Chapter 10
Victoria left for London a few days later. She called Florence West to say goodbye. Florence was leaving for Grosse Pointe for the summer in a few days.
“Will you be coming back after the summer?” Florence asked her. She was sorry about everything that had happened to Victoria.
“I don’t know. I’m going to Hampshire next week. I’ll think about it for the next two months. If I don’t plan to live here, I’ll sell the house, if you and Johnny are interested,” she said.
“The only house I want is one in New York,” Florence said, still on the same path. “I dread coming back here in the fall, especially if you don’t come back.”
“You’ll have to come and stay with me in London,” Victoria said warmly. “Have a good summer.”
“I’ll write to you,” Florence promised. Victoria didn’t tell her what was in the will.
Florence guessed that Bert had left his wife a great deal of money, maybe all of it, and his homes.
And she’d have to sell the mills. It was what everyone expected to happen now, and what Victoria had guessed herself.
She hadn’t expected him to leave everything to her, even his business, and expect her to run it.
She still couldn’t believe what she had heard, and had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
The house in London looked as it always did when she got there.
It was comforting to come home. Having lost Bert after only a year, Victoria felt pulled toward her own roots again, but once there she realized it wasn’t the same.
She had changed in a year of marriage to Bert.
She had grown and found her own wings with him.
This was the home of her girlhood. Manchester was the home of her womanhood.
And she was neither anymore. She was a widow, and she felt as though her whole life and any happiness lay behind her now.
She could see nothing appealing up ahead, was sure she would be alone forever, and preferred it to the idea of marrying again.
She had the freedoms of a married woman now, but she was a woman without a man’s protection.
She would have to fend for herself from now on.
Everything fun was behind her, traveling with her father, Italy with Bert.
She’d had one precious year with him, and destiny had wiped the slate clean again.
She didn’t call anyone in London, and left for Hampshire two days later.
She kept to herself and stayed on her property once she was there.
She ventured into the village of Chawton once on an errand and someone must have seen her, because within hours the phone rang and people were calling, renewing their condolences and inviting her to lunch.
The doors had swung wide open again. They were delighted she had gotten rid of her unsuitable husband, and they wanted to be friends again.
Particularly now, with what had happened, Victoria would never forgive them for slamming the door in their faces without ever meeting Bert or giving him a chance.
They had wanted nothing to do with her while she was married to him.
They had closed the door and locked it tight, even though she had lost her father, and now they were back, sweet as honey, and utterly false with their retractable friendship.
They had been brutal with her when she married Bert, and she didn’t have it in her heart to forgive them now that he was gone.
They had lost her forever. She was a very wealthy woman who had inherited two large fortunes.
She was someone worth knowing. They were utterly transparent.
After telling a few callers what she thought of them, Victoria stopped taking their calls.
There was no doubt in their minds whatsoever how she felt about them, after she told them.
They blithely said she must have lost her mind in Manchester, married to that vulgar boor.
In fact, they were the boors, had forgotten their manners and all compassion, and had passed judgment on her and Bert based on their own superficial values and prejudices. She had no use for any of them now.
She was particularly annoyed when she got a call from Elizabeth Chisholm, who happened to be in Hampshire for a few days, visiting her parents.
She had been so unspeakably rude when Victoria told her she was marrying Bert and asked her to be her witness.
Elizabeth had refused, and they hadn’t spoken since.
She called as though nothing had ever happened and invited Victoria to lunch, as sweet as can be.
She said she had heard about her husband and how sorry she was.
“Really?” Victoria said innocently. “I’m amazed.
Why would you be sorry when you refused to be my witness when I asked you, and told me Phillip would kill you if you were?
You acted as though I were marrying a convicted criminal.
I’d hate to get you in trouble with Phillip again if I came to lunch.
But now that Bert’s dead, I’m redeemed?”
Elizabeth sounded flustered at Victoria being so direct with her. “I just thought…you know…the industrial thing…Manchester and all that.”
“I suppose you hadn’t heard yet how rich he was, and now that you probably assume I inherited it, it might be more acceptable to Phillip, and to you. I suppose being the widow of a wealthy industrialist is more socially acceptable than being married to a live one. It’s funny how that works.”
“I would never…I’m sure you misunderstood me about being your witness.”
“No, actually, I didn’t. You made yourself very clear.
So please don’t waste your time telling me how sorry you are.
I won’t be coming to lunch, and don’t ever call me again.
Give my best to Phillip.” She hung up then.
She hated the hypocrisy of all of them. Bert was the best person she’d ever known, and they had passed judgment on him without ever knowing him.
And now that he had conveniently left the planet, they wanted to welcome her back into the fold, with her inheritance from her father and Bert. They disgusted her.
* * *
Victoria spent a peaceful summer in Hampshire, went for long walks, swam, read, kept to herself, and didn’t see any of her old friends.
She stayed until the end of August, spent a night in London, and went back to Manchester to pack up her belongings and go through Bert’s.
She had decided to sell the house, although it made her sad to do it, but it didn’t make sense for her to keep it.
She had decided not to accept the challenge Bert had set for her, however well meant.
It was too much for her. It would have been an uphill battle, with everyone against her.
She was sorry to disappoint Bert, but she was going to move back to London, and lead the quiet life of a widow, which was what she was now.
She was ready to face it, as sad as it made her. She missed him every day.
She had sent Seamus a telegram. He picked her up at the train station and drove her home to Wilmslow. It was still her home for now.
“Did you have a good summer, my lady?” he asked her politely on their way to Wilmslow.
“There’s no need to use the title, Seamus,” she told him gently. “I prefer Mrs. Banning.” Using his name was a way of keeping Bert alive. She had missed him terribly all summer in Hampshire, and remembered the time they had spent there at the beginning of their marriage.
“Sorry, Mrs. Banning.”
She was quiet on the drive to the house.
It made her sad to be there. She wanted to see Bert when she walked into the house, to find it was all a mistake and he was still there and alive.
The house seemed empty when she got there.
Mrs. Kelly was pleased to see her, and made her a cup of her favorite tea.
Victoria told her she was going to pack up Bert’s things, and her own, and the housekeeper was sorry to hear it.
She had exchanged telegrams with Hubert Maddox, the administrator who was running the mills at the moment.
And she was seeing him the next morning.
She was going to tell him that she was going to put the mills up for sale.
She didn’t need the money, but she couldn’t run his whole operation from a distance without being involved in the day-to-day management of it, and there was no point hanging on to it now with Bert gone.
She wore a pale gray silk summer suit when she went to see Hubert the next day, and he was disappointed to hear what she had to say.
He’d been hoping that she would rise to the challenge in her husband’s memory.
She seemed like a smart, courageous woman to him, and he thought Bert’s idea was brilliant.
He would have liked to help her do it, but she seemed sure of her decision.
“He wanted so badly for you to take it on,” he told her with a defeated look.
He had hoped she would come back from the summer with good news, but she was adamant when she told him.
She asked him to make discreet inquiries as to who might be interested, or whether they could divide Bert’s holdings and sell the mills individually to several owners, instead of selling as a whole, which would be very expensive for a single buyer.
She felt sad after she left his office, but told herself it was the right decision.
She had just gotten home when Seamus told her there was someone to see her.
She had heard the front doorbell, but hadn’t asked who it was.
No one knew she was back in town except Hubert Maddox.
She hadn’t contacted anyone else. Seamus told her there was a Mr. Wheaton downstairs, and she groaned.
She was about to tell Seamus to tell him she wasn’t at home, but then decided to go downstairs to see what he wanted.
She found him in the drawing room, waiting for her where Seamus had put him.