The Shadow of the Leopard

By Serena Hendrix

They were the most unlikely alliance South Africa had ever seen: Charles Hughes the young ruthless protégé and Brandt the whiskey-swilling business magnate. Together they took on South Africa’s stock exchange creating wealth and enemies….

Charles cold-hearted, ruthless cousin Lavinia, makes plans for him to marry

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publicious Book Publishing
• Release date: Dec 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648742814

Serena Hendrix

Serena Hendrix lives in Australia and has been writing for several years. She spends a lot of her time traveling discovering new places and meeting inspirational people.

Book preview

Part 1

1897

CHAPTER 1

It had been a week of agitations in Johannesburg. There had been talk of a looming revolution and a siege, and the city had come to a complete standstill. Shops and houses were barred and barricaded, and many people had made a hurried departure. It took a little over a week for, all the bustle and traffic to be restored and business was now again thriving.

Charles Hughes wiped the red dust from his coat as, he entered the Grand Hotel. The maid smiling at him, opened the door widely and held it while he passed her into a spacious and unremarkable vestibule. There was a large urn of daisies on a jardinière. He could smell the summery aroma of them. She closed the door and led him to the private bar. He stood and stared around him. The room was utterly alien to his taste and to his experience and yet he did not feel uncomfortable. He found a quiet corner near the window. The waiter came over with a gin and tonic.

Sipping it slowly, he knew that he was early, which gave him time to process the last couple of months. For a moment he could recall his youth with sharp detail, the fight with his father Edward, of not taking an apprenticeship as printer, instead becoming a junior clerk in an export business. Charles sighed he knew he had the ability to better himself, by going to night school and studying to be an Engineer at Owens College in Manchester, where his family lived. By some stroke of fortune, Mr Clay took a liking to him, and provided him with excellent reference, that helped land him a job at the Rand Company in Johannesburg, as a junior Engineer. It was on a small safari, when he first met Peter Brandt who convinced him to leave his job and join in on his enterprises.

From a rather naïve eighteen-year old Charles entered a world that was devoted to organised crime and prostitution, two businesses that Peter Brandt owned. The whole thought of making money was so appealing to the then eighteen-year old that he became involved with keeping some women to earn him money. But that venture only lasted a few months, he knew that Peter was testing him, to see how ruthless he could be. Now Peter Brandt had moved into legitimate business dealings setting up Companies and investing in Gold mining. This is where Charles felt angered, when he asked his mentor if he could be a partner in one of his business ventures, Peter’s response was a resounding No unless he could raise a minimum of ten thousand pounds to invest in Peter’s Mining Company.

The rebounding unpleasantness of Peter’s words were like ripples in a pool, troubling and distorting everything, that he had planned for his future. All he wanted was to make money and be wealthy. He had poured out his anguish and disappointment in a letter to his cousin Lavinia Hughes, the one person who truly knew him, and would be able to give him some advice.

Charles sighed and took another sip of his drink. People dashed about the streets in a joyful manner. His mind drifted once again to his beautiful Lavinia, but he was quickly interrupted by Peter barging into the room. For a man of thirty-five, Peter was suave and astute. His eyes glowed with charm but could harden to cold ruthlessness in an instant.

Hello, my friend, Peter said.

Charles stood up and shook Peter’s hand, then Peter took a seat opposite him. The barmaid came over, smiled, and took his order. A few moments later she placed an amber drink in front of him.

Peter had just left the Union Club after talking with the portly, conservative Randal and the shrewd director of the stock exchange. He started to gain confidences from these men, and establish connections. Charles was tall and dark, and he had a remarkable face. At a glance he was handsome, yet there was far more to him than a mere balance of regularity of feature. Peter had met his eyes, there was an intelligence and fierceness of emotion.

He could have the potential to dominate in the business world. Charles was eager, born poor, was highly motivated to advance himself. Charles gave him utmost loyalty, which was something money could not buy.

How was the meeting? Charles asked anxiously.

It is very promising. Randal and the others are keen to deal with me. It is a good thing you left the Rand Company, I can use your expertise in building factories.

I was truly tired of the Rand Company, Charles said as he dumped his glass on the wooden table. With all that heat and sweat from working outdoors, it was unendurable. I collected your winnings from Mr Dalton—one thousand pounds.

Peter smiled. Well done, Charles. Here is your cut. He reached into his pocket and handed Charles a stack of money.

Thanks. Charles grinned and took a sip of his gin to give him courage. Peter, I know last month you said no to allowing me to invest in your company, as a partner. I was wondering if you might reconsider, and let me borrow money from you and pay you back.

There was silence. Peter looked at Charles for a moment, stunned by the sheer audacity of such a request, but the man had guts.

