The Loving Spirit

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘Shouldn’t she have been given the chance to find what she needed?’ Kate couldn’t resist asking.

  ‘If you had lived all your life in darkness and then someone shone a gentle light on your path, showing you hope, you wouldn’t risk them leaving you any more than I did.

  ‘You think I was selfish, and perhaps I was. But I swear to you no woman was ever more loved or cherished. You were in her confidence. Was she unhappy?’ He gave her a sudden sharp look. ‘Was she?’

  ‘No,’ Kate said quickly. ‘No wife could have been happier. She gloried in your love. It made every moment joy for her.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said simply. ‘I couldn’t have borne to think that while I...she did everything for me...I would have given my life for her. I would gladly have died when she did.’

  The despairing words touched something in her own heart. She let her head fall until her forehead was resting on her hands. After a moment she felt his light touch on her hair.

  ‘Don’t you weaken, too,’ he said gently, ‘or what will happen to the rest of us?’

  ‘I’m not weakening,’ she said, raising her head and smiling. ‘Only tired.’

  ‘Yes, it’s time even I went to bed.’ He rose and helped her to her feet. ‘Come,’ he said, taking a branch of candles from the table and leading the way.

  Outside her room he lit a single candle that stood waiting and gave it to her.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said.

  ‘Goodnight, My Lord.’

  Jane arose as she entered. She had been Amelia’s maid and had attached herself to Kate, insisting on waiting up for her, despite Kate’s insistence that this was unnecessary. She now stepped forward to help her off with her modest clothing, before fading away.

  Usually Kate slept quickly, but tonight she was strangely wakeful. She wondered if she’d drunk more brandy than she’d meant to, and was this brandy’s normal effect?

  Her brain refused to calm down. It was full of the sounds of the evening, stray snatches of conversation. Justin seemed to be still there, saying, ‘No woman was ever more loved or cherished...I would have given my life for her. I would gladly have died when she did.’

  No woman was ever more loved. It was true, she’d known it. And now that she no longer saw Justin as an enemy, she began to see the full truth of what she had always known without understanding. Amelia had been loved by this man, and for a fleeting, treacherous moment she felt that her friend had been blessed indeed.

  The thought was over in an instant. She pushed it aside as quickly as she could, sitting up in the darkness and almost jumping out of bed. The cool of the floor against her feet was welcome. It brought her back to her senses as she paced up and down. How could she have had such a thought? It meant nothing, of course.

  She threw the window open and took large breaths. The wind was blowing hard, making a soft moaning sound in the trees. To her troubled mind it sounded like endless sorrow, the aching sound rising and falling.

  Then she became aware of another sound, from another direction, yet so like the first that she had confused them. Listening at the door that connected her room to Justin’s she heard moaning. Tonight he had spoken freely of Amelia and now he was paying for it.

  Suddenly the sounds changed. From behind the door came a long, bitter cry. Kate covered her ears against that agony, but it wouldn’t be shut out. It came again and again, the despairing shriek of a soul in Hell. Somehow she must stop him before he roused the house. How he would hate that indignity.

  The connecting door was firmly locked against her. The only other way into his room was the outer door. Throwing a shawl over her nightdress, Kate hurried out into the corridor, fearing every moment to see a curious servant. But so far she was lucky. She tried the handle of Justin’s main door, praying that it wasn’t locked. To her relief, it opened, and she slipped quickly inside.

  The curtains on the large window were drawn back, allowing a bar of moonlight to cut through the room, falling across the bed. By its light she could see Justin thrashing violently about. She approached the bed, meaning to awaken him, but now she saw something that made her pause. Justin had tossed back the bedclothes and she was startled to see that he wore no nightshirt.

  Incredibly, for a woman who had borne a child, Kate was almost as ignorant as a young girl about the shape of a man. Justin’s nakedness stunned her. The broad, muscular shoulders, long back and lean flanks were her first discovery of male beauty. Dizzy with shock, she stood motionless, watching him, knowing she should turn away, but unable to tear her eyes from a sight that filled her with guilty delight.

