Love and Marriage at Harpers, page 13
Beth read the short note several times. The handwriting was her aunt’s, but it wasn’t her phrasing. Aunt Helen would never be so short; her letters had always rambled and been filled with news. Beth still had some from the time of her mother’s death, when her aunt had invited her to come and stay. She found them in her things and compared them, frowning over the formation of some letters. It was Aunt Helen’s writing and yet it wasn’t – and Beth sensed that either her aunt had been forced to write the letter or it had been difficult for her to write.
The idea that Aunt Helen was being bullied was growing in her mind. That evening, she told Jack what she feared and he looked serious, nodding in agreement as he looked at the letter and compared it with others from Aunt Helen.
‘I’m sure someone was up there when I visited, Jack – and I don’t think she has a cat and this letter looks wrong…’
‘It doesn’t look quite the same, though it is similar,’ he agreed. ‘I think you might be right, Beth. I didn’t like that chap the only time I met him. I’ve met his sort on the ships. They seem to imagine that they have the right to ride roughshod over everyone else… charming and polite until someone upsets them and then they react like snarling wolves. One of them was a peer of the realm, but I saw him strike his wife viciously when he didn’t realise I was in their suite turning down beds…’
‘What can I do to help her?’ Beth asked and Jack shook his head.
‘I asked Lady Treverne if she would like me to be a witness against her husband and she denied he had hit her – told me I was mistaken and gave me five pounds for my trouble…’
‘It’s pride, I think,’ Beth said. ‘Aunt Helen wouldn’t have told me anything if I hadn’t seen the bruises on her wrist. I just wish I could help her.’
‘You can’t unless she asks for help,’ Jack said. ‘We can only surmise something is going on – unless we can find proof…’
‘Will you come with me next week, please?’
‘On Thursday…’ Jack hesitated and then nodded. ‘Yes, of course I will, Beth. I’m not sure what we can do even if he is hitting her – but at least we might let him know that we know. He might restrain himself if he thinks we’re watching him…’
‘Yes…’ Beth was thoughtful. ‘I’m almost sure she was upstairs that day, Jack. I think she may have had bruises she couldn’t hide and so he made her stay out of the way…’
‘Men like that are disgusting,’ Jack replied. ‘I’d like to give him a thrashing – see how he feels on the wrong end of a beating…’
‘Please, don’t,’ Beth said. ‘Aunt Helen wouldn’t thank you – and Gerald is the sort that would press charges. You would be the one in trouble, Jack.’
‘I know…’ He looked rueful. ‘But one of these days he’ll be caught out and then nothing will save him.’
Beth couldn’t wait for her next half day and she and Jack went in his little car to visit Aunt Helen. This time, her aunt answered the door herself, smiling and asking them into the sitting room, where a tea of sandwiches and cakes had been prepared.
‘I’m sorry you had a wasted journey last week,’ she said. ‘Gerald wasn’t in the best of moods, I’m afraid. He didn’t see why I should visit my friend, but I couldn’t ignore her, Beth. She was in such distress…’
‘I’m sorry she was in trouble. I hope she is better now, Aunt Helen,’ Beth said. ‘And how is your cat now?’
‘What cat? Really, Beth, you know I dislike them…’ Aunt Helen frowned. ‘My friend is better now, thank you…’
Her aunt’s excuse sounded plausible and her smile seemed real, but Beth noticed that the ruffles at her wrist were tight and she thought she caught sight of a white bandage beneath. She’d assumed the cat was Gerald’s but now she was almost sure there had never been a cat, which meant someone had been upstairs and Gerald had lied to her – but why didn’t Aunt Helen open up to her and tell her what he’d done? Was she just too upset or embarrassed to talk and did Beth have the right to force her? Surely, Aunt Helen would tell her if she was really scared?
‘I wanted to ask if you felt up to making my bridesmaids dresses,’ Beth said after a few minutes thought. ‘There will be three of them, all adults, and I’ll bring their measurements – and they could come for a fitting or you could come to ours.’
