As she stood in the hall, shedding her outdoor garments, Marley informed her she had a visitor.
‘I let him stay, Your Ladyship, because he said he was your cousin.’ Something must have shown in her face because Marley asked, ‘Should I inform him it is not convenient?’
‘I’ll see him.’
What was he doing here? How had he dared?
Dismissing Marley, she marched to her morning room in full sail, imagining herself throwing open the door, but when she got there, she opened it softly. Greg was on his feet, facing the other way, examining a painting. The sight of his familiar figure caused something inside her to crumple. Thank goodness he didn’t see. She drew herself up before closing the door.
When he turned, she was ready, weakness set aside. He was as handsome as ever in that don’t-care, dangerous way, but was there something a touch jaded about his looks? Surely not. Not Greg, delicious, handsome Greg.
They had no need of formal greeting. She merely sat and indicated a seat, an invitation he chose to ignore, instead waving a hand to encompass Ees House and all it represented.
‘I couldn’t have given you this.’
‘I did it for Eleanor and have never regretted it. Why are you here? It’s inappropriate that you should say such a thing to me under my husband’s roof.’
‘I did a lot more than say inappropriate things under your other husband’s roof.’
She felt a flush of anger; but there was remembered desire, too, as those secret moments rushed back into sharp perspective. The costly Phantom bustle – only the best for Mrs Henry Davenport – that folded neatly beneath her as she was pushed onto the sofa, the seductive rustle of her overskirts as the cascades of silk were thrust out of his way, allowing him access to the tiny buttons in the crotch of her broderie anglaise-trimmed combinations. How she had squirmed beneath him, struggling to thrust herself up to meet him, her heart pounding, and always, always that knife-edge awareness of the danger close by. If a visitor should call … if the maid should enter …
‘Why are you here?’
‘Money.’
‘Money.’ Oh, the shock and distress when she had discovered his way of life. And the dull, sick feeling that had followed. That was what she felt now.
‘Debt, actually.’ How could he sound so blasé? ‘Glad you didn’t take a chance on me? You must feel that all this,’ he waved a hand, ‘is justified.’
‘How severe are these debts?’
‘Debt – singular, but it’s a whopper and I need to meet it by the end of the month.’
‘How much?’
‘Call it a thousand.’
‘How much?’
‘Guineas.’
‘A thousand guineas.’ The breath fled from her body.
‘Guineas sound so much more sophisticated than pounds.’
‘Don’t make light of it. It’s appalling. However did you get in so deep?’
‘Oh, you know, run of bad luck.’
‘Don’t!’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Sound so off-offhand, sound as if it’s normal.’
‘Don’t look so frightened. I don’t live like this all the time.’
‘Just some of the time.’
‘Scorn doesn’t suit you.’
Anger speared through her. ‘Don’t presume to criticise my reaction. This debt is—’
‘Appalling. So you said. The question is, will you help me? I mean it, Christina. I’m in it up to my wretched neck. I’ll pay it back with interest, I swear. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.’
She laughed. ‘No, though you might conveniently omit to tell the truth, such as – oh, I don’t know – maybe about your chosen way of life, which you were going to seduce me into without mentioning it.’
‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it. You’ve come here to ask for money, a phenomenal amount of money.’
‘To be repaid. It’d be a tall order, I don’t deny, but you know I’d pay it back.’
She did too. In spite of that devastating discovery about Greg’s mode of living that had broken her heart for the second time, she believed him. She trusted him. She always had.
But that wasn’t the point. ‘Where do you imagine I could get my hands on money like that?’
‘Eleanor. I know old Henry left a small fortune in trust and you’re the trustee.’
‘You want me to plunder Eleanor’s money?’
‘I want you to borrow from it. I don’t suppose she’s due to receive it until she is twenty-one at the earliest. That’s ample time for me to repay it.’
‘Twenty-five or upon marriage.’
‘So what do you say?’
‘I say no. Of course I say no. How did you ever imagine I’d say anything different?’
‘For old times’ sake, perhaps.’
