A Fallen Woman. Nancy Carson

had been very excited, wound up about her forthcoming marriage, but on her wedding day a remarkable calm had descended on her. She had married Clarence Froggatt, and all had passed off without a hitch, without anybody claiming at the last minute any just cause or impediment why they should not be joined together in holy matrimony.

      She saw it all with exceptional clarity; the nervous perspiration on Clarence’s nose, his perpetual smile that day; the confidence in Robert Sankey’s demeanour as best man, the clever speech he delivered; the striking figures of those of her sisters in their blossoming teen years – although they were no doubt destined, as she was, to grow stout eventually, like their mother. She was touched by her mother’s tears, which she hoped might be regret at losing a daughter, though more likely just relief that a wedding had come off after all, meaning one less daughter to keep.

      She and Clarence were circulating the room together arm in arm, enjoying brief discourses with each of their guests against a background of tinkling glasses, sporadic laughter and the insistent thrum of many conversations. They reached eventually the foursome comprising Algie, Marigold, Benjamin and Aurelia, standing grouped together, having left the table while it was being cleared. Harriet had something in common with these young people now; she was also married. She was at last content that she had attained that heady state of social acceptance and respectability that was the goal of every self-respecting young woman – wed to a well-set-up young man with a solid future in prospect. At last, she was the equal of Aurelia whom she had envied greatly, not for her man – certainly not for her man – a little for her looks, but mostly for her status.

      Talk at first was complimentary; how marvellous everybody looked, what a terrific spread Mr Meese had arranged, how delightful the bridesmaids were in their identical frocks, how beautifully Priss had decorated the church.

      ‘Oh, Priss was at the church till quite late last evening doing the flowers,’ Harriet commented.

      ‘What it must be to have such a devoted sister,’ Algie remarked, making the mental comparison with his own.

      ‘You think so? I thought you knew our Priss better than that, Algie. I’m sure it had more to do with the likelihood of bumping into the curate.’

      ‘It looks as if her prayers are being answered,’ Clarence commented with a nod in Priss’s direction. ‘Mr Delacroix seems almost indecently attentive. How much has he had to drink?’

      Harriet craned her neck to gain a peek. ‘Oh, but I do hope you’re right, Clarence,’ she gushed. ‘She’s drooled over that man for so long now, poor girl. I’d dearly love to see her settled.’

      ‘Just think of it,’ Aurelia chimed in, ‘the prospect of another wedding on the horizon.’

      ‘Father would have a fit.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘The expense.’

      ‘But, Harriet,’ Clarence said, laughing at her reaction, ‘a man with seven daughters must expect to be impoverished for the rest of his life, especially if he pays for their weddings.’

      ‘I don’t recall your father paying for yours, Aurelia,’ Benjamin goaded. ‘I seem to recall that I paid.’

      ‘I have two retorts to that, Benjamin,’ Aurelia replied haughtily, while he swigged his beer. ‘Firstly, I didn’t want my father’s money, or anything else that was his. And secondly, I believe you’ve been repaid since…with interest.’ She was referring to the small legacy from her late, estranged father, money that Aurelia had been pressed into handing to Benjamin to help prop up his ailing business.

      Benjamin flashed narrowed eyes at her in response.

      Algie noticed the exchange, for he knew what Aurelia meant by her comment. ‘Have you played much cricket this summer, Benjamin?’ he asked in an effort to diffuse the moment.

      ‘Too busy,’ he answered brusquely, glancing at Aurelia, for it had been Maude Atkins and the irresistible combination of her horizontal allure and her bed that had kept him busy, not his factory.

      ‘The team has missed you,’ Clarence admitted generously. ‘I’ve only played a few matches myself but, when I have, we could’ve done with your batting. Other people have said the same. You really must make an effort next season, Benjamin.’

      Benjamin afforded himself a smile, but avoided all eye contact. ‘I’d like to, I’ve always loved cricket.’

      ‘You’d get your place back in the team at once.’

      ‘I take it then, Clarence, that you’ll be allowed out on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon to play next season?’

      ‘Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?’

      ‘Isn’t it a question of Harriet allowing it?’

      Clarence, humouring Benjamin, looked at Harriet exaggeratedly and raised his eyebrows to prompt her for a response.

      ‘Oh, I don’t suppose Harriet will have much say in the matter, Benjamin,’ Harriet herself declared. ‘Clarence will do as he pleases and that’s fine by me. I wouldn’t wish to be accused of restricting him, especially where his cricket is concerned.’

      ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Benjamin said, smiling again. ‘But, Clarence, what’s kept you from your cricket when you ain’t played?’ He was fishing. Could Clarence have been clandestinely meeting Aurelia on match days, while he, Benjamin, was doing his extramarital duty with Maude?

      ‘The only time I’ve not played was when work was pressing,’ Clarence responded. ‘You’ve obviously no idea how much time and effort a chap has to put in to pass his final examinations.’

      ‘And that’ll continue, even now you’re married?’

      ‘I shall try not to let work interfere with married life, you can be sure. Nevertheless, with a wife to keep…’

      ‘Your house is ready now, isn’t it?’ Aurelia suggested.

      ‘House?’ Benjamin queried, looking from one to the other and wondering how and why his wife would know about a house…unless she’d visited it…

      ‘Yes, we’re renting a house…for the time being, at any rate. You have to start somewhere, Benjamin.’

      ‘Yes, course you do. I’m just curious as to how my wife knows about it.’

      Clarence shrugged. ‘Well, it’s hardly been shrouded in secrecy. Just part of the parish gossip, I expect. To tell you the truth, I’ve been renting it for quite a while.’

      ‘It amazes me how Aurelia gets to hear all these things. She gets to hear about everything. I get to hear nothing.’

      ‘Maybe it’s the company you keep,’ Aurelia replied pointedly.

      ‘I get to hear gossip, and I pass it on to Aurelia,’ Marigold declared, determined to protect Aurelia. ‘Mostly from Algie, though.’

      ‘From Algie, eh? But of course, Algie and Harriet were close once upon a time,’ Benjamin added with deliberate crassness. ‘Whereas you, Clarence, were formerly close to Algie’s famous sister, I understand.’

      ‘We were friendly for a while, yes,’ Clarence replied dismissively.

      While Benjamin persisted with his clumsy enquiries, Algie turned to Aurelia in an aside and they shifted a step away from the rest of the group. ‘Why is Benjamin being so damned thoughtless? He’s got a bee in his bonnet about something. Has he been drinking?’

      ‘Only what he’s had here, as far as I know.’

      ‘Obnoxious twit. I couldn’t care less about his being aggressive to Clarence, but poor Harriet deserves more consideration. It’s her wedding day, for God’s sake. What’s she done to offend him?’

      ‘Nothing, I imagine, Algie. But you know Benjamin. Do you think I ought to try and get him to leave before he upsets somebody?’

      ‘That’d mean you leaving as well. Why should