Once and for Always, page 16
Once and for always, Bea had told him. She had meant ‘forever’ but she also loved him ‘in all ways.’ He would strive to his last breath to deserve her.
The intense moment passed and he kissed her.
That, too, passed far too quickly. He had things to do. Commitments he had forgotten in his haste to see her. And he had a marriage to arrange.
Bea gave him the letter she had written to Jane. It was long and disjointed but she knew Jane would understand. ‘I will take this to Mrs Hastings myself,’ Simon told her when it was time for him to leave. He smiled ruefully. ‘I hope she receives the news better than Dora and Freddie.’
Jane responded to Bea’s letter by coming to Little Moorings in person. She had been impressed by Lord Ridgeworth’s manner when he delivered the letter but was worried by the speed of their decision to wed. Bea had said she had never met Ridgeworth and there had certainly been no mention at all of a Simon and a long acquaintance.
Bea greeted her friend warmly and the ladies retired to the parlour.
‘Bea, don’t you think you are being a little rash? What do you really know about Lord Ridgeworth?
‘I love him and I know he loves me,’ Bea replied with a dreamy smile. ‘I probably did not explain it very well in my letter.
A detailed explanation carried them through the afternoon. Finally, Jane was reassured and really, she had no right to try to influence Bea one way or the other. She took a copy of that morning’s Times from her bag and opened it at the announcements page. ‘Lord Ridgeworth did not waste any time in announcing your betrothal.’
Simon had been very careful of the wording of the notice. There was no mention of Bea’s marital status, just her name and ‘daughter of John Hastings Esq. (dec’d).
‘Ridgeworth made a formal call on Michael before he gave me your letter. It was a thoughtful gesture and did more for Michael’s esteem than all the Trustees’ lectures put together.’
‘I agree,’ Bea replied. ‘It was not really necessary as I am of age but Michael is my closest male relative. I would like him to stand in my father’s place and give me away. Do you think he will agree? And I hope you will help me to arrange the wedding. I have no idea where to start.’
Jane was delighted. ‘I have not told the girls yet. They are spending a few days with my sister and their cousins so I was able to come immediately.’
Bea asked, hesitantly, ‘Will Violet be very upset? She wanted Simon herself.’
‘Oh, that was just a silly notion.,’ Jane laughed. ‘When we went to Lessing for Christmas, she became re-acquainted with a young man who had shown interest last year. I think I will be arranging another wedding before the end of this Season.’
Dora had been busy taking her things up to an attic room and remaking the bed in her room for Bea’s guest. She had also set Freddie to preparing the dining room for the ladies’ dinner. There would be no more cosy suppers around the kitchen table. As nice as Dora had found Mrs Hastings last year, there was a definite line between servants and family. And she made that clear to Freddie. ‘No greeting his lordship like an old friend if you should meet him.’
Dora had already been put in her place. Mrs Hastings had not brought her own maid and assumed Dora would help her to dress. It was not arrogance, just the way things were done in her circle. The footman who had accompanied her had been sent back to Felixstowe with the hired cab and told to find himself a bed and return next day.
Dora also made the differing statuses clear to Bea but without revealing her own ruffled feelings. ‘You are going to be a titled lady. We all have to start as we mean to go on.’ Bea hugged her friend with tears in her eyes. ‘Dear Dora, we may have to behave differently in public but you will always be my dearest friend.’
Bea was not looking forward to being thrust into critical high society. Her mother had been a lady and taught Bea her manners but had no personal experience to pass on. All either of them of them knew was from reading the novels they were both addicted to.
Jane reassured her with words reminiscent of John Hastings. ‘Just be yourself.’
Next morning Bea went to see the Cornish’s who had already been told of the embrace on the river-bank. They offered congratulations and Mr Cornish kindly ordered out his carriage to take Bea to see the Vicar to have the banns read. The vicar also showed concern for her welfare. ‘This is very sudden, Miss Hastings. You are sure the gentleman really intends to marry you? You have not just been swept of your feet because he is wealthy and titled?’ Bea had to show him the newspaper notice before he agreed to post the Banns.