  His face was subtly different. With the lines smoothed out by sleep and his shaggy hair more than ever tousled, he looked younger, and oddly defenceless. She wanted to lean forward and brush the hair back from his forehead, and

  then -

  He was still groaning. At any moment he might wake. She forced life into her limbs, drawing the sheet swiftly over him and seizing his shoulders.

  ‘Wake up,’ she said urgently. ‘Wake up, My Lord.’

  With a shudder he sat up in bed. His eyes were open but she had the feeling he was still staring into the void. Then he seemed to return to himself from a far polar region.

  ‘What the devil are you doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘Better me than the servants. You were making a noise to rouse the house.’

  She became aware that she was still holding him. His skin was warm and smooth and she knew a terrifying sensation of pleasure. She forced herself to snatch her hands away, although she would gladly have let them linger.

  ‘I have bad dreams,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, trying to stop her voice from shaking. ‘I came only to awaken you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said dully. He seemed to become aware of the sheet and his own nakedness beneath. ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘Through the outer door. Forgive me, it seemed better that I...’

  ‘You’re right.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘In future, if I leave the inner door open ...if I should dream again...’

  ‘You may rely on me, My Lord. Goodnight.’

  Trembling she crept into her room, feeling as though she were pursued by furies. She threw herself on to the bed, covering her face, trying to blot out the sight of Justin’s nakedness, and silence the thrumming of her own response. But it wouldn’t be silenced. Something had come alive in her, something which sang and danced with a kind of bitter joy. It shouldn’t have happened. Better by far for her to have remained dead than to have awakened to desire for this man.

  Amelia,’ she whispered, ‘forgive me...forgive me...’

  Chapter Five

  Justin was as good as his word, and refrained from interfering in her treatment of Philip, but the time came for her to insist on his returning to school. To Kate’s pleasure Justin saw him off with the words,

  ‘You haven’t missed very much, and Kate tells me you’re advanced in your studies because you work hard. I’m pleased with you.’

  Kate saw the glow of pleasure that came into the boy’s face at this unaccustomed praise. Perhaps Justin saw it also, because his manner softened and he pressed a guinea into Philip’s hand.

  ‘I’ve also increased your allowance, but I don’t suppose it will be enough,’ he observed. ‘It never was in my day.’

  ‘Thank you, Father.’

  Watching them closely, Kate saw everything about them both that they missed about each other. She saw how Philip tried to pluck up the courage to hug his father, saw how Justin tensed, awkward but half anticipating the embrace, and the flicker of disappointment on his face when Philip extended his hand instead. But he froze his expression and took the hand.

  If only, she thought, she could tell Justin how much his son loved him, even though he was shy of him. But the words came harder since the night she’d seen him naked. That picture had burned itself into her consciousness...she resisted the thought that it had burned itself into her heart...and
she couldn’t forget.

  ‘Strong, practical Kate,’ Justin had called her, relying on that strength and efficiency. And she would be what he needed her to be, no matter how hard it was to forget how her senses had leapt in that moment. Forget it she must, because anything else was a betrayal of the trust Amelia had placed in her. Once let Justin suspect, and the companionship that was growing between them...crochety and cantankerous though it might be...would be lost to him.

  So she settled her cap firmly on her head, buttoned her demure dress over her heart, cast down her eyes once more, and played the role of Kate the friend and governess, who had no feelings, either physical or emotional. This Kate was a sexless creature, for whom the world of men might not have existed. But behind her mask lived another Kate, whose senses had been reawakened so suddenly and unexpectedly that her very nerve ends seemed to vibrate with new awareness.

  Every day that awareness grew. Since the night Leon Danby had raped her, she had lived in a world where she saw only grey and all sounds were flat. But now the earth glowed with colours she had never seen before, the taste of food was startling in its clarity, and each moment she became more conscious of the man to whom she was married in name only.

