A Thimbleful of Hope Page 23

  ‘She is fading,’ Ottilie confirmed.

  ‘Oh, this is too much,’ Aunt Felicity pulled a lace handkerchief from the sleeve of her dark grey travelling dress and dabbed at the corner of her eye. ‘My dear nieces, what happened to your father? Pray, tell me that he passed away peacefully.’

  ‘His mind was tormented,’ Violet murmured, hardly able to bring herself to utter the terrible truth. ‘His body was found at the bottom of the cliff – there are witnesses who say that he jumped …’

  Aunt Felicity sat silent for once, her mouth dropped half-open. ‘Then maybe it is best for Patience that she doesn’t understand,’ she said eventually. ‘What was your father thinking of, going against the Ten Commandments and the will of God? He’s a coward!’

  ‘He had a lot to bear,’ Violet said. ‘He’d spent all his money – the only assets he had left were the house, personal effects and a few shares. His creditors were circling like vultures, ready to tear their share of flesh from his bones, he’d fallen out of favour with his friends and acquaintances, and Mama was … well, she is dying. He did love us – we didn’t always see eye to eye, but he did what he felt was best for us.’

  ‘Whatever his motives, I fear that he’s left you in the lurch,’ Aunt Felicity said. ‘There’ll be an issue with any inheritance or jointure he has settled on you and your mother, because in this situation, anything he does have left will revert to the Crown – suicide is illegal and immoral, and as your father was not insane …’

  ‘Can’t we find a doctor who’s prepared to state that that was the case? There are grounds for it,’ Violet said, remembering his frantic behaviour and the bizarre expedition diving for gold.

  ‘The problem with that idea is that insanity is known to run through families – who will want to marry any of you when there’s a possibility that you and your children will develop the same madness?’

  ‘He was sound of mind at the start,’ Ottilie interrupted. ‘It was only circumstance that changed him. We can’t ask a medical man to lie for us.’

  ‘Who will want to marry us anyway?’ Eleanor said. ‘Violet’s put paid to any chance we had of that.’ Her comment knifed through Violet’s heart, and even as she said it, Eleanor seemed to realise that she had spoken out of turn. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,’ she stammered.

  ‘I think you did, or you wouldn’t have said it. I can’t believe that even my sister blames me for what happened with …’ Violet couldn’t bring herself to say his name.

  ‘No, really,’ Eleanor said. ‘I’m upset – it just slipped out. It was Mr Brooke’s fault – he is entirely to blame, and I wish that he hadn’t died, so we could confront him over it.’

  Violet welcomed the interruption when Wilson showed the Reverend Green into the parlour. The vicar removed his hat and brushed back his greasy dark hair, then addressed Mama, apparently unconcerned that she wasn’t properly dressed.

  ‘I’m deeply sorry for your loss, Mrs Rayfield,’ he said.

  ‘She is much worse,’ Aunt Felicity pointed out.

  ‘In that case, allow me to offer my prayers and condolences to the Misses Rayfield. I assume that you are making plans for a quiet funeral.’

  ‘We haven’t thought about that yet,’ Violet said.

  ‘It is something which should be carried out quickly and without ceremony.’

  ‘Our father was a respected businessman with many friends and associates in Dover,’ Ottilie said. ‘He should be buried according to his status.’

  ‘You understand that there is some difficulty. Having died by his own hand, he cannot be buried in consecrated ground …’

  ‘Is there any way round this?’ Violet ventured, feeling lower than ever. ‘My father was a God-fearing man who attended church all his life. How can he be cast out now?’

  ‘I think I may be able to help for a small honorarium and a promise that my involvement in this goes no further.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘That I could arrange for him to be buried at Cowgate – and say a few words over his grave with only close family present. Would that suffice?’

  Violet glanced towards Ottilie who nodded. If that was the best he could do, then they would have to accept, but how would they find the money for his burial?

