‘I can tell you one thing, Jane,’ Reggie said, interrupting Jane’s meandering thoughts. ‘It was James Falconer’s uncle, George Falconer, who brought me the Malvern Company story. But he asked me to put another journalist on to actually check it out with Malvern, and then write it.’ Reggie smiled at her. ‘He’s such a nice chap. He didn’t want to write it because he didn’t want anyone to think the story was biased in any way.’
‘Falconer, I mean James, is such a nice young man. I’ve never quite understood why Alexis was so mean about him.’
‘And inexplicably rude to him when he came to deliver the letter from her father. I felt like boxing her ears.’
‘And so did I.’ Jane stared at her husband, and finished, ‘Let’s just sit and wait. There are bound to be fireworks between those two.’
THIRTY
The trip to Ascot was easy and pleasant, once Drummond, Mrs Ward’s driver, had got them out of London, where the traffic was heavy. The usual rush and push of a Saturday morning, with people crowding the streets, made the going slow and difficult.
James relaxed in the brougham, which was roomy and comfortable, his mind less troubled today. He realized that his tautness and anxiety had lessened because he was thrilled to be seeing Georgiana Ward. He had never imagined he would hear from her again, still less have a meal with her.
He thought of his grandmother’s words, often uttered when something unexpected happened. ‘Always remember, James, you never know when life is going to rear up and hit you in the face.’ Grans had usually added that sometimes it was a bad thing, but as often as not, a pleasurable one. Certainly seeing his lovely friend was a happy event, especially since it had come as such a surprise.
James hoped she was well. The terrible fogs of London, caused by smoke from the many chimneys, had troubled her and led her to leave the city permanently.
He also hoped her sister Deanna had not passed on. Georgiana had always been worried about her and her heart condition, another reason for leaving London.
Glancing out of the carriage window, he saw from a signpost on the roadside that they were about to enter Ascot. He sat up straighter in the carriage and continued to watch the countryside flying by, as Drummond drove the carriage horses at a quick trot. The time had passed quickly on the roads.
It was not long before he noticed the driver slowing the horses down, and saw they had turned into Honeysuckle Lane, which was where Mrs Ward lived. Within a few minutes, the carriage was going through tall iron gates. On the stone wall, a plaque announced that this was Heathcote House. It was a short, tree-lined drive, and in a couple of seconds the carriage was drawing up to a small but beautiful manor house, painted white, with dark-green shutters at the many windows.
As James climbed out of the carriage, the front door opened. He glanced towards it, and smiled. Standing there, waiting to greet him was Mrs Mulvaney, Georgiana Ward’s lovely housekeeper, who had always been friendly.
‘Welcome, Mr Falconer,’ she said, opening the door wider. ‘It’s so nice to see you, sir.’ She beamed at him.
‘And you, too, Mrs Mulvaney,’ he replied and shook her hand.
‘Mrs Ward is waiting for you in the conservatory,’ she went on. ‘Please, do come in, sir.’
Smiling, James did so, liking the entrance foyer with its pale-peach walls, doors painted white and tall pots of green plants on a side table.
He followed Mrs Mulvaney down a short corridor which led him into the conservatory.
‘Here we are, Mrs Ward. Mr Falconer has arrived.’
Georgiana was standing at a window looking out into the garden, and she swiftly swung around. ‘Thank you, Mrs Mulvaney,’ she said, and walked forward, staring at James, her face lighting up, her violet-coloured eyes sparkling.
As the door closed behind Mrs Mulvaney, James hurried over to Georgiana Ward and took hold of her hand, clasping it tightly. So breathless with excitement at seeing her again, he could hardly speak.
They gazed at each other for a long moment, and finally he managed to say, ‘I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to be with you, Mrs Ward. I’ve missed you.’
‘I, too, have missed you, James, and I was thrilled when you agreed to come here.’ She let go of his hand, stood on tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. ‘Come. Let us sit down over there on the sofa. Mrs Mulvaney is bringing us a pot of tea. You must need it after the trip. Do you want to freshen up, James?’