  But all these things she concealed. She had no choice.

  After Philip’s departure it became more than ever clear that everything was changing. High summer was over. In the arbour, the roses that Amelia would never see again faded away. Kate watched them sadly. They would flower again next year, but these were the blooms that Amelia herself had tended, and when they were gone another link with her would be weakened.

  If only there was some way to stop time passing. With every day, every hour, Amelia was carried a little further into the past. She had been dead for three months, four months. Milestones had begun to slip by. Philip’s return to school had been the first that his mother hadn’t been there to see. When he came home she wouldn’t be there to welcome him.

  Charlie and Jack had birthdays. Since they were only two weeks apart it might have seemed sensible to combine the celebrations, but this Amelia had resolutely refused to permit. In her eyes, a child was entitled to a day of his very own, and there were always two parties, two cakes, two days of riot and merriment. Kate faithfully followed the tradition, even though this year there would be no Amelia to romp and join in the games as though she was no more than a child herself.

  To her relief, Justin needed no urging to make an appearance at both parties, although at neither did he remain long. He spoke kindly to the boys, and so gently to little Grace that at the second party she scurried forward as soon as she saw her father, to offer him a piece of cake. He accepted it and hugged the child to him, then searched her face as if desperate to find something there.

  ‘Grace gets her looks from your grandmother,’ Kate told him later. ‘I’ve seen her portrait in the picture gallery and Grace grows more like her every day.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘It’s little Amelia who looks like her mother.’

  He made an impatient sound. ‘In a baby of her age? I know you mean well, Kate, but don’t take me for a fool. There’s no likeness yet.’

  ‘How would you know since you’ve hardly ever seen her?’ Kate demanded crossly, and left him without waiting for an answer.

  She could talk to him like that these days. They had achieved a kind of tetchy trust, and if she often saw the sharp side of his temper, she also felt free to show him the sharp side of hers. He relied on her and he could relax with her. It made life bearable.

  Despite this, she didn’t seriously expect him to heed her words, and she was taken by surprise when he appeared in the nursery that night. Hearing Sarah gasp, she looked up to see him standing in the doorway. He gestured for her to dismiss Sarah, and when they were alone he walked to the cradle and looked down. Not by a muscle did he show any emotion, but he drew up a chair and sat contemplating the baby who, wide awake, gazed back at him with eyes full of interest.

  ‘You told me she was like her mother,’ he said reproachfully.

  ‘She is.’ Kate lifted the baby, and placed her in his arms. ‘Look carefully.’

  She brought a branch of candles near enough for him to see the sooty black hair, already curling, and tiny irregularity in the nose, her mother’s legacy. She heard his swift intake of breath, and saw the stillness that came over him as he searched the tiny face.

  ‘Amelia,’ he whispered. ‘Amelia...’

  She just caught the glint of tears on his face before he bent his head low over the tiny form, and his great shoulders shook with his agony.

  ‘Amelia...’

  He continued to say the name in hoarse, sobbing gasps.

  Kate wondered if she should leave. He would surely hate her to see his emotion. But after a while he put the child back into her arms, saying huskily, ‘You’re right, she’s so like her.’

  As she laid Amelia back in her cot he went to stand at the window, looking out over the dark landscape, now growing bare and wintry. After a moment she went to him and found him with his head bent, one hand covering his eyes while he wept without restraint. She was about to creep away when she felt his other hand reaching for hers, finding it, holding it in a painful grip.

  ‘Don’t go away,’ he said huskily.

  ‘I never will.’

  His grip tightened and she couldn’t help wincing. He loosened his hold at once, but didn’t release her completely. Moved by an impulse of pity that was stronger than caution she reached up and took his other hand from his face. He didn’t try to prevent her, but met her gaze, the tears still streaming down his face.

  ‘What burdens I lay on you!’ he said at last.

