Seasons of Love

by Anna Jacobs

  Forgetting her dignity, she wrote at once to thank Mr Carnforth for his thoughtfulness in remedying her own neglect and asked Alfred to take this second note across to the Manor.

  The realisation that Mrs Carnforth could be remiss (and acknowledge it) about her own son somehow comforted Daniel and took the edge off his bitterness. He had recently abstained from attending church, because the sight of Helen, in her widow's weeds, with her thickened figure, infuriated him. Now he decided he’d been taking the coward's way in avoiding her so studiously.

  Early in November he turned up at the church.

  To his horror, the verger led him straight towards the Carnforth family pew, which was already occupied by Helen and Harry. Why had he not remembered they’d be expected to share the same pew? He stood stock-still for a moment, half turned to seek another seat, caught the brightly curious gaze of two elderly ladies sitting across the aisle, and realised with a sinking heart that if he walked away, he would cause even more gossip and speculation.

  Damn them all! he thought, bowing very stiffly to the Misses Hadderby, and to several other people he knew, and taking his expected place with a grim nod at Helen.

  Harry scowled at him quite openly and moved as far away as he could, but after a poke in the side from his mother, he lowered his gaze to his prayer book and scowled at that instead.

  Helen, who had blushed furiously as Daniel walked down the aisle, responded to his slight inclination of the head and muttered greeting with an equally brief nod and an equally indistinguishable murmur.

  The three of them then concentrated on their prayer books, but it is doubtful whether a single word was read.

  As the service progressed, a ray of sunlight haloed Helen's head and made a russet beauty of her hair. She had now stopped wearing the heavy veils and was wearing an elegant bonnet instead, but soft waves lay on her white forehead, drawing attention to her beautiful eyes. She was quite unconscious of the picture she presented, but her companion was only too aware of it and couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

  She looked, Daniel decided with a frown, much too pale still. He must find out if she was keeping well, eating properly. After all, he was head of the family pro tem, even if he couldn’t guarantee to continue at Ashdown. But perhaps it was her mourning that made her look so pale.

  Black definitely didn’t suit her. Mr Napperby said cousin Charles hadn’t wanted her to wear it and he’d been right.

  Daniel found it impossible to attend to the sermon and the choir's singing might have been the mating calls of corncrakes, for all he knew. Again and again, his eyes came back to her face, to linger, to devour almost. The gentle beauty of her soul shone through as clearly as her physical beauty.

  Something within him began to soften. He admitted to himself at last that she couldn’t have played her husband false. Not this woman. She could never play anyone false. And - he had missed her.

  The anger was still there, for he might lose his land, but something else had crept in as well.

  And it puzzled him what that something was, for he couldn’t quite fathom his own feelings about her.

  He could only hope she hadn’t taken a dislike to him. No, she wasn’t the sort to bear a grudge. Perhaps if the baby was a girl, they could become friends again.

  Chapter 18

  When the church service ended and Daniel stood up to leave, he realised that common civility obliged him to wait, offer Mrs Carnforth his arm and escort her from the church. As he hesitated, feeling a reluctance to do so, and yet at the same time an eagerness to spend more time with her, twittering voices behind him reminded him of the two most interested spectators of his actions and that settled the matter.

  Wooden-faced, he left the pew, stood waiting in the aisle as Helen gathered her things, then offered her his arm as she came out. ‘Mrs Carnforth? May I escort you to your carriage?’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Carnforth.’ Blushing, realising that everyone was staring at them, she took his arm. A warmth seemed to radiate from him. It was almost as if her hand were tingling as it lay on his sleeve. She looked down at it, glanced up at him, blushed again, and began to move along the aisle next to him.

  Harry marched along behind them, hands thrust deep in his pockets and a sullen expression on his face.

  Briggs, who acted as coachman as well as general factotum, stood back and allowed Daniel to hand Helen into her carriage. It had been found by Briggs in the stables of the Dower House and cleaned up carefully. Daniel frowned to see how old the vehicle was, then gave way to the temptation to ask, ‘Are you keeping well? You look somewhat better.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Carnforth. And - and you? Are you - well?’

