Silver, p.31
Silver, page 31
“By the summer, I was Mrs. Evesham and her I have remained,” she finished simply.
I looked at the old woman’s hands which she had, by now, begun to almost turn into knots. For somebody who seemed to revel in the telling of a tale and had so far not been mean with the richness of details, I was surprised that she was so reluctant to fill in the gaps. By her own admission, she had spent almost eight months travelling throughout Europe with my mother and father and, to my delighted surprise, Heston too. Had she also not arrived home a month later than planned and barely in time for her own wedding? So, my mother and father fell in love whilst in Europe? Where did I factor in all of this? I was buzzing with questions. Not just for Mrs. Evesham but for Heston.
There was a draught as the door opened cautiously and the face of Mrs. Evesham’s young maid appeared. She was trying to remain unseen and when her eyes lit on mine she coloured and tried to withdraw. In her haste, she hit her head upon the doorframe behind and let out a loud yelp.
“What on earth?”
Mrs. Evesham turned abruptly in her chair, knocking the table with her foot and causing the teacups to clatter angrily.
I had been holding my breath and it was such a comical end to the tension that I could not help but let out a laugh. Having seen nothing at the door, Mrs. Evesham spun around to look at me and, noting my laugh, her own eyes twinkled and she let out her own chuckle.
“Was that Gemma?” she asked quietly, bending forwards.
I nodded, a fresh wave of giggles rising up in me.
“What impeccable timing! More tea?” she asked me before standing up and going to investigate how the girl fared after her run in with the door. Glancing at the time, I reluctantly declined.
As I turned to leave a short while later, my eye was taken by a framed drawing; a portrait of the woman before me obviously sketched some time ago. It was a fair resemblance and no doubt sketched by a skilled hand but whoever had created it had failed entirely to capture the fierce intelligence in her eyes and sensuousness in her mouth. In doing so, the image could have resembled any number of younger women and I fancied I saw something of myself in the same pose.
“Oh, don’t pay any attention to that. My first husband drew it when he was going through his, what I call, ‘fanciful’ period. He tried his hand at sculpture you know but I am afraid not much survived in our last move. Thankfully,” she added with a smile.
“I should love to have a copy of that photograph of your father and mother,” she asked, her tone modest. “I have thought of them both often these past years and I do so wish I had had a chance to thank them for saving me.”
I raised my eyebrows but she flapped her hand at me quickly.
“Don’t mind me. I am an old fool and grown quite sentimental.”
She was not so old nor was she anything of a fool but I said nothing. I sensed already there were some things that I would prefer not to hear from her. I was keen not to spoil the feeling I was leaving with and agreed readily to have a copy made. In the meantime, I was keen to digest what she had told me and reassemble what I had just come to know about both of my parents.
Chapter Twenty Six - Elizabeth, 1911
As she watched the face of the woman standing on the step in front of her, Elizabeth was surprised to see something of Avery staring back. She knew, of course, that it was absurd to think such a thing but she found herself wondering if perhaps something of Avery had been transferred to the young woman.
“Goodbye Mrs. Evesham,” Imogen said politely and proffered her hand genially.
She remained as formal as she had arrived and Elizabeth had to suppress a smile. It seemed as though the older woman had shocked the younger woman with her directness. Though they thought themselves a more liberated generation, the new century had much of a whiff of the old one and Elizabeth thought that she was perhaps too forthright for either. She watched the young girl leave and then returned to find Gemma clearing away the debris of their meeting.
“I am going to take a nap I think Gemma. I feel I have a headache coming on. Can you please see that it is quiet.”
There was no pain in her head as she lay on her bed but rather an ache where memories had begun to flood in from years of being locked away. Whilst she had been wholly honest with Imogen on every matter of which she spoke, there was of course much more that had happened that summer and as Elizabeth lay upon her bed she slipped into a deep sleep and was immediately transported back to that fateful night with Bateman.
~o~
Elizabeth had watched with a peevish mixture of jealousy as Avery had allowed the back door to be closed against the darkening night sky and the face of his maid had slowly slipped from sight. Kate had been drinking in the grateful look in his eyes as he reminded her he would be back well after bedtime. For the second night in a row, she had agreed to wait up for them and permit re-entry to their rooms after the rest of the house had gone to sleep. The first had been a dry run for that night and, all having gone well, they had elected to meet Bateman as agreed. Though Elizabeth knew that Cribbs would do the same (what choice does a girl in service have?) she also knew that Cribbs would certainly not do so without objection nor with any such pleasure.