I will make you a partner when you have substantial savings to put into the company. The way you’re performing, it may only be another five years or so.

Charles searched his face, trying to read in it the emotions behind his words, and saw to many conflicting currents, but through them all a certainty of genuineness.

Peter rose to his feet In the meantime, why don’t we do a spot of hunting?

Hunting? Charles smiled to hide his disappointment. Now you’re talking. It would give us an opportunity to try out those new guns.

He bade him good bye and walked out into the hot street with its noise and traffic, its horses and scurrying people on foot, the clatter of hooves, voices and film of dirt. Charles breathed out slowly, letting out some of the anger ease from him. He realised with self -conscious displeasure, how he felt so inferior and demoralised by Peter’s actions.

He walked into his lodging rooms, and casually threw his hat onto the chair, and poured himself a gin and tonic. Sitting in the large stuffed chair he closed his eyes resting for a few moments.

Memories stirring from childhood, his father’s cabinet making business in Devon, his mother Francis constantly pregnant, and the small cottage crowded with young boisterous children. Charles had a bleak picture of family life living at Devon, as a young ten -year old boy realizing with a rush of coldness that his parents were cold and unfeeling towards him. They despised his intuitive ideas of making money. He remembered his dejected figure hunched, wearing an old grey jacket, rumpled and patched, whilst listening to his father’s lectures on hell and brimstone. They were sitting in the kitchen, a large chipped enamel pot of tea on the table, odd pottery cups around. The cooking range made the place hot and airless.

Looking at Lavinia’s photograph, he thought back with a little nostalgia to the adventure and emotions of those times. It was a loss he felt with surprising sadness. She came into their lives, in a swirl of soft fabric of so pale pink it was almost white, a blush pink rose at her waist, satin ribbons hanging. Her fair hair loose in curls, and her vivid blue eyes, were mesmerising to a ten- year old boy. Lavinia Arabella Hughes was his first cousin, her mother had died in childbirth, leaving her to be raised by their Grandmother, affectionately called Granny Feason.

Charles could hardly recall his Granny, but she had been mysteriously taken away, leaving Lavinia an orphan. She was fourteen, and his mother called her wild and untameable. He recalled how they walked side by side very gently down the lawn towards the apple tree and past the honeysuckle, which was still in bloom. Lavinia would tell him stories, of how she had magical powers, and had killed her father who was abusive to her. She showed him tricks and how to pick pockets and steal things. But their childlike antics were short lived, Charles still could recall seeing Lavinia being escorted away by some strange lady, and his mother yelling, I hope you rot in hell, you harlot.

He could still see Lavinia’s face in his mind, pale and wide eyed and frightened.

Charles stopped by the window, staring at the pattern of opposite rooftops and the elegant wall of the nearby building, just able to discern their familiar outlines in the fading lights. Charles sat down again and turned his attention to the letter in front of him. The personal letters of Lavinia, told him much of her: of simplicity, a life of small detail.

She said nothing of her hardships. Her concern for him was based on her feelings of love and devotion. He perused the contents and smiled.

Dearest Charles

I was concerned about your predicament, I have found a solution which will suit your situation. I have found you a suitable wife, with money and delicate health. Come back to Salford as soon as you can. Soon my love you will have money for your endeavours…

Putting the letter down, he carefully thought about his situation, marrying was not a thing he would choose, but it was a quick option that would give him the financial backing he needed. Hastily he wrote back telling Lavinia he would be back at Salford.

***

The next day, the two men embarked on a hunting trip. It was hot and stifling, and it had been a hard and frustrating day. Charles and Peter had walked endlessly through the dusty grass in pursuit of a few skittish gazelles and buffalo. Finally, at the end of the day, Charles slumped wearily into his canvas camp chair and watched the afternoon rays of sun gradually fade. The mosquitoes silently fed on Charles’s skin, and he constantly had to swat them away or slap himself.

Bloody hell, they will eat me alive, Charles mumbled.

Peter sat in his chair and craned his neck towards the porter. Get us some whiskey, and hurry, he said aggressively.

They drank in silence, enjoying the stillness the evening had to offer. Charles’s head spun from alcohol and confusion. He was still trying to come to terms with the idea of marriage, he had so many concerns but somehow the idea of money became awfully attractive to him.

In a moment of candour, Charles let it slip that he might return to England for a young lady, and that he would immediately return to Johannesburg. Peter was acutely aware that when this intense fellow set his mind to something, there was nothing short of death itself that would stop him.

Their hunting trip continued for another two days. The view from a high veldt revealed a rich green carpet of grass spreading towards the river. The sun climbed into the immensity of the African sky. In the distance, a leopard was lying in a large Acacia tree with its feet dangling, looking sleepy.

