‘And never judged.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. She did sometimes. She wasn’t always right.’
Unaware of the source of that heartfelt comment, Robert glanced up, but his companion’s eyes were downcast, his manner reflective, as though he recalled judgements more arbitrary than her peculiar fondness for Robert Duncannon.
‘I wish I could do something,’ he repeated.
‘We all feel that. That’s the worst part of it,’ Edward confessed, ‘knowing there’s nothing to be done. Except watching and waiting — and praying for the end.’
‘You’ll let me know? I’m staying with Harris for a few days.’ He drained his glass and stood up. ‘There are things I need to discuss — with Louisa particularly – but they’ll wait a little longer. Now, I really must go and let you get to bed.’
‘I’ll not be seeing my bed for a few hours yet,’ the other man admitted with a weary smile. ‘I must let Bessie get some sleep: she was up all last night and half the night before.’
For a moment, Robert stood deep in thought. He looked at his watch, and peered through the window at the fog. Tentatively, afraid of being snubbed, he said: ‘I can spare a few hours, all night if necessary. If it’s simply a question of someone being there and watching over her, then I can stay awake and watch with the best.’
With a small, ironic smile, Edward went into the hall. A moment later, closing the front door, he said, ‘You may as well, I suppose. I doubt you’ll get back to your lodgings tonight, anyway.’
By half-past ten Robert had withstood Bessie’s stern gaze, listened to her instructions, and, like a schoolboy, repeated them three times to assure her that he understood. In the room where he had once been watched over by Mary Elliott, he settled himself now to watch over her.
Edward came in with some books. For a moment he stood gazing down at his aunt, sleeping peacefully under a heavy dose of morphia.
‘I don’t know how much he’s given her, but it could start to wear off in the early hours. Wake me anyway, by two at the latest. You know where my room is; at the top of the next flight.’
Robert nodded, and Edward glanced at the clock. ‘I’m going down to make Louisa some cocoa. Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thanks. Bessie made me some coffee to keep me awake. How is Louisa?’
‘Too anxious to sleep, I think. Still — ‘ He shook his head and left.
Robert heard him return a little while later, heard Louisa’s door open and close, but though he listened intently, he did not hear Edward come out again.
Louisa was huddled in a shawl, her face pale and drawn. She looked so frail in the flickering candlelight that Edward felt his heart lurch with concern. Not half an hour previously, as he mentioned Robert’s offer, she had been aggressively scathing, telling him, yes, Robert could stay; of course he must do as he wished. He always did, so what did her opinion matter? But the boldness had evaporated; he could see she regretted it, and with time to think the shock of his arrival had finally penetrated.
He handed her the mug of cocoa, watched her clasp reddened, work-worn hands around it for warmth, and felt the impersonal barriers created by words and work and sheer fatigue begin to crumble. For a moment he wondered whether it had been the wrong thing to do, letting Robert Duncannon back into their lives, however temporarily.
And yet it had to be. Short of the man’s death out there in the Sudan – and Edward had done his share of wishing – he had known Louisa must face him again. Too much remained unresolved, not least the matter of the children.
For two years she had hidden from the world, steadfastly ignoring Robert Duncannon’s existence. But she could not cover her face forever, and now he had come to seek her out. In this situation, Edward could neither help nor advise, for Robert Duncannon was a subject they did not discuss.
‘I looked in on the children,’ he told her, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘They’re sleeping soundly.’
For once, however, the children were of little concern. ‘And what’s he doing?’
‘Sitting and watching, of course. I’m sure he won’t fall asleep, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
She closed her eyes and grasped his hand. ‘Why did he have to come?’ she whispered. ‘Why now, of all times!’
‘I don’t know. The first opportunity, I suppose.’
‘He wants to see the children.’
‘I imagine he does,’ Edward sighed. ‘You know, there’s a lot we have to discuss. Not immediately — not even in the next few days — but soon. It would be better to agree to that: it will save a lot of argument and heartbreak in the long run.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘No, I know that. But you’re very tired. I’ll go now,’ he said gently, ‘and we’ll talk some more tomorrow.’ He made to stand, but Louisa clung to him, begging him not to leave, and like a frightened child refused to give a reason. With a sigh, Edward agreed to stay until she went to sleep.
