The Crimson Bed (33 page)

    Then she thought of him as he taught her to climb trees and make swords from long pieces of wood and bows from supple branches from which they would fire arrows. He knew how to fletch the arrows with feathers and put tips on them and they made quite deadly weapons for shooting down birds or firing off at invading rabbits. As they had grown older, they had become more and more like companions-in-arms, leaving the smaller children to play while they went off into the woods to enjoy their own imaginary adventures. She laughed at the memory. Alfie had made her an honorary boy. Now he seemed like some sweet distant dream, but it no longer gave her pain.

    Suddenly Ellie noticed a small, yellowing piece of paper stuck beneath a little tray in which there were some more jet beads. These beads she had worn when Alfie died. She lifted out the tray and found wedged beneath a piece of paper. It bore the seal of the Dillinger family and she looked at this little
billet-doux
with amazement. It was years since she had received this note from Alfie! He had sent it that morning with fruit and then arrived to make his declaration to her. She had never seen him again. It had lain here forgotten all this while.

    By now, Mulhall had returned and was busy sewing some button or lace on a dress sleeve. Ellie hastily tucked the note into a small pocket Bible, which lay on the dressing table and hoped the maid had not noticed but Mulhall was concentrating on threading the needle with black thread. Ellie felt frustrated. She wanted to be alone and savour it once more but she would look at it later and then the note must be burned and forgotten forever.

    It made her feel all the more that she wanted to see Dillinger and seek a little consolation and sympathy as Fred seemed far too caught up in secret problems of his own to fulfil that role. She had her own troubled suspicions as to what those problems might be.

    'I don't believe it! Have you seen this announcement in the
Times
, Ellie?'

    Ellie looked up from her breakfast plate and stared at Fred as if waking up. She had been deep in thought, remembering her conversation with Dillie. They had spoken for what seemed like hours about the past. Dillie had been as much moved and saddened by her father's death as herself and it had been wonderful to cry a little and be comforted, to talk about Joshua and her love for him and listen to anecdotes and stories from her father's youth from someone who had known him since they had been up at Oxford together. Dillinger had spoken often of Joshua's meeting with Maria and their marriage.

    'We were both in love with Maria Templeton – in fact, I think every male in London was in love with her.' His smile was sad. 'She was the most beautiful woman in society then. To think I introduced your father to her. I wanted to marry Maria myself but the family had other designs for me.'

    'But you loved Lady Mary, surely?'

    'It was an arranged marriage, but I certainly did learn to love and respect my dear wife. She was a gracious and charming person. No man could have wished for better. I miss her sorely,' said Dillinger. He sighed a little and his gaze seemed to wander back to the past.

    Ellie looked at him with sympathy. At times, she sensed a vast loneliness in Dillinger. His sons were now at Oxford; his daughter married and moved up north. His eyes sometimes seemed to bear such sadness in them that it made her feel his pain in her own heart. When had this look come to his face? Since his son and then his wife had died. Or had it always been there?

    Dillinger always seemed to brush these moments of feeling and sentiment away as if they were annoying cobwebs. He had gone on to tell her such amusing tales about the House of Lords and the foibles of its varied members that her heart had lightened considerably.

    She brought herself back to the present with some effort.

    'What is it in the
Times
that so enthrals you?' she asked at last.

    'Well, I w
ondered
if you were interested! You will never guess what has happened... just take a deep breath.'

    'For goodness sakes, do say or I'll throw the marmalade pot at you!'

    'Henry and Tippy were married on the 16
^th

                                                    June at St. Biddulph's Church, Dover! They are honeymooning in Paris.'

She was as amazed as Fred had meant her to be.

    'I know Gabriel Rossetti has married Lizzie Siddal at long last, now that the poor girl is about to die – but Tippy and Henry! I'm disappointed that they had so quiet and sudden a wedding. I thought you were to be best man.'