  ‘I’ll contact the solicitor about Father’s will and see if I can make an appointment with the bank to find out how much money there is in his accounts,’ she said after the vicar had left. ‘We’ll have to pay for the funeral and then there are the other bills – the servants’ wages, the cost of gas for the lamps, the rates …’

  ‘We’ll all have to go into mourning too,’ Ottilie said. ‘That’s going to be expensive.’

  ‘You still have your clothes from before, Violet?’ Eleanor asked.

  ‘Of course not. I threw them out when I found out that I wasn’t Arvin’s wife – it would have brought bad luck if I had kept them.’

  ‘You can order dresses made from bombazine – they don’t have to be made from parramatta silk,’ Aunt Felicity said. ‘Why don’t I lend you the money to pay the reverend?’

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ Ottilie said. ‘We’re very grateful, but we’ll find the money ourselves.’

  ‘You must let me do this for my sister. It’s better for everyone that your father is laid to rest quickly and quietly. We can put a notice in the paper after the funeral. Nobody needs to attend, least of all the family.’

  ‘I shall go,’ Violet said.

  ‘Women aren’t expected to be present.’

  ‘I can’t let him go alone, no matter what he’s done,’ she insisted, and her aunt backed down.

  The following day, Violet stood side by side with Ottilie and Eleanor at their father’s graveside in the cemetery beneath the Western Heights. The vicar prayed for Mr Rayfield’s soul and the sexton covered the wicker coffin with earth. They left the grave unmarked except for a spray of roses which they’d bought on Mama’s behalf.

  Chapter Seventeen

  By Order of the Lord Chancellor

  ‘The Misses Rayfield are here to see you, sir,’ the clerk said, showing Violet and Ottilie into the solicitor’s office one morning not long after Mr Rayfield’s burial. Violet touched the jet beads at her throat as she followed her older sister past the glazed bookshelves filled with legal volumes. They were both dressed in black, in deep mourning for their father.

  ‘Thank you. Do sit down.’ Mr Wiggins gestured towards two chairs and the clerk dived forward to clear them of paperwork and an empty pewter tankard. ‘It’s a matter of sorrow to me that we meet again under such … miserable circumstances. You are in possession of Mr Rayfield’s death certificate?’

  Having sat down beside her sister, Violet removed it from her bag and handed it across the desk. Mr Wiggins put his monocle up to one eye and began to read.

  ‘This is all in order.’ He looked up and the monocle fell out. ‘Death by misadventure. I’m sorry for your loss.’

  Ottilie pressed a handkerchief to her mouth.

  ‘Then there’s no likelihood of a claim on our father’s estate by the Crown,’ Violet said, her mind flooding with relief. They’d had so much bad luck – they didn’t deserve any more.

  ‘The doctor has been kind to Mr Rayfield, but other forces have not been so generous to the rest of your family.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Violet asked.

  ‘You should prepare yourselves to lower your expectations of what you and your mother might receive in the way of a jointure or inheritance.’

  ‘We have no great expectations, just that we’ll be able to live comfortably, as our father would have wished,’ Violet said.

  ‘Allow me to read out the salient terms of his will.’ Mr Wiggins opened a file of papers and took the first from the top. ‘“This is the last will and testament”, et cetera, et cetera. There is much wordy preamble that we can ignore … ah, here we are. “I leave an annuity in perpetuity for my wife, Mrs Patience Rayfield, and the u
se of the house at Camden Crescent until either her death or such a time as she should remarry. I leave an annuity for each of my daughters, the Misses Ottilie, Violet and Eleanor Rayfield to be paid until marriage. The remainder of my estate is to be held in trust for the first male heir until he reaches the age of twenty-one.”

  ‘However, I’m afraid this is all hypothetical. Having made enquiries into the extent of your father’s assets, I’ve found out that he’s in debt to the bank, his former associate, Mr Chittenden, and many other creditors, including my firm. After those debts are paid, there will be precious little money left.’

  ‘There will be an income from Brooke and Rayfield,’ Violet observed.

  ‘You haven’t heard, then – Madame Brooke has wound up the business – her decision, not Mr Rayfield’s. There was nothing he could do to prevent it, being the minority shareholder, and she was keen to hurry the process because she wished to return to France. She had already stayed in Dover longer than expected.’