  ‘I’m strong enough for them, sir.’

  ‘Once I thought that I was strong. But it was only her strength supporting me. Now it’s yours.’

  ‘Your own will return to you. In the meantime, why shouldn’t you accept the help of your friends?’

  ‘I never bothered to make friends. I didn’t need them while I had her. Now I think you’re my only friend.’

  ‘Then rely on me as long as you need to.’

  He gave a half smile, released her and walked back to the cradle, from where his child looked up, smiling.

  ‘She isn’t afraid of me,’ he remarked.

  ‘Of course not. She knows there’s no need.’

  ‘Most children seem to fear me.’ He drew one finger lightly across the baby’s cheek. ‘Poor little soul. She deserves a better father.’

  The baby gurgled and made a floundering attempt to grasp his finger. He moved it into her hand and she gurgled again. At last he gave a sigh and straightened up.

  ‘Thank you, Kate,’ he said, and went away hurriedly.

  It was only afterwards she realized that these days he no longer addressed her as ‘madam’.

  *

  Tom continued to spend most of his time in the stables. Kate had taught him as much as she could, but academic subjects bored him although he was always ready to read about the army or to follow the newspaper reports of Wellington’s campaign in Spain. Following his lead, Jack and Charlie had also become army mad, and were soon Tom’s devoted adherents, riding with him as Philip had done.

  Kate took Grace’s lessons alone, since Grace, too, was uneasy with books. She would grow up like her mother, Kate thought, indifferent to learning but sweet and beautiful enough to captivate anyone she met.

  While they were laughing one day over something Grace’s pet rabbit had done, Justin threw open the door and strode in. This was so unusual that Kate rose in alarm, which was increased by the serious look on his face.

  ‘One of the maids found this on your pillow,’ he said, holding it out to her.

  It was an envelope that bore one word, Mama. With a heart full of foreboding she tore it open and read:

  Dearest Mama

  By the time you read this I will be a soldier. I am sorry to displease you, but you know it has always been my dream to follow Papa into the army, an
d now that I have seen your future secure I feel that I may follow my own bent. Try to forgive me,

  Your loving son, Tom

  ‘Oh God!’ Kate wept. ‘Dear God!’

  ‘May I see?’ Justin took the letter from her unresisting fingers and read it with a faint, wry smile on his face.

  ‘You shouldn’t weep, Kate,’ he said. ‘There is much here to make you proud. He says, ‘Now that I have seen your future secure’. That means he’s thinking as a man, not a boy.’

  She pulled herself together. No weakness of hers must let Justin suspect the secret that had made her hinder Tom’s attempts to join the army. But she knew that the danger was very great now.

  ‘I am proud of him,’ she said, trying to make her voice normal, ‘but it’s too soon. Go after him, I beg you. Get him back.’

  ‘Kate, let it be. He is grown up...’

  ‘He isn’t, he isn’t,’ she cried passionately. ‘Do this for me. For pity’s sake do this for me!’

  Justin frowned. All his instincts were against intervention. To his mind Tom’s actions were manly and admirable, and Kate’s determination to keep him with her seemed unwise and strangely out of character. But he couldn’t ignore the wild appeal in her voice.

  ‘I’ll see what can be done,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘I know which recruiting office he will have headed for. If only we knew how long ago he’d left.’

  A few moments later she saw him thundering down the drive on his horse, and she sat down suddenly because her legs had grown weak. Somehow she got through the rest of the lesson with Grace, but then consigned her to the nursemaid’s care and went to her own room, needing desperately to be alone.

  She had done exactly the wrong thing. If any awkward questions were asked about Tom’s parentage, Justin would now be there to hear them. She tried to read but couldn’t concentrate. By the time Justin returned home he would know how she had deceived him. He would look on her with contempt, perhaps even send her away, and suddenly she didn’t know how she would endure that.

  Lost in her unhappy reverie she didn’t hear the approaching steps until the door was opened and Justin came in.