    'I thought so too, but Henry was always a one for sudden decisions. He made a fair bit of money with some of his latest commissions so I suppose he felt this was as good a time as any other. He'll write from Paris with suitable apologies. I guessed something was in the air. He wrote the other day to say he'd just rented a very nice house along Cheyne Walk.'

    'He must be doing well, then. You never mentioned receiving a letter from Henry. You don't tell me anything nowadays,' Ellie grumbled.

    'We haven't seen that much of one another to talk about things of late. Apparently, you are entertaining Lord Dillinger most of the time... '

    'Oh, so this is what it's all about, is it? This stupid jealousy of yours. That's what's eating you and making you such miserable company. Well, let me tell you something... at least you know where
I
am. I never know w
here y
ou are!' snapped Ellie.

    Fred fell silent for a moment or two but did not pursue this dangerous theme. He hated Ellie's need for these constant little meetings with Lord Dillinger but he could say little about it; his own conscience was far from clear.

    'Sometimes, I don't even think I care!' she added and rose from the table, flinging her napkin down and leaving him with a teacup half way to his lips.

    He put his cup down and stared after her in surprise. She spoke in anger and he felt a rebuke in what she said. It was unlike Ellie to be critical and cross and it unsettled him considerably.

Later that day he went to the auctions rooms to oversee the sale of some pictures. He set aside a beautiful little painting he had acquired with regret. Sue had demanded that he brought it to her forthwith. Just like his mother, she always seemed to know what was going on at any place and any time. She also knew pretty much what he had recently acquired on the market and he was puzzled by this. He began to wonder if Oldham was obtaining and passing the information to her for he often came across that gentleman in the auction rooms, looking carefully about him and making notes. When they met face to face, Oldham appeared just as always but Fred was frostily polite to him, scarcely passing the time of day. Oldham would then look at him with a faintly contemptuous smile on his face that made Fred angry and humiliated. This man knew his shame and mocked him without words.

    Fred began to feel a vague sense of paranoia. It was as if these people had him body and soul. He felt as if there were spies everywhere about him. Who was to be trusted?

    It was later that evening when the little ones had been brought down from the nursery to see him before dinner that Fred experienced a sudden deep change of heart. He sat by the fireside with his little daughter, Mary, on his lap. She was looking up at him with her large, dark ringed blue eyes as if studying his every feature. He stroked her soft, fair hair and felt glad that the child seemed to have overcome her childhood frailness thanks to her mother's gentle care and love. Yet she remained a quiet, withdrawn, little mite without much spirit. She was Fred's especial little pet for he felt a tenderness for her frailty and sensitivity.

    Ellie had been especially sweet and attentive to him of late and she looked particularly beautiful that evening as she sat opposite him, smiling, reading aloud to Charlie from
Good Words for the
Young
. It was an amusing tale about a little boy riding the West Wind and having all sorts of adventures as he travelled from one country to another. Charlie stood by his mother's side, watching her turn the pages and looking at the pictures enthralled.

    Fred sat and considered them all as if standing outside himself looking at this blissful, family picture. He thought to himself with a faint touch of humour of various popular pictures of the day where the grief-stricken wife flings herself at her husband's feet having betrayed him. She would, by popular opinion and demand, be sent forth lonely, unwanted, cast off into a cruel, critical, harsh and condemnatory world. Once he and his family had sent poor Bessie and her child out thus and now his first, unclaimed daughter had become a whore under the influence of that wretch Oldham and his mistress Sue Witherspoon. Fred felt his heart surge painfully at the thought.

    
I am not alone
, he thought,
other men have done the same and
think nothing of it. But my conscience troubles me.
Why were women always shown as the offenders in these matters when men were by far worse? Why not a picture of a man kneeling in penitence at the woman's feet, begging her forgiveness?
He
would not be cast out in the street. Look at Millais. He had pulled out of the scandal of running off with another man's wife without blame but Effie Ruskin, though now his wife, was still whispered about by the gossips and shunned by the Queen.

