The Gamekeeper's Wife

by Clare Flynn

  ‘Why did you take her money?’ Kit began pacing up and down in front of the window.

  ‘I had no choice. I needed some money to travel here to find Jane and to support myself until I found work. And Mrs Shipley gave me a letter she said you’d written, telling me to get out. That you wanted nothing more to do with me.’

  ‘Martha, I swear to you I never wrote you such a letter. Yes, I was shocked that you’d hidden the truth from me, but I knew there was no possibility you would have willingly let your own child be incarcerated here.’

  ‘Never. No matter how she was conceived, Jane is my daughter.’ She hesitated, looking into his eyes, seeking reassurance. ‘You don’t mind about her? That I had her? That she’s the way she is?’

  He held her against him. ‘At first, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to believe Jane was your child. But then she held my hand and I saw you in her. I saw her loneliness and her gentleness and I think I loved her then. I love her now, poor creature.’

  Martha gave a big gasping sigh. ‘No matter what, Kit, I will be happy for the rest of my days that we found each other. That we had a few brief hours of happiness. That we have loved each other.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that. You make it sound as if it’s all past.’

  ‘Then we won’t talk at all. Take me to bed.’

  With a cry he drew her towards him, lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  * * *

  Kit was woken early by the sunlight creeping under the curtains, which were too short for the window frames. Kit woke first, disorientated for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings and the warmth of Martha’s naked body next to him in the bed. He had never felt so happy. When he was with Martha, everything made sense. The war was a distant memory and he lived in the moment, relishing every second in her company.

  He moved his body against hers and she stirred and woke. He smiled at her, ready to reprise the pleasures of the previous night, but Martha sat upright, reaching over to the chair by the bed to gather her discarded clothing together.

  He told her she didn’t need to get up yet, tried all the blandishments he could think of to lure her back into the warmth of his embrace. But she would have none of it, pushing him away.

  She got out of bed. ‘I need to get to St Crispin’s and I want to talk to you first, but not in bed where you’ll try to divert me from what I intend to say. It’s too important.’

  Reluctantly, Kit dragged himself upright and leaned against the pillows, looking at her warily, dreading what she might have to say.

  She spoke as she was getting dressed. Kit watched her as she pulled on her clothes, longing to reach out and draw her back to bed.

  ‘I’m going to stay here in Northington with Jane,’ she said. ‘I want you to go back to Newlands. Make your peace with your mother and follow your dreams – go back to doing the work you love. Go to Borneo. If life were perfect I would be going with you, but I always knew that was a dream too far. Better that you go than you don’t.’

  ‘I won’t leave England without you, Martha. My mind’s made up. I’ll continue my studies here in Britain. I’ll find a job – maybe with the Horticultural Society, or my old college, Kew Gardens… We could manage. We can live together.’

  ‘You know that’s not possible. Your mother is adamant you won’t get any money. We couldn’t afford to live. Certainly not to pay Jane’s fees. She has to stay at St Crispin’s – she could never manage outside. She’d be distressed. I can’t let her suffer.’

  ‘She won’t if she’s living with us. Not if we’re there to love her and care for her.’

  Martha shook her head. ‘You’re a dreamer, Kit. That’s one of the reasons I love you so much. But right now I have to be practical. I have to think of my daughter’s welfare above everything else. Jane lives in the moment. Her affection towards me is fleeting. The things that matter most to her are her surroundings. They anchor her. Much as it pains me to admit it, I have had to accept that I am only as important to her as any of the nurses over there. She can make no distinction.’

  His heart contracted as he saw her eyes well with tears. ‘Then marry me anyway. I’ll live here too. We’ll visit Jane every day.’

  Martha turned her head away. ‘You make it sound reasonable but it’s not. I’ve told you, my daughter is now my priority. I’ve lost twenty years. Who knows how Jane might have been now, had I been with her since birth?’

  ‘That’s not your fault.’

  ‘I know it isn’t – but the result’s the same. She was abandoned at birth, neglected, unloved, uncared for in the most important years of her life.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Even if I’m with her every minute for the rest of our lives it can’t ever make up for what we’ve both lost. I can’t give her back her childhood, wipe away the pain and loneliness.’ She made a little sobbing noise. ‘But I’ll try my best to do what I can. That means me living at St Crispin’s. It means being with her as much as possible.’

  Kit stared at her in disbelief. ‘But you can’t sacrifice your own life like that.’

  ‘It’s no sacrifice. It’s what I want and what I must do. There’s nothing you can do or say that will change that. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving you. I will never do that. But it does mean I have to put Jane first.’ She turned to look out of the window. ‘Dr Henderson said people with Jane’s condition usually live very short lives. I’ve no idea how long I will have with her. But the chances of her living a long and contented life are greater if I’m here to show her the love and affection she’s lacked until now.’

  Kit opened his mouth to speak, but she lifted a hand to silence him.

  ‘That’s why, my dearest darling, this morning we must say goodbye for ever. I hope and pray you will understand.’

  ‘Understand? Never! I won’t accept it.’

