurt profoundly, altering years of feelings, shattering peace, destroying anything of tenderness or trust. Even if it had been appetite, was that any better?

She shivered. Suddenly she felt unclean, as if something soiled had entered her and she could not wash it out. The memory of his touch, of their familiarity, became offensive, something she wanted to forget, because she could not undo it.

She stood up, tidying her hair automatically, and pulling her dress straight. She must go downstairs and present a face to the family that masked at least some of the misery and the confusion inside her.

Grandmama knew there was something wrong with both Sarah and Caroline. At first she presumed they had had a quarrel of some sort, and naturally she wanted to know what it was about. Sarah was in the rear sitting room the following morning, and Grandmama went in, ostensibly to enquire about the arrangements for afternoon tea and what visitors they might expect, but actually to learn the facts of the quarrel.

“Good morning, Sarah, my dear,” she said purposefully.

“Good morning, Grandmama,” Sarah replied, not looking up from the letter she was writing.

“You look a little pale. Didn’t you sleep?” Grandmama pursued, sitting down on the sofa.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little agitated to me.”

“I’m perfectly all right, thank you. Don’t distress yourself on my account.”

Grandmama seized on the suggestion immediately.

“But I am distressed, my dear; I cannot help worrying about you when I see both you and your Mama looking tired and upset. If you have had some sort of disagreement, perhaps I can help to see that it is sorted out?”

If Sarah had been Charlotte, she would have said bluntly that Grandmama was more likely to add fuel to it than sort it out, but being Sarah she remained at least nominally polite.

“There is no quarrel, Grandmama; we are very close.” She smiled with unconcealed bitterness. “In fact we are fellows in misfortune.”

“Misfortune? What misfortune is that? I didn’t know anything had happened?”

“You wouldn’t. It happened twenty-five years ago.”

“What on earth do you mean?” Grandmama demanded. “What happened twenty-five years ago?”

Sarah retreated. “Nothing that need concern you. It is all over now.”

“If it still distresses you and your mother, it is not all over!” Grandmama said sharply. “What has happened, Sarah?”

“Men,” Sarah replied. “Life. Perhaps it even happened to you once.” She gave a tight little smile. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I shouldn’t be surprised at all!”

“What are you talking about? What about men?”

“They are shallow, disloyal and hypocritical!” Sarah said furiously. “They preach one thing and practice quite another. They have one set of rules for us and another for themselves.”

“Some men do, of course. That has always been the case. But not all. There are upright and decent men as well. Your father is one of them. I’m sorry if your husband is not.”

“Papa!” Sarah spat. “You old fool! He’s the worst of them all. Dominic may have cast his eyes where he shouldn’t, but he never set up a mistress and kept her for twenty-five years!”

The words had no meaning for Grandmama. They were a preposterous lie. Sarah must be out of her mind, temporarily deranged by the shock of discovering Dominic had behaved badly. Of course, marrying a man as handsome as that was bound to lead to disaster. She knew it from the beginning. She had said as much to Caroline. But of course Caroline never would be told.

“Nonsense!” she said crossly. “That is a childish thing to say, and quite ridiculous. I will excuse you this once, on account of the obvious disturbance you have suffered in your mind on discovering things about your husband which I could have told you in the beginning. Indeed, I did tell your mother. But if you repeat such a wicked calumny about your father outside this room, or in the presence of others, I shall . . . ” She hesitated, not quite sure what might be sufficiently awful to threaten Sarah with.

“You will do what?” Sarah said harshly. “Prove it untrue? You can’t! If you have a spare afternoon I shall take you to meet her! She’s old, older than Papa, but still very handsome. She must have been quite a beauty.”

“Sarah! This is not in the least amusing. I order you to control yourself immediately. If you cannot, then go upstairs and lie down until you can. Take some smelling salts, and wash your face in cold water.”