“Do stop dawdling, Silver!” Elizabeth hissed.
He turned and flashed her a scowl. He had been hungry for a night out of his skin for a while and he was not about to let her spoil it. The night was still and the light coloured gravel was lit by a welcome moon so they had no difficulty in finding the road. They walked in silence until they had past the Gatehouse by some distance and then Elizabeth began to tease.
“Bateman is very much looking forward to seeing you I think, Silver. Of the two of us, who do you think he wishes to see more?”
He made no reply but she could sense that he was growing irritated. There was another minute of silence marked only by the scuffle of their shoes across the road. After a moment, the sound of a horse and carriage wheels came from up ahead and the distant outline of a carriage with a lantern swinging against the shot grey evening sky.
“I wonder when he came to Amersham whether he had hoped only to find himself one lady. What shock do you think he got when he stumbled across two?”
She had gone too far and he took her hand and dragged her roughly from the path.
“Swear to me that Bateman knows nothing.”
“A lady shouldn’t swear to anything she doesn’t know.”
“Stop playing games Elizabeth. Does he know or not?”
“Silver. When you manhandle me like this I quite forget that you have nothing to manhandle me with!”
She could sense his anger growing but it was not in her nature to relent.
“You know, you could be a very attractive woman if only you tried Avery. Perhaps Bateman might still be interested in you after all?”
It was too much. Elizabeth knew it but she was surprised when he grabbed her so tightly. She threw an arm out to push him away but instead her elbow connected with his head
“What’s the matter Silver, don’t you want to be Mrs. Bateman?”
He slapped her. Her face rang with the sting of his fingers across it and Elizabeth felt a hot rush of anger as she lashed out to hit him back. He caught her arms and tried to prevent her from hitting him. She was furious with him but the closeness of his breath upon her roused that same something in her that she was desperate to deny. She grew still in his arms and when she felt the tension in his arms begin to subside she pushed herself against him and pressed her lips to his. He recoiled from her and she caught at his arms and stumbled into him. It was an awkward movement and she was at once embarrassed by the unrequited gesture.
“You would do well to remember that I am the key to your freedom whilst you are here at Juniper Hall.” Elizabeth snapped. She had felt a little humiliated at the rejection and wanted to gain the upper hand.
He looked at her in the greyness of the evening and then shook his head, turning as if to leave the way they had just come.
“Going so soon, Miss Silver? You prefer a quiet night with that slow creature of a maid?’
He stopped in his tracks and Elizabeth’s ears burned with a quiet rage as she waited for a response. He turned slowly and with a contented smile he threw back at her.
“Miss Greenwood. I would rather a lifetime with Miss Ward than a moment longer with you.”
“Fine!” she shouted, enraged. “Then I shall enjoy spending an evening with a real man. I expect even Giles Bateman’s touch will feel magical after your own.”
Elizabeth was still shouting the last words as an open top trap pulled up alongside them.
“Miss Greenwood? Silver? Is that you?” Bateman peered through the gloom.
His voice was amiable enough but he looked at them both guardedly as Avery continued to walk away from where Elizabeth stood. She could not be sure how much of the conversation Bateman had heard and she took his hand quickly as he passed her into the seat beside him. The way his cool fingers lingered over her own made her shudder but she kept her chin held high and looked into the distance as Bateman hopped down to chide Silver. He strode after the retreating form of Silver and Elizabeth caught most of the exchange.
“Not coming with us Silver?”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“Don’t worry, Silver I shall look after her.” He lowered his voice and Elizabeth heard a scuffle in the dirt as he drew Avery closer to him. “Rest assured I will look after her very well indeed. As you fall asleep this evening just remember who she is with and whose hands are upon her.”
“And you remember just who she will be thinking about as you do.”
There was another shuffle as Avery shrugged himself free and retreated back towards the house. A few moments later, Bateman had pulled himself back into his seat and the trap moved on. Elizabeth hardly knew what Bateman talked of all the way to Tremain’s house but she was glad of the mindless chatter or else she may have brooded over what had happened with Avery. As she watched the grey shadows of the hedgerows roll past, she felt badly about having provoked him but she was hopelessly confused about how she should feel about him.
