‘You are the most remarkable woman, Bess Dudley,’ James said. ‘Do you think of everything?’
‘No, I don’t think I do, but I try to remember things that I think are important,’ Bess replied.
‘Like horses and children. Your sisters, Tom, Molly, the land girls, Mr--’
‘Stop! You’re embarrassing me,’ Bess said, putting her hand up to James’s mouth. His lips were cold but his breath was warm on her fingers. She looked into his eyes, unable to move. Her heart was drumming. She had an uncontrollable desire to put her arms around him, to replace her hand with her mouth, to feel his lips against her lips – and she began to tremble.
‘You’re shivering – and it’s no wonder, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside. Shall we go up to the library for a nightcap?’
‘What? I’m so sorry, I was miles away,’ she said. ‘What did you say?’
‘Would you like a nightcap?’
‘Yes. Thank you. I’d love a nightcap.’
The fire in the library was almost out, but James found an old newspaper and he and Bess sat on the rug and rolled up each page tightly, before adding a handful of dry sticks and a couple of logs from a brass scuttle. While James went to his father’s study to fetch the brandy, Bess pumped air into the newly-laid fire with a pair of bellows until it caught. By the time James returned with a decanter and two glasses, Bess was sitting on the rug warming her hands.
James poured two measures of brandy, gave one to Bess and put the other on the hearth, before taking off his coat and sitting on the rug next to her. ‘Come closer,’ he said. And as Bess moved towards him, James put his coat round her shoulders.
Deep in thought, Bess stared at the flames flickering in the fireplace. She sipped her brandy, holding the smooth amber liquid in her mouth to savour its rich taste before swallowing.
James picked up his glass and took a drink. ‘You look like you’re miles away. Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ Bess said, ‘I’m fine. But I received a letter from the mother of an old friend today. She said her son, Frank, was missing in action, presumed dead. He was a lovely chap. A Lowarth boy. He went to school with Tom, but I don’t think you would have known him – he didn’t come over this way much.’ Bess had walked out with Frank, been fond of him, but decided against sharing that piece of information with James. ‘Poor Mrs Donnelly. Frank was her only son, her only child.’
‘Poor Bess,’ James said, tightening his arm round her protectively. Bess relaxed into the curve of James’s body and laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Bess worries for everyone, but who worries for Bess?’ James asked.
Bess looked up at James, but before she had time to reply, he kissed her.
Bess accepted James’s lips - warm now, not cold - and she closed her eyes. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake from it. James kissed her again. His lips were open and moist. She felt love and need stirring in her stomach, panicked and pulled away. There was a time when she would have given anything in the world to be kissed by James. She used to imagine falling into his arms, giving herself to him and being with him forever – but now, after what had happened in London…
‘I’m sorry, Bess, that was presumptuous of me. Forgive me, I thought--’
‘There’s nothing to forgive. It’s me who should be sorry. There was a time when I would have… I’m sorry, James, but I can’t,’ Bess cried.
‘Can’t what?’ James put his hand under Bess’s chin and lifted her face. ‘Talk to me, Bess. What is it?’
Embarrassed, Bess turned away so James couldn’t see her face. She looked into the fire and focussed on the fingers of flame that crept up the chimney. She took a sip of her brandy – it gave her courage – and in the safety of the warm library, she told James everything that had happened to her on the night she had too much champagne in London. The night she had allowed herself to be taken into a filthy alley and abused by a man she thought was a friend. She told him that she was ashamed of herself for having too much to drink, and for not being able to stop him. ‘I hate him for taking advantage of me,’ she said, ‘but I hate myself more because I couldn’t stop him. I was terrified that he’d kill me, so I gave in to him. And now,’ she sobbed, ‘everything is spoiled, I’m spoiled, and I don’t deserve to be loved.’
James held Bess in his arms and rocked her gently until she stopped crying. He told her that what her abuser had done to her, what he had forced her to do, was terrible, horrific, but it wasn’t her fault. She was not to blame. And he told her that it didn’t change who she was, or how he felt about her.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘Thank you, Bess,’ he said, kissing her on the forehead. ‘Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.’
