‘Taming a Sea Horse’
CHARLOTTE BEAUCHAMP’S ROOM WAS IN THE MEDIEVAL part of the house in one of the towers above the long gallery. Cora had not wanted to put her there, as this part of the house had not yet been modernised, but when she had been discussing the accommodations for the house party with Bugler, the butler had said that Lady Beauchamp preferred the tower room. And when Charlotte had written to her accepting her invitation to the christening, she had said, ‘Please can I sleep in my old tower bedroom, Cora? It was my room when I lived at Lulworth and it always reminds me of those happy days.’ At the time Cora had thought nothing much of it, besides surprise that anyone would choose to sleep in the coldest part of the house, but now as she walked up the worn stone steps to the tower, she realised that Charlotte had been claiming her territory. It was also true that the tower bedroom’s isolation meant that Sir Odo had been housed some distance away.
Cora rubbed the black pearl Bertha had given her between her fingers. She had wanted to pulverise it into dust, but now she held on to it and welcomed the anger it aroused in her. The idea that Ivo had given her and Charlotte the exact same necklace made her kick the stone flags as she walked. She had been deceived, not just about his relationship with Charlotte, but also in his feelings for her. She had held on to that necklace as if to a talisman, she had treasured the memory of that afternoon in Venice through all the long dark months of her exile in Lulworth; at that moment, she had told herself, they had been quite married. But now as she felt her way along the stone corridor, she had no such comfort. Nothing was hers alone. He may have loved her in his way but there was nothing special about it; all he had given her was her allotted ration of love, nothing more, nothing less. He had not cared enough to think of a different present.
She stopped outside Charlotte’s door. Next to it was a brass bracket with ‘Lady Beauchamp’ written in her own best handwriting on the card. Cora took the paper out and ripped it into as many pieces as she could. She knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for an answer.
The room was dark but Cora could see Charlotte silhouetted against the moonlit window. She was clearly waiting for someone, for she turned round expectantly when Cora entered, her arms stretched out in welcome. As she stepped into a patch of moonlight, Cora could see that she was wearing a peignoir made of some silvery material trimmed with swansdown. With her pale hair shining down her back, she looked like some ethereal water nymph.
Cora lit the gas lamp on the table with her candle and adjusted the wick so that the golden flame obliterated Charlotte’s shimmering aura. She wanted to look at Charlotte properly. When they had been friends, Cora had enjoyed Charlotte’s elegance and beauty, rather as she appreciated her thoroughbred, Lincoln, or the statues of Eros and Psyche in the summer house. Cora liked the best and Charlotte was undoubtedly the most attractive woman in her circle. Too many English women looked weathered, but Lady Beauchamp had skin as smooth and waxy as an orchid. It had never occurred to Cora before to feel jealous of Charlotte’s poise or perfect clothes but now she was looking at her not as a friend but as a rival. Charlotte was only four years older than her, but the years had given her face more character. They were about the same height, but despite all the afternoons strapped into the spine stiffener, Cora knew that Charlotte was the more graceful. When Charlotte walked across a room, her movements were so fluid that she appeared to glide. She looks more like a duchess than I do, thought Cora angrily.
Charlotte tried to hide her surprise at seeing Cora instead of the visitor she had been expecting.
‘I am so glad you are feeling better, Cora. I heard that you had gone down with a migraine. I was going to bring you a cachet fièvre – I have them sent over from Paris as I find they are the only things that work, but I thought you would be asleep.’ She spoke in her usual breathy drawl, but her hands were picking at the swansdown trimming of her gown.
Cora held out her hand where the pearl lay in the oyster of her palm.
‘I believe this belongs to you.’
Charlotte looked at Cora for a moment. Then she took the black pearl from Cora’s hand.
‘I thought there was one missing. But I never knew for sure. After they broke I never had the heart to have them restrung.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘But you’re not wearing your necklace, Cora. I hope finding this didn’t put you off,’ and she smiled, a fulsome smile that showed her dimples.
