Love or Duty Read online

  Stanley loved both his daughters and would do anything to make them happy, but just recently he’d begun to worry that he had indulged Sarah too much. In her single-minded pursuit of a singing career, he feared she was in danger of turning out to be as selfish as her mother. He wasn’t blind to Dora’s faults; he loved her in spite of them. But it hurt him to see Sarah going the same way. Still, he was sure Louise would never be a disappointment to him.

  He sighed and reached for her hand. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure then, my dear?’ he asked.

  ‘I needed to get out of the house. So I thought we could walk home together. We haven’t had our Sunday walks lately and I miss them.’

  Stanley patted her hand. ‘I do too. Let me finish going through these papers and then we’ll walk home along the seafront.’

  Louise smiled and got up from the desk. ‘Where’s Miss Baines?’ she asked.

  ‘I let her go early – her mother’s not well,’ Stanley replied.

  Louise smiled sympathetically and went to sit by the window as he bent his head to his work.

  But his mind wasn’t on the details of the house he’d recently surveyed for a client. He was still puzzling over what had gone wrong with his business. How could they be losing money when they still had so many contracts underway? He hadn’t lost that much in the stock market crash and anyway, things were recovering a little now. But surely his problems were not just due to Dora’s extravagance, or to the expenses incurred in launching Sarah’s musical career.

  He would just have to go through the books again. But the thought depressed him. Last time he had attempted to discuss their finances with his partner, William became quite tetchy, as if he thought Stanley were accusing him of some impropriety. That was the last thing on his mind; he and William had been friends for years and, up until now, their partnership had been a happy one.

  It was no good. He couldn’t concentrate on the survey, couldn’t summon up any interest in dry rot and cracked guttering, faulty drains and loose window catches. He threw the papers down with a sigh and stretched.

  ‘I think I’ll call it a day, Louise. Maybe this will make more sense in the morning,’ he said.

  He shrugged himself into his jacket, helped Louise on with hers and took his hat off the stand in the corner. As he closed the office door behind them a voice from across the hall called out.

  ‘Just off, Mr Charlton?’

  Stanley put his head round the door. ‘Yes, make sure you lock up securely when you leave.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mr Charlton. You can depend on me,’ the young man replied.

  As they walked down the steps, Louise took Stanley’s arm. ‘I didn’t hear James come back. He rushed out just as I came in, nearly knocked me over.’

  ‘I expect he had another row with William. They don’t see eye to eye and I’m beginning to think it was a mistake, taking him on. James has his own ideas about how we should run things but William doesn’t agree.’

  Still, it was about time the young man grew up and started accepting some responsibility. Stanley was in full agreement with his partner on that. Once more he sighed and wished that Louise had been a boy. She would have been a real asset to the business. But it was no use dwelling on that. Dora would have a fit if he so much as hinted that he’d like his daughter to work with him. And he knew his partner would never agree either.

  As they walked along the seafront, enjoying the mild autumn sunshine, Louise tentatively broached the subject that had been worrying her. She couldn’t bear to see that drawn, grey look on her father’s face.

  ‘I know something’s on your mind, Father. I wish you’d tell me,’ she said, slipping her hand through his arm.

  ‘I don’t want you to worry, my dear. There’s nothing you can do anyway.’ Stanley sighed.

  ‘So there is something wrong?’

  ‘Well, I must confess, things could be better – but not a word to your mother. You know how she fusses.’

  ‘I won’t say anything,’ Louise promised. ‘But why can’t you confide in me? Maybe it would help to talk things over.’

  Stanley hesitated, then patted her hand. They strolled slowly between the flowerbeds, now bereft of their colourful summer bedding, and Louise listened apprehensively as her father confided his fears for the business he had worked so hard to build up over the years.

  ‘You don’t seriously think Mr Spencer has been cooking the books, do you?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course not.’ Stanley sounded shocked. But Louise could see the thought wasn’t new to him. He just didn’t want to believe it. He tugged at his moustache. ‘No, no, my dear. I’m sure that’s not the case. Things will start to look up soon I’m sure.’

