‘I shan’t stay any longer than I need to, Mammie,’ she whispered. ‘Once I see for myself that Ben’s going to be all right, I shall come home.’
Now that the time was here, she was shaking with nerves. London was so far away, the city where vice and wickedness went hand in hand. She had never been on a train before, except on Ben’s little railway, nor had she stayed in an hotel before, which was what she and Ran would be obliged to do. It hadn’t been so difficult after all to insist that she couldn’t leave the children and accompany Ben, yet now she was being thrust into it without any choice.
‘I’m sure Ben’s injuries aren’t too serious, Morwen. We would have heard otherwise.’ Ran’s voice kept telling her the same thing throughout the journey. He was keeping his distance, she realized miserably. Ever since she had raged at him last night, he had been strictly impersonal towards her. It was what she wanted, what had to be…
‘The thought of London has always unnerved me,’ she told him, once the journey had begun. ‘And now I’m going there voluntarily. Ben wanted to take me for several weeks, and I hated the idea of it. I counted the trouble at the clayworks as a mixed blessing, because it meant Ben didn’t insist on taking me. It sounds so terrible now.’
‘Nothing you do could be terrible to me.’
‘And yet I would dearly love to see foreign countries,’ she rushed on as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘I wouldn’t be so afraid there, because they would all speak in languages I couldn’t be expected to understand. Whereas in London, as soon as anyone hears me speak, they’ll know me for the country ninny that I am.’
She stopped, realizing how she had been babbling, and that she had revealed her fright at last. Not even to Ben had she been quite so self-doubting. Her pride seemed to be in tatters, and she was furious at herself for appearing so vulnerable in front of Ran Wainwright. Him of all people… yet only with him, of all people, could she feel so unfettered by convention.
‘Calm yourself, Morwen,’ Ran said. ‘I refuse to go on telling you how beautiful you are, for you must see it in my eyes every time I look at you. Every man in London will envy the man who escorts you, and your voice is charming. You need have no fears, my dear.’
‘I suppose I must be comforted by that, coming from a man of the world,’ she tried to respond lightly, while her heart quaked as they travelled nearer to the city, and she felt as though every bone in her body was being fractured. They travelled first-class, but even so, there was little comfort. But by the time they reached Paddington Station late in the evening, the relief of alighting from the carriage, and walking past the monstrous engine belching smoke and sparks and steam, overcame much of Morwen’s apprehension.
And after all, the people milling about looked much like themselves, weary travellers. Glancing around the platform, she saw poor flower-sellers huddled in corners with their meagre winter displays, and a few ragged children darting about begging for coppers, reminding her of the kiddley-boys at home.
Ran had called for a porter to carry the baggage, and instructed him to call for a taxi-cab. The horse-drawn vehicles were patiently waiting to collect any passengers with means to pay, and again Morwen was awed, but with more interest than fear. She must remember everything to tell the children, because apart from her reason for coming, it was all a bit of an adventure… and she should have been sharing it with Ben, she thought guiltily.
Ran gave the hospital address to the driver, and they sped off into the dark November night. The driver agreed to wait for them, calculating that the gentleman was well prepared to pay for his services, and afterwards to take them to a respectable hotel nearby.
They reached the hospital after a short journey made longer by constant stops to let other vehicles pass. Morwen had never seen so much traffic, not even on Truro Fair days. She reversed her idea of an adventure, rememberingBen had been accosted in these very streets. The sooner they were safely indoors, the better.
Her heart began to thud as they went inside the hospital with its pungent mixture of smells, pleasant or objectionable, that made her wrinkle her nose. She gave her name to the starched nurse sitting at a desk, and she and Ran were taken by a much younger nurse to a small room at the end of a corridor.
‘Private patient, ain’t he, ducks?’ the girl said. ‘All right for some, ain’t it?’
