Half Moon Street

“Joshua! I. . I must speak with you. . in confidence.”

“Is something wrong?” he asked, catching her emotion.

“Yes,” she said hastily. “I fear it is. But it may be addressed, and more damage prevented.”

He did not look sufficiently alarmed. How should she phrase it so as to be believed? She had rehearsed this through the restless hours of the night, but still it did not sound right yet.

“What is the matter?” he asked her, quite gently, without alarm.

She wanted to be away from the front door, in case Caroline should chance to look out one of the windows and see them. She started to walk, and he moved with her, keeping step. She must begin.

“It is Samuel Ellison,” she said, finding herself oddly breathless. “No doubt you know he has been calling quite regularly at the house, in the afternoons. He stays for far longer than merely a social call.”

“He is family,” Joshua replied. “Is that not natural enough?”

“Natural, maybe.” She heard the sharpness in her voice and tried to steady it. “But he is. . behaving in an unfortunate manner.”

“Really?” There was no change in his expression.

This was worse than she had expected. Damn him for being so obtuse. Now she would have to be too frank. Why couldn’t the man use his imagination? He was supposed to be an actor. Couldn’t he think?

“He is overfamiliar!” she said sharply.

“With you?” His eyebrows rose as if he found the thought of it incredible. “Well, if you feel he is rude and you cannot curtail it yourself, you had better ask Caroline to speak to him.”

“Not with me!” she said. She only just avoided adding “you fool!” “With Caroline! He very obviously finds her attractive and feels no need to disguise it. It is. . it is worse than unsuitable-it is cause for concern.”

He stiffened slightly. “I am sure Caroline is quite able to remind him of appropriate behavior,” he said, a little coolly. “He is American. Perhaps over there manners are freer.”

“If he is anything to go by, then they are very free indeed,” she said with a note of desperation. “I speak because I am concerned for Caroline’s reputation. And for your welfare. .” For heaven’s sake, could he not see what she was saying? Was he totally stupid? Or perhaps he did not care? What a terrible thought. . it filled her with ice, as if someone had opened a door onto midwinter. Maybe theatre people behaved that sort of way and expected others to. Immorality might mean nothing to him.

No! That could not be true. It must not be.

Joshua smiled very slightly, a small curve of the lips. “I am sure Caroline will rebuff him, gently, if he should trespass. But thank you for speaking on her behalf. I’m glad you are there, which will assure no one has room to speak ill of her. Good morning.” And with a nod of his head, he passed her and continued on his way towards the end of the street, where presumably he was going to look for a hansom.

The old lady stood on the pavement alone, furious and defeated. But it was temporary. It must be! She could not afford to surrender. Samuel Ellison would be back, and next time, or the time after, he would finally say something which Caroline would understand, some thread which she would unravel until it reached the truth and nothing was left anymore, nothing safe or clean, no light, nothing but the darkness consuming everything.

She turned and walked back up the path, climbed the steps and went into the house. Her mind raced. She had tried, and it had not been enough. She had been delicate, subtle, laying no blame except upon Samuel, and it had not worked.

She crossed the hall past the housemaid carrying one of those new sweeping machines. Time had been when there were half a dozen maids, and carpets had been sprinkled with damp tea leaves and swept and beaten two or three times a week. Households had been run properly then!

She went upstairs to her room and closed the door. She must be alone to think. There was no time to waste. Whatever she did, it must be today. Another visit could bring ruin.

There was still only one way she could think of to ensure that Samuel Ellison never returned. If Joshua would not be told and believe her, then he must be shown in such a way he could not disbelieve. He had left her no choice.

The question now was how to achieve it. There were many details to be considered with great care. She could afford no mistakes. Since she had tried and failed that morning, there was now only once chance left. It must succeed.

She sat by the window in the autumn sun and worked it out to the least detail. The timing must be perfect. She knew what the cost would be. She regretted it would be so high. If Joshua left Caroline she would be alone, reputation ruined and without means of her own, but Emily would see that she was not homeless. She would be provided for to that extent. If she were to live in Ashworth House it would be highly uncomfortable, but it was large enough that Caroline and Mariah would be able to avoid each other. If necessary one of them could live in the hall in the country. Probably Caroline, since she would be socially ostracized. It was a pity, it was not what Mariah would have wanted, but survival made it necessary. There was no decision to consider.

It was best to begin immediately. Long thinking might weaken her resolve. Now that the times for everything had been planned precisely, written in a neat, crabbed hand, but unwaveringly, there was nothing else to prepare. She already knew Caroline’s plans for the next two days. She would be in this evening, and Joshua would be at rehearsal. It was perfect, as if it were meant to be.

She wrote the first letter.

Dear Samuel,

You can have little idea how intensely I have enjoyed your company and the friendship you have offered me. You have brought into my life much that I had not even realized I was missing so deeply. Your stories of America are not only thrilling, but far more than that, you have the eyes to see beauty where other people might miss it, to see laughter and to feel compassion in a rare and wonderful way, which wakens in me an appreciation of life I hardly knew I possessed.

Was that too strong? Or not plain enough? Surely he would understand? She had seen Caroline’s handwriting often enough over the years on household accounts and invitations for the cook that it was easy to copy. They had never written letters to each other; there had been no occasion. The style she had to invent. But then Caroline had not written to Samuel Ellison either, so he would not know differently.

He must not mistake her meaning. She must leave no doubt or the whole plan would fail. There was only this one chance. It was win or lose everything.

She continued:

Before you leave London and go to see the rest of the country I should like to visit with you as often as you can spare the time. I shall miss you extraordinarily when you return to New York. Life will seem so pedestrian again.

Surely that was forward enough, even for an American?

Please call upon us this afternoon, at about five o’clock, if you are at all able. I realize I am behaving with unbecoming urgency, but I can talk with you as I can with no one else. You are family, a link with the past which for me is gone everywhere else I turn. We have so much in common which no one else shares. As you may have observed, and I am sure you have, I find my mother-in-law difficult to speak with, except about trivialities.

Should she add anything about loneliness? No. It was explicit. She must not sound hysterical, it might put him off, and that was the last thing she wished-unless it were completely. And she doubted she could do that. This was her only chance, like one throw of the dice. Win-or lose it all.

I hope to see you,

Yours most affectionately,

Caroline

Should she read it over? Or would she lose her nerve and fail at the last minute? No. Fold it up and post it. Now.

Or maybe she should read it?

She hesitated, sitting with it in her hands.

Once it was gone it was irretrievable.

But the situation was irretrievable anyway. It had been, even since Samuel Ellison had come through the door.