About an hour later, the carriage pulled up outside a brightly lit house from which there was the sound of great gaiety and she was pulled from her thoughts to the matter at hand. Bateman had drawn close to her in the dark of the evening and his leg was pressing her own; his hand upon her arm, the knuckles of which she could feel against her bodice as he fingered the lacework. Now that she had arrived, she was in two minds about the evening. Her initial plan had been to make Avery jealous and to spend the evening dancing, making merry and playing Bateman for a fool. No doubt this was still very much on the cards but without Avery’s presence this would be a less than fruitful evening. The proximity of Bateman was beginning to make her uncomfortable. She wondered if he had heard more of their conversation and had taken her angry comments as consent for something more. Before the trap had even come to a halt, Elizabeth stood and began to descend to the ground.
“Miss Greenwood, I have never seen you so eager!”
Her anger at Avery finally got the better of her and Elizabeth decided that with or without him she would have some fun that evening. Even the dreary and unsettling Bateman would be better than another evening trying to disguise her contempt for her Aunt’s library.
“Then you have never seen me so dulled with life before Bateman, now hurry up and escort me inside won’t you?”
True to his word, the place was densely populated with faces she instantly recognised from the building on Cleveland Street several weeks before. She knew none of them of course but there was a band again around which dozens of couples were dancing energetically. In a through parlour, there were lounge chairs in which a few men were sat talking and over which a few women were draping themselves. Elizabeth was quietly taken aback. Though she was always annoyed when her father banished herself and Agnes from the company of the men after dinner, she was still surprised to see this reversal. It did not escape her attention that many of the women were behaving in a more than winsome way. She also noticed that some of them were showing off more of themselves than was ladylike but at that moment in time she was too heady with her own sense of rebelliousness to consider the implications.
A young girl of Elizabeth’s own age was seated in the centre of the room and, instead of fawning over a man like the rest of the women, she had two men courting her attention. She was at the centre of their affection and between the two of them she looked blasé but content. One of the men had his hand upon her shoulder and was talking softly at the side of her, his eyes locked on the side of her head. By contrast, the man to her left was comfortably seated close to her, his hand upon her waist, he was blowing softly on her neck.
As soon as Elizabeth saw her, she felt desperately disappointed that Avery would not see her in a similar repose. She wanted him to see her with a gaggle of men around her. Within less than two hours she was exactly where she wanted to be with Bateman beside her and another young man trying to divert her attention. For the first half an hour, Elizabeth found their ministration both flattering and sensuous and she was intoxicated with the abandon with which everyone around her embraced the evening.
“Miss Greenwood, you are the brightest flame in this room by far.” Bateman’s voice was husky with desire and she felt herself shiver with annoyance at his arrogant and assured tone.
“Then that must make you and Mr. Castle here the biggest moths?”
The young man to her right chuckled but Bateman merely glowered at him and laid a hand across Elizabeth’s shoulder, his finger encircling a curl of her hair. He was closer than he had ever been and she felt the warmth of his breath, soured with drink, on her neck. She shivered as she saw the same look in Bateman’s eyes that she recognized from Silver. She suddenly felt aware of the atmopshere within the room and, glancing to one side, she noticed one of the young women being led from the room by an older man, his face clouded with lust.
“Miss Greenwood. You give the impression of a woman lacking in pleasure when all around there is much to amuse.”
“You are quite mistaken Bateman. I am a woman who knows great pleasure but there is nothing here to amuse me.”
With that, she stood up and walked to the door. Bateman did not follow but merely looked at her from the comfort of his seat. A few men looked over at them from their own enclaves and Elizabeth was able to appreciate just how much the mood had changed. The room was darker and the air was thick with hedonistic promise as the women in the room were being tempted to more brandy. Elizabeth had grown uncomfortable and wanted to go home. In her opinion, the point of the evening was lost without Silver to witness it.
“I wish to leave,” she stated baldly.
