She rapped on the door; loud, ringing raps which bruised her knuckles although she would be oblivious to the pain till later. It was a moment before Stella’s voice, high and startled, called, ‘Who is it?’
Josie did not reply to this, but when there was the sound of movement from within and then that of a man’s voice, muffled but nevertheless definitely male, she knocked again, and this time she kept knocking until the door was suddenly swung open.
‘What on earth--’
Stella’s indignant protest was cut short as Josie pushed her aside with enough force to cause the other woman to stumble, and then Josie was standing in the room. Ridiculously, at such a moment, Josie was conscious of thinking, This is a far better room than any we have ever had here, as her gaze flashed round the enormous suite with its high, four-poster bed in front of which was virtually a small sitting room. Then all she could see was Oliver tucking his shirt into his trousers on a chaise-longue at the foot of the bed.
‘Josie! How did you--? This isn’t what you think. Hell! Listen to me--’
As Oliver rose from the sofa, still adjusting his clothes, the coolness in her head which had guided her thus far vanished. She was so angry she quite literally had a red mist in front of her eyes, and as Stella grabbed hold of one arm, saying, ‘How dare you force your way into my private quarters!’ the other woman’s voice was cut short for the second time in as many minutes as Josie shook her off in much the same way an enraged bull would shake off a rat. Stella went sprawling in a confusion of long blonde hair and silk, coming to rest in an ungainly pose which bore evidence to the fact she was wearing nothing at all beneath the diaphanous nightdress.
Stella had been spoilt from the cradle, adored by indulgent parents and then a string of lovers, not to mention her doting husband, and this was the first time in her life anyone had had the temerity to handle her in such a fashion. She’d landed against a small walnut writing desk, hitting one side of her face and her hip as she did so, and now she lay in utter shock, winded and speechless.
‘I don’t want to listen to you, Oliver,’ Josie said steadily, amazed how calm her voice sounded. ‘Neither do I wish to remain in the presence of your whore, but I felt I needed to make it plain that I will be leaving for Park Place as soon as a coach can be summoned. You are more than welcome to stay on here and enjoy the . . . entertainment,’ her eyes, full of dark light, flashed to Stella for a moment, ‘soiled and sullied as it is.’
‘Listen to me, woman!’ Oliver was completely ignoring Stella stretched out on the floor. ‘This isn’t what you think, I promise you.’
‘Spare me.’ Josie’s voice was sharp and cutting. ‘Your whore is known to be generous with her favours to more than one gentleman on occasions like this.’
She turned, making for the door which was ajar, and it was then that Oliver made the mistake of launching himself forward to grab her arm. Josie reacted by instinct with a lightning move of her body as she avoided his hands, and Oliver stumbled and fell, his head coming into contact with the edge of the door with a resounding crack.
Stella was now shrieking like a banshee and not at all how one would expect a lady of the realm to react, but as Oliver rolled over and then began to sit up Josie did not wait to see if he was all right. She continued out of the room into the passageway beyond, where the occupants of the rooms either side of Stella’s were emerging.
She was aware of startled faces staring at her but no one said a word. ‘I think one of them or perhaps even both might require the services of a doctor,’ she said evenly as Stella’s screams diminished. ‘Perhaps someone would be good enough to deal with that? Good morning.’
Josie made it to the end of the landing and beyond without pausing, but then the shaking in her legs reached such proportions that she had to lean against the wall before she could trust herself to walk down the stairs. She felt as if all the strength was draining out of her but knew she had to make her way back to her room before this happened.
Oh Gertie, Gertie, Gertie. Josie had never needed the support of her sister so much or felt so alone. The enormous staircase and grand sweeping spaciousness of the house enhanced the feeling that she was tiny, nothing; that she was dwindling down to a mere speck. She moved swiftly through the house, the full enormity of what had happened only now really beginning to dawn on her. Oliver and Stella. Oliver and
Stella
.
