Before leaving Vaullay, at Isobel’s insistence, her aunt had taken her into Inverness for a day’s shopping before travelling south. Ignoring Esmie’s protest that she was perfectly capable of making her own dress on her sewing machine, Isobel had bought Esmie a sleek powder-blue ankle-length summer dress and a raffia hat with matching blue ribbon. Esmie had bought new stockings and a pair of lacy gloves but resisted a pair of cream court shoes. ‘I’ll never get any wear out of them,’ she had told her aunt. ‘My Sunday shoes will be fine with a good polish.’
Now she was wearing her new outfit and had used many hairpins to keep her hair tidy under the straw hat. The only jewellery she wore was a silver brooch that had belonged to her mother.
Lydia clutched Esmie’s hands. ‘You manage to look cool and calm whatever you wear. I’m so glad you’re here with me. Mummy makes me so emotional.’
Esmie smiled. ‘I have a handbag full of hankies should either of you need them.’
Lydia laughed. ‘Good. Stay close.’
Tom heard Tibby early that morning chivvying their father out of his room.
‘Yes, you are going, Papa. Harold will be here soon to pick us all up. Mrs Curry has come in specially to get you ready.’
‘I don’t want to,’ he complained. ‘And I’m too ill.’
‘No you’re not. You can at least come to the church. I need you to accompany me. Then afterwards, if you don’t feel up to the wedding party and a day of flowing champagne then I shall bring you home.’
‘They’re all so vulgar,’ the colonel muttered.
‘The Templetons are delightful,’ Tibby replied. ‘And Jumbo has the biggest selection of whiskies I’ve ever seen. I’m sure he’d like nothing better than sharing them with you, Papa.’
‘I’m feeling too liverish today,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll just stay in bed.’
‘What a pity,’ said Tibby. ‘I’ll send Mrs Curry away then, shall I? And I’m afraid I’ll have to confiscate that whisky until you’re feeling better. I’ll be away all day too, so you’ll have to get your own lunch and supper. But if you’re liverish you won’t feel like eating . . .’
‘You can’t leave me here on my own,’ he said, his voice querulous.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Tibby. ‘I’m going to get ready now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Tom saw Tibby march out of the colonel’s room with a whisky bottle in each hand. She winked at him. A minute later, Archibald started shouting.
‘Very well, if I have to go to this tawdry wedding! Where’s Mrs Curry? Bring back my whisky you wretched girl!’
Tibby waited outside a couple more minutes and then called out. ‘Mrs Curry will get you dressed. You can have a dram when you’re ready to leave.’
Tom gave his sister an admiring look. ‘I don’t know whether to thank you or not,’ he said wryly. ‘But Lydia will be eternally grateful.’
An hour later, Harold arrived and the two friends stood outside while Tom chain-smoked and they waited for Tibby and the colonel. It had started to drizzle.
‘I feel ridiculously nervous,’ Tom admitted. ‘Am I doing the right thing, Guthrie?’
Harold looked at him in alarm. ‘You’re not seriously having doubts at this stage, are you?’
Tom ground out his third cigarette. ‘No, of course not. It’s just the waiting.’ He turned towards the house and called, ‘Hurry up, Tibby. I can’t be late.’
Harold pulled out a hip flask and offered it to Tom. ‘Have a swig; doctor’s orders.’
Tom smiled and did so. As the whisky took effect, a sense of well-being spread through him. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Guthrie. No one could ask for a better friend.’
Harold looked pleased but changed the subject. ‘Does Lydia know about the honeymoon being in the Lake District yet?’
Tom let out an amused breath. ‘Of course. Lydia chose the hotel. It’s where her parents used to take her and Grace on holiday. She says we’ll get better service there because they’ll remember her father.’
‘Should be a good place to do a spot of painting too,’ Harold said.
Tom laughed. ‘I don’t think Lydia will take too kindly to me spending our honeymoon going off with my sketchbook.’
Harold blushed. ‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Though I’m keen to stop and see some of the Roman Wall on our way,’ said Tom. ‘I’ve booked our first night in a town called Hexham, which is close by. At least that is a surprise for Lydia.’