‘Greg, whatever existed between us—’
‘It’s still there. Deny it if you can. I’ll know if you’re lying.’
‘I’m not going to hand over my daughter’s money to you.’
Even had she wanted to, she couldn’t. She wasn’t the sole trustee. She shared the position with Henry’s solicitor, which was the perfect excuse, yet she wouldn’t demean herself by using it. That was how it would feel. Demeaning. She wanted Greg to know the truth, which was that she wasn’t tempted to hand over Eleanor’s trust fund. She wanted him to know she was strong.
‘If not for old times’ sake, how about the other reason?’
‘What other reason?’
‘Because Eleanor is my daughter.’
She almost raised her hand to her throat. Almost. She managed not to. ‘That’s absurd.’
‘It’s the truth. That time you came to Jackson’s House to warn me off her, this was the real reason, wasn’t it? Deny it if you can. I’ll know if you’re lying.’
‘Eleanor is Henry’s daughter.’
‘She has my colouring.’
‘As do I. We share the Rawley looks.’ She rose. ‘And now, if you’ve finished insulting me, it’s best if you leave.’
Pain flashed across his face. ‘I’d never insult you. I couldn’t, because you’re perfect. In my eyes, you’re perfect.’
She made to ring the bell.
‘No need,’ he said. ‘I can see myself out.’
‘Not in this house. In this house, everything is done exactly as it should be.’
She pulled the bell. They looked at one another.
He asked, ‘Do you regret it? Do you regret us?’
‘We had some good times.’
‘The best.’
His voice was light, but there was darkness in his eyes. In his face, she saw the naked longing he didn’t trouble to disguise. The door opened. She glanced at Marley and when she looked back at Greg, his expression was a polite mask.
And then he was gone.
Christina couldn’t bear it. She could hardly breathe.
Lady Kimber sent for the housekeeper to discuss next week’s menus.
Charlie had caught the sun on his travels. His skin was lightly tanned. It suited him. But then, what wouldn’t suit him? The dark Kimber looks lent themselves to anything. Mary had imagined this meeting so many times, yet now she couldn’t think what to say. They sat in the morning room, with sunshine streaming through the window, neither of them uttering a word.
‘A baby,’ he said at last. ‘This changes things. I’ve been told to ask when it’s due.’
She stiffened. ‘The time limit.’
‘It has to be born on or before—’
‘Stop! I know there’s a date, but I don’t want to hear it. The idea that you would come here and say such a thing – insinuate such a thing—’
‘I’m insinuating nothing. This date is part of the process.’
‘I don’t care which side of the blessed date my baby is born: it’s yours.’
Charlie held up his hands. ‘I never doubted it. No one’s casting aspersion
s.’
She made an effort to smooth her feathers. ‘How long have you known about the baby?’
‘Not long. The governor wrote to me post restante in Naples, asking me to come home. I arrived to be greeted by … this news.’
‘Rather a shock.’
‘With bells on. It’s not what anyone expected.’
‘Why shouldn’t there be a baby? It’s not as though we were leading separate lives.’
‘How are you? You look well – more than well. I know people call mothers-to-be blooming, but I never understood what it meant until now.’
‘I don’t feel blooming. Mostly I feel worried.’
‘I’ve been advised not to discuss the future.’
‘By whom?’ Lady Kimber, bound to be.
‘The family solicitor, for one.’
‘No one can tell us not to discuss our child. I shall live respectably and be the best person I can possibly be, for the sake of my baby.’ She wanted to make a compelling speech, to sway him to her side, but old sorrows clogged her throat. ‘You and I both know what it is to lose a mother. I loved Mam so much. I want to be to my child everything she was to me. Don’t you think I’ll make a good mother?’
‘Of course, but—’
‘I don’t want to hear the “but”. I live every moment with that “but” and I’ll do everything I can to overcome it.’
Such as remarry. She almost laughed. Telling Your Former Husband You Have Lined Up His Unborn Child’s Stepfather: how about that for an article?