  Louise hoped he was right. She didn’t mind helping out in the house, had even begun to enjoy the challenge of cooking for the family, though how they would manage if they ever had to let Polly go, she couldn’t imagine. But she hated to see the pinched worried look on her father’s face and his struggle to control the faint flicker of irritation at Dora’s frequent demands. He tried so hard to please, but she never seemed to be satisfied.

  Louise squeezed his arm and smiled up at him. ‘Whatever happens, Father, we’ll manage,’ she assured him.

  As they neared Steyne House they saw Sarah at the front gate, excitedly waving a letter.

  ‘It’s come,’ she squealed. ‘The letter about the concert at the Albert Hall.’ Her violet eyes shone and her cheeks were flushed with pride.

  Louise had been so taken up with running the household, not to mention worrying about her father, she had quite forgotten that Sarah had auditioned for the concert some time ago. The letter was from Maurice Weeks, the theatrical agent who, with Dora, was promoting Sarah’s career.

  ‘Congratulations, we’re so proud of you,’ Louise said, giving her sister an impulsive hug. ‘Aren’t we, Father?’ she added, turning to Stanley, whose worried frown disappeared at once.

  ‘Of course, darling,’ he said, smiling widely as Sarah grabbed his hand and almost dragged him up the front path.

  Louise was pleased that he managed to keep the smile in place when Sarah declared that she simply must have a new dress for the occasion, adding ‘… and shoes, and a hat.’

  As they entered the house, Polly appeared in the hall, wringing her hands. ‘Oh there you are, Miss. I was beginning to get worried.’ She glanced over her shoulder anxiously as the drawing room door opened.

  Dora, her rosebud lips pinched tightly together, stood in the doorway, her blue eyes glittering. ‘Where on earth have you been, Louise? I thought you were supervising dinner. Polly hasn’t the first idea how to go about things and here’s your father home and the table not even set.’

  Louise’s lips tightened too. ‘Everything is under control, Mother,’ she said as evenly as she could manage through clenched teeth, wondering at the strength of will which kept her from expressing her true feelings.

  Stanley seemed to guess how she felt, smiling at her over Dora’s head and taking his wife’s hand. ‘I don’t mind waiting, dearest,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we sit down and have a drink while you tell me about Sarah’s wonderful news. Louise will call us when dinner’s ready.’

  Dora simpered up at him. ‘Oh, Stanley, if you only knew how trying it is, managing with only one servant. I’m sure Polly does her best….’

  Louise escaped to the kitchen, where she proceeded to bang the pots about, much to Polly’s distress. The maid hovered uncertainly behind her, gabbling apologies.

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to set the table. Besides, I wasn’t expecting the mistress down yet. Last time I went up she was sound asleep.’

  ‘It’s all right, Polly. I’m not cross with you. It’s not your fault I was away so long. I walked home through the park with Father.’ She took the pan of potatoes off the range. ‘Now, you set the table, while I strain and mash these.’

  Polly hurried away, still twittering anxiously. If only Mother would keep out of the kitchen and
leave things to me, Louise thought. Polly would know where she was then and wouldn’t get into such a state. She forgot for a moment that it wasn’t long ago she’d been annoyed with Dora for not helping more. At times like this she almost wished she’d accepted Keith Willis’s proposal and gone off to Africa with him. Then the memory of his clammy hands and wet kiss overrode her discontent with her lot. I’m not that desperate she told herself. Still, she’d have to do something soon or she’d go mad.

  Maybe she would ask her father if she could help in the office. Dora would be horrified of course, but it was worth a try.

  After so many years of marriage, Dora had had enough of wedded bliss. She was quite fond of Stanley of course and it was true he was a good provider. But her marriage hadn’t turned out quite the way she’d hoped.