  ‘As well as can be expected in the circumstances!’

  Tears filled her eyes. ‘I'm sorry! I’m so very sorry.’

  A small body threw itself at him and two fists began to pummel him. ‘You beast! You’ve made her cry again!’

  ‘Harry!’ exclaimed Helen, shocked.

  A quick look round showed Daniel that this incident was being watched by a very interested audience of people who had gathered in front of the church to chat. Wasting no time, he picked the boy up and threw him into the carriage. ‘If your son doesn't mend his manners, he's the one I'll be making cry!’ he threw at Helen.

  She grabbed her son’s arm and pulled him to her side.

  He saw the two elderly ladies begin to move towards them. ‘Damnation!’ There seemed nothing for it but to get into the carriage. He slammed the door shut and shouted to Briggs to move off quickly, before the gossip-mongers could make a feast of it all.

  ‘How dare you tell Alfred what to do?’ Helen’s tears were forgotten. ‘And who invited you to ride with us, anyway?’

  ‘I did! Those two old biddies are the worst gossips in the county. Your son had already given them a fine show. If you want tales of a quarrel between us spread from here to London, I don't!’

  ‘Oh!’

  He turned to Harry. ‘And you, young man, had better learn to control yourself in public. Next time you behave like a street urchin, I shall allow myself the pleasure of dusting your backside for you, I promise you!’

  Harry’s bottom lip stuck out mutinously. ‘I don't care what you do to me! I won't have you making her cry!’

  ‘She's not crying!’

  ‘Well, she was just now! You're always making her cry. She cries a lot since she's come here.’

  Embarrassed by this revelation, Helen tried to intervene. ‘Please, Harry!’

  He would usually do as she wished, but this time he glared back at her, then glared at Daniel as well for good measure, and although he said no more, the looks he threw at his guardian from then on were blackly resentful.

  Was she really weeping a lot? Daniel wondered, stealing a glance sideways. Her expression was certainly very sad. He began to feel like a bully. ‘It's - um - been a fine autumn, has it not?’

  he managed, in an effort to bridge the distance between them.

  ‘Yes. Very fine,’ she responded faintly, realising he was making an effort to be amiable and trying to respond in kind. ‘The woods still look very pretty.’

  ‘I was speaking to Mr Morpeth the other day. He told me Harry is doing well at his lessons and making friends with the other boys - when he isn’t fighting with them.’

  Her face lit up with that luminous smile which always twisted his heart, for some reason, and she gave her son a proud nod. ‘Yes. I'm pleased about the lessons, though not as pleased about the fighting.’ She looked sternly at Harry. ‘And he won’t even tell me why he’s fighting like this.’

  Daniel could guess, but he wasn’t going to tell her, either. He exchanged glances of complicity with Harry and the atmosphere in the carriage lightened a little.

  Both adults searched their minds desperately, but neither could think of another remark, so they developed a great interest in the scenery and stared out of their respective windows.

  At the Dower House, Daniel bowed to
Helen and said mendaciously, ‘It's been a pleasure to see you both again. I shall now enjoy a brisk walk home.’

  Before she could think of a suitable reply, he had set off walking rapidly along North Avenue towards the Manor, his own coachman not having had the wit to follow her carriage to the Dower House.

  Helen watched him go, wondered whether to call out to him to invite him to stay to tea, or offer to let Briggs drive him home.

  ‘I think he’d prefer to walk, ma’am,’ Alfred said quietly before she could speak. ‘It’s a good start, but give him time to come round.’

  She turned with a sigh to go inside. As they sat down in the parlour, she looked at Harry as sternly as she could manage. ‘You were very rude to Mr Carnforth. Please don't behave like that again.’

  ‘Well, he’s been making you cry.’

  ‘It's not him, it's the - the situation in which I find myself.’

  Harry's lower lip stuck out. It was Daniel who had made her cry and nothing would convince him otherwise. But at least his guardian hadn’t betrayed the reason for the fighting. You didn’t tell women about such things, Alfred said. You just saw to it that no one said unkind things about your mother in your presence.

