by Terri Nixon
‘Just a few minutes then.’ He made it sound as though he were doing me the greatest turn, but his eagerness to sit down and draw me down next to him gave him away. I smiled and looked down the hill towards Oaklands Manor. Beautiful it might be, bathed in the reddish gold of the late afternoon sun, but I couldn’t wait for the day when I could move out and set up home with Will.
As if he could read my mind, he slipped his hand into mine. ‘Don’t you think we ought to set a date then?’
‘What about my mother?’
‘Tell her, or don’t. Only you can decide, but you’d better decide quickly.’
‘Oh there you go again, getting all cross and handsome.’
He scowled and turned to press me down into the grass, and kissed me until I could barely breathe.
‘God, Evie…I can’t wait much longer.’ He rolled away to lie staring up at the sky.
I understood he was not blaming me and suddenly, out of nowhere, I whispered, ‘Then let’s not wait.’ I immediately panicked when he looked at me long and consideringly, and wished I hadn’t said it. It would be unfair of me to change my mind now, and I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to, but I felt a churning, nervous wariness at the thought of what I had suggested.
His finger traced a gentle line from my temple to my jaw. ‘Listen. I love you desperately, and you know I want you, but this shouldn’t be something we may someday come to regret. It’s too precious.’
I nodded, part of me relieved, the rest aching like never before, and lay back down, close to his side, reluctant to break contact. ‘Then let’s do something else. Something exciting.’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘Such as what?’
‘Go somewhere. Away from Breckenhall, somewhere where people aren’t interested in us, and we don’t have to pretend we’re not mad about each other.’
‘Are you mad about me?’ he teased.
‘Yes, but only a little bit.’
Still smiling, he twisted towards me and kissed me. It did little to dispel the sense of longing but I couldn’t help smiling in return, and returned his kiss with renewed enthusiasm; now we had agreed to wait, it felt safe to do so. As we broke apart I felt his strong white teeth tug gently at my lower lip, and it was difficult not to pull him close again. ‘So,’ he said, in a voice that had turned faintly husky. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘You think we should go somewhere we can walk together and hold hands, right in front of everyone?’
‘It sounds silly when you say it like that, but don’t you think it would be wonderful? We could go to the seaside –’
‘The weather won’t last more than another few days.’
‘Then we’ll go as soon as we can. We can take a picnic lunch.’
Will sat up. ‘Why don’t we go to Blackpool?’
‘Blackpool?’ I tried not to sound disappointed; it was his home town, after all. But I’d hoped for somewhere a little more romantic.
‘Do you remember last year, when they lit it all up? Absolutely thousands of lights. For Princess Louise when she opened the promenade.’
‘Oh, yes, Ava Cartwright was there with her aunt. She did say it was beautiful,’ I conceded.
‘Well, Frank told me yesterday they were so successful, they plan on doing it again this year.’
I nodded, warming to the idea. It didn’t really matter where we were, after all, provided we were together. ‘All right, we can travel separately, but on the same train, then spend the day and evening at the Pleasure Beach. We’ll see the lights, then be home before anyone’s even noticed.’
‘I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away, but I’ll try.’
‘You’re looking a bit peaky,’ I said, putting a solicitous hand on his forehead.’
He affected a look of deep suffering. ‘I believe you’re right. I feel a rather uncomfortable sickness coming on. Possibly in a few days.’
I laughed. ‘How will I know when you’re going to be laid up with this awful illness?’
‘I’ll leave a message in the summer house, as long as Mr Shackleton’s not looking.’
‘He spends most of his time in the sheds at this time of year,’ I said. ‘I’ll check the summer house every day. Now I believe it’s time to return, and face the rather off-key music that’s waiting to accompany dinner.’
