‘Hands together,’ he said quietly, and was rewarded by a beaming smile as Tisha squashed pudgy fingers against each other. ‘For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.’ There was a chorus of ‘Amen,’ and, on Robin’s part at least, an unseemly rush for the scones and cake.
‘Bread and butter first,’ Bessie reminded him, tapping his hand away. Instead of crying, he simply set his mouth and grabbed two slices of bread as recompense, while Edward looked away, trying to hide his amusement.
Robin had character, and with his sunny disposition it was easy to be charmed by him; despite that, Edward was more deeply drawn to the elder boy. He had arrived in York on a bitter December evening when he was even younger than Robin was now. Edward knew he would never forget his first sight of Liam, never forget those huge, frightened eyes set in a face as pinched and white as his mother’s. And he was so like her that Edward’s heart had gone out to the child at once. Still a baby, Robin had settled at once, sleeping contentedly through his brother’s quiet sobs, sobs which Edward had heard in the middle of the night, as Louisa slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted.
He had gone in to the child at once, and, short of suitable reading matter, proceeded to make up a long and very silly story about a cat which had three homes. At first Liam had wept even harder, telling the strange man to go away, he wanted his Mammy, his Daddy, he wanted Georgie and Bridget, and a whole host of other names, all foreign to Edward. But, gradually, he had begun to listen, and gradually a little smile appeared through the tears as the story took his imagination. From such small beginnings their friendship had grown, but he had hated to have Louisa out of his sight in those early days, and continued to ask for his father for quite some time.
It was hard to tell what went on in a child’s mind, especially one as young as Liam, but Edward suspected the boy of recalling far more than he was prepared to admit.
With tea cleared away, he left Bessie with the children and went to church for the Sunday evening service. There was a visiting preacher whose sermon was somewhat shorter than usual, and, mindful of the torrential rain, Edward hurried home. He took a short-cut along the lane at the foot of the ramparts, through the back yard and into the house by way of the kitchen door.
Clearly startled, Bessie paused guiltily in the act of wrapping a china tea-pot, then pushed it defiantly into the half-filled tea-chest by her feet.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked as he shook his dripping umbrella and stood it in the sink.
‘Packing.’
‘I can see that.’
‘I know I shouldn’t be working on a Sunday, Mr Edward, but I don’t know how I’m ever going to get this lot sorted with them children under my feet all day. And if it’s left till the last minute, Miss Louisa will be out of her mind.’
‘But we haven’t even found a house, yet.’
‘I’m only packing stuff that’s never used, and I’m jotting it down, so she knows what’s what.’
Edward sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right, Bessie,’ he conceded. ‘There haven’t been enough hours in the day lately.’ He sighed and brushed back his hair. ‘I don’t know, I’ve done more on Sundays these last few months, than I’ve done in my life before, but I’d thought that with the funeral over — ’ He stopped and sat down. ‘I thought perhaps we could return to normal, Bessie.’
‘Normal!’ Bessie exclaimed. ‘Huh! In the last two years, Mr Edward, I’ve forgotten what normal is.’
He glanced sharply at her, but she continued wrapping delicate china in tissue and newspaper. ‘That’s most unfair.’
‘Aye, well, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But she should never have come back here, in my opinion, bringing trouble and scandal on your good name, and driving her poor mother — God rest her soul — into an early grave.’
Angrily, Edward stood up. ‘Well, Bessie, if that really is your considered opinion, then perhaps it’s as well you’re leaving us. No doubt the Chapmans will endorse everything you say, and you can gossip over Louisa’s misfortune to your heart’s content. But,’ he added heavily, ‘might I also tell you how much you disappoint me. I never thought I’d hear you bring her down this way!’
Without warning, Bessie burst into noisy sobs. ‘And I never thought,’ she began as she sank into the nearest chair, ‘I never thought she would ruin her life like this.’ She wept into her apron, her back turned to Edward, but he was too angry for sympathy. Although she said little of a direct nature to Louisa, he knew the older woman had often made life more difficult than it needed to be.