‘No, thank you, and a cup of tea will do the trick nicely.’
Sitting next to her on the sofa, staring at her intently, James saw at once that she looked in blooming health and had hardly aged. She was ten years older than him, but did not look it. Before he could stop himself, he exclaimed, ‘You haven’t aged a day, and it’s been years since I’ve seen you.’
Her raven-coloured hair was as luxuriant as ever, piled up on her head, and delicate amethysts hung from her ears and sparkled on her finger. Her complexion was as clear and flawless as the day he’d first met her as a teenage boy, her figure as youthful.
Georgiana laughed lightly, and corrected him when she said, ‘About three years, James. That’s all.’
He grinned. ‘Well, it seems longer to me.’
She nodded. ‘I know.’ Settling back against the cushions, she remarked, ‘It’s been quite a week for you, hasn’t it? Your twenty-first birthday and a very big promotion at Malvern’s.’
His eyes widened slightly, and then he said swiftly, ‘Ah, you read about that in The Chronicle, I’m assuming.’
‘I did, and I was so happy for you. You’re achieving everything you set out to do, and I’m proud of you.’
He took hold of her hand, now relaxed and at ease with her, and said, ‘I’m happy you’re proud of me, it means a lot. Everyone has been complimenting me, except someone did say I was too young for the job at only twenty-one.’
Georgiana let out a huge laugh and shook her head. ‘How stupid! Age doesn’t have anything to do with success … it’s talent, drive and ambition that count. And I’d like to point something out. We had a man who was prime minister of England at the age of twenty-three – William Pitt the Younger. So, puff-puff to that silly person who said you’re too young.’ She waved her hand, as if brushing someone away dismissively.
Mrs Mulvaney came in with the tray of tea, and poured for them.
‘Thank you,’ Mrs Ward said. ‘And we’re going out for a walk around the garden before we eat, Mrs Mulvaney. I want to show Mr Falconer our pretty little plot.’
‘Yes, of course, madam.’ Mrs Mulvaney smiled, nodded and was gone.
After sipping the tea, James looked at Georgiana, his expression serious. ‘You said on my birthday card you wanted to speak to me about an important matter. What is it?’
‘We’ll get to that shortly. After we finish our cups of tea, I want you to see the garden. I call it my little plot, but it’s a bit more than that. It’s a small estate, really, with an orchard, a bluebell wood, and some fields.’
James said, ‘It sounds lovely, and the air is fresh … healthy. And you do look in good health.’
‘I am, thank goodness, and Ascot’s peaceful. Just a little village, actually. The only time it’s really busy is in June when the royal races are running.’
‘How is your sister?’
‘Doing much better, I’m glad to say. There’s nothing like clean air.’
Georgiana stood up, and said, ‘Let’s go outside, James.’
He also rose. Spotting the present he’d dropped on a chair when he had rushed to greet her, he went to pick it up. ‘I was in such a hurry when I arrived. I forgot to give you this little present.’
He handed it to her, and she thanked him, a half-smile playing around her mouth. As she opened it, he realized the scarf would match the frock she was wearing.
‘Oh, how lovely it is, James. Thank you so much. My goodness, how did you know I’d be wearing blue today?’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t, but you do wear that colo
ur a lot.’
He stepped over to her, took the scarf from her and put it around her neck, pulled her gently toward him, the scarf still in his hands. They were now face-to-face, close enough to kiss. And they did. It was a loving kiss, rather than passionate. And automatically, they pulled apart. They were in a glass room, visible to all.
Georgiana, smiling, took off the scarf and placed it in the box. She walked to the French doors and beckoned James out onto a stone-flagged terrace. It was a sunny day, and he saw at once how lovely the garden was, filled with flowerbeds and lawns.
Looking down the garden, he saw a stand of trees and a gazebo painted white. At that moment, a young woman came out of the gazebo. James recognized her. It was Sonya, who had lived with Mrs Ward for years and been trained to be a lady’s maid.
