Illusions of Happiness (9 page)

Wednesday was spent alone, mostly lying on her bed moping, trying hard not to, but her mind turning over and over seeing again and again the baby that had been taken from her. Where was she now? A woman’s voice, high-pitched and raucous, calling up from downstairs roused her.

‘Miss . . . what’s-yer-name, Wyndham, there’s some bloke darn ’ere wants ter see yer!’

At the cry, Madeleine leapt up. A man! James? Please God let it be. A glance in the mirror showed her that she looked awful. Quickly she ran a comb through her now short hair, pinched her cheeks to make them look pink, bit her lips hard to give them more colour, then hurried downstairs, her landlady’s voice still screeching impatiently up at her.

At the sight of her, the woman left the open door to retreat back into her downstairs parlour leaving James standing there beaming.

‘I thought you might like this,’ he said, holding towards her a large colourful bag bearing the name Harrods. ‘A little present for you from me, which I hope you will accept, my dear, but I saw it and couldn’t resist. I hoped you were at home. Couldn’t wait until I saw you on Friday.’

He was talking fast, almost as if out of breath as he thrust the bag at her, compelling her to take it from him.

‘Must be off!’ he went on as if there wasn’t a moment to spare. ‘Need to be somewhere – business. Shall I see you on Friday, eight o’clock? I shall be here on the dot to pick you up,’ he added as she nodded automatically. ‘Please wear it. I plan to take you somewhere very special for the evening. And I also need to have a serious talk with you.’

He leaned forward, surprising her by planting a brief peck on her cheek before turning and hurrying back to the waiting motor car.

Madeleine stood half stunned at the open door as the vehicle moved off, one or two people staring at the unusual sight of such a grand motor having pulled up outside one of the tenements during the daytime.

Still feeling the kiss on her cheek, she closed the door and went back upstairs, her heart pounding. He’d said he would see her on Friday. All that fretting! Moments later her heart had sunk. Was it only to say he didn’t want to see her again, the gift a mere thank you present?

In her room she opened the bag. A tissue-wrapped parcel lay inside. Slowly she reached in, pulled it out, laying the bag aside to unwrap the flimsy package. Seconds later she gasped, holding up a beautiful evening gown, rich blue brocade with a raised pattern of silver thread throughout, sleeveless, a high waist, a décolletage not too low but, suitable for any evening occasion.

‘I can’t accept this!’ she burst out to the four walls.

But to refuse it, he’d be so hurt. Yet to accept it, what sort of message might that convey? She dared not think.

The only thing she could do was to make it plain that acceptance didn’t come with a willingness to participate in what was at this moment racing through her mind. He wanted her to wear it, had made a point of asking her to, so she had no choice but to do as he’d asked. She would of course thank him when they met on Friday but explain that it was not really proper for a young lady to accept presents from a man in this way. But on Friday he had another surprise for her.

As his limousine bore them towards the theatre in Covent Garden – she had once told him how much she enjoyed listening to orchestral concerts – he said suddenly, ‘I’ve been thinking, my dear, the place at which you are currently living, I really do not feel it entirely suitable for a young lady of gentle upbringing. I have it in mind to find you somewhere far more suitable.’

In the darkness of the vehicle, she half smiled. ‘It’s a lovely idea, James, except that I can’t afford anywhere else and . . .’

‘You’ve no need to worry,’ he broke in. ‘I know your circumstances do not allow you any better accommodation but you have me now and I would be more than happy to take care of the rent for you.’

Madeleine caught her breath. On the point of crying out that she had no intention of being a kept woman, she curbed herself in time. Instead she said as steadily as she could, ‘I don’t think that would be quite the right thing to do.’

She could sense rather than see him staring at her in the darkness of the vehicle. ‘Why on earth not, my dear?’

‘Because . . . well, it’s not right,’ she stammered. ‘It’s as though . . .’

She floundered to a stop at a loss how to express what she was trying to say then began again. ‘You’ve always been a complete gentleman toward me but if you began paying my rent for me it wouldn’t take long for people to begin making something out of it and doubt your good intentions – tarnish your good name.’