Peter gripped his rifle and said, I am going to take it out.

Charles merely nodded, grabbed his rifle, and followed him towards the Acacia tree. He was exhausted and getting tired of Peter’s company. He knew Peter didn’t like to listen to anyone else, and arguing with him over something like this would be trivial. But as they inched closer, a feeling of dread overwhelmed him.

Is it safe Peter? Charles whispered. The other men think it’s unsafe.

Turning back with a grin, Peter said, You can go back to safety. You’re not responsible for me.

You’re pigheaded, Peter, he muttered.

The heat was stifling and sweat saturated Charles’s shirt. Just then, the leopard twisted its muscular body and sprung from the shadows of the tree, ready to pounce. Fear felt like ice in his veins as he realised, that he and Peter were in grave danger.

Without hesitation, Charles aimed his rifle, and with a steady hand, he fired a single shot and brought the leopard down three yards from Peter’s feet. His heart pounded in his chest.

Peter stared in shock. Y-you saved my life, he stammered. He went weak in the knees and Charles gave him a sip of brandy from his hip flask. Not many men would risk their own lives like that.

Charles smiled in a cavalier manner. It was an honour, Peter. You always know I have your back … in everything. He stared at the lifeless animal’s body. Even dead, the leopard looked powerful.

What a magnificent beast, worthy to be stuffed, as a reminder of our future together, Charles said.

Peter smiled. He knew Charles would be his ideal business partner in the future. You’re like that leopard, Charles, cunning and determined, he said jovially.

Charles smiled into the setting sun.

CHAPTER 2

Emily Ford entered the rundown town hall and tried to catch her breath. The room was dimly lit; dust settled in every small nook. She hated being late for the Harmony Spiritualist Meeting. Quietly Emily walked over and sat opposite the ladies. One woman sat up straight and smiled at her, and Emily was taken aback that such an angelic woman would even acknowledge her. She was wearing a green silk dress; her hair was perfectly coiffured. Emily experienced a small sharp stab of self-pity, which made her feel ashamed.

Mrs McDonald gave her a faintly ironic look. My dear Miss Ford, it’s so nice see you again. You’re looking rather peaky … are you well?

I am doing well, Emily murmured. She felt warm and stifled, in the back of her mind she was worried that she may have another seizure, and she would be mocked by the ladies.

It must be your guiding angel helping you. It’s good to see that you have taken my advice. You seemed very much lost and somewhat disoriented at our last meeting, Mrs McDonald retorted.

She sought to mitigate the harshness of her words with a faint smile, yet Emily was startled by the lady’s vehemence.

The beautiful woman turned to Emily and smiled. Forgive me, I am very remiss in not introducing myself. Lavinia Hughes, so pleased to meet you.

Emily Ford, please to make your acquaintance, she said with a smile.

Lavinia smiled tightly. Emily’s tone seemed one of prim deprecation of herself. Lavinia sensed that she was very introverted, not yet thirty, her dark dress so severely lacking in any hint of lace, suggesting that she was a demure spinster. Her copper hair braided and coiled into a tight round held in a net at the nape of her neck was probably her best asset. Her features were as plain as her gown.

Lavinia stared at the woman, afraid to take her eyes off her. Thoughts of Charles whirled in her head. Her hand gripped the chair as she recalled her childhood, the piercing screams of her Granny Feason being taken away by the authorities to the asylum. After that, Lavinia had spent a summer in Devon with her uncle Edward and aunt Francis, and that was where she’d met Charles. The moment she laid eyes on the young boy, she knew that he adored her. She felt that she had the power to bewitch Charles, together they created havoc in the small village. It was light relief from her harridan Aunt who constantly was making her look after her odious cousins. There was still that feeling of hatred and resentment when her Uncle Edward threw her out of the house, for supposedly trying to drown his son Silas. She laughed to herself, Charles enjoyed seeing his younger brother gasping for air.

But that was years ago, she eventually went to London, where she was initiated into the Ophric Circle, a spiritualist group. There she met the elderly Tobias Sneedon, an apothecary. He was captivated by her, and at sixteen he married her, and they moved to Manchester. He taught her everything about preparing all different types of medicines and poisons. Tobias wanted to indulge his wife and allowed her to become an Apothecary Dispenser. It was during this time, she found Charles a young fifteen -year old, she was then nineteen, living at Manchester. There she took him as her lover, at a seedy hotel in the old part of Manchester. What made the whole thing exciting was that it was forbidden and wrong. The whole affair made her feel so free and exhilarated. She was bored with Tobias, and soon he became ill, after taking her ‘magic elixir."