Making himself comfortable with his back against the pillows, he let her nestle in the crook of his arm. Unutterably tired, longing for his own bed, the seductive comfort of her warmth and closeness made him loth to hurry away.
Six
Feeling the heaviness of imminent sleep, Robert yawned deeply and stood up, pacing the half-dozen steps to the window. Lifting the blind he glanced out at the fog. It was as dense as before, and totally silent. There had been no traffic for several hours, and a long time had elapsed since the last faltering drunks had set off home, cursing and laughing, from the public house a few doors away.
Mary Elliott was breathing stertorously, oblivious to Robert’s presence and the lamp beside his chair. He looked down on her, no longer shocked by the change, remembering the woman she had been. He thought of himself in this room, all those years ago, and experienced a surge of regret. If she had let him die then, none of this anguish would have been. And yet, he sighed, without life there could have been no love. Anguish was just part of the penalty.
Earlier, while she was awake, he had simply knelt by her bed and talked to her, holding those frail fingers between his own. She had known him then and smiled, murmuring his name once or twice. Moved by her recognition, feeling absolved by her smile, he had no way of knowing whether she understood what he was saying. Not that it mattered; he was sure she knew he would do his best for Louisa and the children.
Since then she had slipped into the welcoming arms of oblivion. The end, he was sure, could not be far away.
He took out his watch and saw that it was twenty minutes past two, sighed and returned the gold hunter to his pocket, wondering whether to call Edward or not. He had said to call him at two, but Robert was certain he was not in his room. He told himself it was inevitable that they should be living on the closest and most intimate of terms, but still he burned at the thought. No doubt Edward had intended to sleep elsewhere, but Louisa would have kept him by her side on purpose.
And then, as he bent to mend the fire, he heard movement; turned quickly and saw Edward with crumpled clothes and tousled hair, leaning against the doorjamb.
‘I fell asleep,’ he said simply.
For a moment Robert did not answer, his eyes taking in the evidence of that unmistakably creased jacket. ‘No matter,’ he replied evenly, ‘I told you I could stay all night if need be.’ But his tension was dispelled, and as Edward went downstairs to make some tea, Robert could have laughed with relief.
When he returned, Edward had combed his hair and straightened his tie; for a while the two men sat either side of the hearth, quietly drinking their tea. As Robert eased his shoulder, Edward asked about it, and they fell to talking about the battle and Robert’s experiences in Egypt. Although the possibility of his return was dismissed, Robert expressed a hope of rejoining the Royals.
‘So you don’t want to retire?’
‘Lord, no. The army’s my life. I’ve never known anything else, and I’ve no desire to give it up. I got a taste of promotion while I was
out there, you know,’ Robert chuckled. ‘Major for the duration of my service with the Egyptian Cavalry, and I must admit it whetted my appetite. I’d very much like to be gazetted as such — with my old regiment, of course!’
‘Of course,’ Edward echoed with a smile. ‘So you’ve no plans to retire to a little place in the country and take up farming for a living?’
With a soft laugh, Robert shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, in spite of the fact that I was virtually born and bred to it. It’s all very well, but after a few weeks I’d be bored to distraction.’
‘Me too,’ his companion agreed. ‘I love the city — this city — too much. I’d feel like an exile, I think, anywhere else.’
Their glances met, and in that moment, both men were equally aware that Louisa would have loved nothing better than an isolated cottage in the depths of the country. Almost guiltily their glances fell away. Like two conspirators surprised by a third party, they changed the subject.
By four in the morning, Robert was nodding gently. Edward touched him lightly. ‘The bed in the dressing room is made up with fresh sheets. I think you should lie down.’
For a moment he protested; but it was too attractive to ignore. From the doorway, he looked back, remembering Louisa. Sitting with her, talking, and how lovely she had looked in the firelight.
Mocked by sorrow and regret, Robert turned away. ‘Well, goodnight.’