Georgiana came and stood next to him, called, ‘Coo-ee, coo-ee!’ and waved to Sonya. Within seconds a small child came out of the gazebo. Sonya took her hand. But when she saw them, the girl broke free and flew down the path, her legs running as fast as they could.
‘Oh my God, she’s going to fall!’ James exclaimed, his heart tightening. ‘She’s running too fast. She’ll hurt herself.’
‘She’s always running,’ Mrs Ward said softly.
James rushed forward onto the flagged path and, as the child hurtled towards him, laughter on her face, he noticed her fair colouring.
A peculiar sensation rushed through him. When she stumbled to a stop in front of him, almost hitting the ground, he bent down and caught her in his arms. Just in time, thank God, he thought.
She was still laughing as she stared at him.
He stared back and saw the blueness of her eyes, the fairness of her hair. The dimple in her chin. Rossi’s dimple. And he knew.
The little girl touched his cheek with her tiny hand. ‘Pa,’ she said. ‘Pa … pa.’
Still holding her in his arms, James stood up and turned around. He saw Mrs Ward sitting in a chair on the terrace and walked towards her. The child had her arms around his neck, her face close to his. When she kissed his cheek, looked at him, merriment flooding her face, he felt a surge of emotion.
Holding her tightly, he stood in front of Georgiana Ward, and said, ‘She’s mine, isn’t she? She’s my daughter.’
‘She is, James.’ She looked up at him, her blue eyes steady.
‘What is her name?’
‘Lionel Georgiana Ward. But I call her Leonie.’
He couldn’t help smiling. ‘A boy’s name for a beautiful little girl like this?’
She laughed. ‘Everyone calls her Leonie. And I wanted her name to be at least one of yours.’
‘She’s about two years old, isn’t she?’
‘Yes. She’ll be two in September.’
‘What was she trying to say? Papa?’
Georgiana nodded. ‘She can only say a few words, half words really. I told her that her papa was coming to see her today. I’ve talked about you to her, and she listens, but probably doesn’t understand most of it.’
‘She seems to understand Papa, doesn’t she?’
Georgiana caught the emotion echoing in his voice, and agreed.
‘So Leonie’s the important matter you wanted to discuss?’
‘Yes. Not really discuss. But I wanted you to know of her existence, that we have a child together.’
‘Why ever didn’t you tell me before, Mrs Ward?’ James asked, a surprised note in his voice.
Georgiana gave him a hard stare, and said carefully, ‘Although you have often called me Mrs Ward when we’ve been making love, you really must stop doing it. Right now. Leonie won’t understand that when she’s older.’
James couldn’t help laughing, remembering how she had chastised him in the past about the use of her surname. ‘I promise I will call you by your Christian name … Georgiana.’
He sat down in the chair next to her and settled Leonie on his knee. The child immediately nestled into him and he bent over her, kissed the top of her head. Then he asked again, ‘Why now? Why are you telling me about her all of a sudden? Bringing me here to meet her, my daughter?’
‘Because you’re now twenty-one. Also, I began to feel guilty, I believed you should know. I wasn’t being fair to you. After all, you are an adult. And I thought I should also be fair to Leonie. I can’t acknowledge it publicly, but I would like her to know her father.’
‘I understand … I just wish I’d known all along. That’s the real reason you left London?’
‘It is. But the other reasons were important. The awful fogs affecting my lungs and my sister Deanna not being well.’
‘Does your family know about Leonie?’
‘My mother died years ago, and my father passed away just before Leonie was born. He had developed an illness of the brain, so he didn’t know about Leonie. My sisters do, and they adore her.’
‘Do they know Lionel Georgiana Ward is also a Falconer?’ he asked, a slight edge to his voice.
‘They do indeed. But they know it is a secret, between us.’
‘I wish it didn’t have to be a secret.’
For a moment she was taken by surprise.
Clearing her throat, she said, ‘It must be.’