By Autumn she was a widow, with five hundred pounds to her name. It was a heartbreaking moment when Charles left for Johannesburg, but she knew that they would eventually reunite together, on her terms.

These memories came at the most inopportune times. She always brought her thoughts back to Charles and felt a sense of relief wash through her. Emily looked nervous, even a little hot under the collar. Lavinia smiled. She had found Charles the perfect candidate. Emily Ford came in regularly to the apothecary, and her prescription was always the same. The Apothecary Thomas Barnes gave Lavinia a bevy of information.

Just a few weeks ago, Thomas had told her over tea, Lavinia, my dear, Emily Ford is a simple thing. She has a weak heart and is inflicted with epilepsy. Her uncle used to come in, always concerned about her.

Lavinia nodded. Is her uncle alive?

Thomas shook his head. Died nearly a year ago, left her well provided for.

Her eyes widened, and she’d tried to act unconcerned. Well, why haven’t you married her, Thomas?

He laughed and took a sip of his tea. Oh, Lavinia, what man would marry such a weak and feeble woman when I can have you? She is not quite normal in the head.

Lavinia gave an innocent smile. Oh, Thomas, you are very forward. I am still a grieving widow.

Whilst he was busy, she’d looked up the register for Emily’s address, which took her to a seedier part of Salford, where she engaged the services of a private investigator to find every personal detail of Miss Emily Ford.

And that was why she was here now in this dusty town hall. She’d learned that Emily frequented these spiritual meetings.

After the meeting, the small group dispersed. Emily felt uncomfortable the entire time and couldn’t really relax. Whenever she looked down to read her bible, she felt eyes on her, and sure enough, that beautiful woman Lavinia was staring at her. It was unnerving. Emily stepped outside, thankful for the crisp air and warm sun. Just then, she felt a light tap on her arm and she nearly jumped.

We must have tea together. It would be so nice if we could be friends, Lavinia said with a bright smile.

Emily fumbled for a moment, feeling self-conscious. That would be lovely … the teahouse on Hampton Street is my favourite.

That night, the candles had burned nearly all the wax when Emily gave into her fatigue and retired to bed. Her aching mind yearned for peaceful silence, but she could not sleep, so she sat on the old wooden rocking chair by the window and rested her chin on her hand. She could not stop thinking about Miss Lavinia Hughes. Usually, Emily was content in her own company, but for some reason this morning she’d eagerly looked forward to connecting with another soul. It had been the first time anyone gave her a compliment without gloating smirks. She nervously fingered at her shawl. Tomorrow she had a meeting with Mr Benson, the agent her uncle George had placed in charge to look after her financial affairs. She cursed her weak constitution that had stopped her from attending school, leaving her ashamedly illiterate with figures and finances. Uncle George had taken her under his wing when she was twenty. Both her parents had died of dysentery, and had left her with a small inheritance. He despised most things and had a puritanical outlook towards women, however he had a deep affection for his niece. George Ford owned many properties, including a factory, knew that his niece would be well provided for, as his heir.

For eight years Lavinia kept her Uncle George’s house and nursed him, putting up with his crusty frankness coupled with an inflamed temper. He would remind her constantly of the morbid prognoses seizures and a weak heart that was given by Dr Andrew Streeton, and that her inheritance would have to be prudently managed, otherwise she would end up in the workhouse, which was no fit place for his epileptic niece. All at once she felt the drowsiness come upon her, so she rose and went to bed, which was brittle and lacked warmth. But at least she had a new friendship to look forward to.

CHAPTER 3

Sunlight shone through the window beside the bed, bathing the room in light. Emily lay motionless, gazing up at the mottled ceiling where damp stains, long dried, resembled a map of exotic places she had read about. The moment’s peace was disturbed by a burning chest pain, so she sat up, grabbed a pill from the nearby table, and sipped her water. After a time, the pain eased. Just another day, she thought.

Emily fatigued after breakfast, sat down on the old brown arm chair and folded her hands in her lap. Harriet Buxton walked into the room and fixed a despairingly look at her friend. She was a buxom woman with a bossy air to her, she had been a friend of Emily for many years.

Mr Benson is due at eleven. Are you sure that you can manage the meeting? You do look unwell, Harriett said.

Emily nodded. The day is sunny. I will sit outside for a while in the open air. I just had a bad night, Harriet. I shall be all right. Do I need to prepare lunch?

Harriet sighed exasperatedly. It was hard looking after her friend. Emily was so dependent on her for everything. But she found it hard to remain vexed at Emily for any given time due to her generosity of letting her reside with her rent-free.