Bateman watched her from under a heavy brow before rising to follow. Before he did so, he winked at Castle and mouthed something that Elizabeth did not hear. She left the room, Bateman at her heel. The air was cool when they mounted their seats and even with the roof of the hansom pulled over Elizabeth was cold when they pulled away into the moonlit night. It was only twenty minutes or so that they had travelled in silence before she felt his hand come underneath the rug over their legs and grip her thigh. Elizabeth was not surprised and merely pushed him away. He laughed but removed his hand. Elizabeth shuffled in her seat to the far side of the bench and rested her head against the window frame, her eyelids drooping and her head beginning to loll. What seemed only a short while later the cab slowed down and the driver leaned in to the window.
“We are a five minute walk from the gatehouses sir. Do you wish to walk the rest of the way so we aren’t heard?”
“Of course. Elizabeth?” he hopped down from the cab and turned to take her hand as she slipped out into the cool night.
“I can manage from here,” she said.
“Oh Elizabeth, please,” he said in exasperation and he turned to the driver. “I will walk Miss Greenwood to the boundary and be back within twenty minutes. Turn the cab and, for God’s sake try to keep the horse quiet will you.”
Elizabeth began walking away from the two of them and Bateman had to hurry to catch up with her. They passed around a bend and, once shielded from view of the driver, he pulled her to him. Elizabeth had been expecting some sort of attempt but she was still surprised. She had hoped that the hand on her thigh would be all. She pushed him hard on the chest but the gesture made him more amorous and he pressed his arm around her, his face close to her ear. He was strong and, though she struggled, he held her firm.
“Mr. Bateman! Please!”
He said nothing but only gripped her more tightly, pushing his face into hers.
“Giles! Please,’ she said firmly. Her tone wasn’t panicked and she did not scream but the volume alarmed him and he pushed his hand hard into her face covering her mouth whilst he pulled her down to the ground. The shock of his strength and the recklessness of his actions took her breath away. She could not have screamed even if she wanted to. He fell on her heavily pushing the wind from her lungs so that she struggled to draw breath. She had jarred her hip awkwardly and a pain seared up her flank that brought tears to her eyes. Her heart began to race as fear began to rise up in her throat and she tried to roll away from him. She turned onto her front and began to scrabble on the ground, his hand was hard around her mouth and the full weight of him on top of her crushed the air from her chest. She was going nowhere but her arms and legs thrashed helplessly. With his other hand, he had begun to pull up her dress and she let out a terrified cry. He could not do this. He would not do this. She thought and she still did not believe that he would do anything to her. How could he? Why would he? She thought to herself, over and over.
But he did.
~o~
Even thirty years later, as she lay recollecting that time, Elizabeth could feel the same shame and disgust that overpowered her in the days that followed that terrible night. When he had finished with her, Bateman had simply pulled her to her feet and, brushing down her skirts, had tried to kiss her goodbye. Afraid that he may try something else, she flinched as his wet lips touched her own and as soon as he had loosed his grip, she ran from him as fast as she could. Her hip was sore and as she got within sight of the house, confident that he had not pursued her, she allowed the pain to get the better of her and she limped to the back door. It was easy enough to gain entrance to the house without Kate being too suspicious. Elizabeth would find out later that her appearance had shocked the young maid, but at the time, Kate didn’t say a word as Elizabeth swept past her through the kitchen. The following day, she faked being ill to avoid seeing anyone. She had woken early and examined herself in the mirror. The ordeal had left her eyes puffy and the lack of sleep made her skin pale. Her hip was bruised badly and there were marks all around her stomach and thighs which made her sick to look upon. It was not hard to convince Cribbs that she was unwell and, after a short visit from Aunt Georgina, she was left alone for a day to reflect on what had happened. It did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth that Silver made no attempt to seek her out. In the gloom of her room, she tried to sleep but could not. Unwillingly, her mind was bidden back to the previous night and she began to wonder if what had happened had actually occurred. A quick touch to her tender thighs and the sore ache in her stomach assured her that her recollections were entirely accurate. Her head was spilling with thoughts but she had no-one to talk to. Though she knew that what had happened was wrong, she began to wonder if what had happened to her was not entirely her own fault. Had she implied her consent somehow? Had it started many months ago before that first visit to Cleveland Street? No matter which way that she looked at it, the same thing had happened to her that night and she could not shake the heavy feeling in her gut, nor could she simply close her eyes and forget.