  ‘If you love me you will.’ She stretched out a hand and laid it on his arm. ‘I will only have the strength to go on, to do what I have to do, if I don’t see you again. I need to forget you. To lock you away inside my heart. Otherwise it will be a constant torture of seeing you, wanting you and being forced to say goodbye to you, over and over again. I can’t do that. I’m not strong enough. I can’t do it, Kit, I just can’t.’

  ‘But that’s unreasonable. Surely it’s better that we agree to wait until we are free to marry. I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.’

  ‘That would be like saying we would be waiting for Jane to die. How can you expect me to agree to that? No.’

  Kit started to speak again, but she interrupted. ‘There’s a woman in the village whose son joined up with the rest of them at the beginning of the war. He was reported missing. For months she wrote to the War Office, desperate for information, but all they would say was that he was missing. Then after almost a year they told her he was presumed dead. But she had earlier received a letter from a friend of his saying he had witnessed her son being stretchered away to the hospital tents. So she wouldn’t believe the army. She kept on writing. Must have written forty or fifty letters. She wrote to nurses in the field hospitals, to the Red Cross, to his regiment, to anyone who might be able to help her. All the time she kept on believing that he would come home to her.’ Martha turned to look at him. ‘Hope is a terrible burden. When someone is faced with death they can at least grieve, adapt to life without the loved one. But to live on in hope that one day…’ She shook her head. ‘No I couldn’t bear that.’

  ‘But I’m not dead. I’ll be here, waiting for you.’

  ‘I won’t let you make that sacrifice. I won’t let you throw away your life waiting in the hope that one day–’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a sacrifice. The only sacrifice would be to be without you.’ He reached out to her, but she stepped away, out of his reach.

  ‘Then do it for me,’ she said. ‘I can’t do what I must do until you accept that this is the end. Please, my dearest love, please, do this for me. Let me walk out of this door and don’t try to
follow me. Don’t come to St Crispin’s again.’

  She turned to face him and he saw that she was weeping. He shuffled down the bed until he could reach her then he pulled her down to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

  Martha looked at him and Kit could see the love in her eyes. His heart was thumping and he tried desperately to find words that would change her mind, but none would come.

  She kissed him tenderly, then got up, took her coat from the hook on the back of the door and without looking back, left the room.

  Chapter 16

  Christopher drove back to Newlands in a state of grief and despair. Deep inside, he knew Martha would not budge in her determination to end their relationship, but try as he might, he couldn’t understand why. There had to be a way for them to be together. But after tossing ideas around in his head on the long drive home, he had to acknowledge that he could find no alternative to move her away from the course she had set.

  He glanced at the clock in the hall as he entered the house. He had forty minutes to get ready before his mother would be taking her customary pre-dinner drink in the drawing room. He’d hardly seen her these past weeks, while he’d been pursuing his search for Martha. He could put off the moment no longer.

  When he entered the drawing room, she was standing in front of the glowing fire, where one of her spaniels was sleeping, while the other was chewing at the edge of the rug. Edwina was wearing a black gown with an over-blouse, studded in tiny glass beads that shimmered in the firelight. His mother was still a beautiful woman.

  In an effort to be conciliatory, Christopher accepted the drink she pressed into his hands and was met with a beaming smile.

  ‘It’s so lovely to see you home again, darling. I’ve barely seen you in weeks – you’ve been away more than you’ve been home.’

  ‘You know why, Mother.’

  ‘No, I don’t but I imagine it has something to do with that woman?’

  ‘The woman I am in love with and would dearly love to marry. The woman you threw out of house and home and so casually told about the most traumatic experience of her life. Do you have any idea how much damage you could have caused?’

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I’m talking about you bluntly telling her she has a daughter, fathered by my father.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. That can’t have been news to her. She was there, after all. Committing adultery with one’s employer and giving birth to his child is not something one forgets about.’

  Christopher turned away and went to sit down in one of the big leather chairs that stood either side of the fireplace. ‘You have no idea, do you? Martha was so traumatised by what happened to her that she buried the memory. She had no idea her child was alive. They told her her daughter was born dead. And she’d been through so much pain. My father brutally raped her. She was forced to marry a man she despised, a man who beat her. Then she almost died in a long and painful labour. And she was a child! No wonder she wiped it from her memory.’

  His mother burst out laughing. ‘Christopher, oh, Christopher. You are so gullible. Speaking as someone who went through childbirth twice, I can assure you that’s not something you can ever forget!’

  He felt an animosity towards her, akin to hatred.

  Before he could respond, she spoke again, ‘I mean, really, darling. It’s preposterous. No one could possibly forget giving birth.’

  ‘Then you’ve never seen a badly shell-shocked patient. Not only can they forget what they saw on the battlefield, some even forget how to speak, turning mute and deaf, paralysed even when there was nothing physically wrong with them. That’s what happened to Martha. She couldn’t cope with what happened to her as a fourteen-year-old, so her brain wiped it away and she never knew it had happened. Then you came along and told her all that.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, somebody had to. Where is she now? I suppose you are going to tell me?’

  ‘She’s with Jane, my half-sister.’

