A Fallen Woman. Nancy Carson
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house he had provided stood a makeshift wardrobe, a dressing table bought second-hand, and an ottoman, on top of which was accruing assorted articles of Maude’s attire as she divested herself of it. The floor was bare boards apart from two small rugs – one each side of the bed – hand-podged by Maude herself from scraps of material. Even though the house was small, and not what he was used to, Benjamin felt comfortable in it, relieved to be with Maude where he could relax, indulge himself – and be wanted, especially after that wedding circus, peopled by clowns.
‘Aren’t you taking your socks off?’
‘What’s the point?’
Maude meticulously folded her chemise and laid it on the ottoman that stood under the window, netted and curtained for privacy. ‘Did the groom seem happy?’
‘He seemed in good humour, now you mention it. So did his bride. But what he sees in her beats me.’ He stood up and downed his long johns.
‘Clarence knows her better than you do,’ Maude remarked logically, untying the waist ribbons of her drawers. ‘I expect he sees in her something you don’t.’
‘He must do. She’s agreeable company I admit, and said to be virtuous too. But being agreeable and virtuous won’t necessarily make a woman exciting.’
‘Time will tell.’ Maude stepped out of her drawers and stood tantalisingly naked on the opposite side of the bed as he turned to see her.
As Benjamin stepped out of his long johns, she could see that he was already aroused.
‘Time will tell, I daresay,’ he agreed. ‘Let’s hope she keeps him happy.’ He pulled back the covers and sank into the bed.
‘So that he doesn’t feel inclined to pester Aurelia, you mean?’ Aware that this might be the start of a discussion which could delay and even inhibit lovemaking, she pulled back the bed covers on her side and slid into bed, snuggling up to him for the pleasure that his skin against hers afforded, as well as for warmth.
He wrapped his arms around her, welcoming her smooth, warm body. However, this niggling concept, just reintroduced, was pressing in its significance. It diverted him. ‘You know, Maude,’ he said, suddenly more earnest, raising his head and propping himself up by his arm, ‘I don’t think Clarence Froggatt has been pestering Aurelia. I don’t think anything has gone on between them at all.’
‘Oh, come on, Ben,’ Maude protested. ‘You must be mistaken. Or you’re just naïve.’
‘No, I don’t reckon so. I watched them as they spoke to one another at the wedding. There seemed no guile there, you know what I mean? No hint whatsoever in the way they reacted to one another. There was nothing that makes me suspect something’s been going on. Oh, I know they were engaged once, but it’s obvious it’s all water under the bridge. They’re only on nodding terms these days.’
‘You surprise me,’ she remarked incredulously, and gave him a peck on the lips.
‘Why is it surprising?’ He let his hand run down her back, lingering at one fleshy cheek of her small backside, and then he pulled her to him. ‘However…’
‘However, what?’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s been having a bit of a fling with that article Algie Stokes. There’s definitely something between them. Something too familiar. I watched them. You can see it in the way they are with each other, the way they look at each other. She even kissed him – on the lips. I saw it. A young woman – a married woman – wouldn’t kiss a man on the lips unless she knew him very well, would she? And him with that very pretty wife of his.’
‘You said she was dull a minute ago…and plebeian.’
‘Well, she comes from plebeian stock.’ Benjamin always conveniently overlooked the fact that his own father was less than nothing in the world until he realised he could be what he wanted to be, and made it happen. ‘Her family works the narrowboats.’
‘So what?’ Maude resented the implication – her own family was lowly and working class too. ‘If she’s made something of herself…’
‘Well, yes…At least she doesn’t look like a wench from the narrowboats, I have to admit, but I suppose if Algie Stokes can afford to indulge her regal fancies with his ill-gotten gains…’
‘She’s very likely had some tuition from Aurelia,’ Maude suggested. ‘They’re as thick as thieves, those two, you said. On the other hand, though, would they be as thick as thieves, if Aurelia had been having a fling with this girl’s husband? I daresay there’d be some resentment.’
‘From Aurelia, you mean?’
‘Well, don’t you think so? They’re half-sisters, aren’t they?’
‘Mmm…’ he mused. ‘But if the plebeian little wife ain’t aware something’s been going on, she’s hardly likely to show any resentment, is she?’
‘So…’ Maude gave him another peck on the lips. ‘If you reckon something has gone on, or is going on with Algie Stokes – which I doubt, by the way, ’cause he’s a nobody either, and Aurelia does think she’s somebody special after all – then what do you intend doing about it?’
‘I could always question her.’
‘I suppose you could. Not that she’d admit to anything, of course. But if something has been going on and it could be proved, you would have grounds for divorce.’
‘Divorce? Mmm…Could be messy – and expensive – but I must say, Maude, divorce has a distinct appeal.’ It would be a means of escape, he privately pondered, despite the stigma that might attach to one or other of them as a result. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, squeezing a pliant breast.
‘You should think about it, Benjamin. But afterwards, when you’ve left here, eh?’ She slid on top of him and began kissing him ardently.
* * *
A couple of hours later the growler conveying the Stokeses and Aurelia turned into the drive of Holly Hall House and drew to a halt. The driver jumped down and deferentially opened the carriage door.
‘Algie, why don’t you see Aurelia safely inside?’ Marigold suggested.
‘All right,’ he agreed at once, and made to follow her.
‘No, please don’t trouble yourself, Algie,’ Aurelia replied, her voice insistent as she leaned forward to make her exit. ‘I only have to walk through the front door, as I have thousands of times before.’
‘If you’re sure…’
‘Yes, I’m sure. In any case, Jane will still be up.’
‘Goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight each.’ She stepped down from the cab, lifting the hem of her dress.
‘Goodnight, ma’am.’ The driver shut the cab door behind her, clambered back to his seat and flicked the reins. Out of habit he touched his hat, but in the darkness it went unnoticed.
Aurelia stood and watched the growler turn and transit the driveway to the crunch of gravel beneath its wheels. She had enjoyed the day, enjoyed the company of Marigold, Algie and the Meese girls, the gaiety and good humour of the wedding. Returning home was an anti-climax. The feeling of loneliness enveloped her again, more intensely now. Returning to this mausoleum, to Benjamin, was so thoroughly depressing. Why could she not be returning home to the warm embrace of a man she loved? She was desperate for happiness, for contentment, for a settled life, to be free of this soul-destroying misery and uncertainty. Her concern was not just for herself, but equally for her children. What future did they have, brought up in a marriage that was devoid of affection but rich in hostility? The love she had been prepared to give Benjamin, the marital support, was all wasted on him. She was not appreciated, not understood, betrayed, disregarded. Worse, she was manifestly scorned.
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