  Of course, she had Sarah – she was very proud of her daughter. And even having a stepdaughter hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared. Louise was placid and dutiful, always anxious to please. And she had been a godsend lately, taking over the household and freeing her to chaperon Sarah to her concerts. But Dora was becoming disenchanted with her daughter’s career. At first she’d had visions of sharing the glory, accompanying Sarah at the piano. But after her humiliation at the BBC producer’s hands, she hadn’t raised the subject again. Instead she had thrown herself into organizing Sarah’s engagements, at least until the advent of Maurice Weeks. The man was insufferable – always thinking he knew best. But at least he knew about the financial side of things. Sarah was accumulating a nice little nest egg which would do nicely as a temptation when it came to her daughter’s marriage.

  The girl was going to need it, if what Dora feared was true. It seemed Stanley wasn’t quite as well off as she’d thought. In the early days of their marriage he had never mentioned money. But they lived well and he never refused her anything – not often anyway. But when she’d expressed the desire to move inland to Chichester, to leave this draughty Victorian monstrosity, with the ever present seaborne wind howling round its gothic turrets, he’d been quite firm.

  Dora sighed, picturing herself in one of those elegant Georgian houses behind the main shopping centre, mixing with the cathedral set. Her church work and her friendship with the Reverend Ayling would surely be recommendation enough. Dora could see herself on the cathedral flower rota, maybe on the committee which ran the ancient almshouses connected with the church.

  Her attendance at a garden party in the Bishop’s Palace garden back in the summer had reawakened her ambitions and, as she sipped her pre-dinner sherry she contemplated raising the subject with Stanley again. But then he’d only get cross and upset her and that would bring on one of her blinding headaches. Dora frowned. Stanley seemed to get cross more often lately. In a way she could understand him not wanting to move away from the house his grandfather had built. He was a great one for tradition. But hadn’t he promised her when they married that he would do everything possible to make her happy?

  She took another sip from her glass and looked at her husband. For the first time she noticed that he wasn’t looking at all well. There were lines on his forehead that hadn’t been there until recently, and his thick dark hair and moustache were sprinkled with grey. A cold finger of apprehension touched her as she recalled the financial problems he had mentioned a few months before. But surely everything was all right now. At least he hadn’t said anything lately. Although they’d never got around to replacing Cook after her accident, she hadn’t bothered him about it because Louise seemed to be managing so well – at least until today.

  It really was too much for her to have to worry about everything, she thought with a discontented sigh. And with Sarah’s concert coming up she would be far too busy to deal with the household. It was no use; they would have to get another cook.

  She turned to Stanley to say so but the door opened and Polly, wringing her hands and stammering in that irritating way, announced that dinner was served. Maybe they should get another maid too, Dora thought.

  By the time they sat down for their meal Louise was feeling calmer. When her father told her the casserole was almost as good as Cookie’s, she couldn’t help a glow of pride. She had been trying hard after all and it was nice to be appreciated. Those visits to Cookie’s little cottage in the nearby village of East Holton were starting to bear fruit. Louise thought it was very kind of the old lady to share the expertise gained over many years of working for her family.

  But before she could say anything Dora spoke. ‘I know Louise is managing very well,’ she said condescendingly, ‘but, Stanley dear, it is most unfair to expect a young lady of good family to be doing such menial work. It was acceptable as a temporary measure and I’m sure we were very grateful for the way she coped after Cook’s unfortunate accident….’

  Stanley opened his mouth to speak, but Dora carried on without pause. ‘… But that was over a year ago. Once we learned that Cook would be unable to carry on working we really should have taken on another one.’

  With a clatter Stanley laid his knife and fork on the plate. Louise looked up in alarm as for once her father spoke sharply to his wife. ‘I thought I had already explained that it is completely out of the question. Don’t you ever listen to anything I say?’

  Dora gasped and put a hand to her white face. ‘Stanley!’ she exclaimed. Then clutching her head she pushed her chair back noisily and stumbled from the room.

