The Trial of Marie Montrecourt (15 page)

“What will you do, Gladys?” Marie knew she earned barely enough to feed her family as it was.

“There’ll be other work,” she replied stoically, but they both knew that their lives would be the poorer in every way.

The only solace Marie found now was in Evelyn’s letters. Through them, she could escape into a different world and forget the chaos of her own. When he wrote to say he had won the by-election, she wrote back immediately to congratulate him and to say how proud she was to know someone of such importance. With the modesty she had come to expect from him, he dismissed his achievement as the triumph of influence over talent. He suggested that they might meet somewhere to celebrate his success. She suggested a small tea room in the nearby market town of Otley.

*

A railway connected the two towns and it was only a short walk from the station to the tea room. When she arrived, it was to discover that Evelyn wasn’t there. For a moment, she panicked. Had she got the wrong date or the wrong time? As if on cue, he entered full of effusive apologies. Constituency business had kept him longer than he’d expected.

“I’ve only just arrived myself,” she reassured him. “Please don’t worry. I know how busy you are.”

They ordered tea and cakes and then fell into easy conversation – as old friends should.

“You don’t mind me writing to you so often, do you?” he asked eventually, as Marie poured them a second cup of tea.

“No. Oh, no.”

“I was surrounded by petty bureaucracy every day. Sometimes it drove me to distraction. I needed to unburden myself to someone and I hoped it might make you smile.”

“It did.” She was flattered that he’d thought of her at all. “Tell me about election day.”

She listened intently as he gave her a blow-by-blow account, making her laugh at his description of some of the voters. She listened in admiration as he quoted extracts from his acceptance speech.

“I could never speak in public like you,” she said in admiration.

“If you had to, you would,” he assured her.

She smiled and shook her head, then glanced at the clock behind the counter. She couldn’t believe how quickly time had passed since her arrival. She should be going. She’d been able to slip out of the house unnoticed because both Stanley and Edwin were absent, but Edwin would return soon and she didn’t want to have to explain where she’d been. She was pleased to see that Evelyn was genuinely disappointed when she told him she had to go.

“I haven’t asked anything about you?” he said, full of remorse. “All I’ve talked about is myself.”

“But that’s much more interesting.” She meant it. She realised, of course, that now he was a Member of Parliament, he would be far too busy to keep in touch with her. She would miss him. “I expect you’ll find yourself extremely busy from now on,” she said, holding out her hand. “I just want to thank you again for all your family’s kindness to me.”

He surprised her by taking the proffered hand and kissing its palm. Then he folded her fingers over it. “Hold on to that until we meet again, and we will. I have more reason than ever to be in the north now I’m elected. I intend to be zealous in my attention to my constituents, but I’m sure that will leave me time to call on you. If you don’t think your husband would object,” he added as an afterthought.

Marie flushed, but her honesty made her say: “I haven’t discussed our meetings with Stanley. He’s so busy, you see. Besides, I would have to explain to him how and why we met, and that could prove difficult considering your father’s request to remain anonymous.”

To her relief, he seemed to accept that completely. “Of course, your decision is absolutely correct. My father’s wishes must be paramount.”

The train from Ilkley was ten minutes late and Evelyn was impatiently pacing up and down outside the station at Harrogate waiting for Marie. He’d planned a surprise outing for her, and now he was nervous in case it didn’t please her. At least the weather was on his side. It was a beautiful day with a cloudless sky.

He’d managed to see Marie three times since the by-election and they exchanged weekly letters – neither of them giving a thought to how Stanley would feel about it if he knew. After all, there was no harm in it. He was an old family friend.

At last he saw her hurrying out of the station towards him. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

She had obviously been running because she was breathless and a lock of hair had fallen loose. He smiled reassuringly. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

He caught her by the hand and hurried her over to his motor car, and began to drive with his usual speed through the deserted countryside. He glanced at her. She’d looked a little pale when she’d arrived, but the drive was bringing the colour back to her cheeks.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Wait and see,” he teased.

Finally, he pulled up by the side of a small inn nestling on the bank of a river. There was a rowing boat tied up to the capstan nearby and he gestured towards it. He enjoyed the changing expressions that crossed her face as she looked around her: curiosity, surprise, anticipation.

“Climb on board, Madame, and wait. I will answer all your questions on my return,” he said.

He headed for the nearby inn where he’d arranged for a picnic hamper to be prepared. He placed it in the boat beside her and laughed as she tried to peek inside. “Patience,” he said, with mock reproof.

He rowed them out to a small island in the middle of the river, skilfully manoeuvring the boat until they came to a stop among reeds.