The reverberations of this scandal would go on for some time; this was one liaison of Stella’s to which Godfrey Stratton wouldn’t be able to turn a blind eye. The thought brought no comfort. Her mind seemed numb to emotion now, the coldness of shock having taken over.
When she reached her room Josie locked the door behind her, before walking through to the adjoining dressing room and taking her portmanteau and other bags from where the maid had placed them after she’d put their clothes away. She packed her things quickly after stripping off the evening dress she was wearing and extracting a pretty day dress in light blue muslin. Once she had washed in the china bowl, shivering a little as the water from the jug felt icy cold, she dressed in the clean clothes and then spent some time doing her hair. The face staring back at her from the mirror was chalk-white, and for a moment she felt sorry for the woman in front of her as though she was looking at someone else. That frightened her. Was she going mad? No, no, of course she wasn’t, she told herself in the next instant, and she wasn’t going to try to break this cold detachment which had taken hold of her either. Not now, not yet. She still had to leave this house and she intended to walk out with her head held high and with dignity.
Her toilette finished, she sat down on the chaise-longue, her bags at her feet, folded her hands and assumed a straight-backed pose, not allowing herself to slump in the slightest. Once the maid brought the morning tea she would request a carriage be put at her disposal and she would leave.
However, at eight o’clock she was brought to her feet by a knock at the door and the voice of her hostess saying, ‘Mrs Hogarth? This is Elizabeth Conway. May I speak with you, please?’
Josie’s legs were trembling as she walked across to the door, but her face was pale and composed when she opened it to find Lady Conway, flanked either side by Victoria and Winifred. The three women were fully dressed and coiffured which gave Josie an inkling of the frantic activity which had been going on in some quarters. ‘Please come in.’ She stood aside for the ladies to pass her and then shut the door behind them, taking a deep silent breath before she turned round.
‘Josie, I’m so sorry.’ This was from Winifred as the twins reached out and grasped her hands in theirs.
‘That woman is an absolute menace,’ Victoria added darkly, ‘but she certainly got her just deserts this time. I hope I would have had the courage to react exactly as you did in a similar situation.’
Josie had expected censure, and for a moment she had to bite hard on her inner lip to retain her composure in the face of their understanding.
Lady Conway had glanced at the bags at the foot of the chaise-longue, and now she said, her voice soft, ‘Godfrey and his wife left at seven o’clock this morning and I understand they will be going abroad for a few weeks. Your husband has talked to Steven and myself and he has offered an explanation for what occurred. Would you come to our private sitting room and hear what he has to say?’
Josie looked at the gentle-faced woman in front of her. She had found her inoffensive on the one or two occasions she had talked with her, and certainly she and Steven seemed to be one of the few married couples who enjoyed each other’s company, but there was no way she could comply with her hostess’s request. ‘I’m sorry, Lady Conway, but that is not possible. I would be obliged if one of your coachmen would take me back to town as soon as it is convenient?’
Lady Conway was vexed. She had to admit that Oliver, dear boy that he was, had been somewhat indiscreet in view of the fact he was sharing a room with his wife. Nevertheless, it would be such a shame if the girl allowed a strumpet like Stella Stratton to come between her and her husband. Added to which, and this latter consideration Elizabeth Conway acknowledged was a far less noble one - the tittle-tattle over this matter was going to be scurrilous enough as it was; it would help water it down a little if two of the chief individuals in the unfortunate affair were seen to be reconciled.
‘My dear, the doctor has advised Oliver to lie quietly for some time - he has a touch of concussion and needed a few stitches in a wound to his forehead - but I know he is anxious to put his case before you without delay.’
‘He has no case, Lady Conway.’ Josie was now ramrod straight. There had been a touch of reproach in the other woman’s voice when she had spoken of Oliver’s injuries, as though Josie herself had caused them, but in Josie’s mind Oliver had brought this on himself.
And it appeared Victoria was of the same mind as she now said, a gurgle in her voice which she couldn’t quite disguise, ‘Let us hope a few more men of our acquaintance take note of what occurred here this weekend, and a few women too. I understand those people adjoining Stella’s room will never view her in quite the same light again after the sight which met their eyes this morning!’