“Cold water! Papa is keeping a mistress, and you suggest I cure that by washing my face in cold water!” Sarah’s voice rose in vicious ridicule. “Did you offer smelling salts to Mama as well? And is that what
you
did? Did Grandpapa keep a mistress somewhere?”

Old distasteful memories returned.

“Sarah, you are becoming hysterical!” Grandmama snapped. “Leave the room. You are behaving like a servant. Pull yourself together and remember your dignity. You had better lie down until you have come to your senses.” As Sarah did not move she became angrier. “Immediately!” she raised her voice. “I shall explain to your mother that you are unwell. I have no wish for you to make an exhibition of yourself, and I am sure you haven’t either. What if one of the servants were to come in? Do you wish to become the talk of the servants’ hall? And no doubt the servants’ halls of the entire street?”

With a look of deep malevolence, Sarah departed.

Grandmama sat down hard. What an appalling morning! Whatever could have overcome Sarah to make such a shocking allegation? She must have completely lost control of herself.

Edward had no doubt committed the usual indiscretions, but nothing could warrant an accusation of dishonesty! To expect a man to behave without fault for thirty years of marriage was asking too much; any woman knew that. One accepted such things, and bore them with fortitude and, above all, with dignity.

But to keep a mistress, to set up an establishment and provide regular financial assistance was quite a different matter. It was unpardonable. How dare Sarah suggest such a thing! Whatever she had discovered about Dominic, to blacken her father’s name in such a way was inexcusable. It could not possibly have any foundation.

Could it?

Grandmama was considering the impossibility of Edward’s behaving in such a manner, when Charlotte came in. She also looked grim and decidedly strained. Still, she was a peculiar girl, most impractical and given to unreliable moods. Possibly she was also disappointed in Dominic. Very foolish, her infatuation with Dominic. She really should have grown out of such childish romances by now.

“What’s the matter with you, Charlotte?” she demanded. “Surely you haven’t been listening to Sarah’s foolish vapourings?” Charlotte turned round sharply. Grandmama took another breath. “She is naturally somewhat upset to discover Dominic is fallible, but she will get over it, if you help instead of wilting around like something out of a tragic poem. Pull yourself together, girl, and stop being selfish.”

“And Mama?” Charlotte said bitterly. “Will she pull herself together and get over it as well?”

“There is nothing to get over!” Grandmama snapped. “I’m surprised that you should be so foolish, and so gullible as to believe Sarah. Can’t you see she is upset?”

“Of course she’s upset! So am I. If you are not upset by it, I can only presume that your moral standards are different from mine!”

That was really too much! Grandmama felt outrage rise inside her till she found it hard to catch her breath. Charlotte’s insolence was beyond any bounds she could tolerate.

“Certainly my standards are different from yours!” she said acidly. “I did not fall in love with my sister’s husband!”

“I’m perfectly sure you never fell in love at all,” Charlotte said icily.

“I never lost control of myself,” Grandmama said viciously, “if that is what you mean by ‘falling in love.’ I do not consider an emotional excess any excuse for immoral behaviour. And if you had been properly brought up, neither would you!”

That was the chance Charlotte had been waiting for. Her face lit with fierce triumph. “You are hoist with your own petard, Grandmama. If upbringing is to blame, what happened to Papa? How is it that you did not explain to him that one does not betray one’s wife and children by keeping a mistress for twenty-five years!”

Grandmama felt the blood rush to her face. She was dizzy with outrage, fear—and the fact that her stays were extremely tight.

“How dare you repeat such malicious and irresponsible lies! Go to your room! If it would not be both embarrassing and hurtful to your father, I should demand that you apologize to him.”

“I’m sure it would be embarrassing, to both of you,” Charlotte said with a cynical smile. “You would see from his face that he is guilty, and then you would be obliged to retract your words, and a good many of your ideas.”

