‘After this, I tried to pick up the threads of my life in the navy but I had not the heart for it. Father again rejected my attempts to heal the breach between us, and my requests to leave the navy were likewise rejected, I know not why. One of Pascall’s cousins was in a position to facilitate this, but despite his efforts my appeals were refused. For four years I drifted along, trying to avoid Pascall, for his attentions were wearisome. He tried more than once to draw me into some devious scheme of his, and was displeased when I refused. I will repay the money I owe him as well as the interest he has asked for, and will always be grateful for his help, but just because he lied for me once does not place me under any obligation to lie for him in return. Then Father died, and at long last my request to leave the navy was approved. Pascall’s cousin had moved on and the new man managed the business successfully. I then approached my cousin, the new baronet, but he rejected my olive branch in such terms as to preclude my ever being accepted back into the family. So be it, but if the Harbottles wished for no further connection with me, I determined to satisfy their wish. I decided to shed my past altogether, and become Judas Caldicott. It would not only give me a fresh start, but also enable me to prevent Pascall from importuning me further. Thus I left London, bought my first ship, the Rosy Dawn, and settled in Southampton, where I have been accepted into society. Thus it was that I met my beloved Nell, soon to be my wife, who will give me the happy home life for which I have long yearned. She must never know of my dreadful past, for her affection for me, so innocent and sweetly given, could not be sustained if she knew the truth. However, I am the son of a baronet, and if Nell gives me sons of my own, there is always the possibility, however remote, of inheritance through my line. To that end, therefore, I have confessed all to the patient and understanding Mr George Lumley, who has undertaken to convey to my family after my death whatever items I leave with him. This is a true account of the circumstances of my life, so help me God. Felix Harbottle, also known as Jude Caldicott.’
Nathan laid the letter down on the table. Meg looked sorrowful, and Mr Lumley was polishing his spectacles gently.
However, Nell was frowning.
“No,” she said. “This is wrong. Jude never forgot. I have seen him drunk many times, but no matter how much rum or ale was in him, he always remembered everything he said and did. I cannot believe that he simply did not remember going back to the party or killing Eliza. Nor could he have pushed her off the balcony and then tamely gone home, got into bed and gone to sleep. It is inconceivable.”
“That is true!” Meg cried. “And all he knew of it came from Pascall.”
Nathan told them how Toller’s story had differed from Felix’s version. “There is but one explanation,” he said. “Toller — Pascall, as he then was — allowed Felix to believe himself responsible. Perhaps Eliza fell accidentally, or perhaps Toller himself pushed her, who can say? Then Toller bribed the Admiralty officials and—”
“No,” Mr Lumley said. “That was the part of Captain Caldicott’s story that I always found hardest to accept — that senior officers in His Majesty’s Royal Navy would accept bribes? Never!”
“A good point,” Nathan said. “So Toller merely told Felix that he had bribed people, and then allowed him to fund his expensive manner of living for more than twenty years. And I do not think there is a single thing that we can do about such injustice.”
“Oh, come now,” Meg said, merriment bubbling into her voice. “Surely you can be more imaginative than that, brother. Toller lives by society’s rules, does he not? Being good ton is all important to him, from what Harry tells me. Well then, let us use our wiles to undermine his position. Harry knows people now, influential people like Lord Carrbridge, who need only drop a word in an ear here and there quietly at the clubs, you know how it goes, and Toller would be ostracised.”
“Would Harry do it?” Nathan said.
Meg laughed. “He will do it for me. Toller is finished.”
31: The Folly
Nathan and Nell walked back from the parsonage side by side in silence. A gate beside the church led into the grounds of Daveney Hall, where a good path meandered the half mile to the house in a peaceful fashion, each turn bringing into view a fine tree or a statue beside a pool or a stand of shrubs, their limbs bent with blossoms. Meg raced along ahead of them with Jack, occasionally darting back to point out some interesting tree or vista, before dashing off again, her face full of merriment.
“She is happy,” Nell said. “Everything is settled with Harry, then?”
Nathan smiled, relieved that she was not overset by the day’s revelations. “So it would seem. That evening at the Marford House ball appears to have done the trick.”
“Not the ball,” she said with a smile. “The carriage ride home.”
“Five minutes in a carriage?”
“Two people overflowing with love alone in a closed carriage?” she said. “Five minutes is more than enough time for a man to succumb to ardour and kiss his lady.”
“Hmm… I imagine it was the other way round,” Nathan said. “Harry promised not to breach the rules of propriety, but Meg would not feel herself so bound. She would have been the one doing the kissing, and no man in love could resist. Lord, what is she doing now?”
“Bouncing,” Nell said, laughing. “She has so much energy.”
“True, but it is not very ladylike to be so animated. She feels it herself — that she is too forward, too ready to speak the first thing that enters her head. She envies you your serenity.”
“She should not,” Nell said with some heat. “I was once lively, as she is now, and only developed my serenity, as you call it, as a defensive shield against the world. It is not a natural state for me.”
