The Buffer Girls (38 page)

Arthur found Constance sitting in the morning room, with her embroidery on her lap.

‘So,’ she greeted him bluntly, ‘are you here to stay, Arthur, or just to collect your things?’

He snorted with humourless laughter. ‘If anyone’s leaving this house, my dear, it won’t be me. This is
my
house, Constance, and don’t you forget it.’

‘Bought with my father’s money,’ Constance
said mildly. She was feeling surprisingly calm whilst Arthur grew red in the face.

‘Money that was handed to me at our marriage. It was your “dowry”, to coin an old-fashioned word.’

‘Ah yes, our marriage. What a disappointment that has been. If it hadn’t been for Thomas’s birth, I would have said it has been a disaster for both of us. But I have to thank
you for our son.’

‘
Your
son,
if you like.’ Arthur was shouting now. ‘He is no son of mine. Not now. And you had the gall to use this house for the fiasco of his wedding to that –
that
slut
.’

‘Oh, it was more than just that, Arthur. It was a double celebration. Emily’s brother, Josh, married Amy Clark. They had a joint ceremony and a reception here. It was a lovely day.
You should have been here.’

He was glaring
at her. ‘I could turn you out, you know. And then where would you be? Homeless, penniless and your reputation in ruins. Your fine friends in the Friendly Society
wouldn’t want to know you then. And I doubt Thomas and his new wife would be able to support you.’ He tone became a sneer. ‘They’ll have enough difficulty finding work in
the city, if I have anything to do with it.’

Constance
raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, I should do very nicely, thank you, Arthur. I still have a small cottage in Over Haddon and an annuity, which my father was wise enough to set up for me
at the time of our marriage. It seems he didn’t trust you as much as you thought. Incidentally, none of the expense of the weddings has come out of your pocket. I paid for it out of my own
income.’

‘
Your
income!’
Arthur exploded. ‘Why did I know nothing of this? Anything you have belongs to me.’

‘For a businessman, Arthur, you are strangely ignorant of the law. Thanks to the Married Women’s Property Act, I have control over my own assets and, again, thanks to my
father’s foresight, I am well provided for.’

‘Then you can leave, you can pack your bags and go.’

‘I’ll go as and when it suits
me, Arthur, and not before.’

‘You’ll – you’ll go when I say.’ As Arthur prodded his finger at her, his speech suddenly sounded slurred. He swayed a little and reached towards a chair to steady
himself. ‘I am . . . still master in . . . this house.’

‘If that is so, why did you not stay and throw your son out for the second time?’

‘I – I thought I owed it to you as his mother to have
a little time with him. I didn’t realize you would be foolish enough to support his ridiculous marriage and – and
make us the laughing stock of the village.’

‘I can assure you that is not the case. The villagers enjoyed the weddings. They all came.’ Arthur’s face turned purple, but Constance pretended to ignore it. ‘The Clarks
are popular and Walter Ryan is a war hero in the eyes of his
neighbours. And as for our son, it seems they all love him.’

Arthur clutched at the back of the chair. ‘Thomas is no longer my son. Do you hear me? And I have a surprise for you, my
dear
wife. I have another son: Richard.’

‘So you have, my dear. Richard Beauman. Let’s see, he must be about fifteen or sixteen now. Is that right?’

Arthur gasped and lowered himself into the chair. He
gaped at her. ‘You – you know?’

‘Oh yes, I know all about Belle Beauman and her son. I even know where she lives, though I have not, as yet, visited her. I presume that is where you have been living for the past few
weeks.’

‘But – but how did you know about the boy? Even I didn’t know of his existence until this morning.’

Constance smiled grimly. ‘I made it my business to know. Once
Thomas had been born and you had your son and heir, you never came near me again after the miscarriages. I am not an
ignoramus, Arthur. Men have their needs, I know that, and so I realized you must be seeking your pleasures elsewhere. You are not the sort of man to consort with street prostitutes and so I deduced
that you must have set up a mistress somewhere. It wasn’t difficult to find out
the details.’

‘A private detective, I suppose.’

