Wicked Pleasures

by Penny Vincenzi

  ‘Nonsense. I’m sure it was a very good thing you were here. And that you’re going to be here in the next few weeks, to help him through this. Try not to worry. He’ll be all right in a little while. You just help Nanny take care of him. Wonderful old girl, she is. You’re lucky to have her. Goodbye, Georgina. Keep the handkerchief. I’ll see myself out.’ He turned and went down the stairs.

  ‘Goodbye,’ said Georgina, her voice little more than a whisper. She went back into the bedroom.

  ‘Should I stay?’ Angie was saying. ‘I feel faintly responsible, but I really ought to get back to Baby.’

  ‘It would be better if you didn’t stay,’ said Nanny sternly. ‘He needs complete peace and quiet.’ Her look and tone implied that Angie would be bringing in a large and noisy party complete with rock band at any moment.

  ‘Well, that’s fine then,’ said Angie meekly. ‘I’ll get along home. Nanny, would you call me tomorrow when this Dr Simkins has been? Tell me what he says. Or should I be there?’

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ said Nanny, ‘Georgina and I will take care of him. Won’t we, Georgina?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Georgina very quietly. She set aside any hopes of seeing Kendrick before he left next day. She felt that if she had to devote the rest of her life to looking after her father it would not be penance enough.

  Dr Simkins pronounced Alexander to be suffering from a severe breakdown and acute depression, probably suppressed for years since Virginia’s death; he said he should be admitted to a private psychiatric nursing home for a few weeks until he began to improve. Since then Alexander had seen two other psychiatrists and shown some signs of the promised improvement; he had been moved home at the suggestion of the second, with a full-time nurse, and was at least more relaxed. In the nursing home he had been possessed by an appalling restlessness, and had paced his room all day and most of the night, sitting intermittently in his chair and staring blankly in front of him. Georgina had gone with Nanny to see him twice, and so had Charlotte and Max, but he had hardly seemed to recognize any of them, sitting silent while they tried to talk to him, make him smile, even show any emotion at all.

  ‘Let him go home to that house of his he loves so much,’ the new psychiatrist had said, ‘and see if that doesn’t do him some good.’

  Nanny and Georgina had gone together with Tallow to fetch him, and the doctor had been right, it had worked straight away; as the car had swung round the corner out of the woods and into the Great Drive, Alexander’s mouth had softened into a smile, and his blue eyes had filled with tears.

  ‘How lovely,’ he had said. ‘Home.’

  He was still not well, he was vague, still quietly distant much of the time, physically frail, and heavily dosed with anti-depressant; but gradually, they watched him growing stronger, and by the time the spring came, and the daffodils were beginning to daub the meadows of the park with great banks of gold, he was beginning to talk, to smile, to be himself again.

  She hadn’t seen Kendrick since. Nanny and Angie had both urged her to go and see him off at Heathrow, but she refused. ‘I can’t leave Daddy. And Kendrick will understand.’

  Kendrick did understand – at first. He told her on the phone he loved her, that of course she must stay with her dad, that he felt guilty too, just a little. But he was angry when she told him she had dropped out of college, and angrier and very hurt when she refused to go to New York for his twenty-first birthday in February: ‘It’s important, Georgina, it’s only a small family celebration, but I really want you to be there.’ Georgina had refused, saying she couldn’t leave, that her father was still very ill, that her own birthday would certainly go unremarked, at her own request.

  ‘The doctor specifically said I should stay here, be with him, that it was important in helping him get better. I don’t want to fail him, Kendrick.’

  ‘You’re taking this much too seriously,’ said Kendrick, clearly irritated. ‘He’s getting better, you said so, and he won’t miss you for two days, for God’s sake. And whenever are we going to tell people, make the announcement?’

  Georgina said that wasn’t the point and she didn’t know when they could make the announcement. Kendrick put the phone down. He called back to apologize, but things between them were strained.

  She was walking in the woods one windy March day when she met Martin Dunbar. She had the dogs with her; they had been very subdued ever since Alexander had been taken ill, hanging about at the bottom of the stairs when he had been in bed, and haunting him now from the moment he appeared in the morning until he went back after supper. Even walks seemed to hold little pleasure for them; she had had trouble getting them out.