‘This is our child, Charlie. I know there are legal ramifications, but whatever is proposed, your agreement will be needed.’ Her voice caught on a spike of emotion. ‘Think hard before you say yes to anything – please.’
‘For what it’s worth, I’m sure you’ll make a top-hole mother.’ He scrubbed his face with his hands, then came to his feet, turning from her and going to the window. His shoulders rose and fell on a huge sigh before he swung round. ‘The baby … it didn’t become real until now, until I saw you. It’s … overwhelming. I’m going to be a father.’
Dear heaven, was he about to say he wanted to bring it up? Her heartbeat raced and her hand flew to her throat. She forced it back to her lap. She mustn’t let him see her panic, mustn’t put the idea into his head if he hadn’t thought it.
‘Charlie, what brought you here? You’ve been content to stay away all this time.’
‘It’s not as though I could have dropped in. I’m here today because coming is the decent thing to do. It wouldn’t have been gentlemanly to stay away.’
‘Same old you. You always did have a gallant streak.’ Memories crowded her. For a moment, it was more than she could bear. ‘But you weren’t gallant about the annulment.’
‘Now look here—’
‘No, you look, Charlie!’ Soft with nostalgia a moment ago, now she shook with fury. ‘I didn’t stand a chance. I never had an inkling until you all ganged up on me.’
‘You make it sound like a conspiracy.’
‘Wasn’t it? I’m sure Lady Kimber schemed against me.’
He gave a click of impatience. ‘This is how I remember it: you on one side, my family on the other, and me as piggy-in-the-middle. God, it was a strain.’
‘Was the annulment on the cards for some time?’
‘No, it wasn’t. Look, there’s nothing to be gained by rehashing old events.’
‘Yes, there is,’ she cried. ‘We never talked about it. I never saw you again, apart from across the courtroom, from that day to this. If a sense of decency has brought you here, then do the decent thing and tell me what happened. All I know came from Sir Edward and Her Ladyship. You let them spirit you away while they did your dirty work. You talk about being a gentleman. Well, that wasn’t gentlemanly.’
‘No, it wasn’t. You’re right.’ But he lifted his chin. ‘I married you with the best intentions. You have to believe that. I’d never met anyone like you. The day we met, our fingers brushed and your touch was like a bolt of lightning up my arm. I looked at you, wondering if you’d felt it too. Until then I thought I was interested in Eleanor, but once I’d met you …’ His voice trailed off. ‘You were remarkable, a real peach. You grasped life with both hands. And, yes, I suppose part of it was the lure of the unattainable.’
Slumming it. Lady Kimber’s voice in her head.
‘When you disappeared from the agency, I realised how important you were. No one knew where you’d gone and there was a huge gap in my life. Then I heard about the clinic and dashed round there. I loved taking you out and feeling I had you to myself. It was an exhilarating time, first love, forbidden fruit, all rolled into one.’
‘And after I came out of prison, you came riding to the rescue.’
‘I wanted to look after you for ever.’
‘What went wrong? I know you found it hard, not having the social life you wanted.’
‘Well, that didn’t help, but …’
‘But what?’
‘Did you think that was why I agreed to the annulment? Do you think I’m that shallow?’
‘How should I know your reasons? You never told me.’
‘I know, I know. I let the olds do the nasty stuff.’
‘Was it because I didn’t measure up?’
‘You? Not measure up? That’s a good one. I never met anyone more capable of succeeding in whatever she took on.’
‘Then why?’
‘If you insist on knowing …’ Just when she thought he wasn’t going to continue, he said, ‘It was because you saved that child’s life.’
‘Because I …?’ Her voice came out as a squeak; she cleared her throat.
‘You’re right, I was bored rigid and it was deuced uncomfortable having you under scrutiny from everyone from Uncle Edward down to the kitchen cat. But I’d have weathered all that if … What I mean to say is, I never sought a way out. But when it was suggested … well …’
‘What was wrong with my saving that little boy’s life?’
Charlie looked straight at her. His dark eyes were full of sorrow, but there was a glint of something else too, something she couldn’t fathom. Perhaps it was best if she didn’t fathom it.