No, I have already prepared lunch and morning tea for Mr  Benson. You just have to boil the kettle, Harriet said. I really think that I should stay.

Emily felt overwhelmed. She was going to have tea with Lavinia, and her meeting with Benson could be tiring.

I almost forgot about Mr Benson. I’m supposed to meet with Lavinia today, she whispered.

Harriet gave an exasperated reply. Honestly, Emily, you should be more focussed. Which is more important?

Oh, Harriet! Emily murmured, shaking her head. I see I have made you angry. I’m sorry. Mr Benson fills me with dread. He scares me.

She looked to the window to the light of the summer morning sparkling on the glass. I will sit outside to clear my head before I meet with Mr Benson. I shall leave a note for Lavinia to come later.

Harriet furrowed her brow. The gravity of your condition must be worsening. I shall get Dr Streeton to come and look in on you. Harriet pressed on, content to sustain the morbid tone. Mr Benson does look after your welfare, Emily. There’s nothing to worry about, dear. It’s just your nerves.

On that note, Harriet left the room. Emily left the room via a door that led into the garden. She sat on a wooden bench under a large tree and took in the fresh morning air with a deep sigh. When her uncle, George took over her finances, Emily didn’t have to worry about a thing. But then Uncle George grew ill, and it became clear that he wasn’t going to be around much longer. So, he’d gone to Ned Benson in concern of his niece’s welfare and naivety about finances. Benson had swooped in and offered his loyalty and services. Shortly after, her uncle died, leaving Benson in control of Emily’s sizeable inheritance. She was forced to leave her Uncle’s house for economic reasons, which was rented out, and she moved to a small terrace, that was shabby and rundown. Emily was so lonely, that she offered her friend Harriet to live with her.

After a short while, Emily went inside to the sound of someone knocking on the door. Please come in, Mr Benson, she said shyly.

Ned Benson almost took up the width of the doorway. He wore a brown suit and a hat, and his beard was greying. He smiled to himself at how much money he was making from Emily Ford’s investments.

Thank you, Miss Ford, Benson said cheerfully as he sat on the old lumpy sofa. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Can I offer you any refreshments before we start?

No, no, let’s get on with the business of the day, shall we? I have the figures here … the good news is that you will be receiving an extra thirty shillings a week. Mind you, Miss Ford, you cannot be spending this on fripperies, only on essentials. ‘Save your money,’ that was what your dear uncle would say, he said rather sternly.

Thank you for your wise words, Mr Benson, though I thought the interest on the money would have been more than thirty shillings a week, she replied rather meekly. Her hand trembled.

Benson flashed her an indignant look of disgust. Thirty shillings is a significant increase. You should be more grateful. You are overspending and eating into your capital. There are expenses, Miss Ford, something that you are ignorant of. That extra thirty shillings would make a difference in repair works, he muttered as he looked around the small, cluttered room.

Anger swirled through Emily, and she felt dizzy and instinctively knew a seizure was imminent. How dare he talk to me like a child, she thought, but she couldn’t voice how she felt. She smiled weakly. That’s fine, Mr Benson. Thank you for your time. I am feeling a little tired and must rest.

Benson flashed her a mocking grin. You go and rest, my dear Miss Ford. I will see myself out.

Emily collapsed onto the chair, closing her eyes and breathing slowly. Her vision faded to black.

CHAPTER 4

Another knock on the door woke her up. Emily opened her eyes, trying to get a sense of her surroundings. She was lying on the sofa and her arm had fallen asleep. Yes, now I remember, she thought. Benson had come over earlier to talk finances and she had had a seizure and passed out.

Emily stood up and stumbled to get her balance as she opened the door to see Lavinia standing there looking as beautiful as ever.

At the sight of Emily, Lavinia was shocked at the woman’s appearance, which was ghostly pale. Emily, are you all right? You look so frightened.

I am all right now, Emily responded. I just had a dreadful meeting with Mr Benson—he was so nasty to me. Oh, I shouldn’t say such things about another person. I am just upset, that’s all, she muttered.

Lavinia walked into the room and wrinkled her nose. The place was old and shabby in its presentation. For a moment she doubted whether Emily had any money at all given her set of circumstances.

Can we go for a walk? I crave for some fresh air, Emily said in a pleading tone.

Of course, Lavinia said demurely.

They set off along the path. Lavinia linked her arm in Emily’s as a gesture of kindness. They found a bench and sat. For a long moment, they remained in silence as Lavinia gazed at Emily with a concerned look on her face.

What is on your mind Emily? You seem very troubled, she softly said.