  The following Sunday, after tossing and turning since before dawn, Daniel got up. He might as well attend church again. It was a mistake. Mrs Carnforth and her son weren’t there, the sermon was uncommonly tedious and the two old ladies cornered him after the service.

  ‘I do so hope poor, dear Mrs Carnforth is not indisposed today,’ Miss Annabel said coyly.

  ‘Have you, perhaps, heard anything of how she is?’ Miss Rosemary cooed. ‘Or does the boy's hostility prevent you from calling upon his mother?’

  Before an astonished Daniel could respond, Miss Annabel took the conversational lead again.

  ‘We couldn’t help noticing his attack upon you last week. Such an unruly boy.’

  ‘He's a fine young fellow. A lad any father would be proud of. And last week was a slight misunderstanding, that's all. Harry's only fault - if fault it is - and I for one consider it a virtue -

  anyway, his only fault is the impulsive way he rushes to his mother's defence.’

  ‘We're so glad to hear that,’ they murmured in unison, exchanging delighted glances at this information. ‘Perhaps, if you find out how Mrs Carnforth is today, you would let us know? One wouldn't wish to be remiss in any little attention.’

  ‘But that dragon of a nurse stubbornly refuses to admit callers,’ Miss Annabel wound up.

  ‘We’ve tried to visit Mrs Carnforth several times now and been denied entrance.’

  ‘Becky has become very fond of her mistress,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Very protective.

  As have all her servants. And as for refusing all callers, that's nonsense. She just - she gets tired sometimes. I shall be calling upon Mrs Carnforth on my way back to inquire about her health, as I often do and shall give her your regards.’

  Then he realised from their expressions that this might not have been the most tactful thing to say and that his visit would doubtless give rise to more gossip. Damnation!

  ‘So thoughtful of you!’ they twittered. ‘She will be glad of your support at this trying time. A woman on her own.’

  Hiding his anger at their damned prying questions, he saw them to their carriage, bowed, then stalked across to his own vehicle. ‘Drive to the Dower House,’ he ordered his coachman loudly, so that everyone would hear, and flung himself inside.

  Once there, he knocked vigorously on the front door, anxious to get this call over, so that gossip should have nothing more to feed upon.

  Susan answered it.

  ‘I’ve called - to - to see if your mistress is all right,’ he announced.

  Helen, who happened to be crossing the hall at that very moment, turned to greet him with a smile.

  As he caught sight of her, looking so fresh and pretty, Daniel couldn’t help smiling back. ‘Oh, there you are! You weren’t in church and I was worried that you might not be well.’

  She came forward to offer her hand. ‘Won't you please come in for a moment, Mr Carnforth?

  It's a terrible day! So cold. I’m afraid I was simply feeling lazy.’

  He hesitated, but her hand was warm in his and a gust of icy wind swirled down the hallway just then, reminding him that he was keeping her standing in a draught.

  ‘Please stay for a moment or two,’ she repeated.

  He shrugged, gave his hat and coat to the maid and followed Helen into the parlour. How well he remembered it from his previous visits! Nowhere at Ashdown was half as cosy. He stared at his hostess. She had on a new, fuller gown in a rich blue and a lacy trifle of a cap, with her hair massed in a chignon. He had never seen her look so lovely. Even her thickening body did not detract from that.

  ‘You look well in blue,’ he said through a mouth gone suddenly dry.

  She stiffened. ‘But you don’t approve of my wearing it, when I am still in mourning.’

  ‘I said no such thing! Do not be putting words into my mouth! Mr Napperby explained the circumstances to me, your husband’s wishes.’

  He saw the distressed expression on her face and realised how sharply he had spoken. ‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound - I am not - um - noted for my tact.’

  He sounded ungracious and he knew it. He wished he hadn’t come. No, of course he didn’t. It had been his duty to come, if only to allay gossip. Now that he was here, he wished he hadn’t stayed away for so long. Oh, hell, he didn’t know what he wished any more! He just knew he was glad to see her looking so well, so lovely, so - healthy.