  ‘He told me about some shares that he bought from the railway company,’ Violet said.

  ‘You mean the London, Chatham and Dover Railway?’

  ‘That’s right. He reckoned they were worth something.’

  ‘Unfortunately, the company is bankrupt. According to the committee looking into their finances, their shipping service is in debt and the shares they sold to their investors have turned out to be false. Thanks to an intervention by Parliament, the company will survive, but people like your father who put their trust in them have lost their money.’

  ‘We have nothing?’ Ottilie’s face was white with shock.

  ‘The only consolation is that Mama still has use of the house,’ Violet said. ‘I’d fear for her life if we had to move her.’

  ‘You can stay there for now, but I can’t guarantee for how long,’ Mr Wiggins said. ‘I would advise you to do everything in your power to find alternative accommodation. There must be family you can call upon to assist you and your mother. Mr Rayfield had many friends and acquaintances who would take pity on you out of respect for his memory.’

  Unfortunately, her father and Arvin were the kind of men who’d done everything for themselves. They’d never acted out of charity or compassion for anyone who had fallen on hard times. Look how Pa had treated William when he lost his father and brother on the Dover Belle. He hadn’t seen the error of his ways until after the trial when it was too late. Why should anyone help their nearest and dearest in their hour of need? Violet felt sick.

  On the way home, she and Ottilie turned out of Pencester Street into Cannon Street, and passed the Royal Oak and the corn market, before entering the square where the Wednesday market was in full swing. Some of the stalls were in the open, some beneath the arcade above which stood the museum.

  ‘It’s all very well, continuing to live in Camden Crescent, but how will we manage?’ Violet said as the magnitude of Mr Wiggins’s revelations began to sink in.

  ‘You can sell our mother’s jewellery and trinkets – that will bring in a tidy sum. She has no need for it any more. We’ll have to let Wilson and May go, I think.’

  ‘Not May. She’s been loyal, a true and faithful servant, and a friend to me when Arvin was away.’

  ‘We can’t let sentiment interfere with common sense. She will have to go.’

  ‘Her wages won’t make much difference in the scheme of things, but you’re right. We could rent out a room or two – to respectable ladies only.’ The word ‘respectable’ caught in Violet’s throat. What respectable lady would choose to live in the same house as the Rayfields where the father had killed himself, the mother was sick, and the daughter was ruined? ‘I will have to go out to work, if anyone will have me … There will always be people talking behind my back.’

  ‘Hopefully, it won’t come to that,’ Ottilie said.

  Violet slipped her arm through her sister’s while they made their way through the throng, dodging the horses and carts, and barrows. Further along, under the arcade, a stall selling pats of golden butter caught her eye.

  ‘Ottilie, stop. Look at those.’ Her stomach growled as she imagined molten butter dripping across a toasted muffin. ‘Can’t we buy one?’

  Ottilie smiled wryly. ‘How can you be hungry at a time like this? Anyway, you heard what Mr Wiggins said – we have no money. We’re going to have to make economies in running the household, or rather you and Eleanor are.’

  ‘What do you mean? Where are you going?’ Violet took a step back and gazed at her sister whose eyes were shining with tears, not of sorrow, but joy. ‘Is it John?’

  ‘We’re getting married at long last and there’s nothing I’d like more than for you to come to our wedding – if you can bear it, that is. I’ll understand if you—’

  ‘When? When is it?’ Violet demanded.

  ‘Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, quietly at St Mary’s.’

  ‘That soon?’

  ‘It’s been planned for a while – we applied for a common licence two weeks ago to avoid having to have the banns read in church. I’m not going to postpone it. We’ve waited long enough – John’s stood by me through thick and thin. I know it seems heartless to think of it so soon after losing Pa, but I’ve learned that life is short, and you have to make the most of it.’

  ‘Will you invite our aunt?’

  Ottilie shook her head. ‘Just you and Eleanor. We don’t want any fuss. Afterwards, we’ll catch a train to London.’

  ‘You are leaving us?’