Next, Bea went to see Mrs Potley, with instructions to close the house up until further notice. Mrs Potley fished for more information but Bea just thanked her for her service and paid her a month’s wages.
Whilst Bea was out Jane had again, inadvertently, trodden on Dora’s toes. She instructed Dora on which of Bea’s dresses to pack saying Miss Hastings would be getting a whole new wardrobe. Dora said, Yes, ma’am,’ and waited until Mrs Hastings left the room before adding two of Bea’s favourite gowns and several accessories to the trunk. Mrs Hastings had also said to leave, ‘That battered old bag,’ behind but nothing would have persuaded Dora to relinquish charge of the old satchel of precious documents.
Bea took one look at Dora’s face and asked what was wrong. ‘Nothing Miss Hastings. We have just been a bit rushed.’
Bea gave Dora hug. ‘Don’t you dare call me Miss Hastings, or even Lady Ridgeworth when we are alone. You are, and always will be the next best thing to a mother.’
Dora wiped the tears from her eyes and gave a watery smile. ‘His lordship said I was his almost mother-in-law.’
Next morning, on the train journey back to London Jane opened the topic of new clothes. With all the subtlety she could manage Bea drew Dora into the conversation and the time passed pleasantly. Discussing fashion with one’s maid appeared to be quite acceptable!
Chapter 19
The next month was a whirl of activity. First and foremost, the need to dress Bea in the expected manner. She saw little of Simon and spent even less time alone with him. He had a backlog of work to catch up on, apologises to make for broken appointments and non-appearance at social events. Every stolen moment from their other activities was precious and only stoked their impatience to be married and left alone.
Simon had given Bea a ring of twisted gold with a stone as blue as his eyes. ‘To remind you of me,’ he said holding the ring to the side of his face. ‘As if I could ever forget you,’ Rea replied with a smile full of promise. Whoever it was who opened the door and saw them kissing, went quietly away.
As soon as the first of her new gowns arrived Bea was taken to afternoon teas by Jane and to a concert by Simon. She could feel everyone’s curiosity like a finger on the back of her neck. Simon was a prize matrimonial catch and there were some very disappointed ladies. Although nothing was said directly to Bea, people did not always lower their voices when she was near. Hints were dropped about Simon’s beautiful first wife. Why had Lord Ridgeworth chosen a widow of mediocre looks, advanced age and obscure background when there were so many lovely young ladies in Society to choose from? And why was Miss Hastings not using her married name? Bea’s former marriage was known from her visit the year before although Fleming had never been mentioned by name. Hints of the marriage being too unhappy for discussion were remembered but Bea still remained an target for gossip.
Bea lived in dread of being addressed as Mrs Fleming. Their story of being romantically parted lovers held its ground but her fear never went away completely.
Simon set aside one afternoon to take Bea to meet Cynthia. She had not mentioned the child again and that scratched at Simon’s conscience. In his experience ladies kept on and on about a topic they wished to discuss.
The visit was not a success. His former mother-in-law, Mrs Prentiss, was a now widow and lived in a pleasant house close to Hampstead Heath, not at all the kind of residence she had envisaged when she connived with her daughter to catch a wealthy Viscount. The Prentiss’ had lived beyond their means for many years and banked on their beautiful daughter providing them with a more than just comfortable retirement.
Mrs Prentiss was not pleased to see Simon with his intended bride and did not mince her words. ‘How could he replace my lovely daughter so soon?’, was spoken once and silently repeated by a shake of her head every time she looked at Bea.
After requesting that Cynthia be brought down, Simon sat tight lipped while Bea tried to build a bridge that might be crossed sometime in the future. When Bea had asked about the child’s education and friends, Mrs Prentiss had been quite rude. ‘I trained her mother to be a lady. Cynthia will be taught all she needs to know.’ Bea did not press the matter but she could not help thinking Mrs Prentiss had made a poor job of turning her daughter into a lady. Having Cynthia to live with them was not mentioned.