  ‘Will you take tea with me before you leave?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ It would seem too intimate.

  She looked as if he had slapped her in the face. He couldn't bear to see that hurt look. ‘Oh, very well,’ he growled, even more ungraciously. He saw her swallow hard, open and shut her mouth, as if she'd nearly said something, then change her mind. Since she was still looking upset, he added hastily. ‘I'd be happy to take a cup of tea with you. It's a - a very chilly day. I just -

  didn’t want to trouble you.’

  She smiled at him. ‘It’s no trouble. Indeed, I shall be glad of some company.’ She rang for Susan and ordered a tea-tray.

  ‘Yes, ma’am. An' I dare say you'd like some of cook’s fruit cake, too, wouldn't you? Freshly made, it is. Master Harry's et four slices of it already, so you’d best take some while you can.’

  When Susan had gone, silence fell, both of them trying desperately to think of something to say which wouldn’t make the situation worse.

  Stealing a glance at him, Helen suddenly realised how like Harry he was behaving. Just so did her son scowl and pretend indifference when he knew he was behaving churlishly. The thought gave her courage to continue.

  ‘I’ve wanted to speak to you properly - quietly, Mr Carnforth, about our situation. Wanted it for a while.’

  ‘There's no need.’

  ‘I think there is. I want to apologise to you myself, not do it through Mr Napperby. I know I’ve been greatly at fault and that my - my cowardice has put you in a most difficult position.

  And - and I deeply regret it. I shall never forgive myself if - ’ She broke off, blushing again, and gazed down at her lap, twisting a shred of a lace handkerchief around her fingers.

  His eyes devoured her. And in that moment he realised how very much he loved her, and knew that he desperately wanted to take the heavy burdens from her shoulders and coax the sadness from her face. And he couldn’t. He hadn’t the right. Not yet, anyway. She was not only recently widowed, but carrying another man's child. That thought hurt him like a physical pain in the chest.

  He saw that she’d stopped speaking and was waiting for an answer, her beautiful brown eyes fixed anxiously on his face. ‘You were not to know - that I intended to sell Bellborough, I mean,’

  he managed. ‘I asked Mr Napperby to tell no one.’

  ‘I should have
spoken sooner, though, told people. I didn't even realise my condition at first, I truly didn't. You see - it all happened so quickly. Charles hid his illness from me for some months. When I found out, well, there wasn’t much time left.’

  ‘You need not - ’

  But she was determined to make him understand, determined to show no cowardice this time in explaining it all to him. ‘Suddenly, I had Charles to nurse. And he insisted that we face facts and make preparations. That took - all my strength. To keep up an appearance of normality and cheerfulness - well, it was very difficult at times.’

  How would he feel if she were dying and he had to nurse her, try to smile and live normally?

  A pang shot through him at the mere idea. ‘It must have been - quite harrowing for you.’

  She drew in a quivering breath. ‘Yes. We were such good friends, you see, Charles and I.’

  He looked at her in puzzlement. That didn’t sound like a woman who’d been madly in love with her husband. And yet she clearly grieved for him.

  ‘It was not - not a marriage for love. Well, he’d fallen in love with me, but I didn’t think I could ever love anyone. Robert, my first husband was – difficult. I very unhappy with him, you see. But Charles taught me to laugh, and - I came to be very fond of him. Very fond indeed. He once said there were many shades and seasons of love. I came to understand that.’

  The shred of lace was damp and useless. Daniel took out his own handkerchief and knelt before her to wipe her eyes. ‘Ah, Helen . . . ’ he began.

  ‘You've made her cry again!’ With the advantage of surprise, Harry managed to knock Daniel to the floor.

  ‘Harry!’

  Daniel threw off the small body, trapped the waving fists and dragged Master Perriman to his feet. A swift shake made the boy stop struggling and go rigid, his blue eyes staring at his captor resentfully. Daniel shook him again, enough to bring home the message that this behaviour must stop, but not enough to hurt, then let go of his hands.

  Harry took a step backwards and stared from one to the other, lower lip jutting ominously.