    He could not help but think how lucky he was to have such a delightful family, such a beautiful and devoted wife and then he thought of Sue... damn and blast, his cock was stiffening at the mere thought! And he had his child on his lap! He almost bit his tongue in an effort to control himself.

    Mary now put her arms about Fred's neck and stood up on his lap. She pushed back his hair that was growing a little long and put a finger on a nasty red mark on his neck.

    'Papa hurt', she said, rubbing at the mark.

    Fred felt his face flush a deep red. Ellie looked at him surprised and said, 'what is it, Fred?'

    'Nothing, dearest, nothing. I caught myself on a branch in the garden and it scratched me,' he replied. Ellie nodded then returned to the book, Charlie tugging her sleeve impatiently.

    He set Mary down on the ground and rose, making some excuse to leave the room. His blood had slowly drained away from his face and left him now white as a sheet. He felt terrible. Something must be done or his peace of mind would never return. It simply was not worth it all. Nothing was worth the anguish of conscience he now endured.

    How was it that he was a good man at heart and yet within him dwelt such a degenerate being? Why did his faults induce him to commit acts, which outraged his virtues?

He loathed going to her place, loathed seeing the woman. He now wondered that he could have once touched that flesh and been touched by her. It had corrupted him. As for Jessaline, he couldn't bring himself to have any more to do with her either. The idea that she was his child ate into his being. She was a sweet girl, there was much could be done for her for she was not unintelligent. He felt that it was his duty to help her but she reminded him constantly of the rape of her mother, Bessie, and he couldn't bear the association.

    He wrapped up the picture he had promised to Sue and made his way by cab to her lodgings. He was a little earlier than he had intended and as he took the picture from the cab and paid off the cabbie, he saw Thomas Oldham coming out of the building, striding down the road in the opposite direction, swinging his cane with his usual self-assurance. Fred watched him and felt a murderous rage rise up in his breast. If he had a pistol, he would have shot the man down in cold blood. He was horrified at his own rage and for a moment bowed his head, collecting himself and letting the angry feelings subside.

    Sue opened the door to him and he saw Jessaline seated in the little parlour, sipping at a cup of tea, with crooked little finger, for all the world like some fine lady. She was dressed in all the latest, most fashionable clothes and yet looked so young, so foolish in all her pretty plumes.

    Fred set the picture against a wall and bowed to her a little. Did Jess know? If so, she gave no indication, just put down her cup and clapped with girlish delight at the sight of him.

    'Why, Georgie-Porgie! How lovely to see you! Where've you been? You ain't been around in ages.'

    Her delight was so natural and heartfelt that it softened Fred's heart a little. He did like this amiable creature but could feel nothing in the least paternal towards her. It was impossible to suppose he could after all these years. How could he feel a father's feelings towards her, especially knowing what she had now become? For he was not naïve enough to suppose he had saved her from a life of immorality. It might perhaps be temporarily suspended but it was too easy a vice to be foregone forever. She would return to the game, if she hadn't already.

    'Oh, he doesn't care about us, Jessie, he's too fine a gent for us now,' said Sue mockingly, unwrapping her picture and nodding at it with approval as she stood it up on her sideboard.

    'You ain't, are you, Georgie?' said Jessaline and came to hug him but he recoiled from her and she dropped her arms and looked hurt and dismayed.

    'What is it?' she asked staring up at him with large, round eyes.

    'I have to go... appointments... 'mumbled Fred and he backed off towards the door.

'See you soon,' said Sue, 'and don't forget our little bargain.'

    He made no reply but left and went out into the street, his head whirling with thoughts. He could not allow this to carry on any longer. Perhaps he should challenge Oldham to a duel. Perhaps he should shoot himself. None of these prospects appealed in the least, all being foreign to his normally placid nature. Better to use his wits and see if he could foil these evil creatures. Was Jessaline
really
his child? After all, he simply had Sue's word for it and though she certainly knew about the Bessie incident, how did he know if Jessaline really was Bessie's daughter?