But he held up his hand and would hear no more, and Lizzie was secretly grateful to have so many fears and worries taken out of her hands.
***
Thus began another part of her already eventful life. She worked hard, and it was far easier than it had been at Gray’s. Sydney Town was enough like London to make it seem almost like coming home, and the house was so grand it was a pleasure to be in charge of its smooth running. Her wage was generous, too, but Jason Wilson didn’t make the mistake of being over-generous and driving her away. He was a perfect employer, so kind, always complimenting her and praising her. The other servants watched them slyly, but Lizzie didn’t care what went on in their petty minds. Gossip meant nothing to her now. She was too caught up in the growth of the child within her.
She had had to buy clothes to fit, and had purchased a number of tiny things to suit a girl or boy. But she already thought of it as a boy. A boy with Zek’s eyes and Zek’s wicked smile. Oh God, it still pained her like a dagger-thrust to think of him. Sometimes she woke in the night, her cheeks wet with tears, after dreaming of him. Once, she dreamed he had come to fetch her home and it seemed so real she was unprepared to face the reality of her situation.
Her white face stared back at her from the mirror above the dresser. “You are a fool, Lizzie Banister,” she whispered quietly, before her throat closed on shaking, wracking sobs.
If only he would come and fetch her... And where would that leave both of them? Miserable, of course. Him pining for his Angelica, and she loving him so much it was an agony and not being able to show it. If he fetched her she knew in her heart she would never be able to leave him again, never be able to summon up the strength of purpose. These months without him had been too hard for her to have to face them afresh.
And so she knew she must never, never see him again.
Jane wrote often, talking about the inn and how well it was going, and how clever Johnny was. She never mentioned Zek Gray, so Lizzie could only suppose he never came to inquire, and be grateful.
In June, by chance, she saw the obituary notice in the paper for Mr. Thomas Bailey. It also mentioned his ‘grieving wife Angelica’. The words swam before Lizzie’s eyes, and she blinked to clear her head. She felt nausea in her stomach, churning, thinking of Angelica ‘grieving’. Poor man; he was better dead.
They were both free now, Angelica and Zek. It was to be as it always should have been. They could be happy. She folded the paper with careful creases, trying to drum up something of gladness for Zek’s future happiness. But she felt so numb it was difficult to be glad.
“Lizzie, you seem so pale,” Jason said, meeting her in the hall. “Have you been overdoing it again. My dear girl, you know I neither want nor expect you to push yourself so hard at this stage of the game.”
She turned away to rearrange some flowers.
“Not at all!”
“Well, I sincerely hope not! I think I shall take you for a drive in the park today. It’s not too cold, and if you rug up the sun will put a little color into your cheeks. No, I insist!”
Lizzie forced her pale lips into a smile. It did no good to argue with him, when he was determined on treating her to some pleasure. But for a moment he had sounded so like Zek she felt sick with guilt and longing.
“Very well, Jason. But you’re too good to me. You know you are. Housekeepers are not so... so coddled.”
His own smile was a little smug, but she hardly noticed as she turned away to fetch her cloak and bonnet. She moved slowly, but still gracefully enough, he thought. The child had not made her gross as some women, weighted down with their burden. He had had to put his foot down to prevent her wearing herself out with work, now that her time was near. She had been a little tearful, and he had comforted her with his arms, rocking her like a child herself. The memory was sweet. Zek’s wife in his arms! Who would have thought it? It was only a pity Zek could never know of it.
It was a lovely day, and the winter offered them the warmth of her distant sun as they bowled along the cobbled streets. Jason smiled at her, complimenting her on the sparkle in her eyes. Lizzie returned the smile, though privately she thought the ‘sparkle’ more a glitter of fever. She was feeling distinctly unwell, and had been ever since she saw the paper, but was far too kind-hearted to say so.
Children and their nurses strolled, maid-servants giggled together, and were ogled by red-coated soldiers. They passed the Hyde Park barracks, and Lizzie watched the soldiers drilling, while Jason told her how scandalous they were, his thin lips curling in distaste. They were sentiments she would once have joined in heartily, but now she couldn’t help but compare his telling with what Zek’s would have been.