“How on earth did you manage to organise all this when you’re so busy?” Marie asked, as he helped her onto the bank.

They headed for the shade provided by a nearby sycamore tree and with a flourish Evelyn produced a rug from the hamper. “In case the grass is too damp for Madame.” He started to unpack the picnic. “To be honest, it wasn’t very difficult to organise. I’ve always kept in touch with Gerrard. He used to work at Ardington, on the estate, but now he owns the inn over there.” He nodded to the far bank. “I wrote and told him I wanted a picnic, and said when I would need it and voila! He owns this island and the rowing boat. So you see, I can’t take much credit for anything.”

“You must take all the credit for finding such a perfect spot.”

As they feasted on chicken, salad and freshly baked bread, Evelyn chattered on about anything he thought might amuse her. Eventually, she leant back against the trunk of the sycamore tree with a sigh of contentment. The only sounds to disturb the silence surrounding them were the gentle lapping of water and the songs of birds.

“I couldn’t eat another thing. Mr Gerrard’s been more than generous.” She wiped her hands on a napkin to get rid of the grease. “This has been the most wonderful day, Evelyn. Thank you. I’ll never forget it.”

He thought how lovely she looked, the sun throwing patterns of light and shade across her face as the wind gently stirred the leaves above her. A shaft of sunlight caught her hair and for a moment turned the burnished copper into blood-red. A hint of sadness crossed her face. He wanted to reach out and brush it away – which was stupid, he told himself sharply. To even think like that was stupid. He realised that his longing to be alone with her had been a mistake. They’d only ever met in public before, with other people around them. Marie was a married woman and he reminded himself that his intention was simply to offer her protection if she needed it – nothing more.

“We ought to move,” he said abruptly. “I’ll pack all this away.”

She was surprised by his change of mood, but she immediately agreed. “Of course, I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

He wanted to deny it and say he could think of no better way to spend his time than to be with her, but he didn’t.

“I’ll take you back to the station.” He tried to keep his tone light. He didn’t want to spoil the day for her. His weakness was not her fault.

On the drive back, a companionable silence fell between them. At the station it was hard for him to say goodbye to her, but it was even harder to watch her disappear as the train pulled away. The emptiness she left behind was profound.

*

It was some weeks since their picnic and Marie hadn’t heard anything further from Evelyn. She understood – in fact, she’d even half expected it. Political life was bound to start taking up more and more of his time.

She
had
received a letter this morning, though, and it was an unexpected one. It was from Pretoria, from the Abbot of St Alphonsus Monastery, in response to the letter she’d written to Father Connor after her first meeting with Evelyn. In it, she’d asked the priest for any information he could give her about her parents. She’d heard nothing and had assumed her letter had never arrived, but it obviously had. The Abbot was apologising for the delay in replying. He wrote that Father Connor had left for France some time ago, to end his days at the Abbey of Saint Foy in Conques. “Whether he will survive the journey,” the Abbot had written, “is in God’s hands. I am sorry I am not able to help you further.”

She folded the letter and placed it in the tin box under her bed. She felt a little guilty that she’d written to Father Connor and not told Evelyn, so it was almost a relief that this was the end of the matter.

*

The next day, she returned from the lending library clutching a novel. She hoped that
The Mill on the Floss
and George Eliot would succeed in distracting her from thoughts of Evelyn. She entered the living room and saw that Stanley was waiting for her. For once, he was looking pleased with himself.

“Well, I’ve done it. I’ve bought a new business,” he announced. “It’s in the centre of Leeds. The premises used to belong to an ironmonger, but I’ll convert it into a grocers. And I’ve found somewhere for us to live, close to the new shop.”

“Oh,” was all she could think of to say. She’d managed to convince herself that his plans had been set aside.

“Is that all you can say?”

She made an effort to show interest. “I’d like to see where we’re going to live.”

“It’s all arranged. I’ve already paid the first month’s rent.”

“If I’m going to live there, surely I should see it before we move in?”

He glowered at her and then shrugged. “See it if you must, but it’s all I can afford.” As he turned to go, he added: “By the way, don’t say anything to Pa about any of this.”

As Edwin barely exchanged a civil word with her these days, there was very little chance of her telling him anything.

*

They caught the tram from outside Leeds railway station. It had a single deck and was a clanging, rattling contraption, above which sparks spat from the electric cable to which it was attached. It swayed and spat its way down the Headrow. As it passed the Town Hall, Marie caught a glimpse of a group of women brandishing placards. There was a crowd watching as three or four policemen wrestled them to the ground, tearing the placards out of their hands. Marie could just make out the lettering on one of them. It read:
Votes For Women
. She saw a figure she thought she recognised. It was Daphne; surely it was Daphne. She stood up excitedly. “That’s Daphne Senior, I’m sure of it. I thought she was in London.”