David had left before I returned, declining dinner on the grounds that the walk in the sun had left him with a headache. I couldn’t help feeling cheated that he had appropriated my own excuse, and I was forced to dine en famille after all. Dinner was an awkward and silent affair; Mother kept looking at me narrowly, no doubt she had seen the blossoming bruise on David’s chin, and noted how he favoured his right ankle as he walked, and she clearly suspected I had something to do with both. Quite what she thought I had done, I didn’t know, but those looks across the table were enough to convince me she had her notions anyway.
I missed Uncle Jack more than ever that evening; he was always the one to keep up a lively conversation and to dampen any signs of discord. I missed his gentle teasing, and the way he would coax Mother, in even the most morose of her moods, into a reluctant smile that made her beautiful and familiar again. He hadn’t been home since New Year’s Eve, almost nine months ago, and I was once more growing worried about Lizzy; the days were flying by for me, but every day she spent in that awful place must feel like a week. Mother clearly felt Jack’s absence almost as keenly as I did and I wondered, not for the first time, if the two of them were closer than they had led us to believe. I fervently hoped they were; there was no one I would rather have as a step-father than Jack Carlisle.
Lawrence sensed the tension in the silence and kept raising his eyebrows at me, but I studiously ignored him, and he pouted when he realised he was being left out of something yet again. Subsequently he requested to leave the table the moment his last forkful was taken, and to avoid the inevitable questions I did the same. But Mother took the rare step of coming to find me later.
‘Evangeline,’ she said, sitting down at my dressing table without being asked. I felt my stomach turn over nervously; she never came to my rooms unless it was something serious, the last time had been the day the diamond had gone missing.
‘If this is about David –’
‘Darling, I understand. I do. It can’t be easy for you.’
‘Easy?’
‘But you mustn’t worry. If you didn’t actually…if he didn’t…’
‘Didn’t what?’ I knew, of course. I just wanted to see how much David had told her.
‘If you were both still fully clothed,’ she said in a rush, her face looking as hot as mine felt.
I chose to misunderstand, just in case. ‘Why would either David or myself be otherwise?’
‘Not David!’ Mother tensed further as she realised she’d have to explain. ‘The other young man. Were you both dressed when David found you?’
Relief welled up, and the dark thoughts about how she would react were swept aside. ‘We were,’ I said. ‘Nothing happened, and I’m very very happy.’
She looked a little surprised at my sudden change in temperament, but she smiled. ‘Then so am I.’
I bent to put my arms around her, and when she hugged me in return all the years fell away, and I was a little girl again and my mother loved me even though I was such an effort for her. I felt horrible for assuming she would rather see me unhappy than wed to the man I loved.
‘You should have told me,’ she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. ‘I wanted you to tell me yourself, and waited for it. I’m so sad you felt you couldn’t.’
‘I didn’t think you’d understand,’ I confessed. ‘It was hard to know where to begin.’
‘Of course I understand, darling, you mustn’t feel at fault. Now, what did he look like?’
I stepped back, with the prickling suspicion that all was not well after all. ‘What did who look like?’
‘David would only describe him as a thuggish sort of a man, with messy hair an
d a fierce look in his eyes. Blue eyes, he says, which may help but not much. I gather there was quite a struggle so he might be bruised as well. We must call Inspector Bailey of course. And you’re to stop riding out alone.’
I couldn’t speak. Quite aside from the exaggeration about Will’s appearance, and the “struggle”, I couldn’t believe David had told that story after all, it would achieve nothing. Was it simply revenge?
‘Mother, what David told you is a lie,’ I said at last.
‘I beg your pardon?’ It was only then that I saw she had been battling her own emotions, and there were tears in her eyes for my presumed suffering. I could have wept myself; the one time we had found a kind of bond in far too long, and now I must shatter it again. I felt a fleeting urge to allow her mistaken belief to continue, just to maintain that bond, but it wasn’t fair on Will.
‘I wasn’t being attacked,’ I said, ‘I was lying down with…with a man. We were dressed,’ I added quickly, as the colour drained from her face. ‘We were kissing. But that’s all we were doing. I promise, it was nothing more –’
‘Who was it?’ Her voice was flat, and my own anger kindled.