“I have seen your natural state, in York,” Nathan said, smiling broadly at the memory. “At Percharden House, too, sometimes. Your natural state is delightful.”
She coloured slightly, but walked on composedly, pulling her shawl about her a little more tightly.
“Are you cold?” he said, but she shook her head with a smile.
They came to a branching of paths, and here she stopped. To the right it was only a short distance to the house, but to the left was a tunnel of roses, their myriad blooms filling the air with perfume.
“May I show you one of my favourite spots in the garden?” she said. “Meg has Jack to bear her company, and will not miss us for a few minutes, I am sure.”
“I should be honoured,” he said, as his treacherous heart surged in happiness. So precious, these moments alone with her. He treasured every one, small rays of warm sunshine in his otherwise dreary life, to be stored up to sustain him during the long, dark hours without her. And perhaps there would be years of darkness to be endured. Perhaps she would never be able to love him as he loved her. How would he bear it? With as much fortitude as he could muster. He would enjoy her company when he could and endure the aching loneliness when he could not, and hope always for better days.
They made their way beneath the arching roses, then skirted a rock garden with a pretty little pool and climbed a small hill between banks of sweet-smelling white flowers. A twist of the path revealed a ruined tower, its tumbled walls artfully arranged to make a sheltered seat with a fine view over the gardens and house. She sat on the stone bench, casting aside her shawl, gloves and bonnet, and turning her face up to the sun. When she looked round, she smiled up at him in a way that made his insides flip-flop in the most alarming manner.
“I see why you like this place,” Nathan said, casting his gloves off likewise and sitting beside her, close enough to be aware of the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, yet not quite near enough to feel her warmth. How he longed to sit closer, to wrap his arms around her, to bury his face in her soft hair and smother her lovely face with kisses. It hurt so much to be unable to touch her.
“This is where Jude first kissed me,” she said. “Here we first declared our love to each other, and settled our future to
gether.”
That was an unexpectedly intimate revelation. Yet her voice was calm, almost as if she were talking about some trivial domestic matter. Perhaps she wished to talk about her husband, and this was an opening.
“You are remarkably composed, after all that has been learnt today,” he said tentatively.
“Nothing about Jude can surprise me any longer,” she said flatly. “I was living with a stranger all those years. If only he had confided in me, if only he had trusted me, we could have faced up to his past together. As it was, he shouldered that burden all alone for so many years, and it drove us apart. He shut me out of his life and I cannot forgive him for that. The other thing… the violence… all of it happened because he would not trust me with his darkest thoughts and fears. He kept everything trapped inside him until it exploded, and I was the one who drew his rage out of him.”
“Surely you would not excuse his behaviour?” Nathan said, shocked.
“Oh no! Never! It was utterly indefensible. But I can understand it — the frustration, the boiling anger that drove him. We had both been used to a better life, and he must have felt that everything he touched was doomed to failure. Knowing now of his first marriage, imagine how desperate he must have been to find himself in difficulties again.”
“Do you hate him?” Her openness thrilled him to his core.
“Not hate, never that. I feared him, but in the absolute belief that somewhere inside was still the man I loved. That was not true,” she added sadly. “The man I loved — the man I thought I loved — never existed. He wrapped himself around with lies, so many lies, and that secrecy ate away at our happiness like a canker. I was little more than a child when we married, and I think he tried to keep me in innocence, while I wanted… something more. The closeness that comes from a perfect understanding and acceptance of each other. It could never happen, though, unless he shared his past with me. There can be no true intimacy without honesty, do you not agree?”
“I do. There are those who say that a man’s world is different from that of a woman’s, and she does not need to know all his concerns. Such men use that argument to justify any number of vices, but it is better, I feel, to have no vices that need to be concealed. I am of your mind, therefore, in believing that honesty is the best foundation for any relationship, whether business or friendship or marriage.”
“Good,” she said, glancing up at him with a little smile playing on her lips, “for I am about to test your honesty to its limits, which I do for my own satisfaction, careless of the injury it may cause you. I am being my natural self today, you see, and that means a certain recklessness of the consequences. I am risking our friendship, but only a little, for you are too generous not to forgive my boldness.”
He was too much surprised to answer, but her sweet smile robbed her words of any concern he might have felt.
She went on, “I shall ask you a question and I wish you to answer me with absolute honesty, whatever the truth may be.”
“Very well,” he managed to say, although the blood was thundering in his veins. Whatever could she ask him that was so serious that she must approach the matter with such solemnity?
“Nathan, do you love me?”
Whatever he had expected, that was not it. For an instant, he felt as if he had plunged head-first down a well, and was struggling to breathe. He gasped, staring at her in stupefaction. Another breath, and then his wits began to recover, for surely it was the easiest question in the world to answer!
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I do.”
