‘What is it you want to say, Father?’
‘I would be happy ... for you ... to continue painting, Hester.’ His eyes were fixed on her face. ‘I’ve been away – seems like years. Empty and frightening. Made me understand how one needs a busy life – a satisfactory life. And if I can’t have that myself, I want you to have one. You must paint, Hester. Express your passion, use your talent. And if you can’t do so at home, then I’ll help you to go wherever you choose.’ The words died away, his eyes closed and sleep descended on his still body. Hester held his hand. There were tears in her eyes, and her mind was in turmoil.
What had he meant? Where had he been? Fearfully, she imagined the black depths his collapse had taken him to, and despair racked her, but then his words echoed in her head, and the true meaning of all he had so painfully forced himself to say became clearer.
At last Father was showing his love and his new understanding of what she longed to do with her life. He was encouraging her to renew her shattered dreams. For a second her breath stopped; now she could become an artist after all. As he drifted into deeper sleep, she sat beside him, new thoughts creating ideas, plans and hopes. Could she go back to Mr Hayward? And then the nightmare of loving yet losing Nicholas thundered in; no, she must not do that. She would paint here, working as hard as the household’s demands allowed her. She would be with Father, watch him slowly recover until he was downstairs again, shifting his old papers in the library and giving her his approval as she brought down the day’s work to be assessed, even perhaps admired.
She was smiling, building this new world, when Ruby knocked at the door and said, ‘Mrs Redding’s in a state – can you come down, Miss?’ And then, again, all the old fears and anxieties rushed in. She looked at her father, sleeping quietly, put his hand, which she had been holding, beneath the covers, and left the room.
Another worry. Another problem to be resolved. When would it all end?
Stepmother certainly was in a state. In her usual chair, she was a trembling bundle of tears and sobs. She had spilt her tea down her lap and, despite Ruby’s vigorous drying and rubbing of the maroon silk dress, was sitting there looking for all the world, thought Hester, like a girl she’d once seen in the doorway of the workhouse.
‘Come along, Stepmother, come upstairs and change your dress. Give me your arm... .’ Hester raised an eyebrow at Ruby, hovering beside the chair, and together they managed to raise the small woman, take her out of the drawing room and up the curving staircase.
Ruby glanced at Hester. ‘Wish the new lift went all the way upstairs,’ she murmured dryly. ‘Madam would like that.’
Hester was too busy sorting out her thoughts to reply, but she registered the change in Ruby’s tone. She was even more familiar these days. Yet, as they reached the top stair, she admitted that life without Ruby would be extremely hard. She was always there, offering help, sometimes muttering unwelcome advice, but ready to assist in any way asked, and so good with Stepmother.
As if sharing her thoughts, Emma leaned against Ruby as they entered the bedroom, looking up at the girl’s bright young face. ‘Dear Ruby, what would I do without you?’ she murmured.
Ruby smiled, and Hester saw the green eyes suddenly widen and shine as if the sun had touched them. But then they were both busy undressing Emma, and the moment was filled with unlacing corsets, removing camisoles, enclosing Emma in her wrapper and consigning the sodden dress to the floor. Ruby glanced at it. ‘I specs it’ll wash out. I’ll see to it later.’ She helped Emma lie down on her bed, folding the eiderdown over her, and said, ‘You rest there for a bit, Madam, before dinner and I’ll get you a nice drink that’ll help you sleep. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Hester, folding cast-off clothes onto a chair, watched the interplay of expressions between her stepmother and the maid. Emma smiled, her eyes following Ruby’s every movement. When the door closed behind her, Emma turned her watery smile onto Hester, whispering, ‘Such a good girl. She looks after me, you know.’
And so do I. But the sharp comment was unspoken. Hester said quietly, ‘Shall I sit with you, Stepmother?’
Emma nodded, her eyes drooping. ‘Until Ruby comes back.’
Sitting there, Hester thought over her father’s change of heart. She felt calmer than usual, but knew there were still obstacles to overcome. Should she tell Emma what he had said? Would the nervous little woman really want to know? It seemed, thought Hester, wryly, that all Emma needed in life was to have Ruby running around caring for her. So she watched silently until Emma’s face relaxed into peace of mind, and she dozed.