He took another swig from the flask and felt suddenly emotional. Putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder, he said, ‘Guthrie, I’ve never properly thanked you for what you did for me in Mesopotamia. I wouldn’t be standing here now if it wasn’t for you. Tibby put about this ridiculous idea that I was a war hero just to please Papa – and Lydia’s latched onto it too. They have no idea how wrong they are. I feel such a fraud. It’s you who is the hero, Harold; you’re the one who stuck your neck out for me—’
‘Enough,’ Harold interrupted. ‘That’s all in the past. We don’t need to talk of it again. But for what it’s worth, I think what you did required a special kind of courage and I will always admire you for it.’
Tom’s eyes stung as he saw Harold’s compassionate look. He gripped his friend’s shoulder harder and swallowed. ‘To me, Guthrie, you are the epitome of the ideal man.’
Harold’s eyes glistened as he shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh.
Their conversation was cut short by a triumphant Tibby appearing with the colonel leaning on her arm. She was wearing an orange dress, purple coat, winter boots and a vast old-fashioned hat decorated with ostrich feathers that he suspected she’d dug out of their old playroom cupboard that morning. Tom’s heart swelled in affection for his twin sister. Archibald was dressed in his old mess kit with a row of medals on his chest. Tom exchanged surprised looks with Harold before hurrying forward to help.
His father shrugged him off. ‘Perfectly capable of walking down my own steps.’
Tom kissed Tibby on the cheek. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Outlandish, isn’t it?’ Tibby said with a throaty laugh. ‘But all eyes will be on the bride, so I don’t think it matters what I wear.’
Shaking off raindrops from her hat, Esmie accompanied Minnie Templeton to the front of the packed church. It was chilly inside but the gloom was dispelled by flickering candles on large wrought-iron stands. The rain was coming on hard now and two ushers stood with umbrellas at the ready for the bride and her father when they arrived.
Glancing to her right, Esmie was astonished to see Colonel Lomax sitting next to Tibby in the second row, staring rigidly ahead. She grinned at Tibby, wondering what spell she had cast over her father to get him to attend.
Tom, turning round in the front row, caught her look. Esmie felt her whole body jolt. He was looking groomed and handsome in his morning coat, his strong chin freshly shaven and dark hair smoothed into place. There was a tinge of colour in his firm cheekbones and jaw that betrayed his excitement. For an instant their eyes held each other and then he gave a slight nod and turned away to talk to Harold.
Shivering, she rubbed her arms and sat back. Minnie was chattering under her breath and looked close to tears.
‘I so wish Grace and her family were here. She and Lydia might not see each other again for years. I think Lydia should visit Zurich before she goes to India, don’t you? Where have they got to? It feels like we’ve been sitting here for ages. Do you think she’s having second thoughts?’
Esmie put a comforting hand on the older woman’s. ‘Of course not. She’ll be here in a minute or two.’
‘She can be very impulsive,’ Minnie fretted.
Her anxious comments were cut short by the organ striking up the bridal march. Glancing round, Esmie saw Lydia and her father appear at the back of the church. Tom and Harold stood up. As the bride walked forward a smile spread across Tom’s face at the sight of her. Esmie’s throat constricted. They were so obviou
sly in love and made such a handsome couple.
The rest of the service passed in a blur as Esmie fought to stem tears of emotion for her friend. She couldn’t imagine her and Harold being so engrossed in each other. Would it be wrong to marry him and not feel love?
Then the moment came to file out of the small country church and Esmie found Harold waiting to accompany her down the aisle. He was ruggedly good-looking in a morning coat, the stiff collar of his shirt digging into his thick neck, his broad face ruddy and smiling with good humour. He looked more like a robust farmer than a missionary doctor. His hazel eyes lit up on seeing Esmie but his smile faltered.
‘Hello, Esmie.’ His look was uncertain as he waited.
‘Hello, Harold.’ She smiled and fell into step beside him.
Outside it was still raining and there was hardly time to exchange more than pleasantries before everyone was dashing to the shelter of cars or carriages. Harold excused himself; he was detailed to drive Tibby and the colonel to the reception. Esmie travelled back with Lydia’s parents in one of the ribbon-bedecked cars and handed out a fresh handkerchief to Minnie.