  ‘Georgina!’ said Martin. ‘How lovely to see you. It’s been such a long time. How’s your father? I popped in last week, when you were out shopping, and he certainly seemed a little better.’

  ‘Oh, he is better,’ said Georgina. ‘Definitely. Getting home to Hartest has made all the difference. He’s talking quite a lot these days, and this morning at breakfast he even laughed, over Bernard Levin’s column in The Times.’

  ‘Well, that is good news. It must have been very worrying for you. And you must miss college. When are you going back?’

  ‘Oh – I don’t know. Not yet. Not till he’s quite well.’

  ‘What a good daughter you are,’ he said, and his eyes were sad even as he smiled at her. ‘Alexander is lucky to have you.’

  Oh God, she thought, if only, if only he knew.

  Kendrick didn’t come for Easter; he was studying very hard for his finals. He begged her to go over, but she said she couldn’t. ‘Daddy’s so much better, I don’t want to upset things now. We go for quite a long walk every day, he says it does more for him than all the drugs. I’m sorry, Kendrick.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ he said. His voice was rather distant; he seemed a long way away suddenly.

  ‘Georgina? This is Angie. How’s Alexander? I’m sorry I haven’t been over lately. Things have been a bit – difficult.’

  ‘Of course. He’s better. Definitely. How are you?’

  ‘I’m feeling pretty good, Georgina, thank you. I’ve rung to ask you to a wedding.’

  ‘That’d be fun,’ said Georgina cautiously. ‘Whose?’

  ‘Mine.’ Angie’s voice sounded triumphant, almost wobbly.

  ‘Yours? But I thought –’

  ‘Yes, we all thought. But Mary Rose has decided to give Baby a divorce. Just like that. So it means we can get married.’

  ‘Oh Angie, that’s wonderful news. I’m pleased.’ Slightly to her own surprise, Georgina discovered she really was. ‘When?’

  ‘In just over a month. They’re rushing it through. Last Saturday in April. Kendrick will be over of course, and Melissa and Freddy, and Fred the Third and Mrs Praeger – you know I’ve never even met her – everyone really. So keep it free, won’t you, and find a really splendid hat.’

  ‘I will.’

  Georgina thought how odd it was that someone who had been as good as married to Baby for what was after all a long time should never have met his mother.

  ‘When did you hear?’

  ‘Oh, only about two hours ago,’ said Angie. ‘I haven’t hit the ground yet. I expect Kendrick will be ringing you, but I wanted to tell you myself first.’

  She’s really excited, thought Georgina, smiling into the phone. She really does love him.

  Kendrick phoned her later that night, and talked to her about it; he was clearly feeling a little confused, pleased he said for his father, but sad for his mother, impressed by the huge gesture she had made.

  ‘I think she still loves Dad, and she just can’t face the guilt of denying him what he so wants, now that he’s – well, now he’s ill.’

  ‘Well, I think that’s really nice,’ said Georgina carefully, anxious not to upset Kendrick. ‘How do the others feel?’

  ‘Well, Melissa is of course in a great spin, planning her bridesmaid’s dress, and her hairstyle, and won
dering if Max might be best man, and Freddy is – well, a little quiet.’

  ‘But he will come?’ said Georgina anxiously. ‘Uncle Baby would break his heart if he didn’t.’

  ‘Oh yes he’ll come,’ said Kendrick.

  ‘And Grandpa and Grandma?’

  ‘Yes of course. Grandma is terribly excited, almost as much as Melissa.’

  ‘Well,’ said Georgina, laughing, ‘she never seems all that much older than Melissa to me.’

  ‘And then there’s us,’ said Kendrick. ‘We can talk to Dad now, can’t we? Make it official. Specially as your dad seems to be getting better.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Georgina, ‘yes, I suppose we can.’

  Baby and Angie were married on a breezy gold and blue spring day, a register office wedding in Oxford and then a blessing in the village church. It was a poignant occasion; nobody there able to quite forget that the only thing that had made it possible, for all its defiant happiness, its triumph, its courage, was the fact that Baby was dying.

