The Lorimer Line (10 page)

The chairman did not answer at once, although the request could hardly have come as a surprise. Instead, he continued to stare steadily at this employee who had so sadly mistaken his place in society. The effect was perhaps not what he had intended. So far from intimidating him, the heavy period of silence gave David an opportunity to conquer his nervousness and determine that, like Margaret, he was not to be bullied. He sat up even straighter and set his jaw more firmly.

At last the chairman spoke.

‘Miss Lorimer has acquainted you, I understand, with my intention to make no settlement on her in the event of her marriage.'

‘She has, sir. It is this information which has encouraged me to approach you. In any other circumstances it would scarcely have been possible. You would have been bound to think me a fortune-hunter.'

There was no means of telling what effect this statement had on his hearer, but David's own eyes sparkled brazenly with the pleasure of turning the old man's weapon against himself. If there was to be a battle, he determined to prove himself a worthy opponent.

‘Are you aware, Mr Gregson, that Miss Lorimer in a year spends as much on clothing and other personal needs as the total amount of your present salary?' John Junius paused briefly before answering his own question. ‘No, of course you are not. Miss Lorimer herself is not. She knows neither what she spends nor what you earn. I do not expect in my daughter the ability to calculate expenses and
incomes and to balance them to the last farthing. But you are an accountant. I expect it of you. You must know that what you propose is impossible.'

‘I well understand, sir, that it will be necessary for some such account to be presented to Miss Lorimer so that she may fully comprehend the sacrifices which would be demanded of her,' said David. ‘If I have not done that yet, it is because I have not felt myself free to speak of such matters until I have your permission to do so.'

He had won that round too. For the time being even Margaret was forgotten in the pleasure of pitting his wits against his employer, at whose frown half Bristol fell to trembling.

‘Nevertheless, Mr Gregson, you have presumably considered the matter in your own mind. Do you, for example, expect my daughter to take up residence in your present apartments? I have been there to visit them. They are cramped and unhealthy. It would be out of the question.'

‘I have given a good deal of thought to this matter, Mr Lorimer, and I believe that I have the ability to improve my situation. Certainly I have the ambition to do so. I recognize that it might cause Miss Lorimer distress to live in reduced circumstances in a city where she has previously graced the best society. It is possible that you yourself, sir, might not wish it to be directly observed that she had adopted the style of life of one of your own accountants. It would be my intention, if your permission is forthcoming and if Miss Lorimer accepts the situation when she has fully understood it, to apply for a position in some other place, and to ask only that the chairman of Lorimer's Bank should support my application with a recommendation which I trust my work here will have deserved.'

‘You have in mind a post similar to your present one?'

David had hoped that this question would be asked, for he had already decided what answer he would give.

‘To work as accountant in the head office of a bank such
as Lorimer's has been of great value to me,' he said. ‘It is my opinion that I should now be capable of acting as a manager, perhaps at first of one of the minor branches of a metropolitan bank. In a small town this might afford Miss Lorimer a status of which she need not feel ashamed. Thenceforward I would rely on my own abilities to win promotion.'

Yet another silence settled over the chairman's large office, in which the air as well as the furniture seemed not to have been changed for fifty years. David judged that behind the frowning expression a decision was being made. Perhaps, he thought, it had been made even before the interview began, subject only to his own satisfactory performance. At any rate, the verdict flowed out without any hesitation.

‘I have been over this matter with Miss Lorimer not once but twice,' said the chairman. ‘On the first occasion at her request and again yesterday at my own. She is a stubborn young woman, and I should warn you that you may not always find that as much to your advantage as it is today. But I am not a duke or a marquis, insistent on pedigree with every marriage. My family has attained its present position by the exercise of its own talents. Never let it be said that a Lorimer undervalues skill and ambition. I have accordingly informed Miss Lorimer that she may receive you at Brinsley House.'

David bowed his head, ostensibly in thanks but actually in relief and pleasure and surprise. He was allowed no time to speak.

‘I do not intend to change my mind on the question of a settlement,' the chairman said severely, as though repenting of his weakness; but then went on in a more encouraging manner. ‘However, although her behaviour in the past may have been foolish, Miss Lorimer remains my daughter, and I shall make her a small personal allowance. As for yourself, you are correct in believing that the status of my
son-in-law cannot be a matter of indifference to me. I shall recommend to the Board of Directors your appointment as manager of Lorimer's Bank with effect from May.'

This time it was all David could do not to gasp with amazement. What he had said earlier had certainly been intended to win the chairman's support for his advancement, but he had not anticipated any height as dizzy as this. Whatever the chairman recommended, the directors would accept. This could be no spur-of-the-minute decision. It had all been thought out in advance, no doubt from the moment when David requested the interview.

‘Mr Lynch will be taking his departure then?' he queried.

‘He will. He is not yet, however, aware of the fact, and he will not learn it from you.' Suddenly the great eyebrows lifted and the whole force of the chairman's stare was directed at David. John Junius Lorimer knew as well as Jehovah himself how to make clear the orders which were not to be disobeyed. ‘You will leave for London at the end of this week with a recommendation to a friend of mine at Gurney's Bank. He will instruct you in those areas of management which are not ruled solely by accountancy. When you leave Bristol, you will give no indication to any of your acquaintances, and particularly not to any member of the staff here, that there is any possibility of your ever returning.'

‘Not even to Miss Lorimer?'

‘I have already told Miss Lorimer that I require her to accept a separation of three months in order that her feelings for you, and yours for her, may be tested. The stubbornness to which I have already referred has caused her to accept my statement as a challenge. She takes it at its face value. She certainly will hope for your reappearance in May. But she must know nothing of my intentions as far as the bank is concerned.'

This time the silence was a final one. All he intended to say had been said.