Cora wanted to speak but the sight of Charlotte’s dimples made her mute with rage.
Charlotte gestured towards her. ‘So now you know how it feels, Cora. To be a duplicate.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Do you know how rare pearls this size and colour are? God knows where Ivo managed to get a second necklace.’
Cora said almost to herself, ‘I can’t believe I didn’t see this. I have been so stupid.’
Charlotte ignored her; she was pacing up and down the room, her body sinuous even in its agitation. ‘I was to wear it when we were apart to remind me of him. I have never understood why he gave you pearls too. Was he trying to torment me? He knows how to be cruel. He never forgave me for marrying Odo, even when he knew I had no choice, even though he knew what kind of man he is.’ Charlotte took a deep breath. ‘And then you came out of nowhere. An American, who knew nothing and understood nothing. I thought he had done it for your money at first but when I saw you at Conyers wearing your black pearls, I realised that he was punishing me too. But I had my revenge, I introduced you to Louvain. I knew you were exactly the kind of pretty spoilt creature who would find Louvain irresistible. I knew that once Ivo saw you for what you were, he would come back to me.’ She turned to Cora and smiled again, showing her small white teeth.
Cora felt that she knew about the kiss in Louvain’s studio. She felt ashamed that this woman had known how she would behave. But one kiss was all it had been.
‘He’s my husband, Charlotte,’ she said, ‘whether you like it or not. He married me, we have a son. And I believe that Ivo loves me.’ Cora thought of the way he had embraced her last night in the nursery.
‘Really.’ Charlotte’s dimples were in evidence again. ‘Just because you have bought yourself a title and all this,’ she gestured around the tower room, ‘doesn’t mean that you have bought his love. He’s grateful to you, of course, for saving Lulworth and giving him a son. In many ways you have made his life easier, but Ivo’s not the sort of man who settles. Yes, you are his wife but I am the woman he loves. Sadly it’s not a position you can buy.’
Cora could not bear to hear any more. She picked up the lamp on the table and threw it as hard as she could at Charlotte. But the other woman dodged and the lamp hit the cheval glass behind her, causing the mirror to shatter. The paraffin poured out over the floor and rivulets of fire spread out across the carpet. Cora watched as flames began to lick the bottom of the curtains. Charlotte wrapped the silvery peignoir round herself and walked to the door.
‘I see I will have to find somewhere else to sleep’, she said as she left the room. ‘Perhaps you should ring the bell. Of course, you can afford to rebuild the house from scratch but I know that your husband is rather attached to the place as it is.’
Cora tugged the bell pull as hard as she could, but no one came. Realising that Charlotte could not be trusted to raise the alarm, she picked up the pitcher of water and threw it over the burning material. Only some of the flames were extinguished. Cora snatched up the velvet counterpane from the bed and threw it over what was left of the blaze. The brocade sizzled faintly under the counterpane. The singed material smelt like her hair did when the curling irons were too hot. She remembered the smell of her mother’s hair burning, and she stamped on the heaped velvet until she was sure that all the flames were out.
The room was dark now but as she turned to leave, the moon came out from behind a cloud and the silvery light revealed something small and dark lying on the exposed bed sheet. Cora thought it might be the pearl from the necklace but as she bent to pick it up, she realised that although it was a black pearl, it was a small one. This pearl was framed in gold, with a shank that went through the buttonhole of a shirt to fasten it. Cora dropped it in disgust and ran out of the room. She blundered down the dark corridor without a candle and ran into someone coming the other way.
‘Cora?’ It was Teddy’s voice. ‘Is it really you?’
Cora said nothing for a moment, she just put her head against the wool of Teddy’s jacket. He smelt of cigar smoke. She leant against his warm solidity, and felt safe.
‘You’re trembling, Cora, what’s going on? I was just going to bed when I heard an almighty crash. But this isn’t your room. What have you been doing?’ Teddy sounded worried but he was holding Cora in his arms, one hand was stroking her hair and the other was pressing her closer to him. They stood there for a minute in silence and then Cora said, her voice muffled in his jacket, ‘I am so glad you are here.’