‘Victoria, dear, that is not particularly helpful.’ Lady Conway was very much aware that Steven could have done without the notoriety of this event happening under their roof, considering his standing in the world of politics. There was enough trouble at present with these wretched trade union people always asking for something more and showing scant respect for their betters, and Steven had been so upset when dear Wyndham had resigned as Chief Secretary for Ireland over the problems of creating a coherent Irish policy. What were the Irish, after all, but a country of cut-throats and peasants? Steven maintained their intelligence was like that of the miners here and the rest of the working class. Give them any sort of power and Britain would go to the dogs. It was disgraceful, really disgraceful, the way things were going, and although Victoria and Winifred were dear girls and their mother - her sister-in-law - one of the finest women to grace the English court, she did so wish they would drop all this silly nonsense concerning women having the vote. What on earth did women know about such things as politics?
Lady Conway now turned to Josie, her voice reverting to softness as she said, ‘Won’t you at least listen to what your husband has to say, my dear? He really does have mitigating circumstances and all is not as it seems.’ Not that she believed Oliver’s explanation, not a word of it, but this young thing might if Oliver put it in the right way. And after all, everyone knew that any man worth his salt had a mistress. It really wasn’t the done thing to cause such a fuss as this girl had done, but of course background would always out. It had been a mistake for Oliver to take a wife without the adequate breeding, as the dear boy now knew to his cost.
‘I’m sorry, Lady Conway, but I must leave at once.’ Josie could sense her hostess’s concern was only skin deep and she guessed the real reasons which had brought Lady Conway to her room in defence of Oliver. And in spite of her misery it was an overwhelming relief that from this day she would be finished with such hypocrisy. ‘I have no wish to cause you further embarrassment, so perhaps it would be best if I left now, before breakfast?’
It was her final word, and all three women recognised it as such.
Chapter Twenty-one
By the time the Conways’ carriage drew up outside the house in Park Place the hard knot in Josie’s chest was melting, and it was all she could do to smile and thank the two coachmen once they had placed her luggage inside the hall. Josie spoke to her sister in the drawing room, managing to give Gertie an outline of what had transpired before she burst into tears.
She cried for a good while, not least because of the futility of it all. Whatever else, she had believed Oliver loved her, and for him to humiliate her in such a public fashion . . . because people would have known. There wasn’t a happening that went on at these weekends that wasn’t noticed and talked about. Oliver himself was one of the worst gossips, and he had often expressed his amazement that some folk were naive enough to imagine that their every indiscretion wasn’t observed and commented on. And for him to then go and . . . And with Stella Stratton.
The release of all her pent-up emotion did her good, and when she raised her head from where it had been resting on Gertie’s shoulder - her sister’s arms tight round her - she said quite normally, ‘Would you go and inform Mrs Wilde what has occurred and tell her I leave it to her discretion how much she tells Constance and Ethel? And then ask her to get them to pack all my things, yours too if you want to come with me. I am going to Lily’s. I can’t remain another day in this house.’
Gertie gazed at her without speaking for a moment or two, and then her voice was a mutter when she said, ‘Do you think that’s wise? To leave before you’ve talked to him properly?’
Although she had half expected this it still hurt. But then Gertie had always been for Oliver, Josie reminded herself, even before there had been the added inducement of her husband being Anthony’s employer. How many times had she thought that if Gertie had been born with the voice and looks to attract Oliver, Gertie would have made him a far better wife than herself. Her sister would have looked at this incident practically, working out the pros and cons of confronting Oliver before she had said anything at all, and then only revealing she was aware of his liaison with another woman if she could use it to her advantage. Money and respectability, and the security they brought with them, meant a great deal to Gertie, which was one reason her sister and Anthony suited each other so well. And such thinking wasn’t necessarily wrong, not in essence, and after their traumatic childhood Josie could appreciate the reasons for Gertie thinking like she did more than most, but today it still hurt.