Authors: Loretta Proctor
'While their mortal flesh lies a-rotting. How strange a thought!'
The cab at last threaded its way into Trafalgar Square where the Royal Academy now shared premises with the National Gallery and Fred asked to alight.
'Oh, of course, you wished to go to the Academy,' said Mrs Witherspoon. 'I often visit it myself for I love to see the pictures. Do you plan to see anything in particular?'
'No, I'll just wander around a little.'
Fred paid the cabman and told him to take the lady wherever she now intended to go.
'I thank you, sir,' she said and held out a gloved hand. He took it and bowed a little while she smiled and inclined her head in farewell.
'I hope we will meet again, sir,' she said, 'remember to make an offer to Mr. Millbank for his pictures of Jessie. I want them all and will pay handsomely.'
'I will speak to him,' Fred said and watched the cab roll away.
He turned and entered the Academy a thoughtful and troubled man.
Chapter 24
Later in the year, Fred decided to go back to Manchester and Birmingham where the wealthier and keener patrons now abounded. Apart from Henry's work, for which he already had many interested patrons, he also took along the paintings of a friend called Walter Markham whose work was mediocre but sold well – appealing, in Fred's opinion, to a general lack of public taste. Amongst the usual banality of pretty children and biblical scenes was one of Markham's better watercolours, a deserted but evocative seaside scene near Bamborough which Fred sold to an interested buyer in Leeds, having procured the rights to make prints from it which he felt sure would make him a nice fat profit.
During his stay in Leeds he met up again with Thomas Oldham. Fred was polite but distant. Oldham, however, ignored this and, as if determined to win his young friend round again, behaved with the utmost charm and dignity. It was not long before his stronger personality managed to capture once more the trusting younger man.
On their return to London together by train, Oldham proposed a night out on the town.
'Come, my dear fellow, we have just concluded a few very remunerative deals. Should we not be allowed to celebrate a little?'
Fred considered the matter. Ellie had gone off with the children to stay once more at Oreton Hall where arrangements were now being made for Charlotte's marriage to Jack Pendleton. He had agreed to join them later in the month when the wedding was due to take place. Wedding arrangements and fluttering women and their clothes and household considerations were likely to be very boring and without the supportive male company of Joshua Farnham, his father-in-law, he would feel out of it all. He was therefore alone once more in the house but, hating his own company, spent his evenings either at his club, his parents' home, or round at Henry Winstone's place. The latter was seldom a cheerful experience; the two men sitting drinking whisky till the small hours in a mutual state of maudlin self-pity over their sense of desertion. Oldham, however, was a cheerful sort of fellow and would surely be more amusing company. So Fred agreed to join Oldham for dinner at his club.
After a very agreeable supper, Oldham suggested they took a cab to the Holborn casino and amuse themselves with a little flutter or two. Fred demurred, for he was not a gambling man.
'It's too late, I suppose, to go to a theatre,' he said.
'Oh, yes, they won't let us in now. And you don't strike me as a music hall man or we could have gone along to the Orlando, so I suppose we might as well go for a stroll and see where our feet will take us,' replied Oldham with a smile.
'Do you really like music halls? They seem the haunt of some rather sordid people.'
Oldham laughed a trifle mockingly and said, 'You are far too dainty, sir. Of course, the music hall is entertaining. No need to wear a tailcoat, no need to worry about etiquette and other people's opinions. The atmosphere is free and easy and men and women sit down together and sing, drink, laugh and enjoy themselves. None of this false culture one gets in so-called smart society. Give me a jolly nigger song any day to sing along with rather than those screeching, over-sized females at the opera.'
'Frankly,' said Fred firmly, 'I prefer to see people elegantly dressed and courteous when out together. Courtesy doesn't need to be overbearing niceties and elaborate forms. It should be gentle and natural and spring from a caring for one's fellow men and women. I don't expect I would find much courtesy or elegance in a music hall and so, Mr Oldham, I prefer to keep away. Half the pleasure of going out of an evening is to make oneself smart, to meet pleasant and interesting people of culture, not to hear men and women sing bawdy songs.'
