The Promise (16 page)

‘You have to believe me, Chrissie. We’d agreed Karen should stay with me so as not to interrupt her education, but there have been a few problems. She got terrible marks in her end-of-term exams back in July, and Sal had an appointment to speak to her teacher today. We share a child, not a future. She has her life, I have mine.’

‘Karen doesn’t seem to agree with you.’

Ben sighed. ‘I know, but getting that fact across to the poor kid without upsetting her still further is the hard part. Sal is as bothered by her reaction as I am. She only came back to please Karen, and to sort out this school problem. Unfortunately, having her mum back in town seems to have given the child fresh hope, the opposite of what we intended. I really didn’t think she’d take our split this badly. I thought she’d be relieved that at least the rows had stopped.’

Chrissie said, ‘Maybe she thinks that’s a good sign, the fact you’ve stopped arguing.’

‘Hell, I never thought of that.’ He ran a distracted hand through tousled fair hair, and Chrissie glanced up at his face, her heart clenching at the woeful expression she saw written there.

‘Look, why don’t we take things more slowly, give Karen time to get used to the idea of me being around. Anyway, I need to concentrate on getting this place in order. I need those shelves.’

‘And all
I
need to do is to stop thinking about you, stop dreaming about you, and somehow keep my hands in my pockets whenever I’m near you. Not as easy as it sounds.’

He looked so forlorn she actually laughed out loud. Eyes
glowing with sympathy and amusement in equal measure, she said, ‘Did you get the necessary measurements for the wardrobe doors?’

He shook his head. ‘Nope. In the circumstances maybe I’d best pop back for those tomorrow, while Karen’s in school. I’ll also drop off some wood and stuff, ready to start work in the next week or two, hopefully.’

Keenly aware of the desire that still hummed between them, Chrissie put a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t be too hard on the kid. We were rather a long time and she must have got terribly bored with waiting. You should have brought her in with you, as I suggested.’

‘Now that
would
have been boring.’

‘Stop it. She’s a child, worried about her dad. She feels very much pig in the middle, poor girl, and still longing for a fairy-tale ending. I rather like the way she sticks up for her mum,
and
challenges you. Good on her, that’s what I say. Just try to point out, if you can, that you and Sal were over long before I put in an appearance. I refuse to be classed as the wicked Other Woman.’

‘I’ll do that. Hey, why don’t you join us for the meal? Give Karen the chance to really get to know you and see you as a part of my life.’

This was too much, too quickly, Chrissie thought, experiencing a sudden panic. She liked Ben a lot, but was she ready for yet more emotional turmoil? ‘Some other time, OK? It might be a bit awkward with Sally around.’

‘Sal wouldn’t mind.’

‘Maybe, but Karen obviously does. Let’s leave it for a bit, shall we?’ 

‘Just remember that I want you in my life, Chrissie, no matter what my grumpy daughter says.’ And there was not a scrap of teasing in his voice now, only tenderness and need.

The door of the van opened and a sharp little voice called, ‘Dad, are you coming, or what? I’m bored sick with sitting here.’

‘OK, love,’ he called, yet still he lingered. ‘When can I see you again, tomorrow perhaps?’

‘Maybe next week would be better, after what happened just now.’

His face lit up. ‘Great, I’ll speak with Karen about that meal, then we’ll fix a date.’

‘Go!’

When at last he climbed into the van and drove away, Chrissie locked the shop door and leant against it with a sigh. ‘Do you have the first idea what you’ve let yourself in for, girl?’ she asked herself, and when she got no answer, plodded back upstairs to continue with her decorating.

A few days later, Chrissie was invited into the conservatory at Rosegill Hall as Georgia had sorted out a few books for her. ‘There are some old classics here:
Anna Karenina, War and Peace
, various Dickens and Austen novels, all of which I seem to have collected spare copies of over the years. And quite a few Agatha Christie and Dornford Yates books which I shall never read again.’

‘Perfect.’

‘There’s a pile of old Pears’ encyclopaedias and year books here too. Are they any good?’

‘Everything is useful to get me started,’ Chrissie agreed, enthusiastically leafing through the books her grandmother had set out on the wrought-iron table. ‘This is very generous of you.’

‘Nonsense, my bookshelves were in serious need of a good clear-out, and it’s even more generous of you to help with the gardening.’

‘I quite enjoy weeding, and you’ve been so kind in agreeing to let me stay on a bit longer. Oh, look, the
Just So Stories
, and the
Arabian Nights
, I love those old tales. Several books about the four Georges, and
seventeenth-century
theatre. I must read those. And
Walking in the Lake District
by Symonds. How wonderful.’

