Midsummer's Eve (19 page)

“I was growing up.”

“But you
do
like him, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Your father would be very pleased. He says we know Rolf and that’s what we like about it.”

“You never really know people,” I said quickly. “Not
all
about them.”

“Well, we all have our secrets …”

I knew that she was uneasy, that she was thinking about what she had said she would tell me, that she was reluctant to do so and that was why she had gone on talking of other things, as though postponing the moment.

“Remember, my darling,” she said now, “what we want more than anything is your happiness. Of course we’ll like you to be somewhere near us. Parents are like that, but we have to remind ourselves that it is not for us to choose. I hope you’ll talk to us. Sometimes talking can help.”

“I know it can and if there was something I wanted to talk about I’d talk to you … first.”

She kissed me. There was a brief silence and still she was hesitating. I imagined she was steeling herself. She said quickly: “Has this Joe Cresswell disappointed you in some way? You shouldn’t blame him for his father’s affairs, you know.”

“I don’t. In any case I believe his father was innocent of what they blamed him for. I suppose you read about the case?”

She nodded.

“Isn’t it time you told me what you were going to?”

She hesitated and then said quickly: “I … I knew about Peter Lansdon’s affairs. I discovered long ago, before I married your father.”

“You didn’t say,” I said.

“I couldn’t. He blackmailed me. It was a case of double blackmail.”

“You!”

“Yes. You see, my dearest child, out of necessity, people sometimes do things you would least suspect them of. You’ve lived all your life sheltered and not really coming face to face with emotions and temptations which beset most of us at some time. You know your father was my second husband.”

“Yes, of course.”

“My first husband was a good, kind, gentle man. I married him without really being in love with him. It was always your father … but you know about him and his term in Australia. There’s no secret about that. My first husband was hurt in an accident. He was crippled before our marriage. I tried to be a good wife to him … and then your father came back. You don’t understand yet what love can be like. It was necessary to us both. I was your father’s mistress before my first husband was dead. Peter Lansdon found this out.”

“Oh, Mama …”

“It was a desperate situation.”

“He blackmailed you.”

“In a way. He’s a strange man. He is bent on one thing—getting on in the world, making everyone dance to his tune. He is the most ambitious man I ever knew. I found out something about him … I found out that which has now become public knowledge.”

“About the clubs?” I said.

“Yes … the sort they were. He was up to his tricks even then. Juggling with events so that he could be in the right place at the right moment.”

“Do you think he arranged what happened to Joseph Cresswell?”

“I am sure he did. It was his way of working. I found out this and we made a pact. He would keep quiet about your father and me if I would about him. I agreed. He was not the sort of man to break his word … unless it was necessary for him to do so. He doesn’t want revenge on people for the purpose of harming them. He acts only to bring benefit to himself. I feel I know him so well. It was your Joe Cresswell who exposed him, wasn’t it? And you thought that was wrong …”

I said: “He told me he wanted to see me. He came to the house and when I went out of the room to get some wine for which he asked, he went upstairs and broke into Uncle Peter’s room. You see, but for my carelessness he wouldn’t have got into that room, he wouldn’t have had his proof. Helena would still be engaged … almost married by now to John Milward.”

“And you’re blaming Joe?”

“What he did was wrong. Nothing has been put right. He wanted to prove that his father had been trapped … and no one wants to know about that now. He can in any case only rely on Chloe’s evidence and nobody trusts her. She’s a well-known adventuress. It all seems so unnecessary. Why couldn’t he let it rest? It’s done no good to his father and it’s ruined Helena’s life.”

“You’re right,” she said. “But you must understand Joe’s feelings.”

“I do. But I can’t forget the sight of him when I came into that room which he had forced open and saw him putting those papers into his breast pocket.”

“I just wanted you to know, Annora, that we are none of us perfect. Your father and I … well, we were very much in love … and there was my husband, a helpless invalid. You see, we are all weak. Do realize that, Annora. Don’t judge people too harshly.”

I lay there staring out to sea, rather bewildered by what she had told me. I could picture Peter Lansdon laying down his rules. She must not tell and he would not tell. And my mother had entered into the bargain with him to save her first husband from the knowledge that she had a lover; and because her love for my father was so strong she could not resist it even though she was committing adultery.

I must try to understand Joe.

But I should always remember his standing there with the papers in his hands as I should remember Rolf that Midsummer’s Eve.

After that talk with my mother, I tried to reason with myself. I expected too much from people. I must try to understand Joe’s motives. I must try to convince myself that Rolf’s feelings had got the better of him. He had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the past; he had imagined that he was living centuries ago when people tortured witches; for a night he had shed his shell of civilization and become one of those people whose customs interested him so much.

I must be understanding. I must realize that I was, as my mother said, young and I had seen little of the world.

But I could not forget.

Preparations for our departure were going on apace.

“I wish you weren’t going,” sighed Helena.

“You’ll feel better when you’re back in London. It won’t be as bad as it was. They are right when they say time heals.”

“I can’t go back, Annora. I don’t want to. I wish I could stay here.”

Then the idea came to me. “Helena, why shouldn’t you come with us to Australia?”

I saw the wonder dawning on her face.

There was a great deal of discussion about it. My mother wrote to Aunt Amaryllis. She had always had great influence with her. “I was like the dictatorial elder sister,” she used to say.

The result was that both Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis thought it might be a good idea for Helena to accompany us.

Helena brightened considerably at the prospect and I even saw her smile once or twice.

About a week before we were due to leave Rolf returned.

He came over to see us at once. He looked melancholy and I had never seen him like that before.

He visited us frequently and talked a great deal with my father about the estate, which was solely his now. He had been looking after it for years because he, not his father, had been the one who had built it up. “But there is a difference,” my father said, “when something is entirely your own.”