She heard him draw a deep breath. ‘That never crossed my mind but I understand what you mean.’

Was he being truthful? Madeleine’s mind raced. Knowing she was what many people once termed a ‘fallen woman’ and even today those ideas hadn’t changed, could he be harbouring some hope that she’d prove easy as time went on? If so he was in for a shock. She had fallen once through her own silly innocence. No longer innocent she certainly wasn’t prepared to allow herself to fall even lower.

She became aware that he was speaking. ‘There is another alternative my dear. I might write to your father and request that if only for charity’s sake he might increase your allowance so that you may enjoy far more suitable accommodation.’

‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘My father is not your affair.’

She knew immediately that she’d hurt him as he leaned back into his seat. Almost apologetically she said, ‘Oh, James, I didn’t mean it to sound as it did. I meant . . .’

How could she explain what she meant? She fell silent but after a moment or two, he said quietly, ‘If you feel that strongly about it, my dear, the only other solution would be not to reveal to anyone that I am financing better accommodation for you away from that awful area? I cannot bear to see you living where you are at present,’ he added as he sensed her stiffen. ‘Please, Madeleine, accept my suggestion. It would make me so happy.’

What could she say? She needed so dreadfully to get away from that awful place, from Dolly and her lifestyle, but to have him pay for her? Again came the thought, in time what reward would even the kindest man begin to look for? And would she feel obliged to yield to his requests out of gratitude?

‘What would you expect of me in return?’ The nagging question sprang into words before she could prevent them.

In the vehicle’s dim interior she felt him turn slowly to look at her. ‘Is that really what you think of me, Madeleine?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out. ‘I don’t know why I said it.’

‘You thought it, my dear, or you wouldn’t have said it.’

She could see herself in danger of losing him. ‘It’s just that I feel so vulnerable, living alone in London. I’ve never been on my own before.’

She sensed his tension melt away. ‘My dear, you need not be alone.’

His voice had grown deep and gentle, almost fatherly. ‘If you allow, I will always be here for you whenever and if ever you should need me. I will never ask anything of you if that is what you fear. I am as much in need of a friend as you. Since my wife passed away I have been very lonely. I have any number of business acquaintances, but they are purely that, acquaintances. I am wealthy and as such tend to attract hangers on, social climbers, but I do not enjoy social events all that much. I look forward to my home after an evening of it. The truth is that in the midst of company I am indeed lonely.’

He paused then continued. ‘I need someone to be a friend, a true friend, who does not expect to gain from me. If you’ll forgive me, my dear, I want to say that I deem you to be that person.’

She made no reply but on an impulse let her hand slowly reach out to him across the seat, a tiny pang of happiness flooding over her as she felt his fingers immediately curl around hers in a warm, firm grip.

After a while, he said, ‘There is still the matter of the embarrassment of my financing better accommodation for you. I do understand, my dear,’ he went on when she made no reply.

‘Therefore, I feel some other arrangement would better suit you.’

The pause left her wondering what arrangement he was talking about but she could think of no way of asking.

‘I know this may sound a little premature,’ he was saying, ‘and I will understand if you feel you need to refuse, but I feel it might be a solution to the problem if I asked . . .’ He hesitated then plunged on. ‘If I asked if you would consider marrying me?’

Madeleine was stunned, even wondering if she’d heard him correctly. She had known him for so little time. How could she even dream of marrying someone almost forty years older than her? Old enough to be her father, no, she could never do that. One day a young man would come along and they would marry and have babies . . .

That thought pulled her up sharply. She had a baby, one they had taken from her at the moment of its birth and for whom she’d catch herself pining at the least unforeseen moment; a baby she would do anything to trace and claim back.

Even now that empty ache came back into her breast and with it another thought. To ever be able to trace her, it would take a lot of money. Not in a million years would she ever be able to save up that sort of money. But James had money – had told her that he was a wealthy man. Nor had he frowned upon her when she’d told him that as a result of her own innocence she’d borne an illegitimate child. Now he was asking her to marry him. Were she to accept, there’d be enough money and more to trace her baby. But could she bring herself to marry an old man, for that?