‘I think it best if I come to you,’ Aunt Helen said. ‘Gerald goes on little trips every few weeks. For his business, I believe…’ She hesitated, then, ‘If I came while he’s away, it would be better… he doesn’t like me to have people he doesn’t know here, but he won’t stop me coming to you.’
The nervous look in her eyes prompted Beth to ask, ‘Is everything all right, Aunt Helen? I know you’re not as happy as you expected to be when you married – but if you were frightened or hurt in any way, I would help you…’
‘Please do not be foolish, dear,’ Aunt Helen said. She glanced nervously at Jack as if wondering whether he would believe her. ‘I expect I was a selfish woman set in my ways. I’ve had to learn that I’m married now and a gentleman expects his wife to do as he asks and look after him. If I said anything stupid last time you came, I was just feeling upset and you should forget it.’
Aunt Helen bent over the teapot, refreshing it with hot water from the silver-plated kettle on the stand that she had beside her chair. Beth shot a look at Jack and he shook his head. She let the words that sprang to her lips go unspoken, because if her aunt did not want to tell her the truth, there was no use in pressing her.
‘I am very fond of you, Beth,’ Aunt Helen said and pressed her hand as they left. ‘One day, you may discover how fond. I regret that I did not show it more when we lived together, but I did not realise how fortunate I was to have such a loving niece. I do hope you and Jack will visit when you can – and that you will have a long and happy life together…’
‘Oh, Aunt Helen, take care of yourself,’ Beth said a little sob in her voice. ‘I do love you and if you need me just let me know…’
Jack looked at her when the door had shut and they were sitting in his little roadster. ‘She is nervous, Beth,’ he said, ‘but she won’t tell you what is wrong – particularly not when I’m there. I think he has hit her. I moved my hand towards her as she was reaching for a slice of cake and she flinched.’
‘Oh, Jack…’ Beth looked back at the house in distress. ‘What can I do?’
‘Only what you are doing,’ he said. ‘You will need to see your aunt more often because of the bridesmaids’ dresses and that will give her more opportunity to tell you what’s on her mind.’
‘Do you think it is pride that is holding her back – or fear?’
‘Probably a mixture of both,’ Jack replied. ‘Gerald isn’t the only husband who intimidates his wife, far from it. Some of them use violence and some just inflict scorn and belittle their wives. On the ships, we stewards saw it all the time. I should say Gerald has used both scorn and physical abuse to make your aunt fear him.’
‘So I’m not imagining it?’
‘In my opinion, your aunt has been bullied into submission. Gerald fears that you might go to the police and that is why he has allowed her to see you today. She said he was out, but I think he was in the house, keeping out of the way. He might even have been in the next room, listening.’
‘No wonder she lied! He is a nasty piece of work,’ Beth said and felt worried. ‘I’m frightened for her, Jack, but if she won’t let me, I can’t rescue her.’
‘What could you do for her?’ Jack asked. ‘If he is the kind of man I imagine him to be, he would fetch her back if she left him…’
‘Then she has to stay there and put up with him?’ Beth looked at Jack, but he was concentrating on the road as he drove off into the traffic.
‘I think she has accepted that,’ Jack said and indicated he was turning left with a flourish out of the window. His arm signal was clear and they turned at the next corner into a quieter road. Jack risked a glance at her. ‘I think there are a lot of women in your aunt’s situation, Beth. Some men are controlling brutes.’
Beth nodded because he was right. ‘Some women like to control too,’ she said, ‘but they use emotional blackmail rather than brute force.’
‘And that is just as wrong as the other way,’ Jack said. He pulled on the brake, stopping the car and turned to look at her. ‘Marriage should be for love and an equal partnership, Beth. I love you and I want to marry you soon, but you have to want it too and sometimes I think I’m rushing you…’ His eyes were serious as he looked at her and she found she was crying, the tears trickling silently down her cheeks because he was such a lovely man and she flung herself against him.
‘I do love you so much, and I want to be married,’ she said emotionally. ‘I like my job, but if we had our own hotel I’d enjoy helping you, Jack.’