  ‘It’s for the best. John is parting ways with Uncle Edward – he wishes to start in business on his own account. With me gone, there’ll be one less mouth to feed.’

  ‘I’m pleased for you, over the moon, in fact. I wish you were staying nearby, though.’

  ‘We’ll come and visit as often as we can, and when we’re settled, you’ll be able to visit us.’

  Having torn themselves away from the stalls, they crossed the square to King’s Bench Street and walked across New Bridge over the river and home to Camden Crescent, where they paused to look up at the terrace, its grandeur heightened by the golden rays cast by the midday sun. Thanks to their father’s errors of judgement, their house was at risk of being seized by the bank.

  Violet’s pulse fluttered with panic. What were they going to do?

  ‘What if the house has to be sold?’ she said.

  ‘You can always come and live with me and John once we’re settled. We’ve decided to rent a small house while he sets up his own shipping agency.’

  ‘Thank you for the offer.’

  ‘I mean it, Violet. Anyway, I think everything will turn out all right in the end. One day, you’ll marry again.’

  ‘I was never married in the first place.’ She turned to her sister, her vision blurring with sudden tears. ‘Mr Brooke has ruined me for anybody else,’ she went on bitterly.

  ‘Even William Noble?’

  ‘That’s an odd thing to say.’

  ‘I’m your sister – I know you better than anyone else. I’ve always thought you had a fancy for him.’

  ‘If I did, it doesn’t matter now. When we danced together at the ball, and I saw him at the regatta, I considered him very handsome. Since then, I’ve grown fond of him, but I think William blames Pa for the deaths of his father and brother, so why on earth would he want to marry me, a Rayfield?’

  ‘And you went on to sacrifice your happiness for me and John, by marrying Mr Brooke,’ Ottilie added.

  ‘I was doing my duty, and to be fair, I did think that Arvin and I would find a way to rub along and be content. Life would have been very different if I could have married someone like William. He’s a wonderful man – kind, chivalrous and brave.’

  ‘So you do like him?’

  ‘Yes, very much, but it’s too late, and besides, I will never know if my feelings are reciprocated. There’s been too much water gone under the bridge. We’ve been through this before – what respectable man would have me now?’ Violet took a deep
breath. ‘Ottilie, I should have told you before – I’m with child.’

  ‘Oh Violet, I thought you were looking rather matronly, and I wondered how you could bear to wear that shawl indoors when our aunt called on us. How long have you known?’

  ‘Since the court hearing. I had my suspicions before then, but it wasn’t until the infant quickened that I knew for certain.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything before?’ Ottilie’s expression was a mixture of shock, hurt and concern. ‘You should have confided in me. How many times do I have to say: I’m your sister!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone. I felt as though I’d already brought more than enough shame to our door. I’m at least six months gone. I’ve been lucky so far, but I can’t hide it for much longer, so even though people are beginning to forget about the scandal, my swollen belly will remind them of it. I’d hoped to live quietly as Miss Rayfield, spinster of this parish, not Miss Rayfield, unmarried mother.’

  ‘It isn’t your fault,’ Ottilie said, catching her fingers and giving her hand a brief, but reassuring squeeze.

  ‘I intended to say something, but I was afraid that Pa would put me out on the street if he found out, and then I didn’t want Aunt Felicity telling me what to do. Knowing her, she’d have me sent away for my confinement, then insist on me giving up the child, something I could never do.’ She was close to tears again. ‘Will you forgive me for not letting on?’

  ‘My dear sister, there’s nothing to forgive. It’s me who should be asking your forgiveness for abandoning you in your hour of need.’

  ‘You mustn’t change your plans on my account,’ Violet insisted, relieved that she had shared her secret at last. ‘I will cope very well with Eleanor helping to look after Mama and the baby when it comes.’

  ‘Have you told Eleanor yet?’

  ‘Not yet. All in good time. Let’s look forward to tomorrow – we must prepare for your wedding.’

  It felt as though her family was falling apart and not for the first time, she wondered what on earth her father had been thinking. His greed had been his downfall, along with his propensity to succumb to flattery.