The most wonderful events of life are never expected.
Miss Lily, 1914
She stepped across the room. It was a small room, but the distance seemed greater than any she had ever walked before. She kneeled next to Nigel, feeling the fire warm on her face. ‘You don’t have to marry me, you know. I just said it to get rid of all those people — and to disrupt their plans.’
‘I know. I invited my cousin to stay two weeks ago. I thought he should get to know the place. But he and his wife seem to think it is nothing more than a place to entertain. He’s even planning to cut up the barley field for suburban villas.’
‘Who is going to live in villas out here?’
‘He says those who can no longer afford to keep up larger places. He might be right.’
‘He’s not going to get a chance to find out,’ declared Sophie.
‘Sophie, darling, he is my heir. Even if we marry, he will inherit the house and title when I die.’
‘Which will not be for a long time,’ said Sophie fiercely. ‘And not if you have a son.’
‘I think this may be where I leave,’ said Jones, who had been seated on the window ledge.
‘I think it might be too,’ said Sophie. ‘Could you see about that marriage licence, please?’
‘And your room. And the cherry cake,’ said Jones. He smiled, but Sophie could see the trails of tears on his face. ‘I knew you would come,’ he added. ‘And get here in time.’
‘Green will be here on the sixth of January.’ Sophie smiled tremulously back at him. ‘I hope you can keep her occupied.’
‘I am sure she found . . . occupation . . . on the ship,’ managed Jones, trying for urbanity.
‘And I am sure she would prefer the occupation to be you,’ said Sophie. ‘Just don’t make the mistake of expecting her to marry you this time. But I had better mind my own business.’
‘I will leave you to mind it,’ said Jones, his voice almost steady, but from tears or laughter Sophie couldn’t tell, as he left and closed the door. She kept her gaze on Nigel. He looked surprisingly vigorous for a man about to die.
She told him so.
He smiled. ‘A medical irony. I have a chance of life if they operate now, and none if I do not. But yes, I feel decidedly alive, despite the gathering of the family vultures. Just deeply tired. But not nearly as tired as I felt before Miss Sophie Higgs climbed through the window. I seem to remember you entering the house trailing leaf mould once before.’
‘Well?’ Sophie took Nigel’s hand. Frail, but warm. She had always loved these hands, both Nigel’s and Miss Lily’s.
‘I fell in love with you twelve years ago. I asked you to marry me seven years ago, and you refused. What has changed now? Except my probable death,’ he added.
‘You are not going to die!’ she ordered him. ‘Not for decades! I forbid it utterly.’ She lifted his hand to her cheek. ‘A lot has changed. I wanted to build an empire, and I did. I needed Australia, and found it once again. But mostly . . .’ She hesitated.
‘Miss Lily?’ he offered, watching her face.
‘No. Never. You were right all those years ago when you thought I was someone who could accept her — be married to you both. I love you both. But your life seemed so neat back then, just you and Jones —’
‘I told you I was not a homosexualist.’
‘That wasn’t it either. Your life seemed — tidy. I would have been just a bit added on. Oh, a valued bit,’ she added, as he seemed about to protest. ‘A giver of political dinner parties, influencing people and policies. An extremely successful lovely lady, just as Miss Lily trained me to be. But I wanted more than that.’
‘And now?’ he asked cautiously.
She grinned. ‘Now I have crossed from Australia to England in three weeks, passing through a monsoon and a small air crash and an avalanche. I have evicted your heirs and their zebras and charmed the Prince of Wales. I have built my father’s business into an empire spanning three continents with far more than corned beef. I am eminently capable of making sure I have my own future. Or rather, our future, made by both of us, whatever it shall be.’
She took a deep breath. ‘And I love you. Will always love you, and Miss Lily, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, and death is going to have to battle damned hard to part us.’
It was as if long-extinguished lights began to glow again. Nigel grinned at her. ‘In that case, will you marry me this time, Miss Higgs? In weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of any prospective marriage, I should point out as well that I am thirty years older than you, but on the plus side, you are not likely to have to put up with my decrepit old age.’