Morwen murmured that it was. She had expected someone in a nurse’s uniform to be very solemn and correct, yet she spoke in a perky rounded accent that Morwen could hardly follow. And then she forgot all about such peculiarities as the nurse opened the door and showed them inside. And the figure in the bed, battered and bruised, and with the ugly gash that had split his face in two now hideously stitched together, was Ben…
‘Oh– Ben—’ Morwen felt a wave of faintness wash over her. She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands. What a fool she would be to faint now… she was aware that Ran was propelling her gently towards the bedside, and that the nurse was pushing a chair beneath her… she was even more aware that Ben was glaring at her in disbelief.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he growled. ‘There was no need for you to come. I’ll be all right in a day or two when these bloody doctors have finished prodding me about.’
Morwen felt her face go scarlet. She couldn’t believe Ben could be so uncouth and so ungrateful. And not only that – so displeased to see her! Her eyes filled with tears. After that appalling journey, to find him like this…
‘I was so worried about you, Ben,’ she said in a choking voice. ‘Of course I had to come. What would you have thought of me if I hadn’t?’
‘I’d have thought you used your common sense,’ he snapped, though every muscle in his cheek hurt as he did so. ‘What were you thinking about to bring her, Wainwright?’
‘I was thinking you’d want to see your wife and assure her of your swift recovery,’ Ran said, the glint in his eyes daring Ben to demean her any more. Ran couldn’t imagine what had got into the man. It was obvious he was in pain, but to treat Morwen so shabbily was unforgiveable.
‘So my wife overcame her dislike of travelling,’ Ben ignored him and spoke obliquely to her. ‘I must remember to get beaten up more often, then perhaps she’ll rush to my bedside again, which is also something of a novelty.’
‘Ben, please!’ Morwen said, humiliated. ‘Won’t you tell us what happened, and if we can do anything for you?’
At her words, Ben’s head was filled with another soft voice, cultured in the precise manner of foreigners who had learned another language, ‘Can I do anything for you, Sir?’ And the tumbling between the sheets, with Darianna’s warm and pliant body beneath him, welcoming him, albeit that he paid for the privilege. His guilt at the memory, when his beautiful wife’s distress was obvious, made him even sharper.
‘You can leave me alone. I’ll be fit to travel in a week, they tell me, and I’ll hire a comfortable carriage instead of taking the abominable train, so there’s no need for you to wait around. Get back to the children, Morwen, and whatever else fills your days.’
He insulted her with every word. And she had come to London for this! She rose stiffly, leaning forward to kiss him, but his voice stopped her.
‘Don’t touch my face, please. It stings hellishly, and I’m best left alone.’
Ran pulled her away, feeling her tremble. His instinct was to hit out, verbally and physically, at the man in the hospital bed, but that was a feeling best kept to himself.
‘We’ll come back tomorrow, Ben, when, hopefully you’ll be in a better humour. We’re putting up at a hotel nearby.’
Ben didn’t answer, but stared stubbornly at the ceiling. There was nothing else for the visitors to say or do. The nurse hovered outside. From her sympathetic look, Morwen knew she had heard everything.
‘Don’t be too upset, ducks. They often get that way when they’ve had bad news. It’ll wear off soon.’
‘Bad news?’ Ran said sharply. ‘What do you mean? The cut on his face will heal, won’t i
t?’
‘Oh yeah, the cut will heal.’ The girl looked frightened, as if she had said too much. ‘I don’t know nothing, sir. The doctors are the big-wigs round ’ere—’
‘Can we see a doctor then?’ Ran said immediately. Morwen let him talk, blown by the wind, hardly knowing what was happening. The nurse took them along more corridors and left them outside a larger room.
‘Doctor Mosley’s office,’ the nurse said. ‘But I dunno if he’ll see you—’
‘He’ll see us.’ Ran knocked at the door and went inside without waiting for an answer. Morwen followed.
The doctor looked up in irritation from his discussion with a colleague. Ran told him who Morwen was, and saw the men glance at one another. A feeling of unease swept through Morwen. There was something wrong, and she knew it with certainty. They were invited to sit down, and Doctor Mosley shuffled some papers about on his desk.