Then she pulled back and looked at him. Her face was shadowed, her eyes dark sockets.
She said, ‘You wrote me a letter before my wedding. But I never got it, Teddy. My mother didn’t want me to read it. But now I would like to know what it said.’
Teddy took one of her hands and kissed it. ‘It said that my biggest regret was leaving you that night in Newport. It said that I left you out of fear, because I thought that I would always be in the shadow of your money, but when I got to Paris I realised that I had been a coward. Yes, I was following what I believed to be my vocation but the cost of losing you had been too great. And then I offered you my love, Cora, even though I knew it was too late.’
She nodded and put her hand to his cheek. ‘I wouldn’t have listened to you then. But it’s different now. I can’t bear it any more. I’ve been such a fool, Teddy. I thought it was me he wanted. But it could have been anybody, so long as they were rich.’
Teddy squeezed her hands. ‘Leave him behind, Cora, leave all of it behind. I want you, only you, and I will take care of you.’
She looked at him. ‘But you have to understand that I am not the girl you left in Newport. I have changed. I have a child, and I can’t leave him behind. I don’t want Guy to grow up like this. Helping me means helping him too.’
He took her hands. ‘If that’s what you want, Cora. I won’t let you down again.’
In the darkness they heard the chapel clock strike one.
Bertha was waiting up when Cora got back to her room. She gasped when she saw that Cora’s dress and hands were covered in soot. She looked at her mistress for an explanation but Cora waved away her unspoken inquiry.
‘I want you to pack a case for me, just a change of clothes and my nightdress, and leave some space for Guy’s things. I am going to London with the baby. But it’s a secret, Bertha. I don’t want anyone to know I am going.’
Bertha swallowed. ‘And do you want me to come with you, Miss Cora?’
‘Of course. You will have to help me look after Guy. I can’t leave him behind and I am not taking that old trout of a nurse.’
‘Will we be gone long?’ Bertha put her hand on the table for support.
‘For ever.’
Bertha began to shake, but Cora did not notice her agitation and she went on, urgently, ‘I will take Guy for a walk in the park after breakfast. I want you to take the donkey cart and meet me in that bend in the drive just before the lodge. From there we can take the cart to the station and get the train to London. Mr Van Der Leyden is going to engage some rooms for me at an hotel. I don’t want anyone to be able to find me.’
Bertha sagged. She had set this in motion, but she had not foreseen the consequences. Whatever happened now, she would have to leave someone she loved behind. She had no real family any more, only Miss Cora and Jim. For a long time she had thought she could have them both, but not any more. Now she would have to choose.
Cora, she could see, was too agitated to sleep. Bertha poured some water into a basin and washed her face and hands and brought her a clean nightdress.
‘You should get some rest now, Miss Cora. You will need your strength for tomorrow.’
She helped Cora get into bed and said good night.
As she reached the door, she heard Cora say, ‘Do you think I am doing the right thing?’
Bertha wondered if she could pretend she hadn’t heard but Cora said, ‘Bertha?’ her voice quavering slightly.
Bertha looked back at her. ‘I don’t know as I could say it was the right thing, but I know you won’t be happy until you do something and I reckon this is your way forward.’ She turned the doorknob and walked out. She had no more time for Cora tonight.
Bertha had never visited Jim’s bedroom before. The male servants all slept in rooms in the basement, as far as possible from the female servants, who slept in the attics. Bertha was not even sure which was his room. She knew that if she bumped into Bugler down in the male quarters at this time of night, she would be dismissed on the spot, but that was the least of her worries.
The male servants’ corridor was lit by one pilot light. She crept along it, listening to the snores and muttering that came from behind the closed doors to see if she could recognise Jim’s. But all the snores and muttering sounded the same. She only found his door through his boots which he had put outside his door for the hall boy to collect and clean. Only Jim and Mr Bugler had the privilege of having their shoes cleaned and Jim’s feet were much larger than the butler’s.