  Stanley followed her, leaving the food which Louise had worked so hard to perfect, congealing on the plate. She looked up and saw that her sister’s eyes had filled with tears. It was seldom that their parents openly quarrelled and Sarah was usually so taken up with her ambitions that she never seemed to notice the undercurrent of tension that was so often present these days.

  ‘Why is Father in such a bad mood?’ Sarah asked. ‘He hardly said anything about my concert.’

  ‘I think he has things on his mind,’ Louise said.

  ‘Oh, business.’ Sarah’s voice was offhand.

  ‘Yes, business,’ Louise said sharply. ‘And if it wasn’t for business, where do you think all the new dresses and trips to London would come from?’

  Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise and once more her eyes filled with tears. ‘Now you’re being horrid as well. I don’t know what’s the matter with everybody.’ And she too jumped up from her chair and rushed from the room.

  When Polly came in a few minutes later to ask if she should serve the pudding, Louise was sitting with her chin resting on her hands, surveying the plates of half-eaten food. It was an effort not to snap at the maid but it wasn’t poor Polly’s fault. She told her quietly to clear the table and got up to help her. ‘It seems nobody’s hungry today,’ she said with an attempt at a laugh.

  When she too had gone to her room, after spending a little time with Sarah and smoothing her ruffled feelings, Louise had time to think about what her father had told her earlier. The Winter Gardens, with its theatre and dance hall was losing money. When it first opened it had been a popular attraction for the summer visitors. But this year, the rumours of war and the uncertainty of the political situation seemed to have put people off coming.

  Stanley, along with other businessmen in the town, had invested in the venture at the very beginning and had hoped for a substantial return on their investment. William Spencer had put in more than anyone else and so had more to lose. Stanley didn’t really suspect his partner of any crooked dealing but, as he’d confided to Louise, it seemed too much of a coincidence that the firm’s losses had begun just when William was starting to feel the pinch.

  ‘I think I’ll get old Jones to go through the books again,’ Stanley had said. The accountant was an old friend who could be relied on not to make a scandal if anything was out of order.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find it’s just a mistake,’ Louise had said, trying to comfort her father. She liked Mr Spencer and didn’t want to think ill of him either.

  As she got ready for bed Louise wished she’d brought up the
subject of working in the office. But with all the tensions in the family at the moment, not to mention that she really was needed at home now, it hardly seemed the right time.

  Usually, the sound of the waves caressing the shingle soothed her to sleep in no time. But tonight the seeds of discontent that were growing in her would not allow her to settle. She turned over in bed, trying to get comfortable and reflected that if she’d married they would have to do without her. Not much chance of that now, she thought with a sigh. But surely marriage wasn’t the only means of escape. She thought of Sarah, who was growing up into a real beauty. She would have no shortage of suitors. But she wouldn’t need them. She had her talent – and with that she could do anything she wanted. Not for the first time, Louise felt a twinge of envy. She didn’t begrudge Sarah her success. She just wished she had a comparable talent to give her own life more meaning.

  Sarah was finding it hard to sleep too, regretting the way she’d snapped at her sister. Poor Louise had such a lot to put up with, what with having to spend most of her time in the kitchen, as well as having to cope with Mother’s sulks and tantrums. Thank goodness she had her rehearsals and singing lessons.

  Singing was her lifeline. She didn’t know what she’d do if she had to live the sort of humdrum life her sister did. Imagine living all your life expecting to get married – as if that was the only thing that mattered – then getting to an age when you realized it wasn’t going to happen. Imagine ending up like old Miss Bunyan, spending your life doing ‘good works’, then getting so old that you became a ‘good work’ yourself, depending on others to invite you to Sunday dinner or sit and talk to you when they’d rather be doing something else.

  Well, that wasn’t going to happen to her. She was going to have a wonderful life full of music and fun. Of course she might fall in love and get married one day. But whoever he turned out to be, her husband would be made to realize that her singing came first.