‘I don’t know why it shocks you so,’ he said coldly. ‘You’ve spent the best part of forty years with this family, and despite their constant striving for respectability, neither my mother nor my aunt were married. It can’t have bothered you then, so why does it bother you now?’
‘I was only a lass then, and I was real proud just to have a good place. I’d have fought tooth and nail for your dear Mam,’ she vowed, straightening her back. ‘She was such a lady. When you saw her walking down a street in her best black – straight as a ramrod she was — nobody would ever have believed she wasn’t what she said she was. She aimed high, and she made sure everybody else knew their place.’
What she said was undeniably true, but her admiration chilled Edward. ‘You didn’t live with her latterly,’ he said quietly.
‘No, I came here with Miss Mary, because she needed me. And we worked hard, both of us. We worked hard,’ she repeated vehemently, ‘to build this place up, and bury the past. We worked hard to give them lasses a good start, not to have it all pulled down round our ears twenty years later, just because Miss Louisa decides she doesn’t like it with her fancy man after all!’
She was weeping again, but in spite of his anger Edward said nothing; Bessie’s resentment had been corked tight for a long time, and now it was pouring out along with her grief for his aunt. And perhaps it was better coming out now than later, in front of Emily and the Chapmans.
‘It was bad enough her going off with him like that, but at least nobody knew and we could say she’d got a good place as a governess in Ireland. And then she had to come back with two bairns and another on the way-and didn’t she make liars and fools of us all then! Oh, she thinks she’s hard done by, that one – people talking, pointing the finger — but I’ve heard them, and I’m telling you now, it weren’t just Miss Louisa they were blacking. No, it was her mother an’ all. Not that they knew ought — but they were making plenty up!’
‘That must have hurt badly.’
‘Aye, it did. I thought all that were past, Mr Edward. I thought all that were past.’ She shook her head sadly, wiping her eyes with her apron. ‘I can’t take it no more – I just can’t, and that’s a fact. I’m sorry for her – deep down I am, no matter how mad she makes me – but you’re going to have to sort yourselves out. I’m an old woman, Mr Edward — I want a bit of peace. I want to do me work and nip to the shops without feeling like I’m off to fight a war.’
Her words sent a sharp mixture of guilt and surprise running through him. What age was she? Late fifties, he supposed, but she hardly seemed to have changed in all the years he had known her, and it shocked him to hear her refer to herself as old.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said sincerely. ‘It hasn’t been easy for any of us, but I hadn’t realized how hard it’s been for you, Bessie. You’ve always been such a tower of strength,’ he added with a little smile, ‘I suppose we all thought you were indestructible.’
‘Aye, well I’m not. I’m only human, Mr Edward – and I’ll tell you this for nothing,’ she added, wagging an admonitory finger at him, ‘so are you.’
‘Meaning?’ he asked softly.
Bessie looked down, and for a moment her fingers played with a scrap of tissue-paper. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘I suppose you’ll think I shouldn’t say this, me being no more than a servant and an old spinster woman at that. But I did help bring you up, Mr Edward – you and Miss Louisa, co
me to that. And I’ve seen a bit of life, here and there.’
He chewed his lip, wishing she would get on and give voice to whatever home-truth was hovering on her tongue.’ Yes?’ he prompted.
She took a deep breath. ‘Well, it’s just this, Mr Edward — can you tell me what you’re doing? I mean, what do you hope to gain from all this? Miss Louisa will have you at her beck and call till your dying day, if you’ll let her – just like she always did. And for what? What will she ever give you in return? Peace of mind? Never! Not while that jumped-up good-for-nothing comes calling. And don’t tell me he comes to see his children — what thought did he ever have for them bairns? What thought did he ever have for his other little lass — or his sister, come to that? Duty? He don’t know the meaning of the word! For all you know, he could have bairns to different women up and down the country.’
‘Have you quite finished?’
‘No, I have not. It’s time you told him to clear off, once and for all. And if you’re going to be living under the same roof, then it’s time you made an honest woman of her. Stop folk talking, once and for all!’
