CHAPTER FIFTY TWO
Some sound advice
A week had elapsed since the ill-fated wedding proposal, and in that time the couple had not met again, nor had the matter of the proposal been resolved. On several occasions Frances tried to visit Michael to offer him an explanation of her conduct on that morning, but every time she attempted the visit, a last minute loss of courage sent her homeward. The longer Frances left the explanation, the more difficult it became for her. She was painfully aware that it was her turn to make the next step, but at the same time she did not trust herself to do it.
On the eighth day of deliberation, Frances resolved to pay Michael a visit at Charlotte and Cyril’s modest house in South Hobart. Michael had offered to assist Cyril in the redecoration of the upstairs apartments, and for convenience sake had occupied one of the spare rooms for the past few days. Michael’s presence at the Beckett’s house struck Frances as being particularly advantageous, for if Frances lost her nerve at the last minute and couldn’t face Michael, she could always pretend that she had gone there expressly to visit her cousin Charlotte.
The next morning, after a sleepless night, Frances climbed onto her bicycle and set off towards her cousin’s house. Since moving to Riverview, she had cycled frequently around New Town and through adjoining areas, and apart from receiving the occasional strange look, she had not encountered further abuse. Female cyclists were still a rare sight in Hobart, but Frances revelled in being different from the crowd, and secretly hoped that other women would follow her example.
As Frances cycled past the drawing room window she inadvertently caught a glimpse of Edwina Ballard and her Aunt Wentworth standing together by the French window, drinking tea. Both women acknowledged her presence with a hearty wave. Frances was thrilled to see the old friends reunited, and fervently wished that time would restore their friendship to the degree of intimacy they had shared before Harold Wentworth had come between them. Fortunately for Frances the two older women didn’t seem to notice that she was wearing a skirt modified for cycling. Frances had made the adjustments herself, and not only was the skirt shorter than usual, but it had a flat bon pleat at the back, with an arrangement of cords that enabled Frances to close the skirt after she had mounted the bicycle. The outfit wasn’t as comfortable or as safe as the bifurcated garments she wore in Melbourne, but it was less conspicuous than bloomers.
Frances reached Charlotte’s house just before morning tea, and discovered her cousin almost immediately, doing some weeding in the front garden. Charlotte’s face lit up when she saw Frances, and dropping her trowel and bucket of weeds, hurried forward to meet her. By this time Frances had dismounted her bike, and had rested it against a nearby trellis which was covered with climbing roses. After hugging each other, the two young women entered the house.
‘Oh, Frances,’ Charlotte began, once they were inside, ‘it’s so wonderful to see you again, even if you are wearing that queer looking skirt. What does Mrs Ballard say when she sees you wearing it? I’m surprised she doesn’t give you a lecture on femininity. But enough about that. I have something very particular to tell you.’ She smiled, and after untying her gardening apron, placed it on a table beside them. ‘Let’s go into the drawing room and I can tell you all about it.’
Frances was in two minds. ‘Forgive me if this sounds rude, Charlotte, but will there be anyone else in the drawing room?’ She looked about the room. ‘Cyril for instance. Where is he?’
‘No, no. Cyril is in his room, writing his sermon. We will be all alone.’
Frances’s face relaxed into a smile, and without replying she followed her cousin down the potpourri scented corridor, and into the drawing room, where they sat together on the sofa. ‘So, what is this news?’ Frances asked conversationally. ‘It sounds exciting, whatever it is. You haven’t decided to become a university student, like me?’ She watched her cousin hopefully.
Charlotte shook her head sadly. ‘I’m afraid not, no. From what the doctor has just told me, it seems that you will have to go by yourself.’
‘The doctor?’ Frances echoed. ‘My dear cousin. What is it? Are you ill?’
‘On the contrary,’ Charlotte replied, her face beaming with joy. ‘I’m expecting.’ To emphasise her words, she placed a hand on her stomach.
‘Oh, Charlotte!’ Frances breathed. ‘Congratulations! What wonderful news!’ She gathered up Charlotte’s hands and pressed them to her lips. ‘What does Cyril say to all this? Is he pleased?’
Charlotte hesitated. ‘I haven’t told him yet. I’m waiting until he has finished composing his latest sermon. Ironically, it’s about the value of families.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Needless to say that he has been influenced by Agnes’s and George’s actions in March. He also fears that Jack’s new parents will soon tire of him, and that they will send him back to Hobart, for someone else to look after. Unlike Cyril, I have no worries on that score. I know that Jack will be loved and well provided for. Agnes and George genuinely love that child, and I know that they wouldn’t relinquish him for the world.’
‘Oh that is a pity about Cyril,’ Frances ventured, not willing to discuss the treacherous George and Agnes. ‘Still, I’m sure you’ll have ample opportunity to tell him later.’ Frances regarded her cousin with increasing affection. ‘So, when did you find out about all of this, and who else knows about it? What did my Aunt Wentworth say when she heard the news? When is the little one due?’
