Brow of the Gallowgate Page 3

  A way to thwart her husband occurred to her then, but the idea was so repugnant she decided not to implement it unless it became absolutely necessary, so she waited for him to speak first.

  Arthur sat, hunched forward, elbows on knees, his dark head resting on his hands. The dangerous colour that had suffused his face earlier had faded, and only a small circle of red in each cheek remained to show how badly he had been affected by the unexpected events of the last fifteen minutes.

  When he straightened up, his top lip curled grotesquely. ‘It was not so clever of that person to leave when he did.’

  ‘I think he was being honourable, leaving us to talk it over without any interference from him.’

  ‘Honourable? Pah! His kind do not know the meaning of the word. Well, he has given me the opportunity to get Bathia out of his clutches. I will send her to my sister in Edinburgh in the morning, and she can stay there until she forgets him.’

  ‘She will never forget him, whatever you do. Can’t you see she loves him too much? And . . . ‘Henrietta’s eyes glittered defiantly. ‘And besides, I thought he was rather nice.’

  ‘Rather nice?’ he sneered. ‘An ignorant lout like that?’

  ‘He is far from ignorant, Arthur. He has obviously tried to better himself, and his speech is quite educated, not coarse or rough like most of the working men I have heard.’

  ‘So he has taken you in, too?’

  ‘He did not try to take anyone in.’ She was annoyed and exasperated by her husband’s pigheadedness. ‘He seems honest and genuine, a far better person than most of the young men Bathia knows, the sickly, mealy-mouthed sons of your colleagues, who would not recognize truth if it hit them in the face.’

  The dark colour began to creep up his neck again, but she carried on stubbornly. ‘He loves her, and I am quite sure he would look after her in the best way he can.’

  ‘He will not have the chance!’ Arthur shouted. ‘What can you be thinking of, Henrietta? I thought you would have wanted better for your only child. I certainly do! What kind of life would she have with a common grocer’s assistant?’

  The time had come for Henrietta to tell him the plain, unvarnished truth, whatever the consequences, so she said, very quietly, ‘A better kind of life than I have had.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Arthur sat up indignantly.

  ‘She would have a man who would do anything to please her, not a man like you, who rides roughshod over everyone he comes in contact with. She would be loved and cherished, and treated with all the respect you have never shown me.’

  Very much taken aback by her outburst, her husband opened his mouth to defend himself, but was given no chance to say anything. Henrietta was in full flow and would not be silenced. After all, he had been asking for this for a very long time, and he deserved every last word.

  ‘I have put up with your vile behaviour for twenty years, Arthur Johnstone. I have closed my eyes to you sneaking off into bed with every maid I’ve ever had. I was hurt at first, but eventually I stopped caring, and let you share my bed only because I did not want Bathia to find out what was going on.’ The memory of the years of degradation she had suffered made Henrietta continue relentlessly. ‘You have never loved anyone but yourself, and you are only against this marriage because you cannot face having a grocer’s assistant as a son-in-law. That would make you a laughing stock in the eyes of your banking fraternity.’

  Her voice had risen hysterically and her bosom heaved as she stopped and looked at her husband over her pince-nez. His shoulders had sagged, he was regarding her as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish’s. She wondered if she had gone too far, but it was too late to stop now. This threat to her daughter’s happiness had been the spur she needed to make her repay him for the shameful way in which he had treated her. She took a long, deep breath. ‘The money Bathia inherited from her grandmother is only in trust until she is twenty-one, then she can do what she likes with it. In the meantime, I intend to give them what my mother left me, and that should be enough to let them live decently until she comes of age.’

  Desperate that he would never spoil her daughter’s life as he had spoiled hers, Henrietta issued her ultimatum. ‘One last thing, Arthur. If you persist in forbidding the marriage, I will leave you, and your precious banking colleagues will laugh at you behind your back for the rest of your days. Perhaps then you will wish that you had been more honourable.’

  His shocked eyes met hers briefly before he bowed his head again, obviously deep in thought. Henrietta waited, feeling sure that he would order her out of the house when he recovered. Afraid that his anger would be uncontrollable, she braced herself to defend her rash threats.