Some thin-legged children were playing with a scrawny dog on the side of the road, as they rounded the corner.
“Lizzie, what is it? Something is troubling you.”
After a moment she said, “I saw the paper this morning, Jason.”
He said nothing, and she glanced at him wondering if she need say more. But he seemed to know what she meant, and she thought with a sense of unease that the look on his face was almost satisfied. Like a cat which has laid the bait of a trap and seen the mouse caught and crushed. The thought was so totally foreign in connection with him, and so unpleasant, she thrust it away.
It was at that moment that the dog ran across the road in front of them, and one of the ragged boys followed.
Lizzie screamed, snatching at the reins. Jason turned, jerking the horse’s head around. The animal, thoroughly frightened, rose up on its hind legs, rocking the occupants of the gig about like toys. Lizzie screamed again, clutching the sides and trying not to be thrown out on to the road. Jason struggled, face red, to bring the animal under control. He did so, eventually, and wiping his brow with a gloved hand, turned with concern to Lizzie.
“Mrs. Banister... Lizzie, are you all right?”
The conversation of moments before was forgotten. She lifted her head, her face ghastly white, and tried to smile. “I think... I think you had best get me home, Jason my dear.”
“You are hurt!”
“No, no, it is not that. The baby, Jason, has chosen this moment, of all moments, to decide to be born.”
Somehow they got back to the house, and Jason sent for the doctor.
Lizzie was taken upstairs to her room, and one of the maids helped her into bed, undressing her and settling her more comfortably. The pain was sharp and frequent, and she knew with a sense of helpless fear that there was not long to go. The maid seemed helpless and inexperienced too, and after offering her a glass of water and plumping her pillows for the tenth time, stood by wringing her hands and wishing for the doctor to hurry.
He arrived at last, and shooed the woman out to fetch hot water and towels. He was a big man, with big hands, and Lizzie shrank from him.
“Here now!” he boomed. “Behave yourself, girl. I’m not going to hurt you any more than I have to. Let’s see this babe who’s in such a hurry to get on with living, shall we?”
Lizzie bit her lips as he examined her, humming all the while as if he were teeing up for a game of golf.
“Aye, I see how it is. Impatient little blighter, ain’t he?”
“He?” Lizzie whispered.
“Or she?” he eyed her a moment, then smiled. “Cheer up, my girl. It’ll be all over before you know it, and you’ll be as right as rain again.”
It wasn’t over before she knew it, but the baby was in a hurry to be born. Lizzie did as the doctor told her, trying not to scream when the pain grew too great. When at last, with a great push of her body, she thrust Zek’s child out into the world, the relief was so great she fell into a swoon. She came around moments later to the glow of lamps in the dim room and the doctor’s voice, hearty as ever, booming:
“I said a ‘he’, didn’t I?”
Her eyes focused on the white-wrapped bundle, and with trembling arms she took it from him. A red, angry face, a mass of dark hair and tiny, tiny fists. Oh
God, so tiny. She felt the warmth of tears on her cheeks and looked up at the man with humility.
“Oh,” she whispered, “thank you.”
He let out a great guffaw of laughter. “You had a mite to do with it too, my girl! Never seen such an impatient, fighting babe. Your man must be a fighter, too, eh?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and looked again into the pinched little face.
A boy for Zek. She had no hesitation in the naming of him. Only one name would ever do. When she looked up again the doctor had gone and the maid was hovering about, ready to remove the child to the makeshift cot. Lizzie let him go reluctantly, already feeling the first threads of exhaustion winding insidiously about her limbs and thoughts, drawing her into sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“LIZZIE! Should you be up so soon?”
Jason started to his feet in dismay, as Lizzie appeared in the doorway of the breakfast-room.
She laughed almost like her old self. “I’ve been resting for a week now! Please, Jason, don’t condemn me to any more of it. I’ll go mad.”