She took one more look along the corridor and pushed Jim’s door open and slipped inside. It was a warm night and he was lying face down with only a sheet covering the lower half of his body. She could not resist running her hand down his back towards the swell of his buttocks. He woke with a start and grabbed her wrist.
‘Bertha! What are you doing here?’ Jim turned to face her. She saw that he was naked under the sheet.
‘I wanted to talk to you,’ she said. He pulled her down on the bed and started kissing her.
After a moment he said, ‘So talk then,’ but his hands were fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. Bertha tried to summon the words but she found that she could not say anything. She did not want to think of anything but Jim’s hands on her body, and the feel of his skin next to hers. In answer she undid the last button and began to unlace the strings of her corset.
When she had shed all her clothes, Jim whispered in her ear, ‘Are you sure, my dearest?’
And she put her arms round him in reply.
But later she would not allow herself the warm comfort of Jim’s arms. She started to hunt around in the dark for her clothes. When she was dressed, she shook Jim awake.
‘Jim, there is something I must tell you.’
Jim rolled away from her sleepily. ‘Not now, Bertha.’
‘No, you must listen to me. I came to tell you that the Duchess is going to London today and taking me with her.’ She tried to keep her voice a whisper but it was hard not to let the emotion break through. ‘She isn’t coming back, Jim. She’s leaving him. I think she means to run away with Mr Van Der Leyden.’
Jim roused himself at this and grabbed her hand. ‘You can’t go with her, Bertha. What if she decides to go back to America? Let your Miss Cora ruin her life if she wants to. Your place is with me.’ He was whispering, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable.
Bertha twisted away from him. ‘I can’t just leave her. You see, I made it worse. I showed her the black pearl you gave me from Lady Beauchamp’s necklace. I felt sorry for her – everyone was lying to her. I wanted to give her the truth.’
Jim let his hand drop. ‘She’s got a family, Bertha. You are just her maid.’
‘But she needs me. I know she does. She really doesn’t have anyone else.’
‘So what was this?’ He pointed to the bed. ‘Some kind of consolation prize?’
She looked away. ‘I…I wanted you, Jim.’ She put out a hand to caress him, but he threw it off.
‘And I want you, all the time. But now you are leaving. If you want to go with her I can’t stop you, but I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.’ He turned away from her and buried his face in the pillow.
Bertha put her hand on his shoulder and said, ‘I love you, Jim.’
He hit the pillow with his fist. ‘Then don’t leave.’ He sat up and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Marry me, Bertha. We can go to London. I can get work as a valet in one of those hotels. We can have a new life. Don’t leave me because that spoilt mistress of yours can’t live without her maid.’
Bertha stood up. ‘Miss Cora ain’t always easy or pleasant but I can’t give up on her now.’ She thought of the quilt lying on her bed. Miss Cora was the closest thing she had to family now – they were stitched together by time and circumstance. Miss Cora was part of the fabric of her life. Bertha knew everything about her mistress, from the mole on her right shoulder blade to the way she would blow the hair away from her eyes when she was angry. She could tell Cora’s mood from the set of her shoulders, she knew what she was going to say by the curve of her lips. It did not much matter to her that Cora did not observe her in return. Cora was her territory; her home was where Cora was.
She knew she could not explain this to Jim. He would laugh at her; tell her again that they were just there to clean up the mess. She had thought that perhaps she would feel differently after lying down with Jim, but she knew now that desire was not enough. Even his offer of marriage didn’t change the way she felt.
There were so many things she wanted to say, but she heard a noise in the passage outside and she could do no more than press her lips against his sullen flesh before scuttling away.
In the corridor she saw the hall boy stooping over Bugler’s shoes. She put her fingers to her lips and he nodded. She felt in her pocket and found a sixpence. Silently she put it into the little boy’s hands and crept away down the corridor as fast as she could.