  But when he did look up, his face was stamped with defeat. ‘Henrietta,’ he murmured, ‘I am sorry. For what I did to you, and for what I almost did to Bathia. I see now that my love for her has been selfish, but I honestly meant it for the best, to save any harm befalling her.’ Looking down at his hands, he added, ‘I must admit, however, that Albert Ogilvie certainly does not seem to be an ordinary working-class man.’

  When his wife still remained silent, he scratched his chin in embarrassment. ‘I can offer no excuse for what I did to you, except to remind you that I only turned to those girls because you persistently refused me, but I assure you that it will never happen again. You have made me feel thoroughly ashamed, and the only way I can redeem myself, it seems, is to give my consent to this marriage, although I make it quite clear to you that I do not altogether approve.’

  His wife’s tensed backbone felt like jelly now that the crisis was over, so it was a minute before she pulled herself forward on her chair and stood up.

  ‘What are you going to do, Henrietta?’ Arthur sounded anxious and apprehensive. ‘I have agreed to what you want, and what Bathia wants, and there is nothing more, is there? What else did you expect me to do?’

  Stifling a flash of triumph at his new insecurity, she found herself pitying him. ‘I am going upstairs to tell Bathia that she has your permission to marry the man she loves. She probably hates you at this minute for your heartlessness, and she should be told as soon as possible that you have changed your mind. That way, we can all sleep peacefully tonight.’

  Chapter Two

  Nell could see that her son was troubled, but she knew better than to ask any questions. Instead, she set his plate of porridge and his bowl of milk in front of him, then sat down to sup her own, her spirits sinking at his obvious lack of appetite. When he pushed his plate away after only one mouthful, she could hold back her curiosity no longer.

  ‘Is somethin’ botherin’ you, Albert?’

  He hesitated. It was an ideal time for him to confide in his mother, with his father back at sea, but, superstitiously, he felt that speaking about it might bring bad luck, and his expectations were low enough without that. ‘There’s nothing bothering me.’ he said, at last. ‘I’m feeling a bit low, that’s all.’

  Suspecting that he’d quarrelled with the lassie he’d been seeing, Nell’s heart went out to him, but she said nothing.

  ‘I’ll stop on in the shop this afternoon,’ Albert muttered as he went out, ‘but I’ll be home about six for my supper.’

  He wouldn’t have time to think that morning, but it being half day, he couldn’t face his mother’s silent curiosity from dinner-time until it was time to go to Ferryhill. It was better to stay in the shop and do some tidying up.

  All forenoon he was somewhat distracted, and several of the women customers remarked that he must be in love, which he didn’t trouble to deny. He locked the door thankfully at one o’clock, and spent the next few hours arranging and rearranging the shelves.

  When he got home, he ate his supper hungrily, not having had any breakfast or dinner, and his mother was pleased that his appetite had returned. She was even more pleased when she saw that he changed his clothes after he washed himself – his romance surely wasn’t over, after al
l.

  On his way out, Albert said, ‘I might not be so late in coming back tonight, it just depends.’ He knew it would set her puzzling, but he would tell her everything when he got home again, whatever the outcome might be. He didn’t intend giving Bathie up without a struggle, so, while he was walking, he went over in his mind answers to any possible objections Mr Johnstone might raise. The man was bound to be disappointed that his daughter wanted to marry a working-class man, but he couldn’t possibly understand how deeply in love they were, and Albert would have to prove it to him.

  He took the stone steps two at a time, and pulled the bell vigorously, his courage ebbing somewhat when he heard footsteps nearing the door.

  The immaculate little maid who opened it eyed him up and down before she said, incredulously, ‘Mr Ogilvie?’ When Albert nodded, her icy manner thawed a little. ‘Mr Johnstone’s expecting you in the drawing room.’

  As he followed her along the wide, tiled floor, Albert reflected wryly that she was more the type of girl he should be thinking of marrying – a servant, not a banker’s daughter – but he walked boldly through the door she held open for him.

  The faint suggestion of a smile on Arthur Johnstone’s face doused any hopes the young man had nurtured. Bathie’s father appeared to be rather too pleased with himself – had he sent her away already?