‘I most certainly will,’ said Sophie. ‘And I will be emptying your bedpan when you are a hundred and ten. Or supervising the emptying of it. I have had a lot of experience in getting men to live against the odds.’
‘I am sure of it,’ said Nigel softly, and there was something of Miss Lily’s amusement as well as her confidence in his voice.
‘Nigel, I love you. I want to marry you. I want to murder your relatives and bury them in the rose garden, but I will be content with knowing that they will not step foot on Shillings again while you breathe. But here are two things I have to tell you.’
He looked at her carefully. ‘Very well.’
‘I am Australian. It’s not just that my business is there, and my friends. I need to be there for part of each year, six months perhaps, to be truly myself.’
‘Of course.’
It was so simple. Perhaps it had always been that simple, and she had refused to see. ‘And I would like my husband to come too, for at least part of that time.’
‘I will agree, but it might be completely meaningless. I am . . . unlikely to survive, Sophie. You have to know that, no matter what you choose. If I do live, I may be an invalid for the rest of my life.’
‘You can be an invalid on board ship and in Sydney and at Thuringa.’
‘Yes, I can, can’t I? And will, if that is what you wish. What is the second thing?’
She held his hand tightly and met his eyes. ‘Three weeks ago I slept with a man. Just once. It is the first time I have ever . . . And you need to know this because it is possible . . .’ She could not go on.
‘That you might be pregnant?’
She nodded, dumbly.
‘I think that would be most wonderful,’ he said quietly.
‘You truly don’t mind?’
‘About a possible child? No. Sophie, the tumour is in my abdomen. If I survive the operation, it will mean I will not be able to father children. And, yes, before you ask, I could father a child now.’
‘You’re sure?’
He laughed. It was so good to hear him laugh. He stood, a little shakily. She stood too as he put his arms around her waist, then kissed her, warm lips, warm skin, a body she had never felt against her and yet somehow had known forever. A long kiss, his hands clasping her closer, and closer still.
At last they moved slightly apart. Her face stung a little, from his whiskers. He sat, pulling her down onto his knees. ‘I could show you how ready I am to father a child here and now, on the rug,’ he said softly, ‘but we are too likely to be interrupted. And you are not sleeping in your own room tonight, or if you are, I will be with you.’
‘Nigel —’ A wail like a thousand bunyips crying in chorus interrupted her.
‘Ah,’ said Nigel, ‘His Highness’s bagpipes. We should be free of infestation by tea time.’
‘Crumpets?’
‘Always crumpets,’ said Nigel gently. ‘But Sophie, this man you . . . slept . . . with — do you love him?’
‘I . . . I never considered whether I did or not. It was an impulse, and then your telegram arrived, and whether I loved him or not became irrelevant. He is lovable. But he is also a hermit, a good man, but never recovered from the war. He spends his life carving crosses for those who died.’
‘And yet he slept with you?’
&n
bsp; ‘I seduced him,’ admitted Sophie. ‘And am ashamed of it. He was regretting the whole thing the next morning.’ She could not quite admit that John had fled, rather than face her.
‘So you don’t want to marry him?’
She shook her head. ‘I want to marry you. For many, many reasons.’
‘You’re sure?’
She pulled back from his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. ‘Nigel Vaile, I have just broken what may be a world record to get here to marry you. I have flown through a bloody monsoon —’
‘Sophie! Your language!’ He hugged her in delight.
‘I have been corrupted by the colonies. You will have to train me all over again. Unless I manage to corrupt you too. I have been shaken on trains and eaten far too many bowls of turtle soup. I want a bed that stands still.’
‘I am not quite sure I can promise a still bed,’ said Nigel.
She stared at him. ‘I have never known you to speak like that.’
‘I have never been engaged to be married before. I find it a heady if unexpected experience. One is entitled to speak with frankness when one is engaged.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Definitely. And there is even more licence for unbridled behaviour after we are married.’