Emily sighed. It was the first time she could sincerely trust her friend with her troubles. Even though she had only just met Lavinia, she felt as if she could trust her. I am scared, Lavinia. My health is poor, and Mr Benson gives me these lectures that I spend too much money. I get four pounds a week, and I scrimp and save, but I am not making ends meet.

Lavinia felt her heart thud at the revelation that the woman only had an allowance of four pounds. All her research had been for nothing. Well, four pounds is a man’s wage in some parts of the country. You need to indulge a bit and enjoy life a bit more and not worry about spending, she responded.

I promised my uncle George that I would be prudent with money. He got this odious man to manage my affairs, but I feel like something is wrong. I don’t know what to do. My inheritance is worth ten thousand pounds I think, at least that is what Mr Benson told me.

Lavinia smiled. She was back in the game. She knew Benson was a fraud, and so was Emily’s friend, Harriet Buxton. It is going to be all right. My brother Charles is coming back for a visit. He works in finance. I shall get his advice. Lavinia laughed to herself, thinking of Charles reaction, that she had referred to him as her brother.

Emily was grateful. She knew there was a reason she trusted this woman. There was kindness in her eyes, and Emily felt like her new friend wanted to help her. Thank you, Lavinia. That would be so comforting. You are so lucky to have a caring brother to look after you.

Lavinia pressed Emily’s arm more tightly to her side. I hope you know how I care about you and worry for your welfare, she said sincerely.

I so much appreciate our new friendship, Lavinia, Emily said, and she meant it. It had been so long since she’d had a friend other than Harriet.

Lavinia smiled sweetly. That was what she needed to hear. Now she could move on to the next phase of her plan.

***

A week later, Emily and Lavinia met at the teahouse. It was late in the afternoon. Lavinia was beaming with news about Charles.

Charles is coming home next month, and I want you to meet him.

Oh, that such exciting news! Emily said. When can we meet? Her cheeks turned red. I’m sorry that sounded wrong, she fumbled over her words. The pain deepened in her face and she looked intensely vulnerable, she felt uncomfortable that she had overstepped by being over enthusiastic.

Lavinia placed her hand on Emily’s hand. You look uncomfortable. It’s fine, darling. You really need to relax. Have you taken Dr Streeton’s medicine?

Emily nodded. She anxiously twisted her napkin, unaware that the other patrons in the teahouse were looking at her because of her outburst. Lavinia, she whispered, can I take you into my confidence?

Of course, Lavinia said. What you tell me will never be repeated to anyone.

Emily smiled. Lavinia’s eyes were so blue, and her honey-blonde hair was beautifully swept up, which made her look ethereal. Emily could only dream of being that beautiful. She trusted those eyes that were warm and inviting.

Emily whispered, I have these turns where I see an aura of colours of blue hues. There is no explanation for it.

Lavinia paused. How long has this been happening?

For months … I can’t really remember, but I need help. Then Emily pulled out a pamphlet from her bag and handed it to Lavinia. Lavinia’s eyes widened as she read the pamphlet.

This might help me, Emily said quietly.

The pamphlet was an advertisement for Spiritualist Clairvoyant Madam Rochelle. Emily believed with all of her heart that this woman could help her. For as long as she could remember, she’d had seizures, but it wasn’t until a few months ago that she noticed a change. They came on more frequent, more violent, and now there were colours.

Lavinia listened as Emily told of her recent experience.

I awoke with my heart pounding, and when I sat up and opened my eyes, there was a blur of light that was leaning over me very close. It seemed to encompass me. It resembled a person, but it was not distinguishable as a person, just hues of blue light. I didn’t know what it wanted, whether it was malevolent or just curious. I moved out of the bed, too terrified to scream, and the blur of light receded and disappeared. What happened after I cannot recall; I awoke lying on the floor, cold and numb.

Tears trickled down Emily’s cheeks. I need help. I think Madam Rochelle may have the answers as to why I have these visions.

Lavinia was silent for a moment. She didn’t believe in spirits, but she didn’t want to discourage Emily. Of course, we shall see her, but perhaps you need to visit Dr Streeton again.

Emily shook her head. No, I know what he will say, that I must stay indoors resting, lying in bed, never feeling the sun on my face. There must be some other explanation for these seizures.

Lavinia held Emily’s trembling, clammy hands. Don’t worry, we will see Madam Rochelle, perhaps in a few weeks’ time.

Emily felt lighter for the first time in a long time.

CHAPTER 5

As Charles stepped off the train, he saw a white hat with bows and his heart raced. There she was, so soft and graceful. Her honey-blonde hair was beautifully coiffured. He walked towards and hugged her.

Charles, darling, you look wonderful. Welcome home, she laughed.

Lavinia, you are a breath of fresh air. How are things?