He smiled and touched her cheek, brushing the tears away. ‘You can keep working at Harper’s until you’re ready to give up,’ he said. ‘Perhaps by then I’ll have something we can either buy or rent ourselves. It’s what I want, Beth, to run a little hotel – or a pub – between us, and bring up a family.’
‘It’s what I want too,’ she said and kissed his cheek, because in that moment she felt good with his strong arms around her and it was all she wanted.
Later, when she was in bed, Beth thought about Aunt Helen. It was so sad that she’d waited all those years to marry, looking after her domineering father until he died and then earning her living successfully for years. What had made her choose a man who would seek to dominate her? Was it something in her character that made her pick a man similar in manner and attitude to her father?
Beth tossed restlessly for a while before she could sleep. Jack was right; Aunt Helen wasn’t the only wife who suffered the bullying of her husband. Until and unless she spoke out against him, there was nothing anyone could do to help her.
18
Sally was at her desk when Ben Harper walked in that morning towards the end of May. The sun was shining outside and she was feeling pleased with herself, because the new summer stock had come in on time, been checked and was all correct. It was amazing how often items were either missing or damaged and she had to spend time chasing the manufacturers for replacements, but that day everything was just as it should be.
‘It is a beautiful spring morning,’ her employer said. ‘Or is it summer?’
‘I think we are officially still spring,’ Sally replied. ‘However, the weather has got ahead of itself. I shouldn’t wonder it will meet itself coming back…’
Ben Harper threw back his head and laughed, seeming genuinely delighted. ‘You English do have some quaint sayings…’
Sally looked at him, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. ‘Do you know, Mr Harper, some of us think the Americans have a very peculiar way of speaking at times.’
His eyes met hers and she saw a gleam of something in his that made her heart jump and then beat faster. ‘I think that’s the first time you’ve actually teased me, Sally,’ he said and smiled. ‘I hope it means we’re going to be friends – and you’ll drop the Mr and call me Ben, won’t you please?’
‘It doesn’t seem respectful at work,’ Sally replied. ‘I don’t want the staff to get the wrong idea…’
‘And what if it wasn’t the wrong idea?’ he asked and his eyes were mocking her. ‘I’m afraid this conversation is going to have to wait for another time, Sally, delightful as it is – I have an appointment with my bank…’
‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous?’
‘Not business, a personal matter. I want to buy a house or a larger apartment and I may need a bridging loan until I can sell the one I have…’
‘Well, good luck,’ Sally said and glanced at the little watch pinned to her smart black dress. ‘I have an appointment with Mr Marco. We’re discussing a series of windows for the summer and he asked me if I could source some rowing items he wants for his regatta window…’
‘Sounds fascinating,’ Ben said. ‘I wish I could stay, but needs must when the devil drives…’ His eyes narrowed as laughter bubbled up in her. ‘Surely you know that one?’
‘Oh yes,’ Sally agreed. ‘One of the nuns at my orphanage was very fond of using it when she made us scrub out the latrines…’
His eyebrows went up and he shook his head.
Sally was amused as she saw him laughing to himself as he went off. At least he seemed in a better mood now…
‘You are so clever, Miss Sally Ross,’ Mr Marco said when she gave him the list of contacts for rowing materials she’d made on his behalf. ‘I think the store would grind to a halt without you…’
‘You’re a flatterer, sir,’ Sally said, but she was smiling. Everyone liked Mr Marco, because he never seemed to have moods, was always cheerful, helpful and friendly. Only a few of the meaner kind whispered behind his back and Sally wasn’t one to take notice of gossips. She turned to the business at hand. ‘I think it’s a good idea to feature all the main sporting events of the summer in the windows.’
‘The English love their cricket, the rowing regattas and the horse racing,’ Mr Marco said. ‘Also the tennis and the garden parties; it is joyous to dress the windows for summer, but already we must think about the autumn and winter – and this is not so easy I think…’
‘I had an idea for an Eastern theme,’ Sally said. ‘Something similar to a Turkish bazaar or an Ali Baba scene…’
Mr Marco’s eyes sparkled with interest and a big smile spread across his face. ‘I think Ben Harper was luckier than he knew when he promoted you, Miss Sally Ross. I thank you for your help – to plan so many original windows is not easy, but together we go well – yes?’