Constance bent her head. Though she had used no such method, she did not disillusion her husband. She had no wish for him to find out from whom she had obtained the information. That might well
put the person concerned in a very dangerous position. Certainly she had no wish for harm to come to them.

‘Well, you might as well know now.
I intend to take Richard into the firm and train him in the administrative side of the business. One day, he will . . . he will . . .’ Arthur made
a strange gurgling sound and fell forward, crashing to the floor. Calmly, Constance laid aside her embroidery and rose. She stood over him, looking down at him for a few moments, before ringing the
bell for assistance.

Arthur had had a stroke,
but the doctor was sure that he would make a full recovery. His speech was slightly slurred, but that was improving with each day. Other than that,
there were no lasting effects.

‘Constance,’ Arthur said, seeming to ignore the fact that only hours ago he had ordered her from the house. ‘Please – go to the factory. See Mr Bayes. You know him,
don’t you?’

Constance nodded.

‘Ask him
to run things until I get back. He’s an able man.’

‘Of course I will, Arthur. We must keep the business going; after all, it’s your son’s inheritance.’ With that, she left the room leaving Arthur unsure of the meaning
behind her words. Was she just referring to Thomas? Had she meant son’s, singular, or sons’, plural? He couldn’t tell.

Ernest Kirkland drove Constance to the works in Sheffield
in Arthur’s big car. Though Constance used her own little car around the local area, she was not used to driving into the city.
Parking in the yard of the factory in Creswick Street, Ernest held open the rear door for her to alight.

‘I shall be here most of the day, Kirkland, so please feel free to go into the city. Mind you get something to eat. I will reimburse the cost, of course.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’ The man bowed his head politely. He liked Constance – all the staff at Riversdale House did – but he hadn’t a lot of time for Arthur.

Constance entered the factory and found her way to the offices where she hoped to find George Bayes. Arthur had a rather grand office at the end of a corridor, but, next door to it, George Bayes
had his office and next to that was an even
smaller office where two men worked at handwritten sales, purchasing and wages ledgers. Beyond that was a room where two women clattered on
typewriters.

Constance tapped on the door to George Bayes’s office. At the invitation to ‘come in’, she opened it and entered. George Bayes looked up from his paperwork and, for a moment, a
startled look crossed his face. Then, as she closed the door
behind her, he rose and came around the desk, holding out his hands to her.

‘Constance, my dear,’ he murmured.

‘George,’ she said a little unsteadily, allowing him to take both her hands into his. They gazed at each other for several moments before he murmured, ‘How good it is to see
you. It’s been a long time.’

There was a deep friendship between them – unknown to either Arthur
or George’s wife, Muriel – that had existed for years. It was not a physical relationship but there was
affection between them that had begun before either of them was married, for they had lived in the same village as youngsters. But life and circumstances – mainly Constance’s
dictatorial father – had quashed any hope of the blossoming of romance. But that young love had never died and whilst
George in particular had been ‘happy enough’ with his wife
and Constance was content with her son and her comfortable lifestyle, both of them often wondered ‘what might have been’.

‘Please sit down, my dear. I’ll get one of the girls to rustle up some tea for us.’

‘If it’s not too much trouble,’ Constance said and, removing her gloves, she sat down.

‘Nothing’s too much trouble for
you,’ he murmured, his eyes twinkling saucily, and Constance laughed. For a few moments, she felt like a young girl again.

George Bayes had been the son of the village wheelwright and blacksmith and he’d come to Robert Vincent’s farm with his father when wagons needed repair, and Constance would often
walk their horses down to the village smithy to be shod. The two youngsters were drawn
to each other and for a while they’d enjoyed an idyllic childhood; roaming the countryside, fishing the
streams and rivers, tobogganing down the Derbyshire hills on snowy winter’s days. But as they grew older, both sets of parents thought the attachment unsuitable.

‘He’s not good enough for you, Constance,’ Robert had declared when Constance was still only fifteen. After that time, one of
his farm labourers always took the horses to the
blacksmith. Strangely, to both the youngsters’ minds, Alfie Bayes had also been against their friendship. ‘Her old man,’ he’d told the young George, ‘will never let it
come to anything, lad, and he’d likely do my business harm. He’s only to put the word about and farmers will take their trade elsewhere.’