“Nonsense!” Grandmama said icily. She would not have Edward criticized by this insolent child. How dare Sarah have spread this slander everywhere? It was unforgivable. “I dare say your father may have indulged in certain tastes—gentlemen do—but nothing dishonest, or dishonourable, as you suggest. To talk of betrayal is ridiculous!”

Charlotte’s lip curled with disgust. “I admired Dominic, although I never did anything about it, never even spoke, and I am immoral; yet Papa keeps a mistress for twenty-five years, buys her a house and supports her, and he is only behaving as gentlemen do; there is nothing dishonourable in it! You hyprocrite! I know there is one standard for men and another for women, but even you cannot stretch it as far as that! Why should it be unpardonable sin for a woman to betray a man, but a mere peccadillo, nothing to raise the eyebrows, if a man betrays a woman? Surely a sin is a sin, whoever commits it; only some may be extended forgiveness because of ignorance or greater weakness? Is that man’s plea, greater weakness? They are always saying it is we who are the weaker ones, or is that only physical? Are we supposed to be morally stronger?”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Charlotte!” But the sting had gone out of her reply. She was remembering Caroline’s face at breakfast. Unless she was very much mistaken, there had been the marks of tears, carefully powdered over, but Grandmama’s eyes were still perfectly good enough to see through that.

Caroline believed it.

Was it possible? Had Edward kept another woman all these years? And what kind of a woman was she?

She looked at Charlotte’s hard, hurt face.

Charlotte saw her waver, saw the doubt. Contempt flickered in her eyes.

Grandmama felt the chill of disillusion trickle through her mind, leaving her with the bleak acceptance that there must be at least some truth in this story. She had always loved Edward, clung to the image of his father in him, and in some way her own youth and the things that had been good in it. She had seen in Edward the epitome of all that is fine and admirable in a man: the best of his father, without the worst.

Now she was obliged to face the fact that she saw him this way because she saw him from a distance. Had she looked more closely, as Caroline must, she would have seen the flaws. Then this would not have been such a blow. It was not only beliefs about him, but beliefs about herself that suffered. Old values were soiled, and there was nothing new to put in their place. She felt old, and bitterly lonely. The world she belonged to had died, and the remnant of it in Edward had betrayed her.

She hated Charlotte for having exposed her to the truth. “You are not strong, Charlotte,” she said viciously in answer to the question. “You are hard. That is why Dominic chose Sarah, and not you!” She searched for something that would hurt even more. “No man will ever love you. You are totally unfeminine. Even that wretched policeman only admires you because he is vulgar and doesn’t know the qualities of a lady. He imagines that he could better himself through you. And, of course, even if you accepted him—it might well be the only offer you get—you would not raise him to your social station. He was born common and he will remain common. You would sink to his station. Which may very well be where you belong!”

Charlotte’s face was white. “You’re a vicious and ugly old woman,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t be surprised if Grandpapa kept a mistress as well, to get away from you. Perhaps she was someone gentle. Perhaps that’s where Papa learnt it. He may not be so very much to blame. That’s something I’ve learned from your vulgar policeman; how much our parents make us what we are, how they influence not only our education, our wealth or poverty, our social standing, but our beliefs as well. When I look at you, I realize maybe Papa is not as much at fault as I thought.”

And with that she turned and went out the door, leaving Grandmama gasping for breath, her throat tight, her stays digging into her like knives. She cried out for help, hoping instinctively to elicit pity, but Charlotte had closed the door.

Luncheon was awful. It was eaten in almost total silence, and afterwards everyone made separate excuses to leave as soon as possible. Emily said she was going out to the dressmaker’s and would Mama accompany her, to prevent her being in the streets alone? Grandmama gave a vicious look to Charlotte and said she was retiring upstairs, as she felt profoundly unwell. Sarah expressed a desire to visit Martha Prebble, a sympathetic and virtuous woman. The vicar’s house might be a little self-consciously righteous, but freedom from carnal thoughts and the sins of the flesh were coming to appeal to her more and more.