'Well, sir, if that is your opinion, we certainly won't go there together. I see we have different tastes in many things.'
'We do indeed. I think we must leave it at that. You are a single man, Mr Oldham, and may indulge yourself in any way you like. I have a wife and family to consider and care for and this naturally affects my attitudes and turns my interests in a different direction. I don't mean to be critical of your own tastes in any way, you understand.'
'Oh, I fully understand, my dear Mr Thorpe, I fully understand.'
As always, there was that slight mocking tone that made Fred feel angry inside. Oldham always seemed to make him feel that those things he held most dear were plebeian, boring or even ridiculous. Perhaps they were to this free and easy fellow but they were happiness to Fred. He loved his little family, he loved Ellie. What could this cold, wifeless, mercenary man know of those simple family joys? What then did such a fellow live for and what real happiness could he derive from his bachelor freedoms? Whores by the dozen, perhaps, with all the fear of infection that they might bring; the freedom to come and go as he pleased and be beholden to no one, have no one to consider but himself and his tawdry desires.
He made no comment but privately wondered if Oldham was really the gentleman he pretended to be. However, they were out for the night now and must make the best of one another's company.
Luckily, the weather was fine that evening and the two men strolled alongside the river till they reached the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens from whence issued loud music and the sound of laughter, loud voices, shouts and screams of delight.
'Oh, come on, let's go on in and find some pleasant partner with whom we might dance and drink a little,' said Oldham, 'I feel the need of some female company, don't you?'
'Not especially.'
'My dear fellow, what a wet-blanket you are! You have sent your lady wife away to Hertfordshire and here you are with a pleasant meal inside you, some dry weather by way of a change and the night is young, as they say. Can you not let your hair down like any other man now and then? Where's the harm in it? Your lady will never know and more than likely, from my experience of women, won't really care. She will be busy cooing over her children and talking endless baby talk.'
'Ellie isn't that sort of woman – she is highly intelligent and interesting,' said Fred, annoyed.
'A woman with babies is seldom anything but obsessed by them – come, admit it. Let's put it this way. Is she the woman you first fell for, lusted after?'
'She's the only woman I've ever loved.'
'That's as may be. But do you still
lust
after her? And does she oblige? There's more the point. I could bet you five guineas that, since having the little ones, she does not. Babies are a regular passion killer.'
'You have never been married. How can you know such a thing?'
Fred had to admit in his heart that Oldham was right. Of late, Ellie had shut him firmly out of her bedroom and too often in the morning the children were to be found in the bed with her, laughing and playing about while she sat sipping her chocolate and smiling with radiant joy. How he longed for her at these times; yet he couldn't even approach her to make love to her and never had the heart to send the little ones back to the nursery when they all looked so happy.
Oldham saw the shift of expression on Fred's face and added, 'I observe, my dear fellow. I observe what goes on with men and women. It is a fascinating study.'
They stopped to look at the pond with its huge statue of Neptune and his eight white sea-horses recently illumined by gaslight and looking strangely eerie in such modern lighting. The famous avenue of trees where couples could conveniently disappear amongst the bushes was as gloomy and ill lit as ever– for obvious reasons. Tabl
eaux vivantes
with various scenes from battles and other famous exploits had crowds of gaping folks about them but they passed these by as of little interest. Fred frankly found the place boring and decided that he much preferred the Cremorne Gardens, which were a little more genteel, and not as run down as the Vauxhall had become.
They took a seat at a table near the dancing platform and ordered some champagne. The music resounded about them in lively strains; faces at other tables were filled with mirth and glee, heads, hips and hands waving in time to the fiddles. One or two couples passing on the path made a little jig and waltz together in accompaniment then let each other go again, laughing and staggering occasionally as if to prove that their merriment rose as much from the frothing bubbles they had consumed as the merry jingles of the park band.