  The entire family and a few close friends were there, Fred III looking stern as Freddy pushed Baby up the aisle in a wheelchair dressed for the occasion in white ribbons. Betsey, her eyes very bright, clutched Fred’s hand, dared by his fierce old face to cry. Melissa, as bridesmaid, looked ravishing in a dress from Mexicana, all endless layers of white lace and frills, with white roses tangled in her golden hair; it was remarked upon by most of the family that her attention seemed fixed more firmly on Max than on the bride and groom; as Max had not brought Gemma, saying the occasion was strictly family, she had him and her fantasies about him to herself. The twins, who were being restrained with great difficulty at the back of the church by their nanny, were dressed as page boys, in white sailor suits, and Mrs Wicks almost stole the whole show by appearing in a full-length white silk dress with a very floaty skirt, slashed up one side to the knee, revealing an extremely shapely leg, as Max remarked to Georgina in a hoarse stage whisper, designed to be heard by the legs’ owner. She wore what could only be described as a coronet in her red curls, and over the white dress a silver fox jacket. She had refused to allow Clifford to come, as she said he would be an intruder; Baby proposed the theory later to Angie that she wanted a free hand with Alexander. Georgina caught sight of Nanny’s face as Mrs Wicks arrived; her lips were folded in so tightly they were invisible, her eyes brilliant with disapproval.

  Alexander, to everyone’s surprise and pleasure, had insisted on coming; he said he felt much stronger, and he would not have missed it for the world. He was looking pale and particularly vague, and he clung rather tightly to Georgina’s hand throughout the service, but he sang all the hymns very vigorously and smiled most benevolently on the bride as she came down the aisle.

  The bride was wearing an utterly simple, low-waisted, ankle-length white crepe dress by Jean Muir, skimming over her body, demurely high at the front and slashed almost to her cleavage at the back (covered for the church service by a long matching jacket). She carried a great bouquet of white roses and freesia, and in her hair, as if to acknowledge the considerable effrontery of her virginal attire, she wore a coronet of blood-red roses. She looked very pretty and extraordinarily young, and when the vicar pronounced the blessing she leant down and kissed Baby in his wheelchair and flung her arms round his neck.

  ‘Theatrical nonsense,’ Georgina heard Nanny hiss in Mrs Tallow’s ear, but when she looked round, she saw that she was smiling.

  Tommy Soames-Maxwell had slipped into the back of the church at the very last minute and then slipped out again, almost unnoticed by most of the guests, and driven swiftly away again; he had asked Angie if he might come, saying he would not miss it for anything if she would have him there, but he had no wish to embarrass or upset Alexander or anyone else in the family. Even Charlotte was mollified by this behaviour and told Georgina afterwards at the reception at the house that perhaps she had misjudged him just a little and he was not after all entirely bad. Georgina, who had a sneaking liking for the supposedly wicked Tommy, and knew from Max how kind he had been to Baby, said cautiously that she didn’t think he was entirely bad either.

  Fred III got up at the reception and asked everyone to raise their glasses to the bride and groom, on what was a wonderfully happy day; he said from where he was looking, Baby was an outstandingly fortunate man, and nobody was to be fooled by the wheelchair or any other damnfool nonsense into thinking otherwise. It was a charming and graceful little speech, entirely defusing any awkwardness from the situation; nevertheless Georgina, looking at Baby and Angie through eyes blurred with tears, found it impossible not to wonder how long the marriage would be allowed to last, and how much that thought had shadowed the day for them.

  Kendrick drove her away after the reception; he said he had no idea where he was going, but he wanted to get her away from everyone. It was still quite early, before seven, and dusk was only just beginning to settle on the Cotswold hills. Baby had been exhausted, although very happy, and it was tacitly agreed that everyone should quietly disappear. Georgina had been worried about Alexander and said she should drive him home, but he had insisted on going back with Nanny and the Tallows. He was very tired, he said, and certainly he had behaved slightly strangely at the reception; after shaking Baby’s hand and telling him he was a lucky chap, and kissing Angie in a rather desultory manner, he had disappeared for the rest of the afternoon and was found by Charlotte playing with the twins in the nursery. He said he was sorry, but he hadn’t felt like talking.