‘It doesn’t matter. It’s someone who makes me happy and who loves me as much as I love him. But he’s not of “our class”, so I already know what you’re going to say.’
‘Who?’ she repeated.
‘I’m not going to tell you,’ I said, trying to sound stubborn, but instead I heard pleading in my tone. ‘Mother, I don’t want to upset you, but –’
‘Upset me?’ She rose, smoothing down her skirts with shaking hands. ‘I don’t know what makes you think you can upset me now. Letting your maid steal our family’s fortune, your own birthright, that upset me. This?’ She gestured blithely, but her jaw was tight. ‘This is nothing. It will pass.’ But she paused at the door, and her tone softened a little. ‘I assume he’s a handsome boy?’
Man, I wanted to say, but didn’t. ‘Some would say so.’
‘Then be careful. A boy’s demeanour rarely matches a pleasant appearance, and the handsome ones are often the cause of more heartache than the plain ones.’ Her expression turned reflective for a moment, and I wondered again about her and Uncle Jack. Then she shook the thoughts away. ‘Don’t forget your choices are more limited now you have lost the Kalteng Star.’
‘I didn’t lose it, it was stolen. And W…he’s never been interested in my fortune. Even when I still had the diamond.’
She looked startled. ‘How long have you and this boy been courting?’
‘We met in the spring. But have only properly become close since the end of last summer. After my birthday,’ I added pointedly.
She came back in, and a shadow of that bond I had wanted to prolong reappeared as she took my hand. ‘Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I assumed this was some fleeting bit of nonsense, some momentary loss of control.’ I remembered how close that had been to the truth, but again held my tongue.
Mother squeezed my hand. ‘I don’t want you to be unhappy, of course I don’t. And this sounds terribly old-fashioned and you’ll hate it, but thanks to the terms of John Creswell’s will, the future of our family depends on your match, not Lawrence’s. You will never be asked to marry against your wishes, but if the Kalteng Star is ever returned to us, then whoever you have married must be worthy of it. You do understand?’
‘Yes,’ I said. Better to let her think she had convinced me, and to keep her warmth and sympathy, than to lose everything. But I was not going to give in entirely, even on the surface. ‘I won’t marry David Wingfield though.’
Mother looked at me for a moment, with pursed lips. ‘Our two families make poor enemies,’ she said at last. ‘I’ve always known that. However, you will not find me pushing the matter any further. It was Clarissa who suggested this advance of his, not me.’
‘Is that your way of trying to say you don’t blame me?’
A reluctant smile crossed her lips and I loved her again, in that moment. She leaned in close and whispered, ‘He’s a terrible little oik, and his mother’s frightful.’
She smiled again as she opened the door, and now there was an understanding between us that I could feel all the way across the room. Will was right; I was no longer a wayward, rebellious child with too much energy and too little patience, I was a woman, as Mother was, and she was ready now to help me find my way through the often dark and frightening maze of adult relationships and obligations.
There was a touching similarity between this acceptance, and when Will and I had kissed goodbye earlier. There had beenno question of his being the friendly, funny butcher’s boy, consorting in secret with the heiress; when Will Davies kissed me at Breckenhall Quarry that day, he was the young man with strength in his hands, and nothing but goodness in his heart. The same hands and heart for which I would defy anyone, and in which I willingly placed the rest of my life. I had no idea, in the happy, heady arrogance of youth, that I would have to fight so hard to remain there.
Chapter Five
The train was quite full. I couldn’t even be sure Will was on it at all, and spent the entire journey in a state of agitation until I saw his dark head bobbing on the crowded platform by the second-class carriages. For the first time, I had the complete freedom to walk up to him in public, and I noticed one or two people looking twice at us and felt a second’s uncertainty, but they were only reacting to the sight of two excited youngsters and I made myself relax. The wind tugged at my hat, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before my neat curls were tumbling about my face, despite the care I had taken with them that morning; I had wanted Will to see me looking glamorous for once, instead of my usual windblown self, but he didn’t appear to even notice my efforts and I was caught between exasperation and amusement. His own dark hair was already whipped into spikes, and I hoped he would never decide to start using oils on it and tame that fresh, clean look that was so typical of him.