She made a move, as if intending to get off the tram, but Stanley grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her roughly back onto the seat.

“Sit down and keep quiet,” he hissed, aware that other people on the tram had turned to look at them curiously.

Marie shook her arm free. It was too late to do anything about it now, anyway. The tram had moved on and the group of women was lost from sight.

Stanley finally got up. “We’re here,” he said brusquely. Marie, clutching onto the backs of the seats for support, followed him off the tram. “This is Briggate. The shop’s down that alleyway over there.” He indicated an opening between the three story buildings. “The place I’ve found for us to live is just five minutes’ walk away in Garibaldi Street, number fourteen.”

He set off at a pace and she almost had to run to keep up with him. That was how he was these days, either bursting with energy or overwhelmed by lethargy, and she never knew which one to expect.

*

The rooms were unfurnished. The owners of the house, a Mr and Mrs Gilpin, had the basement and ground floor, while the rooms of the apartment that Stanley had rented were spread over the first and second floors. Both parties shared the same door into the street, but a flight of stairs led up to the apartment’s front door from the communal hall. Once inside, there was a small landing from which a few more steps led up to a scullery, a kitchen and a parlour. More steps led up to the second floor, where there were two large bedrooms.

Marie slowly paced around the empty room. She crossed to the window to peer out, the heels of her shoes clicking against bare wooden floorboards. She stared into the house opposite. It was so close that if she wanted to she could lean out and touch its window. She turned away and observed the pale green distemper on the walls around her. It was clean and it wasn’t a hovel. She should be grateful for that.

“It’s all I can afford.” Her silence was beginning to irritate him. “We won’t be here for long anyway – just until the shop starts making money. Then I’ll buy a house.”

“It’s very pleasant,” she said, trying to sound positive.

She’d noticed one thing immediately. There were only two bedrooms. Since the baby had died Stanley had shown no inclination to restart marital relations, and she had no desire for that either. The fear of becoming pregnant again burned fiercely inside her. She’d also heard Dr McCullough say to Stanley that she might not be strong enough to survive another miscarriage.

“There are only two bedrooms,” she murmured.

“Yes, well, as you can see, there’ll be no room for Pa here.”

She looked at him in astonishment. Stanley had always provided Edwin with a home.

“I’ve been supporting him for years. It’s about time our Geoffrey helped out. The old man’s getting worse – nattering at me all the time and poking his nose into things that don’t concern him.”

Marie knew he would be devastated by the news. “It will be a shock to him.”

“He’ll be alright at Geoffrey’s. It’s not as if I’m sending him to the poor house.”

She held her silence. It was up to Edwin to fight his own battles and it was better than her having to share a bed with Stanley. “When will you tell him?”

“After I’ve spoken to Geoffrey.”

“When will that be?”

“In my own time, when I’m good and ready. Until then, I’ll thank you to keep quiet about it.”

Marie nodded and fell silent.

Some days later, while she was in the parlour idly running her fingertips across the keys of the piano, the door burst open and Edwin stormed in. He strode over to the piano and shut the lid with a bang, nearly trapping her fingers.

“Couldn’t wait to get rid of me, could you?”

Marie looked up at him in astonishment. “I’m sorry?”

“Couldn’t wait to get rid of me,” he repeated. “How did you persuade him to turn me out? He’s a fool, our Stanley, to believe anything you say. ”

“Are you talking about you moving in with Geoffrey? It wasn’t me who suggested that.”

“Stanley said you’d say that. It’s the only way she’ll agree to the move, he said, if she can still have a room of her own and I can’t afford anything bigger. I told him to kick
you
out then, not me.”

“Mr Minton, I had no say in this move.” Like Peter before him, Stanley had twisted the truth and put her in the wrong. It was a skill the Mintons shared.

“Didn’t you go with him to Leeds to see it?” Edwin demanded.

“Yes.”

“And did you tell Stanley that I should be there with you both?”

She couldn’t say that she’d been strong in her protest. The truth was she had been relieved. Her silence was enough to confirm Edwin’s suspicions.

“You’re crowing now that you’ve got rid of me, but the minute he moves to a bigger place I’ll be moving back in – and you’ll be sorry for it. I’m not got rid of that easily and I never forgive.”

He slammed the door after him as he left.