Going splendidly. I have us a charming place, two rooms with a view. And it is well within your stringent budget, she emphasised the words, so he knew she was mocking him, but very gently.

They caught a cab to a better part of Salford to a terrace where they had the lower basement rooms. It took time for Charles to adapt to smaller quarters, but it was only temporary. At least it was clean and cosy. Lavinia was sprawled out on the chaise lounge. Charles walked over and tried to kiss her, but Lavinia pushed him away. She didn’t want to add any sort of confusion to the situation. They needed to remain focussed.

Is she suitable for marriage? Charles asked.

Lavinia pouted and wrinkled her nose. Oh, you’re so matter a fact. He stroked his beard. The main question is whether she has suitable assets."

Lavinia smiled. Of course, she does, and she is sweet.

He was not into sentimentality; this was a business arrangement.

You will meet the reclusive Miss Emily Ford tomorrow at church. She is quite unique, Lavinia said with a smirk.

***

The church was crowded with people, which was usual for a Sunday service. Women fashionably dressed in skirts in a variety of colours and all manner of femininity. Emily felt outstandingly plain and not in the least liking of meeting the Hughes. The thought of having to be friendly with some trivial conversation, increased her anxiety. She felt herself fidgeting, and her breathing had become shallow, she felt inferior and insignificant. For a moment Emily turned her head and looked at a couple walking down the aisle, Lavinia wearing a blue taffeta which rustled with every movement and Charles Hughes.

Charles glanced over at the two women and tried not to scowl. He guessed the homely looking woman with the red cheeks was Emily. She was short and plump with a sour demeanour wearing a drab tweedy dress. No money is worth marrying that woman, he thought. For a moment he saw the coronet of auburn hair, and then her face. He was pleasantly surprised by her delicate look. She smiled slightly, trying not to draw attention to herself.

The service was formal, sonorous voices intoning all the well-known words, organ music swelling sombrely, everything jewel colours of stained- glass windows, grey masses of stone, the shuffle of feet and rustle of fabric. The service was over. The Vicar intoned the last amen people started to move from their pews, Emily rose and Harriet after a brief glance down at the aisle rose also and followed her out into the wide foyer, now rapidly filling with men, women and children chattering.

Emily and Harriet stepped among them, and within the a few minutes and a few exchanges of polite words, they came face to face with Lavinia Hughes and her brother Charles, a good-looking man, with a remarkable face.

Good morning Emily and Harriet. Lavinia said smiling. May I present to you my brother Charles Hughes.

They exchanged formal greetings, in the approved fashion.

Emily was aware that Charles was looking at her with some inquisitive amusement, it made her feel awkward.

We would like to invite both of you to attend lunch with us on Monday. Lavinia murmured.

Harriet stared at Lavinia, nonplussed. Emily coughed into her handkerchief embarrassed by Harriet’s rudeness.

That sounds delightful Lavinia, both of us would love to attend. Emily replied in an evasive manner.

Harriet became irritated, by Emily’s behaviour, spoke abrasive I unfortunately cannot attend, I do have to work.

Well we shall meet you on Monday Miss Ford Charles said with his lips barely refraining a smile.

***

The restaurant was quiet when Charles escorted the two ladies to their table. They sat engaging in polite conversations, all the while Emily was so acutely aware of her behaviour towards Charles. Harriet had helped her get ready for the event and curl her hair.

I would be wary of that man, Harriet had said.

Emily was taken aback by her words. You are a good friend, Harriet, and thank you for looking out for me, but I will be all right. Lavinia is my dear friend.

The way you were looking at him was undignified, Harriet had blurted out.

Emily was still angry over it. How dare her friend accuse her of such things? Harriet had apologised for taking on such a tone, but the damage was done. Emily didn’t understand what had come over Harriet, but she guessed it could be jealousy of her new friends.

Charles stared at Emily; she seemed very reserved, almost cold towards him. He wondered how he could engage her interest in him.

Lavinia sensed the stiffness around the table and decided it was time to draw out her playing card. Emily, I have spoken to Charles about your predicament with that wretched Benson, she said enthusiastically.

Charles delivered a sympathetic look towards Emily. "If I can be of any service, I would be more than happy to talk to this man and find out if he is taking your money. It’s the least I can do for all the kindness you have given my sister over the last months.

Emily smiled and forgot about protocol and social manners. I would be very grateful for any help.

I will arrange to see him this week. And be rest assured, Miss Ford, that I will treat this in a business-like manner, he added firmly.

Again, she fixed on him keenly. She marvelled at how intelligent and wise he was.

After their luncheon, Lavinia made excuses and left Charles and Emily alone in the street. They stood awkwardly for a moment until Charles broke the ice.