Meeting Cynthia was not much better. The child looked confused and even frightened when Simon approached her. She smiled tentatively at Bea but the grandmother intervened when Bea tried to get the little girl to sit next to her. Bea had never had much to do with young children but she had a feeling Cynthia was not happy. Thinking back to her own early years Bea could remember being curious about everyone and everything. By contrast Cynthia was like a little puppet who stood listlessly until her grandmother told her to say, ‘Good morning’ and ‘Good-bye.’
‘Well?’ Simon asked when they left. ‘I imagine my character has been thoroughly blackened judging by Cynthia’s reaction.’
Bea tried to convince him that Cynthia was just shy. She felt sorry for the lonely little girl and sorry for Simon, too. There was nothing she could do now but made a resolve to bring them together somehow.
A visit Jane arranged for Bea to meet her grandmother was a resounding success.
It had been a bitter-sweet surprise when, early in the New Year, Jane had written to say Bea’s grandmother wanted to meet her. The old lady was nearly blind and all her letters had to be read out to her so Jane had waited until she visited to say John’s daughter had been found. In an exchange of letters Bea said she had assumed her grandmother was dead. Jane had apologised for the misunderstand. Grandmother Hastings had only been mentioned when they looked at her portrait and Bea’s visit had been too short to cover every subject.
Mrs Hastings senior lived in the one of Michael’s smaller properties in Surrey. They went by carriage as there was no railway station close by and they would be staying overnight.
Bea was so excited she hardly noticed the scenery as the carriage moved from the wide, clean streets of Mayfair into the dingier surrounding of South London. Once clear of the outskirts Jane said they did not have much further to go.
Bea was perched on the edge of her seat when the carriage drew up before a relatively small house set in its own grounds. She recognised it immediately from a small painting she had found hidden in her father’s desk when she cleared his things. This was where Papa had grown up and he had kept the painting as the only tangible link with his childhood.
They were expected and swiftly shown up to the drawing room. Mrs Hastings senior might have been nearly blind but her hearing was acute. She was already on her feet when they entered the room. She moved confidently towards the sound of Jane’s voice as she said, ‘Here we are, Mama.’
‘Beatrice!’ the older lady sighed, holding out her hands in welcome. ‘Come here dear child and kiss your Grandmama.’
Bea’s grandmother was not ancient and retained signs of earlier beauty. Grey hair surrounded her smiling face and only her almost-white eyes betrayed her disability.
Bea took her hands and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Still holding one hand Mrs Hastings towed Bea to a sofa on the far side of the sunny room. ‘Let me see you,’ she said. Bea was confused until her grandmother gently traced the contours of her face with shaking hands. ‘Do you look like your mother? I only met her once and my sight was already fading. I wish I had been allowed to know her.’
Jane quietly left the room, unoffended that she had been forgotten.
There were so many questions and answers. So many sorrows and mysteries to be explained. Seated close together Bea did more listening than speaking and absorbed her father’s background like dry earth welcomes a shower of rain.
She heard that her grandfather had forbidden any contact with his errant son. He was a neglectful husband but at the same time possessive by monitoring all his wife’s correspondence and contacts. Mrs Hastings had been isolated for most of her married life but only really unhappy when her boys were sent to school. John had visited whenever he could until the fateful day that he brought his wife to be introduced. It was unfortunate that it coincided with one of her husband’s infrequent visits.
‘I have to say he was not overly concerned about either John’s marriage or choice of wife. His main worry was what his father, the old Viscount would say.’ Mr Hastings had lost no time in dragging his son and daughter-in-law up to London to be presented to the old man. Mrs Hastings shook her head sadly. ‘I believe Jane has told you the outcome of that visit. His ultimatum was cruel and unjust. I only know what actually happened from my husband’s account but it would have been quite in character for my father-in-law to try to control John and for my husband to follow his lead.’ She paused to wipe tears from her eyes and Bea moved closer to place an arm about her grandmother’s bent shoulders. ‘Although it broke my heart never to see John again, I was proud of him for standing by his chosen wife. I only heard about your birth long after the event. When John died my husband said, ‘Good riddance.’