Georgina was smiling broadly as she watched Chrissie’s enthusiasm mount. ‘I probably have more books by local worthies, and numerous old maps. I’ll look some out for you.’

‘Have you thought of writing a book yourself? Your memories of San Francisco, for instance.’ Chrissie enquired, keeping her tone deliberately casual.

‘Goodness, I’m no writer, nor have I anything of interest to say.’

‘Now that’s where you’re wrong, I love to hear your stories, and I’m sure others would too. Your family, for instance.’ How Chrissie longed, in that moment, to confess that she was one of their number. But her visit home had not gained her the permission she needed to put this dreadful muddle right. ‘You really should write them down. Perhaps I could help with that too. Then you’d have something to pass on to your family. We’d
reached the part where your mother had discovered you’d been seeing Ellis secretly, and was determined to arrange a more suitable marriage for you. Did you manage to get out of it?’

Georgia sank into a chair, her hands still clutching a book, but her mind now elsewhere, already centred on some other, more distant, concerns. ‘It was well-nigh impossible to defy my mother, once she’d set her sights on a course of action. And on this occasion Papa was not on my side either. No one was, not even dearest Prue.’

I couldn’t believe how quickly my life had changed. One day I’d been happily falling in love with my handsome sailor, promising to stay true to him for ever, the next I was about to walk down the aisle with a man I loathed.

‘I won’t do it! Why would I, when I don’t even like Drew Kemp, let alone love him?’ Mama and I were sitting in the carriage heading for the dressmakers, the road ahead jammed with broughams and hacks, cable cars straining uphill.

‘I want the best for you, child, what is so wrong in that? Drew Kemp is a man of property and affairs. It is perfectly plain to me that any future with him will pan out far better than with some two-bit sailor.’

‘How do you know that, Mama? I’m well aware this is a town for those who have struck it rich, for men who love to flaunt their wealth. It’s also one full of speculators,
gamblers, hoodlums, cheats and money-sharks. It’s not an aspect of Frisco life I like, as there are far more important things in life than the size of the cheque a man can write.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, come down out of your ivory tower, girl. At least Kemp has some sand in him and doesn’t waste his time and energy working in a menial capacity in the belly of a ship, for heaven’s sake.’

There was no talking to her, I could see that. Mama would never understand how I felt because our values were entirely different.

Prudence reached over to squeeze my hand. ‘You should start to look on your fiancé in a more positive light, dearest. Drew Kemp is charming, handsome, witty, and cuts quite a dashing figure in society. You will never be short of pretty gowns to wear or social functions to attend.’

I looked at her in pity. ‘Is that how you view life, Prue, as one long party?’

She flushed, this carefree sister of mine with her pearly cheeks and porcelain-like shoulders who all the men drooled over, looking uncharacteristically cross. ‘I know you think me shallow and silly, but I would consider myself most fortunate were I in your shoes. What is so wrong in wanting to step out with a man of ideas, one with boundless faith in himself, and the fortune to go with it?’

‘What indeed?’ Mama echoed. ‘Quite contrary to this sailor of yours. What could
he
offer? Does he even love you?’

‘Yes, I think he does.’ A recklessness born of desperation
must have come over me to admit such a thing. Maura, sitting opposite, cast me a warning look which I chose to ignore.

‘You
think
he loves you? You don’t sound too sure.’

‘Of course I’m sure. Is it so wrong to fall in love at first sight?’

‘Has he declared his love in so many words? Did he offer for your hand in marriage? Did he promise to stop his adventuring around the world and make a proper home for you? Did he ever suggest, for one second, that he would do the decent thing and make a respectable woman of you? Has he considered putting your needs before his own?’

I couldn’t answer her. How could I? Certain as I was of Ellis’s love for me, he had done none of these things. I couldn’t even prove that one day he might well have got around to proposing, because in a miserable hollow in the pit of my stomach I rather feared he was very content with his life the way it was. Hadn’t he been at pains to point out how he loved to see what was round the next bend, over the next hill? He’d given no hint that he was ready to abandon his wandering lifestyle and settle down to all that love and marriage entails. I saw, in that moment, that perhaps Mama may have a point. Was Ellis’s love simply a summer romance, as fleeting as a butterfly that would light on a flower to enjoy its fragrance and then fly away?

‘Well?’ she queried, jolting me out of my melancholic reverie. ‘Has he?’