Even when Ruby appeared with a tall glass of pale liquid, Emma slept on.
‘What’s in that?’ Hester asked, gesturing at the drink.
‘Chamomile tea. Hoskins told me ’tis good for calming you down, so I thought that Mistress might try it.’
Ruby put down the glass, staying at the bedside, watching Emma’s drowsy face, and Hester wondered at the idea that had suddenly slipped into her mind. ‘Come outside, Ruby,’ she said, ‘there’s something I want to ask you.’
The girl hesitated. ‘But Madam—’
‘It will only take a few minutes.’ Hester paused. ‘Have you time to sit with her after tea, Ruby? She’s quieter when you’re there.’
‘Yes, o’ course. And, well, Miss, I did wonder... .’ Ruby bit her lip, but her expression was sharper than words and Hester wondered if they were sharing the same thought.
Outside the bedroom, on the landing, they looked at each other with veiled expressions.
‘I suggest you should be Mrs Redding’s own maid, Ruby – which would mean we must get someone else for the rest of the work. What do you think?’
Even as she said it, Hester was astounded at herself for offering Ruby a better situation. Was it really such a good idea? But the expression on Ruby’s face banished the doubts. ‘It’s jest what I been hoping for, Miss. I’m that fond of Madam – and Master, too – and if I could have the time to really look after her ... oh yes, be her companion, well, yes please, Miss!’ The high voice was joyous and Hester felt her own sad thoughts flying upwards to share such lightheartedness.
‘Very well. I know you’ll care for her as well as you can, Ruby. Being a companion means, of course, that you must be with her at any time that she wants you.’
‘I know. And I’ll be there. But, Miss, I don’t want to be up in that hot ole attic any more – not now that I’ve got such a better situation. What about me moving down into the guest room? It’d be more like the room for a companion, don’t you think?’
‘Moving down?’ Hester found it hard to keep up with this rushing outburst of new ideas. Yes, she will need to be near Stepmother’s bedroom, and we don’t often have guests these days. ‘All right, Ruby. I’ll see about it. When the man has finished working on the lift he can come and help rearrange the furniture in the second guest room.’
Ruby’s face was flushed, her smile enormous. ‘Oh, and Miss, I can’t wear this ole stuff when I’m a companion – I’ll need a nice new dress and things. I mean, I’ve gotta look tidy and smart if I’m to be with Madam and her friends.’
This is getting out of control, thought Hester, but she felt part of Ruby’s excitement. Youth demanded this sort of passion, as she knew only too well. She felt it herself, so often. And how wonderful that Stepmother would be looked after, leaving the time usually spent with her to be given to her painting.
‘Very well, Ruby. I’ll see to all these things. But I think you should spend one more evening helping Mrs Caunter with the dinner and tomorrow I’ll go to the agency in town and engage a new maid.’
They looked at each very directly, and Hester felt something new had grown between them. In a flash, she wondered if Ruby really was her sister. But commonsense returned. That was all behind them. What mattered now was that Ruby would be more responsible for looking after Stepmother, which meant she would have time to paint. She closed her eyes, blinking away the hot tears of ex
citement which threatened. And then opened them again. Ruby was staring at her, face full of understanding.
‘Miss,’ Ruby whispered, ‘are you all right? You look – well, sort of . . . funny.’
Hester was laughing – so good to laugh – and wiping her eyes, then lifting her hands as if to embrace Ruby, but then stopped and let them drop down. ‘I know – I feel funny! I feel ... oh, I can’t describe how I feel, but I know I can get back to painting now, and it’s wonderful.’
Ruby’s expression brightened. ‘Of course you can. And, Miss, I’ve got another idea – why don’t you have your studio out there, in the summerhouse? Roger, the lift man, he could do some work there, make it nice for you. What d’you think?’
Amazed, Hester drew in a breath. Where did Ruby get all these ideas from? She smiled, laughed again and nodded. ‘I think that would be splendid. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. And now – why, it’s nearly dinner time. Please ask Mrs Caunter to give my father something tempting tonight; he was seeming so much better earlier this afternoon, and we must feed him up.’