  ‘Sit down, Mr Ogilvie. I thought it would be better to see you alone, so that we can talk freely. My wife and I have discussed the matter and . . .’

  During the man’s short pause, Albert clenched his hands by his sides and prepared to do battle. ‘. . . and we have decided to give our permission for you to marry our daughter.’

  The wind taken completely out of his sails, Albert stared in disbelief for a few moments, but this dapper figure, this banker with his business suit and business manner, would never make a joke about anything, especially anything as serious as this. It must be true.

  ‘You mean, you don’t object to me marrying Bathie, now?’

  Arthur’s mouth twisted as he flicked an imaginary speck off his trousers. ‘I would not go as far as to say that, but I have . . . er . . . been made to understand that you love her, and . . .’

  ‘I do love her,’ Albert interrupted eagerly. ‘I told you that last night, and I’ll worship her till the day I die. I’ll make sure she never wants for anything, supposing I’ve to work night and day to provide for her.’

  ‘There will be no need for you to do that. As you no doubt gathered last night, when my mother-in-law passed away she left quite a considerable sum in trust for Bathia. She cannot touch this until she is twenty-one, but . . .’

  ‘I don’t want her money. I’ll work for her . . .’

  Arthur continued as if Albert hadn’t spoken. ‘Meantime, my wife intends to place at your disposal all that her mother left her, and you will be at liberty to draw on it at any time, if the need should arise. Of course, when Bathia reaches her majority, you will have sufficient funds to work on.’ Reddening a little, he hurried on. ‘I am afraid that I was narrow-minded and bigoted about your occupation, but I apologize now for what I said. It was quite uncalled for.’

  ‘I thought some terrible things about you, as well,’ Albert said, frankly. ‘But it takes a big man to admit he’s wrong, and I admire you for it. There’s just one thing, though. I want none of Bathie’s money, nor her mother’s. I mean to provide for my own wife, for that’s how I was brought up to think.’

  Again, a faint smile lifted the edges of Mr Johnstone’s mouth. ‘And I admire you for that, Mr Ogilvie, but I ask for your assurance that you will care for Bathia, and look after her for the rest of her life, to the best of your ability.’

  ‘You have my word on that.’

  ‘Then I give you my blessing.’ Arthur Johnstone shook hands with his future son-in-law, then went to the door to call for his wife and daughter to join them.

  They appeared almost immediately and Bathie ran across the room to perch on the arm of Albert’s chair, laughing at his bemused expression. ‘I couldn’t believe it at first, either, Albert, but it’s true. We can be married as soon as you like.’

  Arthur gave a little cough. ‘We will have to discuss it a little further, Bathia. I mean to provide you with a wedding you will never forget. After all, you are my only daughter, and this is the only chance I will have, but it will take some time to organize fully, so I would suggest that you leave it until next year. In the spring, perhaps?’

  ‘Oh, no, Father. We can’t wait all that time. I don’t want a big wedding, do you, Albert?’ She turned anxiously.

  ‘I’d prefer a quiet ceremony,’ he admitted, ‘but I’m quite willing to agree to what your father says.’

  Arthur inclined his head in acknowledgement of this. ‘Your parents may have some suggestions to make, and my wife will require a list of all the guests they wish to invite.’

  Henrietta spoke for the first time. ‘Ask them to come to tea on Sunday so that we can discuss it.’

  Misgivings suddenly setting in, Albert agreed to pass on her invitation, and after another half-hour spent listening uncomfortably to Arthur’s talk of wedding guests, he made his excuses and left. Now that his dream was nearing fulfilment, he wished that it was all over.

  His mother and father wouldn’t feel easy at a grand wedding, he knew that, and he wouldn’t himself, if it was as grand as Arthur Johnstone was planning, but if that was the only way he’d get Bathie, they’d all have to put up with it.

  Nell raised her head from the seaboot stocking she was darning when her son came in, but waited for him to speak.

