A Brighter Tomorrow by Maggie Ford (read with me .txt) 📕

In his own loneliness he too had indulged in overprotecting Millicent, feeling he’d been right to set up in private medicine. Working in hospital he’d have seen far less of her. It had seemed like a judgement on that overindulgence when what had been a perfectly healthy child had succumbed to tuberculosis.

Tears stung his eyes, misting the wall and the dark-framed testimonials at which he had been staring.

Bertram came upright in his swivel chair, leaned his elbows on the desk and rubbed the moisture from his eyes with his fists. As he looked up, the room came back into focus when what Mrs Jenkins had told him leaped back into his mind. He needed to think.

What should be done with the girl? There was no question of turning her out. That would be cruel and would sit in his mind for the rest of his life. But how could she remain here, his wife seeing the girl growing bigger each day with the child she carried? He dared not think how Mary would react.

Yet it would tear him apart to have her go from here. It helped to see her about the house, a salve for the emptiness that still lay in his heart even after eighteen months. The sight of her helped assuage that grief, kept him going, though even he knew he couldn’t go on for ever pretending to himself this was his daughter he saw each morning. Now he was reaping the consequences.

What a fool he’d been to take the girl into his home in the first place. And what if the baby should prove to be not properly formed, or imbecile? There was every chance of that. Incest – its father the father of the mother who bore it, the child carrying the sin of the father in every way. What would they do with such a creature? God, it was a vile dilemma!

There came only one solution. For the mother’s own salvation the foetus must be aborted, and soon. Mrs Jenkins reckoned the mother was around three months pregnant. There was still time.

He got up from his chair and rang for Mrs Jenkins again. Ellie hadn’t come to do the study this morning – Chambers had instead; now he knew why.

‘First, would you have someone inform my wife that I will be late down for breakfast,’ he told Mrs Jenkins the moment she appeared. ‘Then tell Jay to come here. I wish to speak to her. I do apologize, Mrs Jenkins, for asking you to play messenger, but I assume you understand?’

‘I do, sir,’ came the sober reply.

Alone in his study Bertram Lowe waited. He did not have to wait long. It could not have been more than two or three minutes before Ellie was bustled into the study with Mrs Jenkins holding her firmly by the arm.

‘There you go, child,’ she said and withdrew immediately, the door closing softly behind her.

Ellie stood in the centre of the room. The face gazing at him had a drawn look. It made her look years older than she was and his heart went out to her.

‘Come, my dear, sit down.’ He gave her a smile and added, ‘I’m not going to eat you.’ The trite remark made him cringe inwardly. Fool! But his face did not change from the smile he had put on it and he was grateful to have her do as he had asked.

As she sat, perching herself on the edge of the chair opposite his, he leaned towards her. This wasn’t the way he wanted it. What he really wanted was to go and put an arm about her, draw her to him, cuddle away that haunted expression; but he continued to stay where he was. How would he have behaved if this had been his daughter? But such a situation would never have arisen.

He gathered himself together. What he was about to put to this girl would have to be in the utmost secrecy. He dreaded to think what would happen were his wife ever to find out. He was already being torn three ways – between thought for his own safety, perhaps even the safety of his marriage if she were to remain here; a natural instinct to help any child in distress; and this overriding need to have her stay here, balm for his empty soul in seeing her every day in his home.

He was beginning to realize that there was a growing genuine fondness for her – not of any sordid kind, as she had come to know, but a fatherly affection while he pretended to himself that it was his own daughter whom he saw.

He took a deep breath, leaning forward on the desk, fingers interlaced before him. Ellie had been watching him closely and, as their gaze met, he said as soothingly as he could, ‘Do you know why I want to speak to you, Ellie?’

She didn’t move, didn’t even shake or nod her head, putting him at a slight disadvantage.

‘It concerns something you told Cook this morning – in confidence,’ he added, hoping to coax her into speaking.

The hazel eyes had become wary and accusing. She frowned, but that was the only movement she made. It was disconcerting, and Bertram tried not to nibble at his lips or allow his face to give away the indecisiveness that was gripping him.

‘Cook felt you needed help and so she came to me, in confidence, and I assure you, my dear, that what she told me will not go outside the four walls of this study.’

‘But you want to get rid of me,’ she said suddenly.

‘No!’ The word shot from his lips before he could stop it. ‘No, my dear; I want to help you – do all I can for you. But I need your co-operation. I can help you, but in turn you must put your trust in me.’

He paused, but she didn’t respond – didn’t ask why she was being asked to