  ‘Well now,’ said Kendrick, pulling the car to a halt in a gateway on a particularly pretty lane. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Georgina, deliberately misunderstanding him. ‘Go for a walk maybe. I had much too much champagne. I’ll tell you what I’d really like to do,’ she added, smiling at him, thinking how infinitely sexy he looked, in his striped trousers and black waistcoat, his morning coat discarded, his white shirt open at the neck. ‘I’d like to go to bed with you. Well, there doesn’t have to be a bed. Right now, if we can find somewhere.’

  Kendrick lifted his hand, and pushed it into her hair; his eyes seemed to bore into hers, wide, dark with love. ‘We’ll find somewhere,’ he said and leant forward and started to kiss her, very slowly, very lazily. Georgina returned the kiss, gently at first then with increasing intensity; she felt desire growing, burgeoning in her like some strong living being. Tamed, restrained by the past months, by grief, by guilt, by loneliness, it had finally broken free, was demanding release; she pulled away from him, her face solemn, intent.

  ‘I mean it,’ she said, ‘I can’t wait,’ and smiling, he opened his door, walked round and took her hand, pulled her out, and with his eyes still fixed on her face, led her into the woods. She stumbled a little, in the high heels she had worn for the wedding, tripping over small roots, curling fronds of bracken; impatiently, she pulled them off, walked in her stockings, smiling up at Kendrick, a confident, reckless smile. They were deeper into the wood now, and the dusk was growing thicker, almost misty. ‘Here,’ he said, smiling, ‘here is a bed for us,’ and just below them a small hollow lay, filled with new bracken and great sheets of bluebells.

  She ran into it ahead of him, smiling too, and sank onto the ground, holding out her arms to him; the last thing she remembered saying as the sweet all-consuming hunger took possession of her was ‘We shall crush the bluebells,’ and he said, ‘Fuck the bluebells,’ and then all she knew was his body on hers, warm, heavy, hungry too, his hands everywhere, on her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, her buttocks, and then her own body arched up to him, welcoming him into her, and as he entered her, she felt a sweet rich triumph, a sense of absolute pleasure and joy, and even while she moved, gave to him, while her whole being ebbed and flowed, rose and fell, she was able to think, to know, to feel quite clearly that this was not how it had been before, and might never ever be again.

  When it was over, when finally they were quiet, lying there on their brackeny bed, smi
ling at one another, awed, almost frightened by the depths, the heights, they had travelled and accomplished, Kendrick pulled his jacket over her, folded his shirt under her head, and said, ‘I love you, Georgina. I want you to be my wife.’

  And Georgina looked up at him, courageous suddenly, joyful, strong, and said, ‘I want it, Kendrick. I want it too.’

  They went back to Watersfoot, and crept in the back door, aware that no one seeing them could fail to know what they had been doing. Angie and Baby were up in their room; nobody else seemed to be there. Kendrick disappeared and came down with towels, jeans, jumpers, ‘And two pairs of rather male briefs, I’m sorry,’ and they went into the shower together, next to the utility room, and stood in the thudding water, and made love again, thoughtless, careless suddenly of who might find them there, and then they got dressed, Kendrick made them both mugs of tea and she sat in the den just looking at him and loving him, and not doing anything at all except thinking of pleasures past and the great happiness hopefully to come.

  In the morning, Baby was unwell; they had been going to talk to him, to tell him their news and their plans, but Angie said he had a chest infection, that the doctor had said he must be kept quiet. She looked extremely tired, almost dazed; Georgina said that she should go back to Hartest and see Alexander, and asked Kendrick to come with her. Kendrick said he would stay; that maybe his father would like to see him later. Angie seemed grateful.

  Later in the day, Baby was worse; a specialist was called, he was given more drugs, there was talk of hospital. Kendrick’s voice on the phone was heavy; Georgina was frightened, angry almost, that the happiness that had been granted to Baby should have been so short-lived, so tantalizingly tenuous.

  But next morning he seemed better; by the afternoon he was sitting up and shouting at everyone, and, desperate for some time together, Georgina and Kendrick fled to London, leaving everyone in the country, and spent a wonderful twenty-four hours in Eaton Place, scarcely leaving the bedroom before Kendrick had to go back to New York to take his final examinations.