‘That sounds delicious,’ said Sophie, as the prince’s bagpipes burst into ‘Scots Wha Hae’. She could faintly hear Beatrice Vaile having hysterics somewhere down a passageway.
‘Hark the herald angels sing,’ said Nigel irreligiously. ‘I did promise you a Shillings Christmas one day, didn’t I?’
‘Then you’d better come out of this operation prepared to host one,’ said Sophie. ‘We’ll set up Shillings so you can recuperate here. I am extremely good at setting up hospitals.’
‘I know. Sophie, if you have a girl —’
‘If I am pregnant. I am only a few days late.’ She flushed. ‘It’s probably just due to the travelling and the change of time zones. My body doesn’t know when or where it is.’
‘Then we must let it know. And make a baby in the next week. And if it is a girl, or if we do not have a child at all,’ he smiled, ‘as I said, the title is entailed, and the house. But luckily my father and brother broke the entailment to sell all but the house and gardens and the Home Farm.’
‘But you own the entire estate!’
‘Exactly. I bought it back with the profits from investing in your father’s business. Which means most of the estate is mine to dispose of as I see fit. My cousin does not know this, by the way. He lives on his army pension.’
‘Ah, that explains Cutler the Butler. Quickly acquired?’
‘I believe so. Possibly a repertory actor who once played a butler in the provinces. My cousin will inherit only the title, house and Home Farm. He will be bankrupt within a month trying to pay for the upkeep of the house and grounds. I would very much like it if you would buy them from him.’
Sophie smiled at him. ‘Of course, whether we have children or not.’
‘And you will see that it is looked after?’
‘I will.’
‘I’d have left the estate to Jones, but my cousin would have contested it and probably won, insinuating scandal. Part of which,’ he added, ‘would have been true.’
‘He can’t contest a will made in your wife’s favour. And, anyway, I can afford better lawyers.’
‘You have also managed to get the Prince of Wales on your side.’
‘That should help.’ She winced. ‘Does His Royal Highness play the bagpipes often?’
‘Sadly, yes. But he is a good chap, Sophie.’ Nigel smiled. ‘I first met him in France, sitting bare bummed next to me on a plank above a lavatory trench. We were both there some time — dodgy tummy from bad water — and got chatting. He would have liked to be on the front line, but His Majesty wouldn’t let the heir risk his life.’
‘I liked him too.’ Though it was hard to imagine the slight figure — and slightness of character too — as a king. ‘Can we really get married tomorrow?’
‘I believe so.’
A voice boomed in the hallway. The bagpipes ceased. ‘That will be Ethel,’ said Sophie.
‘Ethel?’
‘I knew her in France and her nephew flew me here from Paris this morning. She’ll be my bridesmaid.’ It was lucky Green had included a white sheath dress in the wardrobe Eloise had delivered. Or, she reflected, perhaps not luck at all, but hope.
And hope had been fulfilled. She leaned back in Nigel’s arms again. ‘I’m not too heavy?’
‘Never.’
‘Ha. You won’t say that after your incision. I will cuddle you most carefully on the other side then. We are going to be happy, Nigel.’
‘I know,’ he said.
For whatever time they had together.
Chapter 58
I hope my girls will find total fulfilment. I have accepted at last that I will not.
Miss Lily, 1912
Night, the scent of burning apple wood and the gentle flicker of firelight on the polished posts of the bed, though its curtains and canopy were long gone, on the gleaming silk carpet and on the sweaty glow on Nigel’s skin.
‘Oh my,’ said Sophie, panting and lying back against the pillows.
Nigel grinned and let himself slide back down beside her. ‘Well?’
‘Very well, my lord.’
‘Was it as good as with that other chap?’
Sophie laughed, and raised herself up on an elbow to look at him again. ‘I thought that was the kind of question a gentleman would never ask.’
‘And one to which a gentleman always wants the answer.’
‘I am not sure you are a gentleman in bed,’ said Sophie primly.
‘You haven’t answered my question.’