Rolf contrived to be alone with me when we went riding together.

He said: “I wish you weren’t going away, Annora. You’re going right to the other side of the world and you’ll be away for a long time.”

“It wouldn’t be worthwhile going just for a few weeks.”

“Then there is the journey there and another back. I missed you while you were in London. Did you think of Cador?”

“Often.”

“When you come back, I want to have a long talk with you.”

“What about?”

“Us.”

“What do you mean … you and me?”

He nodded.

We were walking our horses and he turned to me and said: “You seem to take such a long time to grow up.”

“The usual time I suppose.”

“Will you think of me while you are away?”

“Quite a lot, I expect.”

“When you come back we’ll make plans …”

I felt a sudden happiness. He could mean only one thing. I smiled at him. He looked different with that air of melancholy about him.

I thought of what my mother had said. “One must try to understand people.” She and my father had broken laws. People did at times. One must not judge them too harshly. One must grow up. One must understand something about life.

In that moment I wondered why I had ever thought there was a possibility of my marrying Joe. I knew I loved Rolf. But I wished I could forget that terrible night.

When we returned to the stables he helped me to dismount and kissed me.

I felt rather glad that we were going away. During the trip I would sort out my thoughts. I would come to terms with myself. I would make sure that, whatever had happened on that night, I was going to marry Rolf.

I
T WAS THE BEGINNING
of September when we set sail. We stayed a few nights in the house in Albemarle Street before going on to Tilbury to join the cargo ship in which we would be sailing. I was sure the excitement of the coming journey was good for Helena. She was still very sad and at times lapsed into deep melancholy, but I did feel that she had come a little way from the terrible lassitude which implied that she simply did not care what became of her.

Amaryllis was sorry that she was going but at the same time she felt that it was the best thing for her. As for Peter Lansdon, his resilience continued to amaze me. He behaved as though there was nothing extraordinary about a man who had aspired to become a leading politician being at the same time, to put it crudely, a brothel owner. He simply shrugged off politics and I had no doubt that he would soon be applying his immense energies to something else.

We went to the house in the square for dinner and it was almost as it had been in the past. He was insouciant, talkative and informative about what was going on. I did notice once the sardonic smile he sent in my mother’s direction and I guessed he was reminding her of that long-ago pact, and telling her that exposure did not worry him all that much. Yet he had gone to great lengths to keep the nature of his business secret. He was, no doubt, making the best of an ugly situation, and in spite of everything I knew about him, I could not help feeling a grudging admiration for him.

He did talk a great deal about the Queen and Lord Melbourne and the growing certainty that there would soon be an election which would put Melbourne out.

“And what Her Majesty will do when she loses her beloved minister, I cannot imagine. Stamp her little foot, no doubt. But it won’t do any good. And they say she has an aversion to Peel. Well, one has to admit he is too serious a politician to appeal to a young girl … and of course his lordship has all the charm in the world, to which is added a somewhat scandalous past.” He smiled at us in a kind of wry triumph. “It seems odd that the naughty prosper in this world and the good are considered somewhat dull.” I could see that he was certainly not going to let adversity deter him.

I think my father was inclined to admire him, too. He had always been one to look lightly on the sins of others. My mother naturally felt a great antipathy towards him and I could well understand that, after what she told me of the anxiety he must have caused her all those years ago.

I had several talks with Peterkin. He told me he had seen Joe at Frances’s Mission and Joe had given up all thought of politics. It was the only thing he could do. He would not have a chance this time, but it might be that in a few years the name would be forgotten and he would pursue his ambition. For the time being he had gone up North and was working with a company in which his father had interests.

As for Peterkin himself, he was seeing Frances frequently and becoming more and more interested in the work she was doing.

He said: “My father is not averse to this. He thinks it is good publicity to have a son who is interested in social welfare; and it makes a nice touch that I am working with the daughter of Joseph Cresswell, because as you know there have been rumours that my father trapped Joseph Cresswell into that situation. So for once I have his approval of what I am doing.” He smiled at me. “It suits me. For the first time I feel I am doing something I really want to do. My father has given money to the Mission … a sizeable sum, so that Frances is going to get that house she wants. Of course, Papa likes the press to know where the money comes from.”

“I suppose he feels it’s a sort of expiation.”

“Not him. He just feels it’s a neat touch for people to ask if the money goes to do such good service does it matter how it was come by?”

“He’s very cynical.”

“He’s just about the shrewdest and most cunning person I know.”

“And you and Frances—you don’t mind using his money?”

Peterkin looked at me quizzically. “No. I suppose we ought to. Frances and I have talked about it. Not that she thought of refusing it for a moment. Frances would take money from any source if it helped with her work. She needs that money. If you could see some of those people, you’d understand. Frances is a very wise young woman. ‘If good cometh out of evil,’ she says, ‘let’s make the most of the good.’”

I thought a good deal about them all and it was brought home to me that life is not neatly divided between good and evil; and after that I began to make less critical judgements.

After that brief visit we went down to Tilbury to join our ship which was taking ready-made garments, corn, oats, sugar, tea and coffee as well as some livestock out to Australia. There were only a few passengers so I supposed we should get to know our fellow travellers well during the voyage.

Helena and I shared a small cabin with two bunks, one above the other, a little cupboard for our clothes and a small table on which was fixed a mirror. It was fortunate that most of our baggage had been put into the hold until our arrival. My parents had a similar cabin next to ours and Jacco was sharing with another young man.

It was an exciting moment when we slipped away from the dock.

The Captain invited us to his cabin. He was a pleasant man with a dark curly beard, the same dark curly hair and heavy-lidded brown eyes.