On the table next to them women were laughing raucously and Oldham spotted a lively young woman seated there, accompanied by two other girls. He rose, bowed and asked her to dance. The girl arose with alacrity and Fred watched them as they waltzed around the dance floor. He twirled his glass between his fingers and felt awkward and shy when he saw the other two eyeing him, smiling provocatively. He looked the other way. He simply couldn't summon up the courage to do anything.
'May I join you, Mr Thorpe?'
Hearing a woman's voice behind him, he turned and saw Sue Witherspoon standing there. She had a small black dog on a lead and smiled at him with that worldly air that always intrigued and frightened him. Rising, he bowed and pulled a chair over for her.
She sat down, picked the dog up and set it on her lap. This little creature looking up at her with its trusting brown eyes broke the ice. Fred laughed and ruffled its soft, silky black ears.
'I often take a stroll round here at night,' the lady observed. 'My home is nearby and I can sometimes hear the music. If I feel the need of company yet wish to be alone, I pass my time thus. It's interesting to watch the people and the amusing circus acts and so forth. It's a very entertaining place, don't you think?'
'I think I prefer the Cremorne.'
'They're much alike,' she said with a shrug. 'I suppose the Cremorne has a bigger dancing platform, that's all.'
The dances had finished temporarily and Oldham now returned after escorting his young lady to her seat amidst the giggles of her companions. He bowed to Sue, turning to Fred with an interested and enquiring look and Fred introduced them.
'Delighted to meet you, madam,' Oldham murmured and bowed low over her gloved hand in quite a romantic manner. Hardheaded as Oldham might appear in a business situation, when he was with the ladies, Fred noticed that he was full of charm and courtliness despite his apparent disdain of such things. But there was something false in his manner unlike that of Henry Winstone or Gabriel Rossetti who were genuinely courtly men. Underlying the charm was something furtive and cruel. Sue had something of the same in her manner and the two immediately understood one another without need for words.
'You and Mr Thorpe appear to be acquaintances,' Oldham said, his eyes still fixed thoughtfully on Sue.
'We are, sir,' she replied. 'Mr Thorpe has been very kind to my little protégée, Jessaline. He found her some modelling work with Mr Markham and she does very well, I believe.'
'Mr Thorpe is indeed a kind and generous man,' said Oldham with a sarcastic smile. Fred felt embarrassed and looked away. The other two exchanged a glance and formed a secret, unspoken pact together.
When the music began again, Oldham asked Sue for a dance. She rose and placed her gloved hand in his and he led her to the stage. Fred watched them gliding gracefully. Sue was a good dancer and suddenly he wished he had had the courage to ask her instead of letting Oldham take the floor in that proprietary manner that he had. Fred was curious about Sue Witherspoon. She seemed ladylike but he knew she was not. She appeared well to do but he couldn't be too sure where her wealth had come from. He felt convinced that it was from her activities as a prostitute. However, she
was
attractive, there was no denying that. She had a peculiar magnetic charm of personality.
When they returned, Oldham leaned to Fred and murmured, 'Ask the lady for a dance – if she is an acquaintance, why not? Don't be such a bore. You're a young fellow. Come on. Don't be such a Jeremiah!'
So Fred arose and before he knew what was happening, he was whirling about the floor to a lively polka with Sue Witherspoon.
The evening seemed to pass in a slight blur from then on. Oldham pressed bottle after bottle of champagne upon him. The other young ladies joined their table and it was a merry few hours of dancing, laughing, flirting and cheerfulness. He had to admit that he had not had such fun in a long time. A stupendous show of fireworks lit the sky. The younger girls leaned against the gentlemen as if in alarm, taking their arms and snuggling against them; it was all so familiar, friendly, and natural. Sue Witherspoon looked on, smiling and unperturbed, but her eyes held Fred's provocatively and he felt a flare of response in his guts. Suddenly he felt as if his whole life had been spent keeping himself in control. A barrier inside him fell down at that moment and it ebbed away in the wine lees and the grinding raucousness of the music, the brass bands and the chatter and laughter of people around him.