CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
Breakfast at Midnight
It was three days before Michael Brearly and Agnes Wentworth’s wedding, and whilst the bride-to-be was sleeping soundly in her bed chamber at Wintersleigh, the prospective groom, sleepless with pre-marital jitters, was sitting outside on Rosewood’s back verandah. As was often the case when he couldn’t sleep, Michael ordered a bacon sandwich for breakfast, and while he distractedly bit into the bread, he stared out into the midnight darkness. It seemed inconceivable to him, at that moment, that at the same time next week he would be a married man, with a small child to support. Thomas Maycroft’s Last Will and Testament stipulated that Jack was to come under Agnes’s care in the event of Thomas’s death, and given that Agnes was to marry Michael, he would inadvertently become a parent on his wedding day. The thought of being a father figure to little Jack Maycroft filled him with dread but, as he reflected, he was grateful that Thomas hadn’t left Jack to George. Under George’s bad influence, there would be no telling just how Jack would turn out.
After swallowing the last mouthful of his sandwich, he stood up to stretch his cramped legs. Beneath him, the wooden verandah boards groaned under his weight. Oblivious to the noise he was making, he picked up his glass of port, and began to pace the full length of the verandah. By the time he had slurped out the contents of the glass, he realised that George had joined him.
‘I say, old chap,’ George began, ‘is this a private party, or can anyone join in?’
‘I suppose that depends on who’s asking,’ Michael replied, setting the empty glass down on the railing.
George let out a hearty yawn. ‘So, what are you doing up? You look a little down in the dumps. Not worrying about the wedding are we?’
‘No,’ Michael lied, ‘I’m just…’
‘Lying hound,’ George remarked with a knowing smile. ‘It’s just as I thought. You’re going soft!’
‘What absurdity! It’s all in your imagination.’
‘No, it’s not,’ George insisted, watching Michael with penetrating eyes. ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re having second thoughts. The wedding is in three days, and you’re having second thoughts about going through with it. It’s a common enough phenomenon.’ He then casually pulled out a cigarette and a box of matches from his pyjama pocket. As he lit his cigarette, his handsome and youthful features were briefly illuminated.
‘And what about you?’ Michael asked. ‘What are you doing up?’
‘Just chewing the cud, so to speak,’ said George, in between puffs of smoke. After a brief interval he began to laugh. ‘This may surprise you, Michael, but I do think. Well, sometimes.’ Michael smiled weakly but maintained his silence. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. ‘Anyway, I’ve been thinking about you and your awfully good fortune.’
‘My good fortune?’ Michael cried, astounded. ‘And what is so fortunate about my predicament?’
‘You great duffer! Not only are you about to marry an awfully fetching woman, but you’re set to adopt an equally wonderful child!’ He took another puff from his cigarette.
‘I thought you didn’t like Agnes,’ said Michael, ignoring the latter part of his brother’s observation, ‘you said you despised her.’
‘I don’t like her, and I do despise her, but that’s not the point here. By marrying Agnes next week, you immediately acquire what some men can only dream about. A beautiful wife, and a son.’
‘I thought you despised Agnes,’ repeated Michael with suspicious eyes.
‘I do,’ said George with a sudden exasperation. ‘By Jove, Michael,’ must you keep harping on about it? Just because a man finds a woman attractive, it doesn’t necessarily mean that he likes her.’
‘Whatever you say, George,’ Michael said, turning away ill-humouredly, ‘but as I understand it, such reasoning has never stopped you before.’
‘And what is that supposed to mean? What are you suggesting?’
‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ Michael explained. ‘Look,’ he went on, ‘enough is enough. This is only degenerating into an argument. I have enough worries on my mind, without adding you to the list.’
‘Huh! You’re a nice one!’ George proclaimed, with sneering emphasis. ‘I was just trying to offer some brotherly consolation. Trying to convince you how darn good your life is.’
‘Nothing could possibly convince me of that, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.’
‘Aw come on, Michael. Don’t take the sulks with me. I only just got here. Stay longer, and we can have a good ol’ chat.’
‘No,’ said Michael, watching his brother through the warm glow of the cigarette, ‘it’s pointless talking to you. You’ll only end up ridiculing me.’
‘I won’t, big brother. I promise I won’t.’ Seeing the look of doubt on Michael’s face, he persevered. ‘There’s something urgent I need to tell you, before it’s too late.’ He let his neglected cigarette dangle down from his fingers.