Now, as they both remembered the
bond that had been between them, they smiled, a little sadly, at each other.

‘Oh, Constance,’ George whispered, ‘why didn’t we run away together?’

‘We couldn’t, my dear, we really couldn’t at fifteen. How could we? At that age, as the Bible tells us, I “honoured my father”. I wouldn’t have dreamt of
disobeying him. And by the time we were older, things had moved along. Arthur had been
“chosen”.’

George nodded and his voice was husky as he said, ‘I did love you, Constance. I watched you walk out of the church on his arm on your wedding day and I thought my heart would
break.’

Constance rarely cried, but now tears filled her eyes. ‘If only I had known.’

For several moments, there was silence between them as they gazed at one another. At last, George cleared his
throat. ‘So, my dear, what brings you here? Is it because his nibs is
ill?’

Constance chuckled at the nickname George – and she guessed the whole of the factory’s personnel – had given her husband. Then her expression sobered. ‘He has had a lot
to deal with just recently, which has resulted in a mild stroke. Nothing serious. The doctor thinks he will make a full recovery, but Arthur asked
me to come to see you to ask you to “hold
the fort” whilst he takes a few days off. I doubt he’ll stay away long, even though he shouldn’t drive for a while. No doubt he’ll get Kirkland to bring him.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I wouldn’t wish him any harm. In most respects, he’s a good employer, though a little swift in his sackings, if the truth be told, when something
or someone doesn’t
suit him.’

There was another pause whilst they looked at each other, drinking in the sight of each other after an absence of several years.

‘He’s found out about Richard Beauman,’ Constance said quietly.

‘Has he indeed? Is that what caused the stroke?’

‘Partly, I suspect, but I think it was also about Thomas.’

‘Ah. Of course, there’s that too. How is Thomas?’

Constance
smiled. ‘Happily married to Emily Ryan and back in the city.’

‘Yes, I did know. He came once when they first arrived back. He wanted to know if I could help him to find work, which sadly, I was unable to do. You can probably guess why.’

‘Arthur has put the word out?’

George sighed. ‘Mr Trippet has made it very difficult for any of his fellow cutlers to employ Thomas. Your husband wields
a great deal of power in this city, Constance. And whilst
they’re not exactly afraid of him, they are reluctant to go against his wishes deliberately.’

‘That I can believe,’ Constance said wryly.

George nodded. ‘But I’ve heard rumours since that Emily has set up in business again.’

‘Yes, Thomas wrote and told me all about it. Oh George, you should have read his letter, so full of
love and admiration for his lovely young wife.’

‘I was very sorry to see Thomas go. One day, he would have been a credit to you both as head of this works. And I was sorry to lose Emily’s brother, Josh, too. He was a good worker,
though I have to say his progress was slow. He didn’t really take to the work. I think his heart lay elsewhere.’

‘Don’t worry about Josh. He’s back in Ashford
at his candle making and happily married to his childhood sweetheart. They have a wonderful little boy. They had a double wedding
with Thomas and Emily.’ Her voice softened as she said with sadness, ‘I was so sorry not to be able to ask you to join us that day, but I really wasn’t sure whether Arthur would
turn up at the last minute. He didn’t, though. I expect he was with Belle. And coming
back to Belle and her son—’

‘I often wonder if I did the right thing in telling you all about her – and her son.’

‘Certainly, you did. It helped me a lot.’

George was surprised. ‘Really? How? I thought you would be devastated. I pondered what to do for a long time.’

‘It relieved my feeling of guilt, George, that I no longer loved my husband. I doubt I ever did, really. Nor him,
me. It was a marriage of convenience pushed forward by my father and
Arthur’s ambition.’

‘If only . . .’

‘Don’t, George. Please don’t.’

He smiled ruefully at her and sighed. Their chance – if there had ever really been one – was long gone.

‘There’s something else I think I should warn you about, George. Now that Arthur has disowned Thomas and found out that he has another son
– albeit an illegitimate one –
I think he will bring Richard Beauman here.’

‘To the factory?’

Constance pursed her mouth and added, ‘I think it’s to punish both Thomas and me.’