Bess closed her eyes and for the first time since that night she wanted to be held, to be kissed, to be loved.
At first their kisses were tentative, guarded. Then they became passionate until neither of them was able to control what was happening. James pulled the ribbon from Bess’s hair and when it fell in loose curls onto her shoulders, he gently pushed it away and kissed the lobe of her ear. Bess caught her breath and closed her eyes. Tingles ran down her spine as James kissed her neck. He unbuttoned her blouse and slowly pulled it down until her shoulders were bare. He kissed her shoulders and then her breasts – and Bess knew that if she didn’t want James to make love to her, she would have to stop him now. But she did want him to make love to her. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She looked into his eyes and smiled her consent, and James kissed her again. With little kisses, no more than pecks, he asked, ‘Are you sure?’
Bess was sure, she had never been so sure of anything in her life. She had dreamed of this night for as long as she could remember. She stood in front of the fire and, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor. James went to her and held her in his arms, all the while searching her face for signs of uncertainty, but there were none. He eased the straps of her underskirt from her shoulders and the underskirt slipped over her hips to join her skirt.
Giving herself to James felt right. She had loved him for as long as she could remember. She loved him before she knew what love was. She felt abandoned when he went away to boarding school, and would stand at her bedroom window for hours just to catch a glimpse of him riding past the cottage on his horse in the summer holidays. She had loved him so much that she daren’t say his name in front of Tom or her sisters, for fear they would see the love in her face. There was a time when even friendship between a servant’s daughter and the master’s son would have been frowned upon. But the war had changed that. Class differences were becoming less important. Even so, Bess still wasn’t able to show her feelings for James, because of Annabel. Annabel? Dear Lord, what was she doing in the arms of Annabel’s fiancé?
Bess looked into James’s eyes. So many rules, prejudices, and people had come between them over the years, but not anymore. Nothing and no one was ever going to come between them again. She had given James her heart a long time ago; now she was ready to give him all of herself.
James took off his clothes and pulled Bess to him again. She could feel his heart beating, his arousal, and she closed her eyes. With his arm firmly round her waist, James lowered her to the floor. She felt his warm breath on her cheek, her breasts, and she welcomed his love. They made love slowly and gently at first, and then James lifted her to him. Bess arched her back and felt him deep inside her. They shared the same rhythm until neither could bear the intensity of it any longer. Exhausted and happy, they slept in each other’s arms on the rug in front of the library fire.
Bess woke first the following morning but didn’t stir. She lay on her side and watched the soft pale light of early morning creep across James’s handsome profile. Still half asleep, James pulled her to him and smiled contentedly. ‘Good morning. Are you cold?’ he asked, pulling his overcoat up and round Bess’s shoulders.
Bess shook her he
ad. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again.’
James kissed her on the tip of her nose and then on her lips.
‘I must go,’ Bess said, still flushed with love.
‘Stay a little longer,’ James whispered.
‘I can’t,’ she said, as she slipped from beneath his coat. ‘I have to go to work. I wish I could stay, but it wouldn’t be fair on the others.’ Which was true – but what was really worrying her was someone might come into the library and catch them. What had happened between them was beautiful, but not everyone would see it that way. Some people would think making love on the library floor was sordid, and she was common. Bess didn’t want anyone to know she’d spent the night with James. Apart from hating gossip, Bess didn’t want Annabel to hear about it. If anyone was going to tell Annabel, it had to be James. Bess knelt down beside him. She couldn’t say the words, so she kissed him goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bess took Garth Davies to Larks Meadow to feed his sheep in Foxden’s hay wain. Garth’s cart had lost a wheel a couple of days earlier in frozen ruts and was at the wheelwrights in Lowarth.
As Garth forked hay from the back of the wain and Bess broke the ice on the water trough, a fleet of Wellington bombers roared overhead.
Bess waved and the plane leading the formation tipped its wing.