As the carriage lurched forward I turned my face away and stared out the window, recalling the scent of
opium and fear, sweet meadow flowers in the park, and the taste of his kisses. ‘We have known each other but a few short weeks, during which time you refused to even receive him, Mama, so what is a young man to do in such a situation?’

She offered no answer to this challenge. ‘Where is he now, this romantic hero of yours?’

I shifted in my seat with discomfort, falling once more into a gloomy silence. It was Maura who answered. ‘Please, ma’am, Mr Cowper has gone back to sea for a while as his funds are running low.’

I closed my eyes so that I would not see the light of triumph in my mother’s eyes.

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Now we will hear no more of this foreign wastrel, is that clear? This morning you will be measured for your bridal gown. Prudence will be maid of honour, and when the time comes you will accept your new husband with good grace and offer proper gratitude to your dear papa for arranging this fortuitous marriage.’

The wedding was a mere four weeks away, to take place on the last Saturday in September, as decreed by Drew Kemp. When I complained about the unseemly haste, Mama simply cited examples of other young girls in a similar ruinous situation as myself who had not been so fortunate in finding a suitor in time. What their fate had been was apparently too dreadful to relate, but she maintained a close eye on my waistline despite my protests that I remained as untouched and virtuous as she could wish. But why would she believe in my innocence? It was
enough that I had met this common sailor in private, without a chaperone, and allowed him to take liberties with my person.

Time rushed inexorably by and no ship sailed over the horizon, not the right one anyway. No dashing sailor came to save me, nor any letter from him saying that he missed me and wanted me for his wife. But then Ellis would never dare to write to my home address, knowing my parents would intercept any such correspondence, and if he’d left a message for me at the Seamen’s Institute I never received it as I was banned from helping there ever again.

When not going about the business of preparing for this dreaded celebration, my days were largely spent confined to the house, mostly in my room, sulking or railing against my fate. Sometimes I was obliged, nay forced, to sit in the parlour and talk to my fiancé, or rather sit and listen while he told me what a very fine man he was, and how grateful I should be that he had even deigned to look my way, since I did not possess my sister’s beauty.

‘You should have chosen Prudence then, instead of me. It’s not too late to change your mind. I’m quite sure she would not be unwilling. She constantly praises your charm and good looks.’

He laughed at that, was at pains to point out that a wife needed to be far more than a pretty face. ‘She must be dutiful and reliable if she is to be good for my business, and for my image. And it goes without saying that she should provide me with the son I need to carry on the company after me. As the eldest daughter you were a much better bet.’

Self-centred, cold and unemotional, this man saw our union in terms of a business contract, as a useful alliance with my father, his biggest competitor. He loved himself far too much to spare a thought for anyone else.

I learnt how he was never shown proper love and affection by his own parents, his father being far too busy making his fortune to pay any attention to his only son, and his mother a fly-by-night female with a string of lovers to keep her amused in her husband’s absence. Perhaps, I thought, this was the source of his low opinion of the female sex. Kemp the man was now more than content to take his revenge by spending his late father’s money as fast as he could. Although he intended to add to it, he assured me, through any opportunity that presented itself. He would continue to prosper, he insisted, by his own efforts, with help from no one.

‘Am I supposed to admire that in you,’ I asked, ‘or pity you for not having enjoyed a happy childhood? I feel more likely to pity myself.’

His dark cold eyes stared at me unblinking. ‘You should appreciate how very fortunate you are that your own parents gave you a loving home and took such excellent care of you.’

I realised this was probably the case, despite their arranging my marriage in a manner that did not meet with my approval. Even as I continued to protest against the plan, Mama would alternate between stern lectures and impulsive scented embraces, promising me that all would be well and I would be happy, while Papa would gruffly inform me that he’d wrung out all the necessary
reassurances for my care from my future husband. His choice of words – ‘wrung out’ – troubled me slightly, which was perhaps why I felt the urge to clarify my position now.

‘And will you treat me with equal consideration?’ I challenged him.

The thin lips twisted into that too-familiar cynical smirk. ‘I am of the view that a person gains in life the consideration they deserve, do you not think so?’

I looked at the way his cold eyes glinted with pleasure at my obvious misery, and struggled to believe this could be a show of concern on his part, rather than some sort of subtly disguised threat. But I was determined not to let him bully me. ‘In which case you too should take care. A wife only loves a husband who is kind to her.’

He laughed at this, as if at my naivety in making such a remark. ‘A wife will learn to love where she is told, and do what is good for her, if she has any sense.’