‘I thought I’d rescued you. You want the truth – well, there it is. I thought I’d rescued you – you, this wonderful, beautiful, clever, determined girl, full of ideas and pluck. When you were laid low – you’d been in prison, you’d been force-fed, you’d lost your job, you’d brought shame on the family – I rescued you. I did, me, Charlie Kimber. When I proposed and you accepted, I grew into a bigger, better person – I felt myself grow. You needed me and I was so proud. This remarkable, spirited, talented girl needed me. Then, practically on the eve of our wedding, you saved that child’s life and became a heroine. And it made me realise I hadn’t rescued you at all. You didn’t need rescuing. You were perfectly capable of rescuing yourself.’
The moment the front door closed, Helen bolted from the kitchen, Mrs Burley and Edith hot on her heels. They clustered in the hall, looking first at the morning-room door, then at one another.
‘Should we go in?’ asked Mrs Burley.
‘She might want a few minutes alone,’ said Helen.
‘Or she might be crying her eyes out,’ said Edith.
The door opened and Mary appeared, looking … Helen wasn’t sure how she looked. Or rather, she could see perfectly well how she looked – serious and calm – but she couldn’t tell how she felt. There was a smile on her face, but her eyes were guarded.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve all had your ears plastered to the door.’
‘Certainly not,’ said Helen. ‘We’ve been in the kitchen.’
‘Fretting ourselves silly over you,’ Edith added.
‘Come in and I’ll tell you about it – all of you.’
‘Eh, love, we don’t want to pry,’ said Mrs Burley.
‘Speak for yourself,’ said Helen.
She followed Mary in, wanting to sit close to her and offer the com
fort of proximity, but Mary chose the wing-back chair. Edith and Mrs Burley stood on the rug.
‘Why did he come?’ asked Helen.
‘Why did he wait so long, more like?’ asked Mrs Burley.
‘Is he going to make an honest woman of you?’ Edith glared round. ‘Don’t pretend we weren’t wondering.’
‘We talked about the child but didn’t reach any conclusions. He’d been warned against making promises. In any case, it didn’t seem wise to discuss it deeply. I didn’t want him getting ideas about bringing it up himself.’
Her voice was steady, but her hands fisted, turning her knuckles white. Glancing at Mrs Burley and Edith, Helen tilted her chin towards the door.
‘Shall I fetch tea?’ said Edith and they disappeared.
‘Charlie Kimber wasn’t the only visitor this afternoon,’ said Helen. ‘Greg’s back, though technically he isn’t a visitor, of course. I don’t know why he’s here or for how long. I just hope he leaves soon, blast his eyes. And he wasn’t the only one to turn up. Nathaniel came too. I told him to come back later.’ No response. ‘I’ve decided to call him Nathaniel since he’s marrying my honorary niece. Mind you, I haven’t tried it out on him yet.’
She narrowed her eyes. Mary fiddled with her wedding ring, which wasn’t like her. She wasn’t a fidget.
For once in her life, Helen thought before she spoke. ‘Charlie’s visit must have been unsettling, especially coming out of the blue.’
Mary pressed her lips together, eyes lowered. Then she slipped off her wedding ring and held it out. ‘May I give this to you for safe keeping? It doesn’t feel right to wear it any more.’
Helen’s old heart gave a creak of unease. ‘You don’t have to be brave with me, you know, if you’re upset. When Nathaniel comes, should I put him off?’
‘Don’t do that. I need to see him.’
‘Good. That’s good.’
‘I have to tell him I can’t marry him.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nathaniel closed his fingers over the little box in his pocket. Would she like it? It had seemed so appropriate when he saw it in the jeweller’s window, but maybe she would prefer something conventional – a locket, perhaps – or something set with precious stones. Had Charlie Kimber showered her with expensive baubles? And what had he been doing at Jackson’s House? Kimber should jolly well leave her alone, but it wasn’t that simple. It would never be that simple.
The Poor Relation Page 33