‘That’ll be young Foxden,’ Garth shouted.
‘Yes,’ Bess called back. ‘I didn’t think they’d be flying tonight.’
‘A night operation tests the mettle of the lads and the Wellingtons, especially in this weather. See what man and machine are made of,’ he said.
Fear, like a flame, spread through Bess’s body. Why hadn’t James told her he was flying today? And why hadn’t she told him how she felt about him last night when she had the chance?
‘You all right, Bess?’
‘What? Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, sitting upright, trying to pull herself together. ‘I’ve broken the ice on the trough. I’ll turn the hay wain round.’
‘You looked as if you’d seen a ghost,’ Garth said, climbing up and sitting beside her. ‘You’re coming down with something. Here, give me those reins. I think we’d best get you back to the Hall. Besides, it’ll be dark soon and by the looks of those clouds there’s another snowstorm brewing.’
Bess went straight up to her room, threw herself onto the bed and buried her head in the pillow. She cried herself to sleep. She dreamed that she was falling, spiralling through the air. It was dark, but she could see the earth. It was getting nearer. Branches of trees were reaching out to her. Just before she hit the ground, she heard a loud knock followed by two sharper knocks. Her body jerked and she woke. She opened her eyes, but for a moment didn’t know where she was. She sat up and looked around. She was in her bedroom and she was safe. ‘It was only a dream,’ she said with relief, ‘a bad dream.’
‘Bess, it’s Laura. Are you all right?’
‘I don’t think I am,’ Bess replied. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but it had grown dark. ‘Hang on a minute.’ She crossed the room and closed the blackout curtains before switching on the light. ‘Come in Laura, the door’s open.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Laura asked when she saw Bess had been crying. ‘Is it James?’
‘What makes you think it’s James?’
‘I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Last night he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Has he done something to upset you?’
‘No,’ Bess said. ‘Last night was the most wonderful night of my life.’
‘Is it Annabel?’
‘No. Yes. I mean-- I don’t want to hurt Annabel, I respect her and I like her very much. But that’s not why I’m upset. I’m frightened, Laura. Frightened for James. I watched his squadron fly off this afternoon and I had a terrible feeling that I’ll never see him again,’ she said, and burst into tears.
Laura put her arms round her friend.
‘I love him so much, Laura, I always have. When I was a girl, I used to dream of being his sweetheart and walking out with him. Of course, it could never have happened. Until last night, I could only imagine what it would be like to be loved by James, but now… Oh Laura, I love James and he feels the same way about me. I don’t want to lose him. Not to Annabel and not to this bloody war.’
‘And you won’t. It’s obvious that the chap’s crazy about you.’
‘I think he is,’ Bess said, laughing and crying at the same time.
‘C’mon, dry your eyes. Let’s go downstairs and raid Mrs Hartley’s pantry. If there’s anyone down there, we’ll bring the spoils up here.’
In the early hours of the morning, Bess heard James’s squadron return. She ran to the window and in the clear night sky she watched the planes come home. One after another, like big grumbling birds, the Wellingtons came into view and made their descent to Bitteswell. Nine planes flew out of the aerodrome and nine returned. Bess lay on her bed and she cried again – with happiness.
During January James visited Foxden several times and each time he and Bess found a way to be alone. They’d walk across the yard to the stables or the barn, discussing the horses, or farm business, but once inside they would fall into each other’s arms and hold each other as if their lives depended on the few minutes they had together.
At the beginning of February, the young sergeant who had driven James to collect Bess from the gate on the night of the aerodrome’s Christmas dance arrived with a letter. Bess opened her mouth to speak, but fear took the words. ‘I’ll wait for your reply by the car, Miss,’ the sergeant said, handing Bess the letter before turning and walking away. Bess sighed with relief and after taking the single sheet of Air Force note paper from its envelope read, “My dearest Bess, I’ve had the most incredible bit of luck. I’ve been given forty-eight hours’ leave starting on Friday 14th - St. Valentine’s Day. No, it isn’t a joke. Will you come away with me for the weekend? We can go wherever you like. My only request is that I have you all to myself. If you can get away, meet me in the barn at 7.30 on the 14th. Please say you’ll come. With love, James.”