  ‘I’ll take Belle out in a wee while,’ he began. ‘I didn’t take her with me before, because . . . Oh, I’d better tell you everything. I met this girl, a couple of weeks ago, and . . . well, it was love at first sight, Mother. I used to think that was a lot of nonsense, but it happened to us, and we’re going to get married, whenever her father gets the wedding arranged.’

  ‘Oh, Albert, I’m right pleased about that.’ Nell laid down her darning needle and clasped her hands together with joy. ‘I’ve prayed for you to settle doon wi’ a nice lassie, an’ I’m sure she must be a nice lassie, seein’ you took to her so quick – I just wish you’d tell’t me afore. What’s her folk sayin’ aboot you askin’ her so sudden?’

  ‘Well, her father’s a banker, and he . . .’

  ‘A banker? He hadna been very pleased aboot it?’

  ‘No, he wasn’t.’ Albert sighed deeply. ‘He refused his permission last night, and I said I’d leave him to speak it over with his wife. I don’t know what made him change his mind, but he agreed tonight, and he’s wanting to give Bathie a big send-off. Father and you are invited there for tea on Sunday, to discuss the plans.’

  Nell’s smiling face had fallen. ‘Are you sure you ken what you’re doin’, Albert? A banker’s lassie? You canna keep her like she’s been used to, so you’ll nae ha’e a smooth path to tread, an’ . . . oh, laddie, I’m sorry for you.’

  ‘You needn’t be sorry for me. I’m very happy about it, or I will be, once the wedding’s past. You’ll love Bathie, Mother, she’s not a bit like you’d think a banker’s daughter would be. She’ll not fuss about not being kept in the same manner, for she’s a sensible lass, friendly, and easy to speak to, and real bonnie, and . . . she loves me, Mother, as much as I Jove her.’

  ‘Well, well.’ Nell looked a lot happier. ‘I dinna ken what your father’s goin’ to say aboot this when he comes hame on Friday. He gets tongue-tied among ony kind o’ folk that’s nae fisher folk, but a banker? That’ll put the fear o’ death in him, an’ he’ll be sittin’ there like a fish oot o’ water.’

  ‘He’ll just have to do the best he can.’ Albert bent down to pat the spaniel. ‘Aye, Belle, we’ll go our walk now.’

  The worries beset him again as soon as he went outside. How would Arthur Johnstone react when he met his daughter’s future in-laws? Would the sight of them, shabbily dressed and uncomfortable with stranger
s, make him change his mind? Would he back down and cancel his permission?

  Albert felt very disloyal to his parents, but he knew that they had nothing in common with the Johnstones, and that they were incapable of putting on a show for anybody’s benefit. It was another hurdle to get over before he could make Bathie his, but it would have to be negotiated.

  On Thursday night, when he visited Ferryhill again, Albert was pleasantly surprised by the warmth of the welcome he received. Bathie’s father seemed to set himself out to be amiable, and there was no trace of condescension in his manner whatsoever.

  With her severe hairstyle, and the pince-nez on her long sharp nose, Mrs Johnstone had given the impression of being a very haughty woman, and her plain face had made Albert think that Bathie’s beauty must be inherited from some earlier generation, but today, she, too, couldn’t have been more friendly.

  ‘Bathia insists on a quiet church wedding followed by a special meal here, and, although my husband and I would have preferred it otherwise, we have bowed to her wishes. She will be attended by her cousin from Edinburgh, and no doubt you will want to choose one of your own friends as groomsman.’

  Quickly running over his acquaintances in his mind, Albert decided that John Benzies might stand up with him, for they’d been at school together, and had been quite close until John had married – Albert having done duty as groomsman at that time – but they had always remained friends.

  He became conscious that Bathie’s eyes were resting on him lovingly. ‘We won’t have to wait so long now, Albert, so you can arrange the date with the Reverend Mitchell of Ferryhill Church, for as soon as he can manage.’

  ‘I would suggest that you should not be too hasty,’ Arthur remarked, ‘If you set the date for some time in August, it will give Bathia’s mother time to order a wedding gown made, also it will give us all time to become accustomed to the idea.’

  ‘But this is only May, Father,’ Bathie began, and stopped when she saw his slight frown.