Aftermath

35. Advice From a Friend

"Caught with a viscount? Now that's what I call style," said Charlotte, placing her wine glass down on the table. "I happen to know one of the Linley's. Utterly deevie. Your mother had taste."

That's not what I wanted to hear, but it was a high compliment in Charlotte's book. 

It had been an exhausting day. The flicks had been amusing, as had our dates. I could certainly see what Charlotte saw in Carlton. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, and blond, he looked as if he were more at home on the tennis court than at parties.

Celia Paggett had better step it up if she was going to keep that one in her pocket. 

George hadn't been bad sack of plums, either. A slim gentleman with a post in the Foreign Office and the steel-rimmed spectacles and fading tan to go with it. If it weren't for a certain recalcitrant stick-donkey back at home, I might well have been interested in getting to know him somewhat better. As it was, the lads had tipped their hats and made for the glass door of the wine bar when Charlotte made it clear we wanted to be left alone to chat.  

The bar was only half-full and we had a table to ourselves behind a screen, but I still felt a little uncomfortable about discussing such personal matters in a public place.  

"So, your father caught them in flagrante, and couldn't bear it. Mum had been in London kicking up her heels for a while, but right under his nose was too just much, and he just happens to have the wink on this little clinic in Switzerland for women who are overly fond of what men keep in their trousers. A month later her bag is packed, Little Olivia gets a peck on her rosy cheek and off Mummy hooks it, never to be seen again."

Charlotte contorted her wine-rouged lips as she thought over the situation. I played with the stem of my glass, swirling the wine a bit, and waited nervously for her to pronounce judgment. 

"I'm sorry, Olivia dear, but I don't believe it. And here's why..." she leaned forward, her pearl necklace making a slight clacking sound as it collided gently with the wood of the table. "Money. She would have turned up for it when your father passed on. She didn't. That means she had no claim on anything." 

"They were divorced. But perhaps she hadn't been informed that --"

"Anybody who knows enough people to know a Linley knows enough people to be informed of their own husband's death, don't you think? War or no war, news travels, and we English are simply everywhere. What about your solicitors? Was she not mentioned in the will?"  

I shook my head. "No. Not a word. And there was nothing in Father's papers, either. Not in the house and not with the solicitors. All they knew was that they were officially divorced about a year after she left and that was the end of it." 

"There you have it." Charlotte took a sip of her wine. "If she really was in that clinic, he'd have be paying and they'd surely have known about that. He wasn't. Therefore, she wasn't." 

"But, if she never went to Swit-"

"I didn't say she never went," Charlotte pointed the edge of her wine glass at me, "I said I don't think she was ever in whatever horrible clinic they wanted to lock her up in. If, indeed, she was ever caught in the arms of anyone. Adultery is the only permissible grounds for divorce, let's remember. If they wanted a clean separation..."  Charlotte shrugged.

"But Agatha said that's what happened. And a lady's maid knows all, you must admit."

"Halt that wobbly pony cart for a moment. Agatha knows what exactly? That your mother was having an affair with this viscount? And that perhaps she'd had affairs before? Good, let's say that's true, as a lady's maid certainly does know things like that. Mine certainly does." 

Charlotte smiled, and leaned back in her chair casually draping an arm over the armrest. "But was she actually there when they were caught? No, that was your father, correct? And all the information Agatha has is also from him, correct?"

I nodded, starting to see the threadbare parts of the story.  Father could have easily fabricated such a tale to suit, most particularly, himself. Agatha wouldn't have breathed a word if she thought Mother had been sent away to avoid a sexual scandal. She would have respected and made even more allowances for Father's eccentricities if she thought he'd been so gravely wronged. 

Yes, most certainly. 

Sounded just like Father to have arranged the situation to make things more comfy for himself. He'd been in Parliament after all, and learned more there than how to order a proper whiskey in a gentleman's club. 

"Then she might never have had any such problems is what you're saying. I've been wondering, well, worrying more..." I didn't go on.  

"Worrying about what?" 

"If Mother did have such an interest in men," I lowered my voice even though there was no one about, "I mean, if she was quite keen, well, perhaps some of it has been passed down to me, you know? If she had a problem, might I also --"

"Oh, tosh! Are you off your onion? If you haven't heard, Olivia, the Old Queen died twenty years ago and took all that dull nonsense about one man for life with her. Your mother wasn't as Victorian as all that, even if your Father was and Agatha is. Double tosh."

I must not have looked convinced, as a few moments later Charlotte added, "There's nothing wrong with enjoying sex, Olivia. Nor is enjoying it with different lovers. You had a golden opportunity during the war with all those fine young lads lying in your back garden like so many handsome roses just waiting to be plucked. And you plucked them. Good for you! A girl has her needs. And this girl needs more wine."  She tapped her almost empty glass with a fingernail and reached for the bottle Carlton had bought for us, gentleman that he was.

That made me smile and feel a bit better. 

"The only thing I wonder is why your mother hasn't attempted to contact you," Charlotte said, as she began to fill her glass. 

"She could have passed on."

"True. Or she remarried and has another family somewhere. That could also be an explanation. We simply don't know." 

I had never considered that. Did I have half-siblings somewhere?

"Now, that's Mummy discussed. What else is ... Oh, I still can't believe what that horrid Boyd-Scathby woman wants from you! I've made a note of the name and should I ever have the opportunity to accidentally stumble and spill my drink all over her dress somewhere highly public, I shall do so with wild abandon, let me tell you."  

I had absolutely no doubt that she would. The image was quite appealing. 

Charlotte leaned forward, that mischievous twinkle I knew so well lighting up her eyes. 

"Now, tell me about this wonder of a man you found lying in the street. I've been a good girl this whole time and listened raptly to all the boring but important things, now give me something juicy before I fall asleep and bash my pretty little forehead on the table." 

I told her everything that had happened since I'd accidentally run into James a fortnight previously, as well as what I'd just come to realise. That I wanted him back in my life, because I needed him.  

"He's a lot like you in many ways, Charlotte, or at least he was. Energetic, fun to be around, kind-hearted and chatty. Exactly what I need more of in my life, if I'm not to become a bitter old spinster. And I still want him. Physically, I mean. He's still not fully recovered, but he will be soon and then, well, I don't know. "

"Hmmm...the despise part is a bit of a nasty jar, but not as bad as one might think. And I wonder what he means by 'provoke him'. Might he become violent?"

I shook my head. "I can't imagine he meant it like that, but one can never be sure."

Charlotte drank more of her wine and thought for a while. "What does he want from you? Do you know? What would convince him to stay?" 

"No, I don't. He's made it very clear he wishes we'd never met again. He appreciates the roof over his head and the opportunity to rest and earn a little bit of money, but that's the programme, not me. I have the feeling he could well do without me, honestly, despite what he says his feelings are." 

"Well, if that's the case, then there's only one thing for it," Charlotte said, and winked.