The serial: For Love and Money Day 19

Violet was just getting ready for bed later that night when the bell rang.

“What’s up now?” Alice asked. “Is Mr Simpson feeling poorly or sommat?” “I’d best go,” replied Violet. Parker, the butler, had left Mr Simpson for a more cheerful family in the more attractive town of Bath. As yet, he had not been replaced. With her dark grey cape over her nightdress, Violet ran down the stairs from the attic to Mr Simpson’s bedroom on the floor below. She knocked on the door. “Come in.” David Simpson was sitting up in bed, reading by the light of the oil lamp on his night table. “Are you all right, sir?” Violet asked. “I cannot sleep, Violet. I’m restless.” “Would you like me to make you a nice cup of hot cocoa, sir?” “No, Violet. I’d like you to sit and talk to me.” Violet feigned modesty. “Would that be proper, sir?” “Who’s to know but you and me?” “Alice – I mean, Watson,” said Violet. “She knows I answered your bell. We sleep in the same room you see, sir. She knows where I am.”

“I see,” replied David. “It’s time you had a room of your own, Violet.

“Tomorrow I will speak to Watson. She needs an increase in her wages. We must keep her happy.

“Sit on the bed”

“Come here, Violet, and sit on the bed.” Violet obeyed. David looked at her heavy cape over her nightdress. “That’s an ugly cape for a pretty girl like you. How would you like me to buy you another? In cashmere, with a silk lining?”

Violet studied him. At the same time David Simpson studied her, as she looked at him with her smokey blue eyes, the lashes long, her lips parted slightly, showing her small white teeth. “What do you expect me to do for it, sir?” “Do for it, Violet? You surely do not think I am suggesting . . .” She didn’t let him finish. “You can’t blame me, sir. Why would you want to give me a nice cape? It’s what a servant girl expects.”

“Violet, my dear, sweet Violet,” said David. “Do you think you could bring yourself to marry me?”

Violet had seen his proposal coming but it still shocked her incredibly now that the actual words were out in the open. “Oh, Mr Simpson, sir. I’m not good enough for you.” Better to say that than to say no outright, thought Violet.

“Of course you are,” he laughed. “You are the loveliest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Violet tried again. She put on a subservient act and demurely lowered her eyes.

“But I’m only a common servant, sir.”

Melodrama

She felt as though she were performing in some heavy melodrama.

“Nonsense! And I can give you everything you want,” he promised.

For a brief moment Violet visualised herself as mistress of Bradley Hall. She would get rid of the evil Bellingham for a start! Oh, and the awful dark wallpaper! She would brighten the house, make it more like the Braithwaites’ impressive mansion.

She would have luxurious furnishings, entertain . . . Ah, the first stumbling block.

David Simpson was a recluse and likely to remain so because of his scars.

Another thing she could do nothing about was the undesirable position of the house on the edge of the lonely moorland on which it stood.

Even with a wardrobe full of the most fashionable gowns, David Simpson would not want to take her to the theatre and balls, anywhere in fact that was in the public eye.

She would be a prisoner in the house. A dressed-up doll.

All she would have to do would be to look pretty and charming on the arm of David Simpson.

It would be a relationship devoid of fun and Violet liked a great deal of fun.

The titillation of being a mistress would be denied her, which made her think of the selfish William Braithwaite and his father, Daniel.

The risks! The thrills! They were both handsome men in their own way.

Violet was sorry for David Simpson but decided she could not submit herself to waking up every morning to see his sad, scarred face lying on the pillow beside her, knowing she faced another joyless day, exactly like the day before.

David could see her hesitation. “Think it over, Violet.” “You too, sir.” “I have thought it over since the moment I saw you,” he replied. “Love at first sight.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’m a girl who needs plenty of time to fall in love.”

Prince Charming

“Take all the time you need, my dear,” smiled David. “Shall we seal it with a kiss? After all, Violet, you kissed me the other night when we were alone in the kitchen.

“Only because you were unhappy, sir,” said Violet quickly. “I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way?”

“No, of course not,” replied David. “However, I’m unhappy now, Violet.” David had a low, pleasant voice. Violet began to weaken. “You look somewhat cold, my dear.” “No, sir. I’m not. This cape is really warm, even if it is ugly.” “It’s badly made.” “I know, sir. It’s the seams. My sister, Maggie, made it. She did her best with shoddy material. It’s all I have, sir.”

“Tomorrow I will buy you a new one. You may take the day off and go into Bradford to choose it. Whatever you want, my dear Violet, it shall be yours.”

Violet smiled at him with her sweetest smile. “You are kind, sir.” David held his hand out towards Violet. She closed her eyes. When she couldn’t see his face, Violet realised that David Simpson had the voice and gentle touch of any Prince Charming. Violet sighed contentedly. In the dark, she could not see his face and thought of him looking like the oil painting of himself, which hung over the mantelpiece. Painted before his tragic accident.

(More tomorrow.)

William has confronted his father about his affair with Violet when she was in their house as a maid