‘Oh, Frances!’ Charlotte laughed. ‘So many questions! I hardly know where to begin.’ She paused briefly and rearranged her skirts that fell around her on the floor. ‘If all goes well, and I’m praying that it will, the child will be born in October. As for the other question, you’re the only person who knows about this, except for Doctor Brearly, rather Michael Brearly. I keep forgetting that he has dispensed with his title.’
The unexpected mention of Michael’s name made Frances freeze, and without knowing it, she tightened her grip on her cousin’s hands. ‘Michael knows about this?’ she asked. No sooner had she asked this question, she began to look fretfully about her.
‘It’s all right, Frances, Michael’s not here. He has been out all morning looking at houses, and I’m not expecting him to return until after lunch.’
For a few moments Frances didn’t quite know where to look. ‘Oh, of course,’ she said, transferring her distracted gaze around the room, ‘I should have known that he’d be out looking for somewhere else to live.’ She let her eyes linger on the nearby mantelpiece that was cluttered with innumerable religious figures. The austerity and oppressiveness of the room suddenly struck her, and she quickly got to her feet. She then walked over to a window that framed an impressive, yet distant view of the Derwent River. ‘What a lovely view you have,’ she heard herself say. ‘If I were you, I’d spend all my days in front of this window.’
‘Oh, Frances,’ Charlotte said. ‘How good you are at changing the subject! One second we were discussing Michael Brearly, and in the next moment you started discussing the view. How transparent you are!’
Frances looked stupefied. ‘What do you mean? What are you saying?’
Charlotte smiled, and getting to her feet, joined Frances at the window. Her face was soon chased with light. ‘I know this is none of my business, but since we’re alone together, I must say something.’ She faltered for a brief moment. ‘Michael told me about the wedding proposal, and I must say that I’m disappointed you rejected him.’
Frances’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. ‘He told you?’
‘He didn’t want to,’ Charlotte explained consolingly, ‘but I forced it out of him at any rate. Ever since that debacle in March, I vowed never again to stand back and watch everything unfold before me. If only you knew how plagued with guilt I feel! I knew that George and Agnes’s attachment was strong, and I should have said something about it to Michael and Mama. Perhaps if I had spoken out earlier, the whole wedding disaster could have been averted.’
‘My dear Charlotte,??
? Frances cut in, ‘you cannot blame yourself for what happened. Agnes entrusted you to keep her secret, and that is exactly what you did. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. Agnes and George are entirely to blame for what happened. They should never have put you in such a difficult position.’
‘I appreciate what you’re saying,’ Charlotte hastened to reply, ‘but I should have said something. How tired I am of secrecy and falseness.’ Charlotte straightened her back resolutely, and rested both her hands on the window sill. ‘That is why I encouraged Michael’s confession. I simply refuse to stand by and watch two people I care about, make a terrible mistake.’
‘I don’t know exactly what Michael told you,’ Frances began defensively, ‘but I didn’t refuse his hand in marriage.’
‘Oh, that is good news!’
‘But, by the same token, I didn’t accept him either.’
‘I see. What happened then?’
Frances deliberated. ‘It’s hard to say. One minute we were talking outside in the shrubbery, and in the next minute I was in tears, running blindly back to the house. I haven’t been able to think straight since that morning. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Even Crispin asked me the other day what I had been doing to myself. He said I looked perfectly horrid.’
‘Then talk to Michael.’
‘But what am I supposed to say to him?’
Charlotte smiled sadly. ‘That is all up to you. I’m afraid I can’t help you there. ‘Fancy!’ Charlotte exclaimed, ‘I’ve just had a thought!’ She hurriedly crossed the room to a nearby coffee table, and picked up a piece of paper that was on it. ‘This here is the list of properties that Michael is inspecting this morning and later this afternoon. He wrote them down in case Cyril and I needed to look for him. According to this list, all the properties are located this side of the river, and the one he’s inspecting at noon is only a few blocks away. Why don’t you ride over to the house and visit him? If the time is right to say something, say it. If not, you can say nothing about the proposal, and just offer him advice about the house. Either way, he’ll know that you care. What do you say?’
Frances began chewing her lip thoughtfully. ‘It’s a tempting plan.’
‘Go on,’ Charlotte coaxed, thrusting the list of properties into her cousin’s hands. ‘Help Michael find a house, before Cyril’s brain begins to turn!’
Frances tried in vain to check a smile. ‘Am I to understand that Michael has already outstayed his welcome?’
‘I’m saying nothing that will incriminate him.’
‘Point taken, Charlotte. It seems that I must pay your lodger an immediate visit. For Cyril’s sake, I shall encourage Michael to buy the first house he sees.’
Charlotte chuckled. ‘Oh really, Frances, there’s no need for you to be quite so obliging. I will be just as satisfied to hear that the two of you have had an opportunity to talk. Explain to him why you have reservations about marrying him. I will respect you whatever you decide to do,’ she added affectionately.
Frances sighed loudly. ‘Yes,’ she murmured, ‘you will respect me regardless of the decision I make, but will I?’