‘We certainly think along the same lines,’ Sally said and laughed. ‘Have a nice weekend, Mr Marco…’
‘I hope to,’ he said, but a shadow passed across his face and for a moment she caught a fleeting sadness. ‘We must see what happens, no?’
Sally nodded and left him to his work. Mr Marco was a bit of a mystery, because no one seemed to know where he came from or who he really was, but he was undoubtedly an artist in many ways and in his room were great rolls of silk, paper and all the bits and pieces he needed to set the scene for his fantastic displays. She thought it was almost like the backstage of a theatre, with the paraphernalia of a scene painter. The window dresser created wonderful backdrops for his windows, which made them original and often drew crowds to admire them. Sally had actually seen Mr Harry Selfridge standing outside on a couple of occasions and she knew he prided himself on his windows. It was a wonder he hadn’t tried to poach Mr Marco…
‘What will you do tomorrow?’ Rachel asked Sally when they left work that Saturday evening. ‘I’m going out with friends, Beth is visiting Fred’s family and Maggie is meeting a friend for tea – it rather leaves you on your own…’
‘Oh, I’ll catch up on work, probably wash my hair and then go for a walk in the park…’
Rachel looked concerned. ‘You should find something outside work, Sally. I know you love your job – but you ought to be courting…’
‘I’m fine,’ Sally said, ‘don’t worry about me, Rachel. I can amuse myself.’
However, after her friends left on Sunday morning, Sally found she was too restless to stay indoors. The sun was shining and she wanted to be out in its warmth, even if she was alone. Shrugging on a light jacket, she left the flat and headed for the park, walking through streets that were frequented by people in holiday mood.
Sally hadn’t bothered to pack herself something to eat, so she found a little café and bought a sandwich and a cup of tea and then entered Hyde Park, strolling by the lake and through the gardens, which were bright with spring flowers. The sun had brought everyone out and she was watching a small boy playing with a hoop and smiling when she became aware of an altercation and her eyes were drawn to an ugly scene. Two men were being jeered by a group of men in rough clothing with cloth caps. Even as she watched, one of them threw a clod of earth picked from the flower beds at the two men. In that instant, Sally recognised one of the men as Mr Marco. The other man was younger, had a gentle soft face that was almost girlish and she’d seen them together before.
‘Bloody queers…’ she heard the louts yell at them and saw the way the young man flinched in fear. Mr Marco looked anxious, his eyes darting about as if he thought they were about to be set upon. ‘Filthy buggers…’
Without thinking, Sally marched up to Mr Marco and his friend. She flung her arms about Mr Marco and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, darling,’ she said loudly. ‘And your cousin – I’ve wanted to meet you and congratulate you on your engagement to Maria…’
Turning, Sally faced the louts, her arm linked with Mr Marco and his friend, her eyes fierce and glinting with anger, daring the louts to come near her.
For a moment they stood glaring at her and muttering beneath their breath, then their leader turned away and they slunk off without another word.
Mr Marco looked shaken and his friend was shuddering. ‘Thank you, Miss Ross,’ Mr Marco said. ‘Julien was frightened, because his father has threatened to cut him off from the family if he becomes involved in a scandal… and this is not the first time we’ve been attacked…’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Sally said. ‘I shouldn’t have barged in, but I couldn’t stand by and let them insult you both…’
‘You are a very brave and lovely young woman,’ Mr Marco said. ‘We are used to the insults, but they looked as if they meant more.’
‘Thank you,’ Julien said, finding his voice. ‘You were kind…’
‘I’m glad I was here…’ Sally turned to leave, but Mr Marco caught her arm.
‘You did us a favour, Miss Ross – may we take you to lunch?’
‘Yes, why not?’ Sally said and smiled at them. Her presence would make it easier for them to dine somewhere nice and she was happy to be seen with her friends. ‘I’d love to have lunch with you…’