  ‘Please, Christopher, don’t call her that. That simpleton has nothing to do with us now. Your father discharged any obligations by paying her upkeep all this time. I think it’s time we drew a veil over it all.’ She moved away from the fire and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘In fact, I am going to give instructions to the bank to stop the standing order. The wretched creature is now Mrs Walters’ responsibility. After twenty years, I feel this family’s duty is discharged.’

  Before Christopher could reply, the door opened and Bannister entered to tell them dinner was served. Edwina rose and said, ‘Let tonight be the last time either of them is mentioned in this house.’

  ‘You can’t stop the payments. Jane depends on them.’

  Mrs Shipley turned and hissed at him to shush, while they were within earshot of the servants. Only after they were seated in the dining room and served with the cold poached salmon, did she answer him. ‘I have made it clear to you, that while you are living under this roof, under the age of thirty and unmarried, you will do exactly as I say. And I say that I’ve had enough with us supporting that person, that… lunatic. Once you attain thirty – or sooner if you marry Lavinia Bourne and provide me with a grandson, things will be different.’

  ‘I’m not thirty for four years. How will Jane’s fees be paid until then?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. It’s up to Mrs Walters to worry about that. It’s no concern of mine.’

  Christopher flung down his knife and fork and pushed his plate away. ‘You can’t do that. How can you be so cruel?’

  Mrs Shipley shook her head and looked at him pityingly. ‘Once you marry Lavinia and she is safely delivered of a child – a male child – you can do whatever darned thing you like. Like father, like son, I suppose. I will have to live with that, just as I did with your father. But until then, the only way I will continue to pay those maintenance fees is if you announce your nuptials with Lavinia. If at any time there is the slightest indication the wedding will not happen, believe me, your allowance and the payments for the girl’s upkeep will cease immediately. It’s your choice. I’m sorry, Christopher, but I’ve lost patience with you. You have left me no alternative.’ She rang the bell to summon the servants to clear away their plates and serve the main course.

  When they were alone again, Christopher said, ‘Why do you hate me so much?’

  She jerked her head up. ‘Hate you? How can I possibly hate you? I adore you, Christopher. I know your father always seemed to favour Percy, but you were always my darling little boy.’

  He snorted in disbelief.

  ‘It’s true. And I’m only doing what I know is the right thing for you. You’re young. You’re headstrong. You’ve been through so much, heaven knows. And thank God you came through the war. Now you need to think of the future. One day you will thank me. You may not think so now, but believe me, you will.’

  ‘How can I possibly thank you for forcing me to marry a woman I can’t bear?’

  ‘Don’t be dramatic. Lavinia may not be the brightest star in the constellations but she’s a beautiful girl. Anyone in his right mind would find her attractive. Look at her! She’s gorgeous. I could understand if I was asking you to marry an old trout.’ She stopped and he knew that she was thinking that was exactly what Martha was. ‘I mean a plain girl, or a fat girl or… well, you know what I mean. And if you don’t snap her up quickly, someone else will. A stunning woman like her won’t be left on the shelf.’

  ‘Not even when her father has squandered his inheritance and is marrying her off for a new roof?’

  ‘What?’ She glared at him. ‘That’s preposterous.’

  ‘He told me as much himself.’

  ‘Well, whatever his reasons, we should be thankful. Lavinia’s the kind of woman who will do her duty and be the soul of discretion. She’s a well brought-up gal. She knows the drill. As long as she’s kept in frocks and fripperies she’ll leave you to do what you want. Once she’s given you a son, if you still have a hankeri
ng for the Walters woman, then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t put her up in a house somewhere and visit her occasionally.’

  ‘Martha would never consent to be treated like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘A kept woman.’

  Mrs Shipley raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m not even going to bother to contradict that. But I of all people should know what she would consent to do.’

  ‘But that’s it. She never consented. And you are suggesting that I should use her the way my father used her.’ He scraped back his chair. ‘I’m turning in.’ He flung his napkin on the table and left the room.

  Chapter 17

  Martha was sitting with her daughter on Jane’s favourite bench under the oak tree in the asylum grounds, when Dr Henderson approached and asked if he might join them.

  Martha nodded, and he settled himself at the other end of the bench and lit a cigarette.

  ‘You’re very fond of Jane, Mrs Walters.’

  Martha frowned at him, then said, ‘She is my daughter. You know that already.’

  ‘But why did you never visit her before?’

  Uncomfortable at the line of questioning, she said, ‘They told me she was dead. I had a hard labour and was sick for some time afterwards. They said she was born dead. They said that’s why the labour was so long.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘The doctor. The midwife. My husband.’

  ‘You must have been very young. I’d have thought you and Jane sisters, not mother and daughter.’

  ‘I had just turned fifteen when she was born.’

  ‘I see.’ He puffed at his cigarette, frowning. ‘Too young.’ After a few minutes he added, ‘The age of consent is sixteen.’

  ‘But not the age of marriage. My father forced me to marry my husband. Consent doesn’t apply if it’s your husband.’

  ‘And Captain Shipley? What is his connection?’

  She felt herself reddening. ‘My late husband was the gamekeeper on the Shipley family’s estate.’