Barbara Taylor Bradford - Master of His Fate

‘Well, you’ve certainly done an awful lot already. When can we see the house? And what can we do to help?’ Claudia asked.

‘I can take you to see the house any day next week,’ Alexis said. ‘It’s in Whitechapel near Commercial Street. Just round the corner, before you come to Whitechapel High Street. There is plenty of room there. It’s simply furnished, and this just occurred to me – if you’re thinking of throwing any pieces away, consider the house first.’

‘Oh, goodness me! I have several comfortable chairs and a sofa I want to get rid of,’ Vera said. ‘I’ll arrange for them to be taken over whenever it’s convenient for you.’

‘Thank you very much,’ Alexis said. ‘You see, Delia and I don’t want the funds we’ve raised to be used for purchasing furniture and the like. Rather we need the money to pay for food, medicines, and Mrs Thompson’s wages, of course.’

‘What about the other women who will work there?’ Claudia asked. ‘Will they be paid also?’

‘The three who will live in are former battered women and in need of a roof over their heads – a safe place to live. Since they have that, we will be paying them only a small amount of money, but they will get all of their meals,’ Alexis told them. ‘They too want to help women who have suffered.’

Delia said, ‘There’s another thing you can do, Vera, and you too, Claudia. Discarded clothing would be most useful, especially coats, cloaks, shawls, skirts, and blouses. Nothing too fancy. And even undergarments. When the women come to the house, they will literally have nothing at all with them except the clothes they’re wearing.’

At this moment, Parker arrived in the doorway and looked across at Delia, a questioning expression on his face. She merely nodded her head, and he hurried away.

‘Parker is about to bring us tea and biscuits,’ she said, smiling at her guests. ‘If you have any more questions, we will answer them. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re willing to join with us. And I know Alexis is as well. All suggestions are welcome.’

Claudia, looking thoughtful for a moment or two, finally asked, ‘The two other women who agreed to help … are they volunteers?’

‘Yes, they are,’ Delia replied. ‘The three who will be living in will cook and clean, and do everything they can to help the battered women.’

‘What happens if they fall ill?’ Vera looked from Delia to Alexis. ‘Will you pay for a doctor?’

‘Yes, we will. And, if necessary, we will send them to hospital. After all, we are a safe house offering temporary protection, and helping the women to get on their feet. We can’t look after the sick. If possible, we want them to move on and start a new life.’

Parker and two young maids entered the drawing room, placed several trays on a table nearby. Parker poured the tea and the maids served the ladies, and the butler followed with a plate of biscuits.

Once they were alone again, Vera asked, ‘What about bed linen and towels? I can have my housekeeper go through our linen closet. I’m sure we can spare quite a lot of items.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Alexis nodded. ‘Delia and I did the same thing, and Delia’s mother paid for some beds.’

Delia said, ‘This is all turning out very well, and I think it goes without saying that we will literally take anything you can give—’

‘Or cadge,’ Alexis cut in, happy that Delia’s friends were so enthusiastic.

Alexis and Claudia sat together in the drawing room, chatting amiably about the charity. Vera had taken her leave, rushing off to be with her ailing father, and Delia had excused herself and gone up to her boudoir to pen a note to Henry Malvern, to thank him for his cheque.

It was money that Claudia was now speaking about, and this did not surprise Alexis. She knew very well who Claudia was – the daughter of Sebastian Trevalian, head of an ancient bank dating back a century at least. It was as famous as the renowned, longstanding Coutts.

It struck Alexis that her understanding of money was no doubt in her blood. ‘The amount donated is an extraordinary beginning,’ Claudia went on. ‘A veritable fortune, in fact. But I believe we should think further ahead and continue to raise money. Now. For the future. We mustn’t rest on our laurels.’

‘I agree with you. Money so easily slips away. Very fast.’

‘I will ask my father for a donation, and I’m sure he will supply a cheque immediately. I will also attempt to find other sources. We ought to build up a large amount of cash. In reserve, so that we are never caught short. Don’t you agree, Alexis?’

‘I do, and I feel very strongly that we should not waste the cash by buying items we can source elsewhere. Rather, it should be kept for medicines and good, nutritious food. In the six months it took to renovate the house, Delia and I managed to cadge enough furniture, crockery, and kitchen utensils to make the house functional and relatively comfortable to live in. And, in fact, every single thing was donated by our families and friends. Or bought for us by them.’

Claudia chuckled. ‘I shall have to learn to cadge, and I think I might be rather good at it. I’ll start with my sisters and cousins.’

‘That’s usually a good idea. I think you’ll find that those you ask will be glad, even relieved, to have somewhere to send items they no longer use, but don’t want to hoard away in cupboards.’

Claudia said, ‘One thing I forgot to ask you earlier: how many women will the house accommodate at one time?’

‘Twelve comfortably,’ Alexis replied. ‘We have six bedrooms. Delia and I placed two single beds in each room. But at a pinch those rooms could take a third bed, if necessary. There is also a large upstairs parlour that would quite easily convert to become a small dormitory. That would hold about four women and several children. You see, some women may well bring a child with them, or more, afraid to leave them behind. Our aim is to have twenty beds eventually. To give them shelter and safety, and that includes a few children. But we can’t become an orphanage. No one can live there for long: there are too many others waiting for a place.’

Claudia stared at her, a look of shock registering in her eyes. ‘Is it that bad? Is there such a lot of physical abuse among poor women?’

‘Oh yes. And even among the rich, if the truth be known,’ Alexis responded. ‘But wealthier women generally have families to run to, or loyal friends who will help them escape their husbands and their situation.’ Alexis shook her head, and added quietly, ‘Class doesn’t define abusive men, Claudia. I am afraid they are everywhere in society. In all classes and creeds.’

Sitting back in the chair, Claudia snapped her eyes shut, not saying a word.

Watching her closely, Alexis saw that her face had turned pale, and she seemed upset. After a moment, Alexis asked in concern, ‘Are you all right? Can I help you?’

Opening her eyes, sitting up straighter, Claudia said, ‘I’m fine. I was just remembering something …’ A great sigh escaped her. ‘I had a friend who once confided in me, told me her husband abused her, and very brutally. At times she had to remain at their country house until her bruises faded and she had recovered her equilibrium.’ There was a pause. Unexpectedly, Claudia’s eyes filled with tears.

Reaching out, Alexis touched her arm. ‘You are upset. What can I do to help you?’

Blinking back the tears, Claudia endeavoured to recover, to collect herself. Her voice was sad when she said, ‘I was remembering something, suddenly understanding how wrong I once was. About a friend. You see, I didn’t believe her. He was such a good-looking man, full of charm and grace, a true gentleman, an aristocrat of impeccable lineage. It just didn’t seem possible …’ Her voice trailed away and she shook her head.