She felt a stab of disloyalty. ‘The time before was . . . nice. Good, a kind of love, even though it wasn’t really if that is what you meant. He was comforting me as well as making love, I think.’ Nor did John have decades of Japanese woodcuts and professional instruction. And there had been times tonight when she had felt the . . . expertise . . . displayed as much as the love. She settled on, ‘That was . . . that was . . . incredible.’
‘You cried out four times,’ he said smugly.
‘A gentleman shouldn’t count.’
‘Of course he should.’
‘You seem so . . . expert.’
He laughed softly, still smug. ‘You thought I wouldn’t be?’
‘Yes,’ she said frankly. She had even been prepared to show him what to do, to have to encourage him to do it, with the remembered lessons of Miss Lily’s book. Except, of course, Miss Lily had given that book to her.
‘It’s true I’ve been celibate for more than a decade.’
‘I was celibate for twenty-nine years.’
He kissed her to quiet her. ‘My first teacher was Japanese. Misako.’
‘I know. Green told me about her.’
‘Did she now? I must find out what other secrets she has shared.’ He lay back on the pillows, his hand holding hers. ‘Misako was what you might call a courtesan, but that calling has been refined there to an art unlike any in the world. Misako taught me how a woman can be beautiful. She taught me other things as well.’
‘Ah, I see. Like that thing where you . . .’ She finished her sentence with a descriptive gesture.
He grinned, obviously exhausted, ill and happy. ‘And much more. Sophie, if I live . . . they have to cut through the nerves. But there are many, many ways to please a woman. I don’t want you to think —’
‘Shh. We love each other and will find many ways to live that. Let’s wait for the days ahead to discover what they’ll be. Did you love Misako?’
He looked startled. ‘Why do you ask? How did you know?’
‘Your tone of voice . . . and I know you, and Miss Lily. You are so very good at love, and I don’t mean its fifty-six positions. You would not have spent so much time with her if you hadn’t loved her. Did she love you?’
> ‘I think so. Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you marry her?’
‘Because she was forty or so years older than me, spoke no English and thought Europeans were barbarians. Except for me.’ The smugness was back and the tenderness. He pushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed it, then her cheeks and lips, gently, softly. ‘She said I was naturally civilised. I only needed teaching.’
‘Is she still alive? I should thank her,’ said Sophie lightly.
‘She died when I was here in England, about fifteen years ago. I wish I’d been there, or at least been able to say goodbye.’ He smiled. ‘I would like to have told her I was getting married too.’
‘I wish I could have told my father you and I are getting married. I think he’d have been glad.’
‘Despite the age difference?’
‘Perhaps because of it. He knew you, trusted you, admired you, or he’d never have sent me to Shillings. He might have thought any cousin of yours could keep me in line. Which you have, more or less, you and Miss Lily.’
Silence, beside her. ‘I love Miss Lily too,’ said Sophie quietly. ‘She’s with us as well.’
‘Yes. I was afraid you’d have preferred to forget her, here and now.’
‘Never,’ said Sophie. ‘I wish Dad could see me married by an archbishop. And in the Shillings church!’
‘He insisted. It appears I have to sign the licence myself, and so he offered to bring it down, though he will have to dash off afterwards. The advantages of being a peer of the realm about to undergo a major operation.’
‘Oh, and Nigel, I should have told you — Ethel has rung up some friends. Rather a lot of friends. I invited a few people too.’
‘Then they can all come to a late luncheon. There was a ball planned for tomorrow night. Mrs Goodenough has disposed of much of the Vailes’ banquet but I imagine we can still feed fifty or so. David has invited himself too. He said it should be interesting.’
‘Perhaps too interesting. Some of the people may be . . . unconventional. Not top drawer.’
‘Excellent. He will enjoy it thoroughly. He is hoping to pipe us into the church.’
‘Oh dear. The hens at the Home Farm probably won’t lay for a week. I asked the Slithersoles and James Lorrimer and his aunt too. I hope you don’t mind.’
The Lily and the Rose Page 29