‘Yes, sleep well.’
He woke to the sound of voices in the next room. He lay still, trying to distinguish what was being said, whether anyone was weeping, but he could make out only the heavy Scots rumble of the doctor, and a lighter voice that was probably Louisa’s. There were footsteps on the stairs, and those same voices receding; a few minutes later, light footsteps returned, and seconds later there was a sharp tap on his door.
Without meeting his eyes, Louisa set hot water and a razor on a washstand, and informed him that breakfast would be served downstairs in approximately half an hour. She was leaving before he could collect his thoughts.
‘Louisa!’
She paused, her hand on the door. ‘Yes?’
‘Your mother — how is she?’
‘As well as can be expected – isn’t that the phrase?’ With an edge of sarcasm, she said, ‘Was there anything else, sir?’
Hating her for a second, he shook his head. About to say that dressing himself took forever, just in time he bit the words back; he would not play on her sympathy.
As every morning, his shoulder and arm were unbearably stiff; with difficulty he eased himself out of bed and pulled on his trousers. Shirt and waistcoat were no real problem, but the stiff collar and tiny studs almost defeated him. As Robert knotted his tie, he was white-faced and trembling.
They breakfasted well, if silently, in what had once been the guests’ dining room. Stealing glances at Louisa, he saw dark smudges beneath her eyes, and two high spots of colour on her cheeks. No doubt summoned by resentment, he thought; but at least there was a spark of life in her glance.
Hearing sudden squeals and high, piping voices, Robert knew the children were close by. For a second his heart raced so desperately he could hardly breathe.
‘I was wondering,’ Edward said, ‘how long they would take to escape.’
Before Louisa could reach the door a small, tow-headed boy thrust his way through, then halted in consternation. He rushed at his mother, hiding a suddenly rosy face against her skirts.
The colour in Louisa’s face spread and deepened. Avoiding Robert’s gaze she addressed herself to his son. ‘Mind your manners, William, and say hello. You know who this is, don’t you?’
Gentle hands stroked that round, fair head. Watching them, Robert saw she still wore the same two rings, his signet and the plain gold band he had bought for her in Dublin, and he smiled as the little boy reluctantly showed his face.
In two years Liam had grown, no longer the toddler Robert remembered; he was more like Louisa than ever, with the same determined chin and bright blue, questioning gaze. Was there a spark of recognition? Suddenly, Robert’s vision blurred, and he was aware of a pulse throbbing in his throat and an unbearable tension in the room.
It seemed an eternity before Liam shook his head, defiantly Robert thought, and turned again to his mother.
Two years for the child was half a lifetime, he reminded himself; but seized by regret, he took refuge in silent anger, blaming Louisa for everything. She might have told the children anything — or nothing at all, he thought bitterly. Either way, whatever he said would be wrong.
She whispered something and tried to push Liam forward, but he stood resolutely against her. ‘How d’you do,’ he said at last with solemn formality.
From somewhere, Robert summoned a smile and an adequate response. That defiant blue gaze continued to assess him, and he swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry you don’t remember me, Liam — we used to have a lot of fun together in the old days. Do you remember the big house in the Square – and the horses?’
There was a sudden frown at that, as though the child tugged hard at something on the edge of his memory. ‘We often played there with a ball,’ Robert went on in desperation, ‘with Georgina. Do you remember Georgina?’
Slowly, Liam nodded, and Edward said: ‘Letty and Georgina came to stay with us last summer.’
Ignoring him, Robert said: ‘Georgie sends her love to you, and your Mamma,’ he added, looking up at Louisa. ‘She wanted to come with me, but I said I’d bring her another time. Georgie’s grown a lot too. When I went away, a long time ago, you were very small…’
‘I’m big now,’ Liam confided in a rush. ‘I’m going to school soon. Robin isn’t – he’s not three yet — and Tisha’s only a baby.’
Startled, Robert glanced up. ‘Tisha?’
‘Letitia – I’m sure Letty must have told you we named the baby after her.’
He dropped his gaze. ‘Yes — yes, of course. Forgive me, I didn’t...’