Bea was shocked at such cruelty. ‘I only heard about you recently,’ Bea replied softly. ‘Even if I had known I could not have made contact. Papa never mentioned his past and I did not know the reason for the family rift.’
Bea heard more about her father’s childhood. His shyness and stammer drew contempt and his steadfast refusal to follow the tradition of selfish idleness lowered him further in the male members of the family’s regard.
Oh Papa, Bea thought. I am sorry I never understood or appreciated you enough.
In her turn, Bea was able to tell her grandmother about her father in later life. ‘He was always rather shy but I believe he was happy in his marriage and was a wonderful father to me.’
‘He cared for others,’ Mrs Hastings continued. ‘I am thankful he had a friend who was closer than his brother. Robert was an unhappy boy.’
Bea tensed and her grandmother asked what was wrong. ‘Was his name Robert Robinson Fleming?’ At a nod, Bea said, ‘He remained a family friend and said he owed Papa a debt he could never repay. Please continue.’
‘What was I saying? Ah, yes. Robert spent his holidays with us because his father had, well, doubted his parentage. He had Robert educated and then cast him off. You say you knew him?’
Unable to help herself, Bea poured out the whole story. Mrs Hastings frowned and shook her head. ‘I would never have believed that Robert could play such a cruel trick.’
‘No!’ Bea rushed to Rob’s defence. ‘It was not like that.’ Her Grandmother listened, sometimes tutting, sometimes shaking her head.
‘When did you find out he was married?’
‘Only after he died. His wife came to see me. It was her friend, Lady Leith who put me in touch with Jane.’
They carried on, comparing memories until Mrs Hastings said they needed tea after so much talking and suddenly remembered Jane. She reached out an unerring hand and rang a small bell on the table beside her. Bea had been so focused on her grandmother she had not even looked around the room. Now she noticed that the furniture was widely spaced. Several chairs had similar small tables beside them, each with a bell. There were no un-necessary knick-knacks or hazards to prevent Mrs Hastings moving around or calling for assistance if needed.
When Jane joined them, Mrs Hastings apologised for not greeting her. Jane kissed her and said Margaret had come to take tea with them. It was a tactful way of announcing the middle-aged lady who had followed her into the room. Margaret was introduced as ‘My companion and guardian angel.’
Margaret gave an impish grin and joked, ‘That is why I have so many grey hairs.’ Affection shone in her eyes whenever she glanced at her employer and Bea was glad to see how relaxed they were together. Margaret poured the tea carried in by a maid. She placed the saucer precariously close to the edge of the table but in the exact place Mrs Hastings expected it to be. She had a pleasant voice and a way of alerting Mrs Hastings to events beyond her range of vision without sounding as though she was giving instructions. She was always alert to her employer’s needs and seemed to know when the old lady wanted something without being asked. Bea was impressed and pleased that her grandmother had such caring servants.
After they had drunk their tea, Mrs Hastings led the way out to her garden. She carried a stick but only used it to locate the top step before descending into the garden. Margaret was never far away but did not offer assistance. She did look around and gave warning of an obstacle by saying the garden boy had left his wheelbarrow by the fountain.
All the flower beds were raised to about knee height, mostly empty except those filled with fragrant herbs. Bea was told the name of each and that, later in the year, they would be joined by other sweet-smelling flowers.
Bea thought if one were blind, this would be an assessable and joyful retreat. They wandered around for a short while until the distant sound of a gong warned them it was time for dinner.
Dinner was served by the cheerful housekeeper. She named each item as it was placed, clockwise, on the old lady’s plate. There was nothing that required cutting or copious gravy that could drip onto her clothing. The conversation was general and they discussed items Margaret had read out from the newspapers. ’She is a treasure,’ Mrs Hastings said when Margaret suggested that Bea should be shown the scrapbook when they returned to the drawing room.