Hester was changing her dress prior to having dinner with Stepmother when Ruby knocked at her door. ‘Mr Hugh’s here, Miss,’ she said. ‘Wants to see you – just for a moment he said. Won’t stay... .’ The grin on her face made Hester wonder exactly how much Ruby knew about her private life. She said sharply, ‘Thank you. Ask him to wait in the drawing room – I’ll be down in a few minutes. Perhaps he would like to share a drink with Mrs Redding – offer him one, please, Ruby.’ She turned away quickly, as it struck her uneasily that if the girl was to become Stepmother’s companion, then everything in the household would change. Conversations would no longer be private – Ruby would be listening. But did it really matter? asked the wry, small voice of intuition.
Hugh was chatting to Emma in the drawing room, and rose as Hester entered. ‘I called in for just a moment, Hester, to give you a message. Mrs Wellington is having a party at Court Hill House next week to celebrate Fanny’s eighteenth birthday, and asked me to pass on an invitation from her. Of course you’ll get a proper note, but I said I was calling and would mention it to you. It’s to be next Tuesday, in a marquee on the lawn. You’ll come, won’t you? I can take you there and bring you home afterwards.’ He took her hand and looked into her eyes. ‘You could do with a bit of fun in your life, you know. All work and no play. We’ll have a good time, Hester, plenty of people we know, champagne, no doubt, and we’ll dance the night away.’ He was smiling, eyes warm and inviting. ‘You’ll come, of course, won’t you?’
She resisted but only for a second. Did she want to be seen publicly in Hugh’s company? Would he ask her again to marry him? And if he did, what would be her answer now? With a chill, she knew that things had changed, but then Emma Redding’s weak voice broke in on her thoughts.
‘It will do you good, Hester, to have some fun. You’ve spent too much time lately nursing us. And Hugh will look after you. I do hope you’ll accept the invitation.’
An evening out. Dressing up, meeting friends. Dancing ... having fun.
Hester’s sudden smile was radiant. ‘Yes, I’d love to go. I’ll write a note of acceptance to Fanny’s mother tomorrow. And now, Hugh, will you have another glass of sherry before you leave?’
He nodded and she felt his eyes following her as she went to the table holding the decanter. He was clearly admiring her. She turned, returned his smile and suddenly realized that he loved her.
Wasn’t that what she longed for? Someone to love her? It couldn’t be Nicholas, she knew, but perhaps it might be Hugh. And yet it was to Nicholas she had given her heart. She banished these difficult thoughts while Hugh drank his sherry, chatting to him in the usual friendly way, and then had a quiet dinner with Stepmother. But as the evening ended, those doubts returned and she faced them with a new realizm and maturity.
Yes, she thought she loved Nicholas, but was it possibly just a passing attraction? She imagined that all young girls thought they had lost their hearts, and perhaps, like her, to unsuitable men, a sort of rite of passage, really. So forget. Enjoy the moment. Go to the birthday party with Hugh and – what had he said? ‘Dance the night away.’
What would she wear? The blue, off-the-shoulder silk with those beautiful puffed sleeves? Or the white muslin with the high neck and golden sash? Quite an important decision to make.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It had to be the pale blue silk with the puffed sleeves and small train. Mother’s pearls looked wonderful around her neck, echoing the tiny seed pearls decorating the bodice and the wide sash. When Hugh arrived to collect her, Hester felt at her best and determined to enjoy the evening.
It promised to be a joyful celebration. Champagne flowed, the setting sun shone on the colourful gardens of Court Hill House, and Hester decided that Fanny’s birthday party was really splendid. As she and Hugh met friends, chattered and laughed, Hester felt her frustrations and shattered dreams vanish into the warm, scented air. Recently, in the anxious ambience of Oak House, she had missed this easy, youthful friendship, with its banter and shared laughter.
In the marquee a buffet supper of vol au vents, cold meats, pies, salads, potatoes in various guises, salmon and game tarts, followed by raspberries and clotted cream, jellies, fruits of all kinds, thick custard and ice cream, was eaten with relish, washed down with fruit cordials and chilled white wine.