‘Should I marry you?’ he asked, his face serious.
‘No! I don’t want any scandal attached to you. It doesn’t matter about me. No one really knows me in Ascot, and those who do think my husband just died recently. But I must be sure you are protected, safe – clean as a whistle, so to speak. In these strange times we are living in, under the rule of Queen Victoria, people are judgemental. It seems to have become worse, the longer the queen has been in mourning for Albert. I’m older than you … it might look as though you married me for my money, or got me pregnant. Haven’t you noticed our society is very hypocritical – and prudish?’ She paused for a moment.
‘James, you are on the rise in your career. You will achieve your dream. I will not become a burden to you. And I have no need to marry.’
‘You would never be that,’ he told her, and looked down at Leonie.
Georgiana stroked her head. ‘She is your child, and you can come and see her whenever you wish. I am happy you will know each other but I am part of your past, not your future. Now, I think we’d better have something to eat. I thought out here. Is that all right?’
‘Of course, and can Leonie stay with us?’
Georgiana smiled. ‘I think she might protest rather forcibly if I tried to prise her away from you.’
Rising, she hurried back into the conservatory. Leonie watched her leave, and then settled back, nestling against James, contentment on her little face.
Once alone, James thought about Georgiana and the way she was so protective of him. He knew she was a woman of some wealth; her late husband had seen to that. So she had no need of financial help. And even though she was obviously adamant about not marrying him, he knew Leonie was safe in every way. She would be their secret.
Nonetheless, he was determined to be a part of his daughter’s life, even if not outwardly known to be her father, and he would be ever watchful of her. She was part of him, and a Falconer.
THIRTY-ONE
Meeting the daughter James did not know he had fathered was the biggest shock – and yet also the biggest thrill – he had ever experienced.
As he hurried down the Malvern arcade at the far end of Piccadilly, his mind was full of thoughts of his child. In point of fact, he thought about her at some moment every day. As always, business was at the forefront of his mind, his ambition and drive intact. But now he had Leonie as well.
He had been visiting her periodically in Ascot for just over three months, and this coming Saturday, 12 September, she would be two years old. Georgiana had invited him to come for the small party she was giving. He would finally meet her sisters Deanna and Vanessa. He was happy about this and planned to buy some toys to take as birthday presents for his child, who had captivated him.
When he reached Rossi’s small s
hop, he stood regarding it for a few minutes, looking at the single window, the name above the door. It was her name: Rossi.
His eyes shifted to the shop next door, on the right, actually the last one at that end of the arcade. Double-fronted windows, obviously much larger, and perhaps soon to become available, according to gossip Rossi had just heard.
Opening the door of his sister’s shop, the bell tinkled as he went in. Rossi was coming around the counter, with a happy smile lighting up her face when she saw him.
‘James! At last! Where were you? I’ve been trying to reach you since Friday,’ was her way of greeting him.
‘Hello, my beauty,’ James responded and gave her a hug. ‘I had to go away for a couple of days. But here I am now. Fresh as a daisy on Monday morning, and all ears.’
Sitting down in one of the two chairs, he gave her a bright smile. ‘Tell me, Rossi,’
Taking the other chair, Rossi said quietly, ‘I’ve heard rumours that Mrs Galbraithe next door has been taken ill, seriously ill, and won’t be coming back—’
‘So the shop will be vacant,’ James cut in.
Rossi shook her head. ‘Apparently her sister, who is currently running it, wants to keep it for herself.’ There was a pause as Rossi stared at her brother. ‘Can she do that?’
‘Absolutely not. It is Mrs Galbraithe who signed the lease, and no one can just take it over like that.’ He snapped two fingers together and grimaced. ‘I met her sister once, and I thought she was an unpleasant sort. Aggressive. Hardly a welcoming shopkeeper.’
Rossi said, ‘You always wanted me to have that shop, James.’
‘I still do. I want you to have both shops. And they will have a new name. FALCONER will be on the sign above the doors.’
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