‘Isn’t she the most beautiful bride you’ve ever seen?’ sobbed Minnie.
Jumbo chuckled in delight. ‘Yes, but don’t tell Grace you said that.’
‘She certainly is,’ said Esmie. ‘And how happy she looks.’
‘Thank goodness the old colonel turned up,’ said Jumbo.
‘I hope he behaves himself at the reception,’ Minnie said, suddenly anxious.
‘Just put him in a corner with a large dram,’ said Esmie, ‘and he’ll probably just fall asleep.’
Jumbo laughed. ‘Sound medical advice, Nurse McBride! That’s what we’ll do.’
The rain did not let up all day, so the planned tea dance on the lawn was abandoned and the buffet of sandwiches and cakes was served in the dining room rather than the marquee. But Jumbo made sure that there was plenty of champagne and whisky for the guests and, after short speeches and toasts, the house reverberated to the sound of lively chatter and raucous laughter. The band, which should have performed outside, set up in the conservatory and played popular tunes. Wedding presents gifted to the couple were displayed on tables in the large entrance hall.
Together, Lydia and Tom circulated among their guests, looking flushed and happy. Esmie was chatting to Tibby when the newly married couple stopped for a word. Tom, a little inebriated, leaned towards Esmie and kissed her cheek, just missing her lips.
‘Esmie,’ Tom said, ‘thank you for being such a support to Lydia in the run up to the wedding.’
Esmie felt a rush of heat to her face. ‘It was a pleasure.’
Lydia giggled. ‘No it wasn’t. I was up to high doh about Tom’s father.’ She nodded towards the colonel, in animated conversation with a landowning friend of Jumbo’s. ‘Now, look at him behaving like a lamb.’
Tom snorted in amusement. ‘I’ve never heard him called that before. Maybe a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’
Lydia gave him a playful pat on the jaw. ‘Now, now, husband. You’re not going to spoil things by being beastly to your father.’
‘Nothing can spoil this day,’ he said, planting a robust kiss on her forehead.
‘Careful of my hair,’ she warned.
He laughed and held out his glass to a passing waitress to top up his champagne.
Abruptly, Tibby said, ‘Come on, Esmie; let’s go and kick off our shoes in the conservatory and dance to the band.’
‘Great idea,’ Esmie said, feeling awkward in Tom’s presence. ‘I love dancing.’
‘And there are lots of eligible men,’ Lydia said with a conspiratorial grin, ‘so make the most of the opportunity.’
Tibby gave a dismissive wave. ‘We refuse to be wallflowers waiting for men to ask us – we’ll dance anyway.’
Linking her arm through Esmie’s, the young women sauntered off towards the conservatory, laughing.
Tom watched them go, feeling light-headed. He’d drunk too much already but he liked the euphoria and pleasant numbness that the champagne brought. Perhaps he shouldn’t have kissed Esmie – she had seemed embarrassed by it – but he’d done it before thinking. She was looking so fetching in her blue outfit that brought out the blue-grey of her large eyes. He felt full of bonhomie towards everyone, and a strange relief.
He had feared that the ceremony would remind him too painfully of Mary but he’d been detached, going through the motions as if he were observing the vow-taking from afar. Eight years ago, he had married in military uniform on a blustery spring day full of scudding clouds and bursts of sunshine. The Maxwells had laid on a luncheon at their country house for two dozen guests and then Harold had driven Tom and Mary to Leith, where they’d embarked on a ship to Holland. Mary had always wanted to see the tulip fields.
Today was a complete contrast: the belting rain and the scores of guests, the jaunty music and the lavish party with copious amounts of drink and tables laden with food. The gregarious Templetons were quite different from the reserved and elderly Maxwells, who had outlived their only daughter by a couple of years and died heartbroken within three months of each other.
Most of all, fair vivacious Lydia was the opposite of gentle dark-haired Mary. He had never seen Lydia look more stunningly beautiful or desirable as she did now, with her pretty face pink with excitement and the fine silk of her dress revealing the curves of her body. She too was watching Esmie and Tibby disappear arm in arm.
‘I’m surprised how pally those two have become,’ she commented. ‘I hope Tibby doesn’t spoil Esmie’s chances of finding a man.’