He took my hand and tucked it beneath his arm. ‘Where first?’
‘I am desperate to go on that captive flying machine,’ I said eagerly, pointing to the huge apparatus in the distance. ‘Ava went on it last year and screamed all the way around, so she said. Can you think of anything more exciting than screaming in public and not being glared at?’
Will laughed. ‘I might have guessed you’d make a beeline for that. Let’s go!’
I could quite see why Ava had screamed her head off. I did too, to start with, but then I just laughed, thrilled to be so high up, secured by the huge, spider-like arms that were, in turn, fixed to the central frame. Nestled against Will, his arm about my shoulder, I abandoned any attempt to hold my hat on and held it in my hand instead while we whizzed around in the chilly air, listening to the yells of the other riders.
We staggered off a little while later, still breathless and barely able to speak, but both of us grinning with delight. I put my hat back on, fiddling with the loosened hair-pins but it was a pointless exercise and Will removed it again, and bent to kiss me.
‘Now, tell me again how clever I am, and what a wonderful idea it was to come here.’
‘I suppose I could come to like it,’ I said, and ducked away as he swiped at me with my hat.
The day passed in a blur of sightseeing, paddling and funfair rides, and looking around the Winter Gardens, and eventually we even stopped looking over our shoulders. It was almost perfect. We had an early dinner then went for a walk, admiring the glittering beauty of thousands of lights against the night sky, and I finally admitted to Will that his idea was the best possible one, and that we must return to Blackpool one day soon. I had thought he might have wanted to visit his family, but the subject did not arise, and I didn’t want to make him feel obliged either to them, or to me.
The shadows lengthened and we had, by unspoken agreement, begun walking towards the train station, but I wasn’t ready to end the day yet. ‘Why don’t we see what’s showing at the theatre?’
‘We’re too late,’ he said, though rel
uctantly. ‘Whatever it is will have started by now.’
‘Well, there are a lot of people over there,’ I observed, pointing. A large group, mainly women, I noted, had gathered at the entrance to a small theatre across the street. ‘Perhaps there’s a late play. Come on, we can always get the last train.’
It wasn’t until we had crossed the road and were outside the theatre that we saw what had drawn the crowds, and Will frowned. ‘It’s anti-suffrage,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s leave it.’
‘No, we’re here now. I’d like to hear what they have to say.’
‘Evie –’
‘I’m open-minded, it’s only fair,’ I pointed out. I was interested in seeing how this movement could possibly dispute the need for women’s votes; it was preposterous to think they might have a valid argument, and I knew I’d go away fully convinced of the rightness of my beliefs, but there was a sense of fair play that niggled. I wanted to hear both sides.
‘We’ll just stay for a short while,’ I promised.
‘All right. But no lecturing me on the way home,’ he warned. ‘You have a habit of preaching to the choir.’
‘No preaching,’ I said solemnly. ‘You have my word. Let’s go in.’
We were jostled on our way through, quite roughly, and seeing the purple, green and white badges and sashes I belatedly realised the majority of people were not here to listen to the speeches, but to protest them. It was tempting to tell them that I was on their side, that there was no need to shove, but Will pulled me through quickly and I made do with nodding understandingly at their colours instead.
Inside, I was surprised to see a generous crowd, with standing room only at the back, and as my eyes adjusted to the gloom I began to feel uneasy; there was an air of menace about some of these women, their expressions were not open and interested, as I believed mine was, but hard and determined. I hoped any heckling would not work against the cause, but acknowledged the movement had grown more and more militant over the past few years. Emily Davison’s death at the Derby back in June had fuelled things no end, and I’d heard awful stories about what went on at rallies.