Can I walk you home, or perhaps get you a cab to take you home?

Emily’s heart raced. She was thinking out loud, Thank you, but I wouldn’t mind the walk. My place isn’t too far.

They walked along the rows of terraces. Charles was shocked at the area, which was certainly not the best part of Salford.

Emily felt dizzy and grabbed his arm. She blushed. I am so sorry about that. I get dizziness sometimes, she fumbled over the words.

He gently held her. Don’t be sorry, let’s just take a moment. I promise that things will get better, Miss Ford.

She gazed up, his words were soft and so reassuring, it gave her renewed hope that her financial situation could get better. They reached Emily’s home, and he escorted her to her door.

Have a lovely day, Emily, he said, and kissed the top of her hand. Upon leaving, Charles became despondent about Lavinia’s judgement that his future bride had money.

When he returned to the apartment, Lavinia was lying on the chaise lounge reading the newspaper, looking very regal. All he wanted was to be with her.

How was your walk with Emily? she asked without looking up.

He sat down and laughed. I don’t think she has that much money. That terrace is not worth much. I think you have made a mistake, Lavinia, which is expected because you are a woman. I should have gotten a friend to investigate her.

He looked into her eyes; they were cold and hard.

Let’s have tea, Charles, then we will discuss things.

He knew he had offended her, but he was a man, with more intelligence and business acumen, and he knew that a real man did not get permission from a woman.

She came back smiling sweetly at him. After serving his tea, she sat down and looked more subdued. He was right in his dealings with her. He sipped the tea, finishing it quickly.

Lavinia’s demeanour had changed. Let me make myself very clear, Charles, she said in a steady voice. Emily has money. She is a miser with her money. If you had any intellectual abilities, you would have read my prepared dossier on her financial matters. From what I have found out, she just doesn’t own one terrace—she owns the whole row, plus there is an inn and God knows what else. Between fifteen to twenty thousand dollars, she inherited three lots of property: her mother’s shares, an inn from her father, and her rich uncle left a few properties. The woman must be simple, living on four pounds a week, unless she is one of those misers. Don’t you ever dare to assume that I am one of your doxies. Without me, you would be living in a small house, with a demanding, unfulfilling wife, working for a company for the rest of your life. I can see that our love is not equal. I do all this planning and scheming for you, so that you become rich and independent. What do I get in return … a bunch of insults?

Then she slapped him hard in the face and he gasp. It hurt him not physically but emotionally, as he realised he had betrayed her. He had gone too far in insulting her. He cursed himself for being so rash and impetuous. Lavinia was unlike all the women he knew. She was his world.

Lavinia smiled as she watched the confusion on Charles’s face. His cheek was turning red. He was floundering, and she loved every minute of it. I still have him wrapped around my finger, she thought.

Lavinia, you are my equal. I never meant to insult you, Charles stammered. I am worried about marrying this woman. He knelt on the ground and submissively put his head on her lap.

She stroked his hair gently as if he were a child. You have been mixing with too many whores and that uncouth Peter, my darling. I understand your anguish and anxiety; I must admit being with Emily for several hours is tiresome. But you must trust me, my love. You will only be with her a while, and then you will be a free and wealthy widower.

Charles sat back feeling reassured. You know I want only to be with you, Lavinia, but I will carry on with our plan. It’s for our future.

Our love is for eternity, she said enticingly.

She gently pressed his head back into her lap and ran her fingers through his hair. Charles was her puppet, now and for forever.

CHAPTER 6

Madam Josephina Rochelle picked up the newspaper and read the small article about herself. Madam Rochelle is one of Britain’s greatest clairvoyants! She gives some chillingly accurate readings …

She placed the newspaper onto the round table and chuckled.

I’m ready, she yelled to her assistant, Tod. I will draw the curtains, and you start up the magic lantern.

Just then, the curtains closed a projector displayed on the opposite wall of the parlour room. Behind a false wall, the projector was concealed in a small room, propped up on a small bench with boxes of slides of various pictures.

You can start, Josephina, Tod called from the other room.

Josephina closed her eyes and sat up straight. Silence, oh spirits, come and enter this realm. A shrilly noise filled the room, then she shouted, Enter spirits!

When she opened her eyes, she huffed in frustration. Stop! The projection is not centred!

Tod entered the room looking frazzled. He was skinny and frail, with dark circles under his eyes. He handed her a small pile of photos of spirits that would be projected onto the wall. In the darkness of the room, with candles burning and casting shadows, the photos projected on the wall looked like floating apparitions.

Josephina quickly looked through the photos. Then she gasped at one of a disfigured old woman wearing a grey dress with a bonnet and