‘I’m not sure she’s looking for one,’ said Tom. He took a slug of champagne and fumbled one-handedly for his cigarette case.
‘Why do you say that?’ She gave him a sharp look.
‘Well, she’s showing no interest in Guthrie’s proposal.’
Lydia seized on this. ‘Harold’s proposed to Esmie? Why didn’t you tell me?’
Tom cursed his indiscretion. ‘Don’t say anything—’
‘I knew he was sweet on her,’ Lydia said animatedly. ‘I’ve been trying to match-make all summer. I’ll have a strong word with Esmie. I can’t believe she hasn’t confided in me about it. She must say yes to him, then we can all go to India together!’
Tom’s head spun. The room was stuffy and he was suddenly keen to be gone – to be alone with his new bride. He pushed his cigarette case back in his pocket, slipped his arm around Lydia and whispered into her ear.
‘Never mind about Harold and Esmie. When are we allowed to leave? I can’t wait for the honeymoon to begin, Mrs Lomax.’
Lydia giggled. ‘Not yet. I want to enjoy the party.’ Her gaze swept the room. ‘Look, there’s Alexandra from school. I simply must introduce you. She’ll be so jealous I’ve ended up marrying Captain Lomax of The Anchorage.’
Lydia took him by the arm and steered him across the room.
Breathless from a chaotic attempt to dance the tango with Tibby, Esmie escaped outside. The rain had finally eased and there were people milling around on the terrace so she slipped off into the garden and stood under a huge dripping chestnut tree. She had already discarded her hat and now raised her face to catch the plops of rain and breathe in the earthy smells of the wet garden. She knew she was avoiding Harold and felt bad about it but she didn’t want to be drawn into a conversation about marriage on Lydia’s wedding day. There would be time to talk once her friend had left on honeymoon. The Templetons had pressed her to stay until the end of the week. ‘It’ll cheer us up once our darling girl has gone,’ Minnie had said tearfully.
Esmie glanced towards the house, wondering when the bridal couple would leave. They appeared in no hurry to go, though she knew from Lydia that they had a couple of hours drive ahead of them to some mystery destination for their first night. Esmie tried to stop herself imagining what it would be like to spend the night with Tom, who must already be an experienced lover from his first happy marriage. H
er insides fluttered. She wished she could stop thinking about him. She had hoped that during the weeks apart her attraction towards Tom would have fizzled out. But one glance at him in the church that morning had set her heart racing; it distressed her to think that she was still in love with him.
Suddenly, she caught sight of Tom weaving his way from the terrace towards her. Supressing a gasp, she pressed up against the tree, hoping not to be seen. He stopped to pull out his cigarette case, lit up a cigarette and then continued forward. To her consternation, he looked right at her as if he were seeking her out – though she knew he must only be heading for the shelter of the tree.
She edged around the tree trunk, her pulse racing. She could smell the smoke from the tobacco as he arrived.
‘Esmie,’ he said, ‘I know you’re there.’
She blushed as she stepped back towards him, her heart thudding. He leaned against the tree and drew deeply on his cigarette.
‘I’m trying to sober up before driving to Hexham,’ he said. He shot her a look. ‘Oh dear, don’t say anything to Lydia about Hexham – it’s supposed to be a surprise.’
‘Of course I won’t.’
‘I’ve drunk too much. I keep letting out secrets,’ he confessed. ‘I’m afraid I let slip to Lydia about Harold proposing to you.’
Esmie went hot with embarrassment. ‘So you know about that?’
He nodded. ‘Harold’s worried you’re going to say no. And I feel a bit responsible as I encouraged him in the first place.’
Esmie was astounded. ‘Did you?’
He gave her a sheepish look. ‘Sorry, was that wrong of me? I thought you’d be good for my friend – just the sort of plucky woman he needs at the mission. But do I need to warn Guthrie that you’re not in love with him?’
‘No,’ Esmie said quietly, ‘I’d rather you didn’t say anything. I haven’t decided . . .’ Tom must never know that the man she loved was him. ‘I’m not sure what to do next, if I’m honest.’
The Emerald Affair Page 11