‘I see,’ he said tautly, thrusting hands in pockets as he crossed the room. ‘If you don’t mind, Bessie, I’ll continue to conduct my life in the way I see fit. Meanwhile, I think I’ll take your earlier advice and do some packing. I’m sure there must be whole shelves of books upstairs that I can live without for the next few weeks!’
By the following morning the storm had passed, but there was still a stiff breeze blowing off the sea, and where the tide met each curving bastion, huge waves curled and smashed along the promenade. White spray leapt high into the air, falling back in great turquoise troughs, only to rise again seconds later. Excited, mesmerised, Louisa could not tear her eyes away. The sky was blue, and in spite of wanting but three weeks to Christmas, the sun was shining with spring-like fervour.
‘The children would have loved this,’ she said to Letty, wishing with all her heart they could have been with her. Although it was good to be away from York, she missed them terribly, seemed to spend half her time wondering what they were doing and whether they were missing her, too.
‘I’m sure they would,’ came the brisk reply. ‘Can’t you just see them running through the spray, soaked to the skin, and being carried off by the next big wave? No, my dear, that sea is for looking at from a safe distance — and we’re too close by half!’ she declared as the wind tugged at skirts and scarves. ‘Let’s go before that tide comes any closer. I’m sure we can watch from the safety of the Spa, behind glass, with a warming drink to comfort us!’
‘You’ve no adventure in your soul.’
‘Perhaps not. I prefer to view and run away — and return to view another day.’
‘It reminds me of our visits to Dalkey,’ Louisa admitted with a hint of wistfulness as they climbed the cliff path to their hotel. ‘Georgina always loved it so.’ A moment later, slightly out of breath, she said: ‘Robert said she wanted to come with him. I imagine she was cross at being left behind a second time.’
‘She was indeed. But I promised to bring her next time. That is,’ she added quietly, ‘if there is a next time.’
Turning sharply, Louisa stopped to look at her friend. ‘Oh, Letty, don’t take it like that, please. We must always be friends. It would break my heart if I thought I wouldn’t see you or Georgina again.’
‘And Edward?’
‘What about Edward?’
‘Well, perhaps he’d rather not see us at all.’
Unable to answer immediately, Louisa turned and went inside. In the dining room, awaiting luncheon, she said: ‘Edward likes you, and Georgina. I can’t see why he wouldn’t want you to visit us. And anyway,’ she added firmly, ‘you’re my dear friend, so what does it matter?’
Sipping at a very dry sherry, Letty raised her eyebrows quizzically, but did not reply. Looking out at the broad expanse of the bay beyond the windows, she appeared to be enjoying the view. Presently, however, glancing back at her friend, she said, ‘You’re obviously feeling much better. Beginning to look a little more like the Louisa I remember. And perhaps after a few days’ rest and good food like this, you’ll even put on a little more weight. I thought it was a ghost I was seeing when I arrived in York the other day.’
‘You’re exaggerating.’
‘Indeed I’m not, and you know it. You were in such good health in the summer – seeing you again was quite a shock to me.’ With gentle concern she added: ‘The last few months must have been hard for you.’
Louisa shrugged and looked away. ‘I suppose they have. It didn’t seem so at the time, but...’ she paused. It was too difficult to explain, even to Letty. But after a moment, she said: ‘Now the worst of it is over, I can see how dreadful it was. Like being ill and not realizing how ill you’ve been, until the day you know you’re better. Do you know what I mean? The comparison is frightening.’
‘Is it over?’ Letty asked, her slate-grey eyes managing to give the question more than one meaning.
Her friend looked out of the window and over the boiling sea. ‘I think so. They say time’s a great healer — and I’m sure it is. It’s bound to be a while yet before we get over Mamma’s passing, but once we get away from Gillygate, I’m sure that will help.’
‘I’m sure you’re right. But what about Robert? Is it really over between the two of you?’
‘Oh, Letty, you know it is! It was over two years ago.’
‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’
‘For goodness’ sake, Letty, what are you trying to do? Persuade me to go back to him? To return to Dublin and all I left behind? No, thank you!’