Letty had told him that, in a letter relaying news of the birth. Recalling the shock, even now he found it hard to forgive Louisa for not telling him sooner.
He had written then, offering to move heaven and earth for leave, if only she would consider reconciliation; and waited in vain for a reply. Not a single word from her in all that time.
‘May I see her?’ he asked.
‘If you wish,’ she replied coolly, and suddenly he was boiling inside.
She bent towards the child, telling him to go and ask Bessie to bring the baby downstairs. As Edward went with him, Robert struggled to find his voice. ‘If I wish?’ he demanded in a furious undertone. ‘Do you think I shouldn’t want to see her? She is my daughter, isn’t she?’
He stared at Louisa’s white, closed face. He wanted to hit her, knowing if he did he would probably half-kill her. He could not believe that this cold, emotionless woman was the one he had loved so passionately, refused to believe he had done anything to warrant such calculated cruelty.
Edward came back and Robert looked up, ready to vent his fury. ‘Well?’ he snapped. ‘Is she my daughter – or is she yours?’
Edward’s head jerked up, his mouth compressed into a thin, hard line; for a second, caught off-guard, his eyes glittered with contempt. Robert saw his own anger reflected in the other man’s eyes, all the resentment and hostility he had expected the night before.
There was a muffled exclamation from Louisa. ‘My God, Robert! Do you have to judge everyone by your own disgustingly low standards?’
With an apology to Edward on the tip of his tongue, he bit it back. ‘Low standards?’ he repeated with mocking amazement. ‘Do you include yourself?’
Edward’s voice rapped across them. ‘Stop this at once! You’re worse than children!’ As Louisa stood up he motioned her back to her seat. ‘Just a moment, there’s something I have to say and it had better be said now. We’re all of us very tired. The past few months have been... difficult. We’ve all suffered in our separate ways, and at the momen
t, emotions are running high.
‘There’ll never be,’ he continued heavily, ‘an ideal time for talking, but I think just now is probably the worst. And it’s quite unseemly that we should be letting tempers get the better of us when Louisa’s mother is...’
Sobbing suddenly, Louisa shot out of her chair, but before she could reach the door, Edward caught her arm.
‘Sit down, please, and listen to me.’ While she fought to bring her tears under control, he said to her, ‘Between you, you and Robert brought three children into this world — and I’m not going to stand by and see them suffer because you two want to indulge in a private war. It’s time you started thinking about them,’ he said emphatically, his glance resting on Robert, ‘instead of yourselves and your past mistakes.’
‘I agree,’ Robert murmured, not a little daunted by his control over Louisa; indeed, of the whole situation. Lighting one of his small cigars, he released a fine blue haze of smoke into the room. ‘So what do you suggest?’
‘Leave it a few weeks. Give us – time, if you can, to get over this present crisis.’
Trying to ignore Louisa’s quiet sobs, Robert nodded. ‘And in the meantime — a truce?’
‘Of course,’ Edward replied with patient restraint. ‘A truce.’ He turned to Louisa then, and with a gentle but very firm gesture, pulled her hands from her face. ‘I hope you agree to that?’ As she nodded, he told her to dry her eyes; it amazed Robert that she did.
With a swish of her skirts, she left the room. There was an awkward silence in her wake; Edward gave a heavy sigh while Robert studied the curling smoke of his cigar. About to speak, he broke off at the sound of scuffling outside the door, and as Edward opened it, he saw Liam standing there with his reluctant little brother. Shyly, he simply stood and stared, three fingers jammed into his tiny mouth.
Robert half-rose, then resumed his seat, aware of his own rather daunting height. Anxious to avoid another embarrassing round of introductions, he leaned towards them and smiled. ‘Well, now, this must be Robin. I swear I hardly know him, he’s grown so much. And he’s so hungry, he has to chew his fingers. Come over here, and let’s see what we’ve got.’ Wishing he had remembered to buy sweets as well as those chrysanthemums, Robert quickly buttered a piece of bread, spreading it with strawberry jam.
Louisa Elliott Page 63