Michael raised an eyebrow. ‘If this is about your romantic encounter with Miss Norwood on New Year’s Eve, then don’t waste your breath. Agnes has already told me everything.’
George stared. ‘Oh she did, did she? Humph! What exactly did she say about it all? I suppose she accused me of instigating it.’
‘No. On the contrary. Agnes seemed to think that Miss Norwood was a very willing participant in the proceedings.’
George slumped against the verandah railing. ‘Oh, if only,’ he heaved a wistful sigh. ‘If only that were true.’ He took several meditative puffs from his cigarette. ‘I’m afraid to say this, Michael, but Agnes has misled you in her description of the New Year’s Eve events. I am wholly to blame for what happened that night, not Miss Norwood. I hunted that poor girl down like an animal, and when I saw her alone and vulnerable on that verandah, I moved in for the kill. Despite all my efforts of seduction, however, which I hasten to add, were considerable, only her lips would yield to me. I am yet to conquer her mind and her heart, a feat I feel is next to impossible.’ The look of his brother’s darkening face made him laugh. ‘Now don’t look at me like that,’ he said, smiling disarmingly. ‘I’m not a murderer or anything. I was tempted by a pretty face that’s all, and as a red-blooded male, I felt it was my prerogative to pursue her. I must remain consistent to my reputation, although my resounding failure with Frances Norwood has somewhat shaken my confidence. I think in future I’ll set my sights a little lower.’
‘And what about an apology?’ Michael demanded. ‘Does that feature at all in your calculations?’
George reflected. ‘Well yes, I suppose it does. An apology is well in order, but to be truthful with you, I don’t think I’m up to making one at the moment. It wouldn’t do much for my credibility. Besides, apologies are just so damned embarrassing. Makes one stutter, and say awfully silly things one doesn’t mean. Best do it when the dust settles. What do you think?’
‘Miss Norwood was right about you, you know,’ Michael replied after a long pause. ‘You are selfish. Your entire life revolves around you and you alone. Everything is always on your terms.’
George snorted. ‘I’m twenty-eight, for God’s sake! I’m young, I’m free, and what’s more, I’m at perfect liberty to make the most of opportunities that come my way.’
‘There is nothing admirable in the pursuit of one’s own pleasure, particularly when it is at the expense of other people.’
‘Other people? Frances Norwood, you mean. That’s definitely a sore point with you, isn’t it? You don’t like to think of her as being used.’
‘I’m not talking about specific individuals, George, I’m speaking in general terms. You’re selfish, you use people, and you have absolutely no concept of the words sacrifice and commitment.’
‘Aha!’ George declared triumphantly. ‘So that’s what this is all about! This isn’t about me at all, is it? It’s about you! You’re about to commit yourself and it terrifies you!’ He cocked his head arrogantly. ‘You’re also jealous of
me because I don’t commit myself to anyone and I don’t care a button about what people think of me. You’re jealous of my freedom, and the fact that I can play the field with young women like Miss Norwood.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Oh no, Michael, it seems perfectly clear to me. Next week, your freedom vanishes. Suddenly, you have a wife and child to support, and the thought chills you to the bone. Your life will be filled with endless responsibilities and commitments.’
‘Well at least I’m prepared to make that sacrifice!’ Michael hissed.
‘No-one forced you into an engagement with Agnes,’ replied George, with as much venom as his brother. ‘You’ve practically been engaged to her since childhood.’
‘Mother and Louisa always wished it. You know that as well as I.’
‘Perhaps so, but why object to it now? After all, you’ve had years to get used to the idea.’
‘I, I don’t want to disappoint anybody,’ Michael responded, rather feebly.
‘And who exactly would you be disappointing? Mother is gone, as is our sister and father, and as for Agnes and Louisa, who cares a fig what they think? By Jove, Michael, if you don’t make up your mind now, the only person you’ll disappoint in the long run is yourself. Think about it.’
‘I have to go inside,’ Michael ventured after a pause of some duration.
‘Fine. Go in, if you feel you must. I didn’t get a chance to tell you what I wanted to say, but I suppose it doesn’t matter any more. You had better get some rest. You’re clearly overwrought.’ He leant forward to pat Michael’s arm, but Michael drew away before he could touch him. ‘Please think this thing through, Michael. You can either be the sword or the wound. It’s entirely up to you.’
‘I don’t want to be either,’ Michael murmured.
‘Well, I’m sorry to say this, but I think it’s too late for that.’
Michael’s hand froze on the door handle to the back door. For once in his life, his brother was right. It was too late.