‘No, I don’t think I am. I suppose I’m asking whether you still love him, whether you don’t regret saying goodbye.’
‘I don’t regret it,’ was the quick reply. ‘I don’t regret anything, except the length of time it took to reach that decision.’
‘Will you never forgive him?’
With a weary sigh, Louisa shook her head. ‘It’s not a question of forgiveness, Letty – not any more. We were wrong – both of us – to imagine the rules didn’t apply. If we had been able to marry, it might have worked, I might have been accepted as his wife. Or if I hadn’t had children, maybe that would have worked. But it’s all hypothesis,’ she said bitterly, ‘and the only certainty is that in the end, nothing was right. It all just fell apart.’
For a while there was silence between them, then Letty remarked: ‘Amelia Loy went back to Gerald, you know — it was all hot air.’
‘I remember, you told me.’
‘Robert was a bloody fool: he should never have got involved.’
‘There are a lot of things Robert should never have done, Letty, and I can’t say being a fool makes him any less culpable.’
‘So, you haven’t forgiven him?’
Louisa pursed her lips, remembering things no one but herself and Robert would ever know. ‘For Amelia Loy – yes,’ she said enigmatically, refusing to be drawn.
With the arrival of their meal, Letty ate appreciatively, but after the soup Louisa did no more than pick at the fish, and her plate of roast pork went almost untouched. Staring out at the fading afternoon light, she thought about Gerald Loy and the night of the Grand Ball at Dublin Castle. Despite her revulsion, at the time the incident had been buried amongst a welter of other events. Since then, illogically, like the visit to White Leigh and her memories of the whores on Sackville and Gardiner Streets, it had become symbolic of all she hated about Robert’s way of life. There were some pleasant vistas in her mind’s eye, but, like the views along the Liffey, too superficial; one was always aware, Louisa thought, of a lingering odour. And Robert was too easily bored. Life must always present a challenge to him, an element of danger; which was why, she supposed, he had gone to the Sudan.
‘It’s not for me,’ she said quietly, ‘that kind of life. I’m too ordinary for it, too dull. And now I have my children to think of — and Edward. W
here I’d be without him, Letty, I do not know. Dead, probably – or in Bootham.’
Remembering the shock of realizing she was pregnant with Tisha, Louisa was still for a moment. It had come in the same week as the news of Robert’s departure. She had thought she would go mad. Without her mother, without Edward, without their joint strength to pull her through some of the bleakest months of her life, Louisa knew she would have given in to overwhelming despair. Caring for the children, her mother had forced her to do the same. Edward had listened and reasoned – even bullied her on occasion – anything to stop her dwelling on the past. With his help, she had conquered the apathy. Without his support during her mother’s protracted and fatal illness, she would never have survived.
‘In many ways, I owe Edward my life,’ she said quietly. ‘I cannot make the same mistakes again.’
The coffee arrived, and while Louisa poured for them both, Letty studied her friend carefully. ‘But is gratitude enough?’ she asked at last.
‘Enough for what?’
Hesitating, for a moment the shrewd eyes were particularly keen. ‘Well... for the rest of your lives.’
Slowly, Louisa shook her head, disappointed and hurt that Letty, who had given up so much for her brother’s child, could not understand the depth of love behind her decision. ‘If it was only gratitude, I’d have repaid what I could out of Mamma’s legacy and be looking for a cheap little house to rent. For myself and the children. That’s what Robert would like me to do — so he can call and visit me from time to time. So very convenient,’ she said bitterly.
‘Sure you’re not using Edward to hide behind?’ Letty asked softly, sipping her coffee.
There was a stunned silence. Banging down her cup, with coffee slopping into the saucer, Louisa said: ‘No, of course not!’
‘Please don’t be angry. Can’t you see I’m only trying to be sure you know what you’re doing? You’re my friend, Robert’s my brother, and I love you both. I don’t want to see you making more mistakes, hurting Edward as well as yourselves. He’s a fine man — did I know him better, I’m sure I’d be fond of him, too. He doesn’t deserve to be caught up like this…’
Louisa Elliott Page 66