Bess’s reply was short and took only seconds to write. “I’m counting the days.”
In the afternoon on the Friday Bess and James were going away for the weekend, Bess and Laura were repairing a dry-stone wall on the Lowarth to Woodcote Road when Annabel drove by.
‘I didn’t know Annabel was coming up this weekend,’ Laura said.
Bess watched Annabel’s car turn into Foxden’s drive. ‘Nor did I.’
‘Do you think she’s come up to surprise James, with it being St. Valentine’s?’
It would be just my luck, Bess thought, and serve me right too, for having an affair with my friend’s fiancé. ‘She’s probably come up because there are new patients in the west wing.’
‘I thought Nurse Ambler was looking after them.’
‘She is, but Annabel’s in charge of things. Besides, she has every right to be here.’
‘I know. But what about your weekend away with James? You will still be able to go, won’t you?’ Laura asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Guilt had overtaken Bess’s disappointment at seeing Annabel. ‘Let’s just get this wall finished.’
Bess and Laura returned to the Hall and a message from Annabel saying she hoped they were free that evening to go with her for a drink to the Crown – and that she’d be in Mrs Hartley’s kitchen around seven.
Bess would normally have gone up and welcomed Annabel, but today, knowing that she had come all the way from Kent to see the man she loved, who Bess also loved, Bess couldn’t face her. What a mess. If Annabel ever found out that she and James loved each other and were going away for the weekend together, it would break her heart. It would break Bess’s heart, if she were in Annabel’s place. Bess hated herself for deceiving her friend but her love for James was too strong to ignore. She loved him so much that nothing else in the world mattered. So, fighting to put Annabel out of her mind, she packe
d a weekend bag with her best clothes and slipped out of the hall to meet James in the barn.
Bess was half an hour early. It was only seven o’clock, but she couldn’t risk being in the kitchen when Annabel and the girls met to go to the Crown. She hid her bag behind the door and, keeping in the shadows, edged her way along the side of the barn to wait for James. It was then that she saw them: James and Annabel. They were standing on top of the circular steps leading down to the drive, embracing. Unable to move, Bess watched as Annabel stood on tiptoe, put her arms around James’s neck and kissed him. Then James, his face half hidden in Annabel’s hair, lifted her off her feet and swung her round.
Bess stared in disbelief, unable to take in what she was seeing. How could James pretend he cared for her when he clearly still loved Annabel? Bess wanted to scream from the pain, shout with anger. Instead she turned and took a shuddering, but calming, breath. As if she was sleepwalking she made her way to the stables, opened Sable’s door, and led her quietly across the courtyard. When she was sure she couldn’t be seen or heard, she mounted and rode Sable bareback across Foxden Acres. Tears stung and blinded her and the icy wind chafed her face, but she didn’t stop until she was at the river.
‘Poor Sable,’ Bess said. Crying and shivering, she dismounted. ‘I should never have brought you out on such a cold night.’ Sable lowered her head and nudged Bess, which made her cry more. ‘Come on, girl,’ she said, giving Sable a loving pat, ‘let’s go home.’
James went to the barn at seven-thirty, as arranged, and waited. When Bess hadn’t arrived by eight he began to worry. He knew she hadn’t gone to the Crown with Annabel, Laura and Polly, because he’d seen them leave in Annabel’s car at quarter past seven.
He searched the Hall. He visited the soldiers in the west wing and when he didn’t find her there he went to the library. He went up to his old nursery under the pretence of finding out if the children needed anything. He called on Molly and Miss Armstrong, and asked Mrs Hartley outright if she’d seen Bess. By the time Laura, Polly and Annabel came back from the pub, James was out of his mind with worry.
Foxden Acres (The Dudley Sisters Quartet Book 1) Page 24