David stood up.

‘I hope you will allow me to express my appreciation of your attitude sir,' he said. ‘What you have offered is much more than I deserve or could have presumed to hope for. I would like to say, if I may, that my admiration for yourself is exceeded only by my affection for Miss Lorimer.'

John Junius Lorimer's head bowed in a nod which was so slight as to be almost imperceptible. It was a gesture which accepted the sentiments and dismissed the speaker. David bowed in farewell and withdrew.

Back at his desk he sat without moving, almost unable to believe his luck. What would his mother have said, he wondered with amusement, if she could have heard that fulsome compliment he had paid the old man? She would have sighed to discover how quickly her straight-speaking Scottish son had been corrupted into mouthing the insincerities of Southerners. It was even likely, David realized, that the chairman himself had little use for such flattery. But he would accept it as an indication that his future son-in-law had good manners and respect for the way of the world. The whole interview had been satisfactory beyond all expectations.

Mr Lynch, passing in front of David's desk at that moment, paused to stare pointedly at the ledger which lay closed on its surface. David dipped his quill in the ink as a sign that he was resuming work. His gesture of apology was a mock one, but he acted it well. He knew what Mr Lynch could not guess, but he must wait a little while for his triumph.

The secret impulses of the heart may drive a young woman down unexpected paths in the maze of social observances. When she was heart-free, with no attachment - either formal or unofficial - to bind her, Margaret Lorimer had spent little time enjoying the more frivolous diversions of her contemporaries. She loved to dance, for example, but disliked the prickly hedges of etiquette which gave significance to the smallest gesture. Dances were too often organized as though they had been invented by the old for the purpose of marrying off the young.

During the months of David's absence, she was surprised to realize that her attitude had changed. Naturally she missed him, but the security which she felt in his love made the parting bearable. Her happiness at being wanted relaxed her normally firm expression, and her new gaiety was quickly observed. It was ironic that while her heart yearned for one man only she should find herself pursued in an unaccustomed way by so many male partners, but she was easier in their company than before because she knew - although they did not - that they could never be of more than passing interest to her. She accepted invitations to evening concerts or subscription balls or private routs as though her promise to John Junius demanded it. Her father had required only silence, but she was impelled to go further, justifying each venture into mixed society as a deliberate means of concealing her true situation.

Her father encouraged this increased social activity, and pressed new gowns upon her with a generosity which caused Margaret to wonder whether they represented a disguised contribution to her future life. John Junius's willingness to accept David as her suitor had revived all
the warm affection which she had felt for her father but was not encouraged to express. Was it reciprocated? That was more difficult to tell, but perhaps he had concealed his feelings for so long that he could not now bring himself to put them into words, expressing them instead in generosities.

Yet though Margaret's family life at this time was unusually warm and her social life unusually crowded, the days passed slowly. Spring in that year of 1878 seemed very long in coming. Bristol lay snugly protected beneath the heights of Clifton, but even in the heart of the city, to which the westerly winds usually brought warm Atlantic rain, the snow showed no sign of melting. For almost ten days in March, when the sharp heads of daffodils were pushing upwards into the frosty air, the most sheltered basins of the dock were frozen. This enabled skating parties to be added to the list of pleasures on offer, but made the month of May seem still as distant as when David had departed for London.

The need for a new distraction combined with the strain of secrecy to make Margaret seek an interview with her father one evening. She found him working at his papers in the library which he used as a study when the tower room was too cold. Georgiana rarely sat long in the drawing room, unless there were guests and the possibility of making up a table at cards. When she retired to her boudoir it was usual for John Junius to retreat to the library in order that he should be free from interruption. She could tell on this occasion that he was irritated by her intrusion and unwilling to be distracted. Sheets of figures were spread over his desk and had caused the frown-lines of displeasure to deepen between his eyes.

‘Yes?'

Margaret recognized that her intrusion was badly timed. But to retreat without speaking would be to annoy him all
the more, and so would any elaborate apology. She hurried to put her request into the briefest form.

‘I would like, Papa, to invite Lydia to stay for a short visit.'

She watched him gradually pulling his mind away from whatever was worrying him and making the effort to recall which one of her friends she meant.

‘Miss Morton? Naturally you are welcome to entertain her here whenever you like. There is no necessity to inquire of me, if the date is convenient to your mother.'

Margaret had known that, of course, but needed a way of leading to her real request.

‘She has recently become engaged, Papa. She can talk of nothing but her handsome lieutenant. He has been posted to Quetta, which is why I have suggested the visit. It is to console her, for she is sure that her heart will break. You told me that I should not mention Mr Gregson's name, nor my feelings for him, to any of my friends, and I have done as you asked. But it is very hard to have no confidante at all. And it will be doubly hard when my guest is so much burdened by her own separation.'

John Junius sighed. Reluctantly he was preparing to give his full concentration to the matter.

‘If your understanding with Mr Gregson breaks down for any reason, Margaret, and if in the meantime you have allowed it to become known, your situation will be a humiliating one.'

‘I am sure that will not happen,' she said firmly. ‘In any case, my friend will be discreet if I ask her. Doubly so if told she is entrusted with a secret known to no one else.'

‘No doubt,' her father replied dryly. ‘But I am aware that girls like to chatter. Although I sympathize with your wish to make your situation public, we cannot be sure that Miss Morton may not succumb to the same wish. There is only one way to keep a secret, Margaret. I must ask you to
observe the wishes I have previously expressed on the subject.'

Margaret had long ago realized the wisdom of defying her father only on matters of extreme importance. It was necessary to make small surrenders if she were ever to win any battles at all, and to tell the truth her hopes of success in this particular campaign had never been high. She sighed more loudly than was necessary, but already her father had returned his frowning concentration to the figures in front of him.