When later the orchestra, half hidden behind potted palms in the upstairs ballroom of the house, began to play, Hester drifted around the floor in Hugh’s arms feeling slightly up in the air – too much champagne, perhaps – but happy. The air was vibrant with the warmth of dancing bodies releasing perfume from floral corsages, and the atmosphere had become free and increasingly sensuous. Eyes met in intimate glances and entwining limbs became closer in the passion of the dance. She was enjoying it, and now, waltzing, with Hugh’s gloved hand warm on her back, she was glad she had accepted the invitation.
But there had been an awkward moment on arrival, when Fanny, looking like a coloured fruit sweet wrapped in pale pink muslin decorated with a striped sash of pale green and with a magenta pink rose in her fair hair, had said, ‘Thank you for your present, Hester – well, it’s from Hugh too, isn’t it? Now that you’re engaged... .’
Sharply Hester said, ‘No, we’re not, Fanny. That’s untrue. Why do you say that?’
Fanny coloured, put a hand to her mouth and whispered contritely, ‘But people are talking. I heard it in the coffee shop in town – that you and Hugh... .’
‘Well, just forget what you heard. Hugh and I are definitely not engaged.’
‘Yet... .’ Hugh sounded amiable, but when Hester looked at him, she saw the determined gleam in his eyes, and was annoyed.
Taking his arm, she led him towards the garden. ‘I think we should allow Fanny to greet her other guests – shall we go and look at the long borders?’
As they wandered, pausing at the end beneath a pergola covered in pale roses with a subtle scent, she said slowly, ‘We must stop this silly talk, Hugh. Perhaps we should part company until the gossip dies down. What do you think?’ It was a foolish question and she knew it, even as the words came out.
‘Certainly not. I shall keep courting you until you say yes. Damn the gossip, that’s what I think.’ His voice was sharp, his arm abruptly drawing her closer to his side, and his expression very decisive.
Taken aback,Hester changed the subject but now, dancing among the other couples, she felt differently. Hugh held her too closely, his breath was warm on her face as they circled the floor, and her mind floated in a happier world than usual. When, at the end of the waltz, he led her onto one of the balconies overlooking the twilit garden, she realized that she was in no mood for any more arguments.
She lifted her hand, brushing her cheeks. ‘It’s so hot. Shall we go outside for a breather?’ Instinctively, she knew it was a mistake. But this evening nothing seemed very serious, nothing could go wrong. She and Hugh were enjoying th
emselves – let it go on, she thought dreamily.
The darkening garden was lit by small lamps hanging on tree branches and among shrubs. A full moon shone down, highlighting white flowers and turning them into gleaming, eye-catching delights. Standing within the pergola, Hester fingered a bloom that drifted down her shoulder; soft, warm petals, the shape enticingly persuasive. A perfect flower to paint. Yes, when her studio had been moved into the summerhouse at home, she would choose a rose for her next subject. The images slowly took shape. Perhaps Father, very slowly recovering, might even sit at his window and see her working below. Their love for each other would reach through the garden and if – if – she became engaged to Hugh, she knew that Father would be glad and perhaps feel all the better. She would be the daughter he longed for, the wife of a good man, a busy, social housewife who occasionally found time to indulge her hobby of painting.
And then the dream broke. She turned to Hugh, sober and free of the foolish hopes and ideas that had filled her mind as they danced.
‘I can’t possibly marry you.’ She felt his hand tighten beneath her arm. ‘Don’t ask me again. Let’s go back to the house. We can’t stay here – it’s getting dark and people will talk even more.’
He drew her close. ‘Stop talking rubbish, dear Hester.’ She tried to step away, but his hold was too powerful. His voice lowered. ‘You shouldn’t have worn that revealing dress if you didn’t want me to admire it.’ His fingers ran down her shoulders, and she shivered. ‘You know as well as I do that we must marry,’ he said tersely. ‘Your father expects it, so do my parents. I’ve found a splendid house and you’ll have time to paint – although I want a family. A boy first, and then perhaps a couple of girls.’
Again she tried to pull away but he held her. Opening her mouth to argue, she found his lips coming down on hers. They were hard and tasted of wine and cigars. Into her mind flew the memory of Nicholas’s kiss, which had been so different, which had sent waves of pleasure through her whole body, which had made it almost impossible to pull away.
Into the Blue Page 19