‘Well, Mrs Killigrew, I’m glad to tell you that your husband’s injuries as the result of the unfortunate brawl are beginning to heal nicely. His face will be scarred, of course, and that’s something he will have to get used to.’ He paused.
‘But? I would be glad if you will please tell me the rest, Doctor Mosley,’ Morwen said quietly.
He looked at her through narrowed eyes. During Ben’s ramblings he had deduced that the fellow had been to a brothel. He didn’t condemn him for that. Prostitutes’ clients came from the highest in the land as well as the lowest. But he was mildly surprised at seeing this dark-haired vision in front of him now, with those startlingly beautiful blue eyes looking unblinking into his, and wondered why Ben Killigrew had felt the need to stray, unless it was for sheer lecherous indulgence.
‘The rest, dear lady?’ he prevaricated.
Morwen gave him her direct gaze. ‘Doctor Mosley, I am Cornish, like my husband. We Cornish have an uncanny instinct at knowing when something is wrong. If Ben’s health is at risk, I insist on being told.’
‘Mrs Killigrew has a right to know,’ Ran put in. ‘And we shall not leave here until you give us the information.’
‘And you are, Sir?’
Ran became impatient. ‘My identity is immaterial, but I am the lady’s cousin, and concerned that she is told the truth.’
The doctor hesitated. His usual practice was to tell the wife nothing, but there was a clarity in this one’s eyes that made him feel she could see right through him. That whatever he said, she would have the truth, in the same way her husband had dragged the truth out of him that very morning.
‘Your husband has a heart defect, Mrs Killigrew,’ he said deliberately. ‘The heart is an organ in the body the same as any other, and some people can live for years with a problem—’
‘Dear God! And how long for Ben, Doctor?’
This time he was uncertain. The entire truth or a half-truth? He finally muttered the usual platitude that such a strong man would have a long life ahead of him yet. He simply couldn’t face a scene if he said brutally that Ben Killigrew had a serious heart condition that could kill him at any time. It could happen tomorrow, but it might not happen for years. It was like a death sentence… it was exactly that, the doctor thought grimly. But he saw the narrowed look come into Morwen’s eyes, and gave a small sigh, sensing that she hadn’t done with him yet.
‘How long, Doctor?’ She persisted doggedly.
He was angry at having to impart dire news and saw her face whiten as he did so. ‘No-one can give a true estimate of life, but your husband has youth on his side,’ he added.
‘Does my cousin know all this?’ Ran said, shocked to know Ben’s days were numbered.
‘The doctor sighed again, remembering the angry exchanges that morning. ‘Oh yes. With such a strong character as Mr Killigrew, we could hardly keep him confined under false pretences. He is not the easiest of patients.’
‘Then he has a right to his ill-humour,’ Ran went on as Morwen continued to stare blankly at the floor.
‘Most certainly.’ Doctor Mosley was grateful now to the stranger with the nasal voice for turning the attention from Ben’s medical condition to a social one.
‘May we visit my cousin tomorrow?’
‘Of course.’
There was nothing else to say. They left the hospital and went back to the waiting carriage outside. Once the vehicle began to move, Morwen sagged against Ran, mumbling incoherently.
‘I can’t believe this is happening. Ben will hate to know he has an illness. He always wants to be so strong – and what am I to say to the children? And God forgive me, but seeing him there, as hateful as usual, even with that hideous injury on his face, it all seemed such an anti-climax. I know it’s wicked to feel that way, but I can’t help it!’
He longed to put his arms around her and comfort her, but he sensed that it was the last thing she would want.
‘Strong men always hate illness, love,’ he dared to use the gentler endearment. ‘You must know that. He can’t help his reaction any more than you could help rushing to his side.’
‘I do know it,’ she nodded. ‘I remember it in his father. Charles Killigrew was a great lion of a man, but when he was struck down with his stroke, he was as pathetic as a child.’ She shivered. ‘I couldn’t bear to see Ben like that.’
Ran tried to reassure her. ‘Doctors can always be wrong, Morwen. It may be the shock of the beating that has temporarily affected his heart. I remember such a thing happening to a boxer in New York. It was reported in all the newspapers, but the man recovered completely.’