He smiled, but still looked worried as he came to take her hands. He noted then the lines of strain at her eyes, and the new slimness of her body. He had been so used to seeing her big with the child he had forgotten how slender she was. But for all that, she looked well and healthy.
“Lizzie, are you sure—”
“Oh nonsense! I’m perfectly well. I’m only worried you’ll be handing me my notice, I’ve neglected you so, Jason.”
“I would never do that,” he said quietly.
She looked at him then with a start. He was looking down at her, his rather cool blue eyes warm and... yes, and loving. Lizzie felt a shock of surprise and dismay. He must not love her, he must not. She had nothing to give in return. All her love was centered on the tiny scrap of humanity upstairs in his cot, and Zek... but Zek was gone.
But Jason had turned away, offering her a chair. “Now that you’re here you may as well breakfast with me. Please,” when she hesitated. “I’ve missed you, Lizzie. I didn’t realize how much I depended upon your company until these past few days.”
Lizzie sat down, pouring herself some coffee and buttering a slice of toast. She really was ravenous now that she had regained her figure.
She dared a glance at Jason under her lashes. He was staring down the table at her, and smiled back.
“Lizzie, you have a fine son. I took the liberty of peeping in on him yesterday. He is your image. What will you call him?”
Her lashes swept down and up again. “I’ll call him after his father, Jason. I think he is very much his father’s son.”
Jason looked disconcerted, but hid it by attacking his eggs and bacon. In fact, he was angry. Zek should have been forgotten long ago. What was he, in comparison to Jason himself? Nothing. A swaggering, bragging, bullying ladies’ man, who cared for no one but himself and his own bodily pleasures. What had he done for Lizzie? Compared to Jason he had done nothing. And now Lizzie, who owed him so much and who should by now have been kissing his boots for a little affectionate attention, was planning to hold Zek Gray up to her son like a... a guiding light!
Jason had pictured the boy, yesterday, when he was older, running to him for guidance, running to him, calling him ‘Father’, and Lizzie blushingly correcting him but, glancing to Jason, smiling and hoping that one day... He had even decided she should call the boy ‘Jason’, in gratitude for all he had done in the sheltering of her. Of course, he thought, chewing on a piece of bacon, he would never marry her. How could he? Even if she were to divorce Zek she would be beneath him. A divorced woman was a scandalous thing in the circles Jason moved in. Perhaps, one day, he would take her as his mistress. But his wife? Never.
Lizzie, knowing nothing of these thoughts, rose to her feet with a smile.
“Now, I really must get back to work, Jason. I promise you a delicious dinner tonight, just to make up for my laziness.”
“I won’t be in,” he said coldly.
Her face fell. She looked so crestfallen and so adorable he almost relented. But the memory of Zek held him silent. She would just have to learn who was her true benefactor!
Lizzie sighed. Poor Jason. She had hurt him. Well, she would just have to make it up to him by extra hard work and tender care of his comfort. With a nod of her head, she set about putting the house, and the servants, to rights.
Jason was true to his word, and stayed out that evening, but he was in the following one and Lizzie made a fuss of him, smiling and treating him so like a king he was flattered and pleased, and eyed her under his lashes over the array of dishes. She looked beautiful tonight, aglow and shining with what could only be happiness. Dark hair caught back from her face and neck, her throat and shoulders exposed by the low neckline of the gown. Long, slim fingers beckoned and dismissed servants with assurance. She had become very assured since the birth of little Zek. She had matured into a striking woman.
Jason Wilson felt a stirring in his loins. By God, why should he wait to have her as his mistress? She was under his roof and available. She would come to him from gratitude if not love, if he played his cards right. He smiled at the thought of her lying against his pillows, surrendering herself to him with a gentle smile. Or perhaps she would be like a wildcat, fighting the urges of her own body as well as his, until he subdued her. Broke her to his hand.
“Jason?”
He started at the sound of her voice, and she smiled.
“I was miles away, Lizzie. I’m sorry. What did you say?”
By the gentleness of his voice she knew she was totally forgiven for the pain she had caused him and her smile broadened. “I merely asked if you wished more meat, Jason.”
He shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I am more than sated.”
Or would be, soon enough. The thought shook him to the roots of his proper, puritanical being. It was a dark thought, a wicked thought, and yet strangely exciting. He wanted her, and by God he would have her whatever anyone said, He deserved her, after all he had done for her, and all the inconvenience he had been put to over her. Besides, if he was to vanquish Zek forever he must possess her totally, as Zek had done. Only then would Zek be truly dead for her.
“Lizzie,” he said quietly, “I wish to speak to you about something... something rather important. Can you come into the study?”
His voice, serious and yet oddly stilted, brought her head up. Her eyes met his, questioning, but she smiled and nodded. “Of course. I shall ask for coffee to be served in there. Or would you prefer tea?”
“Coffee, I think. And port. You will have port with me, Lizzie?”
He poured two glasses, and sank down in one of the chairs by the warmth of the fire, while Lizzie occupied the other. She tried to sit still, gazing into the flames, while her mind was racing to be back upstairs with her son. He would be hungry. And yet Jason was her employer, more than that, her friend, and could not be denied. He had been so good to her, so very good...
He was speaking. She listened idly, still turning the glass in her fingers. For a moment she didn’t understand what he was saying, or perhaps it was just that she couldn’t quite believe the evidence of her own senses.
He was saying, he cared for her, but couldn’t marry her. He was saying he wished her to be his mistress. He was saying how much he craved her. He was saying so much she shook her head, lifting one shaking hand to her brow.
“Jason! I hardly know... Jason!”
He frowned into her eyes. She looked shocked, and her fingers shook on the glass, shaking the wine on to her skirts. He took the glass from her, clasping her wrist and pulling her to her feet.
“Lizzie,” he murmured into her hair, letting the scent of her intoxicate him. It was all he could do not to push her down on to the brocade-covered sofa and take her there and then. But he must bide his time, he knew that much. If she came willingly, the victory over Zek would be all the sweeter.
She seemed content to rest against him, as he
stroked her back and let his lips rest on her temple.
“Jason, I don’t know what to say. You’ve been so good to me...”
Then isn’t it time you thought about paying, he thought viciously, but did not speak it aloud.
“I like you. I do. But I do not love you.”
As if love had aught to do with it, Jason thought. “But I need you, Lizzie,” he wheedled. “I am begging you. You say I have been good to you. Can you not be good to me, just a little?”
She sighed, and drew away. “I will have to think upon it, Jason. You will forgive me if I have time to think?”
Her dark eyes searched his desperately, and he nodded. “Of course,” he said, but in a disappointed way.
After a moment she kissed his cheek, and with a swish of skirts, hurried from the room.
Jason Wilson drank from his glass and smiled into the flames. She would fall into his hand like a ripe plum, he thought with satisfaction. Zek’s wife, in his hand. It would be all right after all then. It was going to turn out very nicely indeed.
Upstairs, Lizzie held her little son in her arms and humming, rocked him against her. He was so tiny, so helpless, so dependent upon her. And she was so dependent upon Jason Wilson. She had not realized how much until now. And how much she owed him. Oh yes, she could run away back to Johnny and Jane, but... but she owed him something, and if this was to be her payment, then should she not give it with good grace?
Her face flamed at the thought of Jason and she... And she felt a curl of nausea in her stomach. Zek had been her lover and her love. Could she ever give herself to another? Could she betray Zek, even while he betrayed her?
The problem was beyond her, and she dropped her chin to rest on the dark head of little Zek. She had him to think about, after all. Her baby, her son. Perhaps she was being selfish in thinking about her own feelings. She should think of little Zek. She might even grow content with being Jason’s... Jason’s ...
“Oh Lord,” she groaned, “I cannot. I just cannot!”
Jason didn’t speak of it the following morning, for which she was grateful, but she knew he was awaiting her decision, and he could hardly be expected to wait forever. In the afternoon, she set out for the markets, her basket over her arm, her bonnet tied firmly under her chin.
Lizzie, My Love Page 17