Maybe I lacked that sense, or was not quite so obedient as my parents would have wished. I was certainly lacking in the required gratitude to my father, and in one last desperate bid for freedom I confronted him in his study to tell him so. ‘How can you do this to me, Papa, your own beloved daughter? You know full well that I do not love this man. Do not say that love will come, in time, for I don’t believe it. How can you be so heartless as to force this marriage upon me?’

He turned from me with an irritated
tck
sound in his throat, avoiding the plea in my gaze to stare out the
window. ‘You are young yet, and understand little of the complexities of life. Marriage is a partnership, the same as any other, and this one will bring you many benefits and advantages.’

‘And utter and complete misery. You must see that I loathe the man, Papa. I cannot bear to be near him.’

His glare was firmly fixed upon our neighbours going about their business: the portly Mr Crocker trotting off to eat porterhouse steak and French fries washed down with champagne at the Palace Hotel, as he did every lunchtime; young Ted Foggerty rising late after yet another poker party attended by a certain breed of unaccompanied ladies. Papa stood, hands clasped behind him, his back as rigid as his code of morals, looking over his spectacles with marked disapproval upon the entire world. Then he focused that condemning glare upon me. I had never seen my father look so angry. ‘Your problem is that your silly head is stuffed with romantic nonsense. Stop being so damned stubborn, Georgia, and give the fellow a chance.’

Mindful of Prue’s warnings to tread carefully and not lose my own temper, I softened my voice to one of gentle femininity. I had heard both Mama and Prue adopt this tone when wishing to wheedle something out of him, and thought it worth a try for all I felt more like screaming and shouting at the stubborn old fool.

Resting a hand upon his arm, I looked adoringly up into his face. ‘Dearest Papa, it is not that I don’t wish to please you, because you know how I love and respect you. I simply wish you to treat my opinion with equal respect. You know how very sensible I am, how dutiful a
daughter. Nevertheless, Mama has greatly exaggerated my friendship with Mr Cowper. Whilst it is true that we have fallen in love, and equally true that he still has his fortune to make, we have done nothing … untoward … nothing you could reproach me for. And certainly nothing that demands my being hastily shunted off into matrimony with a man I do not even like.’

‘Enough!’ he commanded, in that tone of voice I most dreaded, my feminine wiles having failed me yet again. ‘I will hear no more of this.’

‘But Papa—’

‘I said, enough.’ He wagged a furious finger in my face. ‘Listen to me carefully, Georgina.’ The use of my full name was always a bad sign. ‘I am prepared to accept your innocence, but it makes no difference. You
will
marry this man. I had no choice but to accept his offer on your behalf.’ The sternness in father’s face suddenly softened, his temper vanishing almost as swiftly as it had come, and he gently patted my cheek. ‘Do not fret, my dear, I have made certain you will be well treated. But you are growing up now, and must face the harsh realities of life. The truth is that we are not quite so well placed as you, or your dear mother, might imagine. My business is not exactly thriving, not as it once was. Drew Kemp has proved to be a far more formidable competitor than his father before him, and while I am not yet in debt, if I do not agree to this alliance then the company could well go up the flume.’

I was shocked. This was the last thing I’d expected to hear and I let out a gasp of horror. ‘That surely cannot
be true, Papa. We are well off, always have been. The house, the servants, Mama’s dress allowance and jewels, they—’

He gave a sad little smile, his gaze again shifting, this time to some far distant place in his head. ‘Ah yes, your mother’s jewels. And you will appreciate how important, how precious, those jewels are to her. They were a legacy from her own mother, a countess no less, in old Europe, which she brought with her when she married me and we came to America. I will tell you in all honesty, Georgia, that in recent weeks I have come close to selling them, or at least taking them to the pawnshop.’

‘Oh, Papa, no, that would have broken Mama’s heart.’

‘Indeed! Mine too, for I could not have borne to see her thus. But then Kemp offered me a way out, so there we have it.’

I gazed up at him in open horror. ‘Are you saying that if I do not marry him, Drew Kemp will deliberately set out to ruin your business? And that you’ll then have to sell Mama’s jewels to save it?’

The sadness in his eyes was heart-rending to see. ‘You put it somewhat bluntly, but that is about the nub of it. Kemp’s way of dealing with the competition is to take it over or destroy it. He fully intends to be as rich as Croesus, to own and control everything himself. And even then, despite the sacrifice, selling the jewels may not have been enough. The house would have gone next, the carriage, everything. Kemp is a powerful man, with a great deal of influence in this town. He is not a man to cross.’