He was kind, generous, of a pleasant nature, easy to get on with, she liked him, but she didn’t love him. But what did that matter. He promised security, the chance of a good life. He hadn’t said that he loved her merely that he needed companionship but was that sufficient for her to accept this offer of marriage? To get her baby back, yes, it was.

‘It would be a solution,’ she said quietly, answering his last question.

She felt him sit back in his seat. ‘Then that will be arranged,’ he said quietly. The rest of the journey passed in silence.

A sense of anticlimax stole over Madeleine as with an almost exaggerated show of disinterest Dolly glanced at the band of five large diamonds on the third finger of the hand that she’d held up for Dolly to see.

‘My, that must’ve cost him a pretty penny! You certainly know how to land on your feet, but I suppose you know all about that. Connections, that sort of thing.’

The tone was almost spiteful, but what had she expected – genuine excitement, Dolly falling over herself with profuse congratulations? Even so, knowing the girl’s hardly disguised attitude of envy ever since she’d told her about herself and James, Madeleine felt her own resentment rise, hearing her ratty echo, ‘
Connections
?’ laying emphasis on the word.

Dolly shrugged. ‘Well, people like you, brought up posh and all that, they always manage to fall on their feet, don’t they?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Madeleine said tartly, letting her hand with its gorgeous engagement ring drop to her side, looking now only to escape back to her own room. But if Dolly noticed the sting in her tone, she ploughed on without regard.

‘If you want my opinion, yes, it’s a nice ring. But I don’t think I’d be all that overjoyed with some old man three times my age, even if he do have money. What on earth can you see in him? Though I suppose you know your own mind.’

Madeleine wanted to say that she hadn’t asked for her opinion, but Dolly had more to say, studying her with a disbelieving gaze. ‘Surely, you can’t
love
him? You with your looks could easily find someone a blooming sight younger with just as much money as your old toff’s probably got.’

Just in time Madeleine stopped herself blurting out in retaliation to this that there
was
no time to wait for any young man to come along; that marrying James was the only way of getting back her baby before she lost her forever. But that would have given her a wonderful opportunity to call her a gold digger, an opportunist. But wasn’t that exactly what she was?

Hurriedly she turned away from that thought as to her relief Dolly moved off towards her room, saying over her shoulder as she went, ‘Anyway, wish you luck. Don’t suppose you’ll be here for much longer now you’ve got yourself all nicely sorted out.’

The door closed behind her with almost exaggerated care, leaving Madeleine only too glad she hadn’t let herself be motivated into blurting out her thoughts. She’d never told her about her baby, fearing to be looked down on. All she felt now was relief that she’d not be seeing her for much longer.

She’d finally accepted James’s offer of a nicer place to live until they were married, now assured that his intentions were indeed honourable. She had a ring to prove it and the knowledge that they’d be married quietly, no fuss, just a small affair.

Sitting on the hard upright chair by the table, she glanced again at her ring. It had been so formal the way he’d proposed, quietly, in the dim interior of his limousine, no attempt to embrace her when almost as formally she had said yes in an almost sombre tone.

‘Thank you, my dear,’ he’d said, ‘so long as you are very sure.’

When she told him that yes, she was very sure, he had reached into his coat pocket and withdrawn a dark blue velvet box.

Removing the ring, he had gently taken her left hand to slide it on to her finger, saying, ‘I hope you realize, my dear, how very happy you have made me.’

Hardly ever did he call her Madeleine, always ‘my dear’. But it was the sheer formality of his proposal that had shaken her as he added without any trace of emotion in his tone, ‘How would you feel, my dear, to marriage three months from now? Shall we say August?’

In the dim interior she’d sensed him smiling. ‘I think a quiet affair would be best if you are happy with that, a small formal reception, not too many guests, at my home which will then also be your home. Maybe your parents will agree to be present. How can they possibly refuse a decently wedded daughter, your father giving you away, as it should be? I think a brief honeymoon in the country. I would have taken you somewhere abroad, but that’s hardly possible with the war. When it is over we may take good advantage of an extended cruise somewhere, what do you say, my dear?’