‘Really? You’re not inventing the story?’ She turned to look at him in the darkness, and he was glad she couldn’t see his eyes. The boxer had recovered, but that had been temporary too…
‘I’m not inventing it,’ he said. ‘Now let’s register at the hotel and get some food. You must be starving.’
‘I am,’ she said in surprise. It was hours since they had eaten, but Morwen hadn’t been able to think of food until now. The driver of the taxi-cab took the baggage in for them, anticipating a generous tip from the American, and was not disappointed.
‘Is it a double room?’ the hotel clerk enquired of Ran.
‘No. A room for myself and another for the lady,’ he replied. ‘And we’d like some food, please. Anything will do, and some hot coffee.’
The clerk looked irritated. It was no business of his, but from the look of these two, he’d hoped for a spicy bit of gossip to pass on to his lady-friend. It was said that the Americans were known for their prowess in the bedroom. Pity… it had been a boring night so far…
‘The dining-room’s closed, sir,’ he said, shortly.
‘Then send up sandwiches and coffee for us both to my room, and also a bottle of brandy and two glasses.’
Ran gave an order rather than a request, and the clerk handed over two keys ceremoniously, winked broadly, and said it would be attended to at once.
‘What a detestable little man,’ Morwen breathed, when they had climbed the two flights of stairs to the adjoining rooms, Ran carrying their few pieces of baggage himself.
‘Forget him,’ Ran said roughly, knowing that in different circumstances he would wish for nothing more than to be in a hotel bedroom with Morwen Killigrew.
After the doctor’s news, Ran’s thoughts were in a turmoil. The news had been a tremendous shock, particularly the fact that there was no way of knowing if Ben was going to die in a week, or in fifty years from now. And was he unnatural to be wondering which it was to be? Would he be a fool to consider remaining unmarried indefinitely in the tantalizing thought that one day Morwen Killigrew might be free, and would agree to be his wife? Or was he tempting fate in a horribly ghoulish way to even think of it? Honourable or not, such thoughts buzzed in his brain and refused to go away.
It was obvious that Morwen was still very shocked. Only a cad would take advantage at such a time. They would eat the sandwiches, he must insist that she take some brandy to calm her nerves, and he must then see her safely to her own room
. His intention was of the highest order.
An hour later, somewhat more relaxed, Morwen said that she would try to get some sleep. It had been a long journey, and Ben didn’t want her in London after all, she thought miserably. Nor did she want to stay, except for seeing her husband. London still frightened her. It made more sense for her and Ran to return to Cornwall once they had made the hospital visit tomorrow. What was the point in doing otherwise, when Ben had made his feelings clear?
And Morwen knew that her feelings had changed too. She still loved Ben, and always would, but no longer with the all-consuming love of a woman for her man. It was rather the settled love between old friends, and she knew it with an unbearable sadness.
She stifled a sob in her throat as she rose from her chair in Ran’s room, and the brandy made her head spin. He steadied her, his hands gentle on her shoulders, and slowly she looked up into his face, seeing all the emotions there that he found impossible to hide.
‘Ran, please—’ she said faintly.
The warmth of her in his arms made all his good intentions vanish, and it was as if the words were torn from him.
‘Don’t go, my dearest one. Stay with me. Be with me tonight.’
‘I can’t. You know that,’ she said in panic. ‘Ben—’
He was brutally honest. ‘Ben doesn’t want you, Morwen. I do. I can give you all the love you’ll ever need, and no one will ever know. Just this one night, my Morwen.’
‘It’s wrong. We both know it’s wrong—’
But something stronger than her own will was telling her to take this brief happiness while it was being offered. Here was a man who loved and cherished her, and it was so long since she had felt that kind of commitment from Ben. So long since she had felt wanted and desired…
‘I always believed that loving someone is never wrong, and I’m not asking for forever, Morwen. We both know the futility of that word. But the memory of these few hours with you will remain with me forever. Will you deny them to me, darling?’
Family Ties Page 12