“Ah. There it is! I was not mistaken, then.” She was remarkably composed, considering the subject under discussion. She gazed into his face without any dissembling, and only a heightened colour about her face revealed some agitation within. “There is a certain look in a man’s eye, sometimes — a look that is more than admiration. When he is swayed by strong emotion, when his deepest feelings rise to the surface and threaten to overwhelm him, then his voice changes and there is a light in his eyes that cannot be disguised. I thought I saw it in you once or twice. When you asked me to marry you for Louis’ sake, and again as we sat beside the River Itchen in Southampton, and then again after the Marford House ball, when you talked of being desperately in love… But then at other times you are quite different, very cool, very controlled. You speak of friendship and being practical about marriage and that love is not enough, so you will appreciate why I might be confused.”
“Yes,” he managed, although his voice was a mere croak.
“But there it was a moment ago, that light in your eyes, and it was not my imagination that saw it before. It is vain of me, and shallow and selfish and every other condemnation you can heap on my head, but I needed to know… that it was not my imagination. That I have your love, wherever that may lead to. But of course that brings us inexorably to another question, and again I must ask you to be entirely honest with me, for kindness and dissembling will not help. You understand that, I am sure, for you are my friend, and because I am your friend, let us agree that nothing we say here is binding. We may talk together with perfect openness, yet our words impose no obligations on either of us. Do you agree?”
“I do,” he said at once, for he knew now where this was leading.
“Nathan, do you hope, one day, to marry me?”
Again, his answer needed no thought. “I do, but only when — if — it should be your wholehearted and unconditional choice. Not before. Nell, I once offered you everything that is mine in order to keep your brother away from Louis. I see now that it was wrong of me to press you in that abrupt way, when we were both ruled by the heat of the moment. For your own peace of mind, you must be free to marry when you wish and whom you wish, or not to marry at all if that is your choice.”
“Ah… Thank you.”
He watched her face, so beautiful, so serene, and was so overwhelmed with love for her that he could barely breathe. He could not imagine having such a conversation with any other woman. Her candour humbled and yet exhilarated him, for surely he could match it. Did he dare?
“Nell, do you love me?” he blurted.
She laughed suddenly, and her smile warmed his heart. “I deserve that, do I not? What is sauce for the goose, after all, is sauce for the gander. But I cannot give you an answer.”
“Now that is not fair!” he cried, although he answered her smile with one of his own. “I have been honest with you, will you not be honest with me in return?”
“But I am being honest. I cannot answer you because I do not know.”
Instantly he was deflated.
“No, no! Do not be discouraged!” she cried. “Consider my situation. It is not six months yet since Jude’s death, and even though it was a relief in many ways, it is also a great loss to me. Whatever my marriage became in the end, for several years it was a joyful one, and for those years Jude was everything I had ever wished for in a husband. I cannot yet give up mourning him as he was then, and the long, happy marriage I looked forward to. Perhaps I never will, I do not know, but so I believed for a long time, such that I could not conceive of marrying again. There is so much fear deep inside me of making a mistake, of binding myself to the wrong man again.”
She paused, and he held his breath, mesmerised by these revelations, waiting for her to find the courage to continue.
With a sigh, she went on, “But I have at last begun to notice that, even though Jude is dead, I am still alive. There is warmth and beauty and comfort in the world, and there are good people who show me nothing but kindness. And there is you, Nathan. My friend. My very good friend, who treats me, not as feeble woman but as a sensible creature, helping when I need help and standing to one side when I do not. My very dear friend, who does not dissemble but answers my most impertinent questions with absolute honesty. And so, very gradually, I have come to realise that to marry again might not be so terrifying. To marry a kind man, an honest man, a dear friend — that would not be so bad, would it? I can see all the advantag
es to it, for myself and for Louis too. But…”
“Ah,” he said, releasing the breath he had been holding.
“No. You must not look so… despairing,” she said, and one hand reached up to his face as if she would stroke his cheek before falling back at the last minute. “It is your own fault that I am dithering so. You talked with such passion of being desperately in love… that one may love again just as intensely as the first time, and it is not so with me. Not yet, and I do not know… I cannot tell if it will grow, if I will come to love you just as desperately as I once loved Jude, or if I have expended all my youthful passion and there is nothing left but this cold shell of a woman who is glad to be free. I am very fond of you, Nathan, my dearest and very best friend, but I do not know if I will ever be able to offer you anything more than friendship.”
The relief was palpable, now that he understood her mind. “Nell… dearest Nell…” He reached for her hand, and as he took it, a little tremor passed through him at the touch of her fingers. She looked up at him trustfully, her lips slightly parted, waiting for him to get his disordered thoughts into some semblance of coherence. He had supposed that he would make some non-committal little speech — that he understood, that it did not matter a bit and that he wanted only to make her happy. That no doubt was what she expected of him, and what he expected of himself. But it was a day for recklessness, and so the words that emerged were nothing like that.
“There is one way to find out,” he blurted. “Let me kiss you and then you will know whether the fires of passion can be ignited again.”
The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1) Page 31