by Anna Jacobs
“Don’t be so sure. He doesn’t seem to care what other people want and doesn’t hesitate to exploit their weaknesses, from what I’ve heard.” Marcus hesitated again, but didn’t think this the time to tell Aubrey that his father might have tried to commit murder.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Look, I was going to walk out to Horton tomorrow. Could I come and see Serena then?”
“Come and have lunch with us.”
“You’ll—tell her about me, prepare her?”
“Yes, of course.”
Aubrey walked down with him to the shop door, where they shook hands.
Ted cocked one eyebrow at him when he went back to stand irresolutely next to the counter.
His friend clearly wanted to know what was going on.
“It’s a complicated story and involves others so I can’t tell you about it yet,” Aubrey said.
“Hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s to do with finding your family?”
“Yes.”
“You’re Frank Fleming, aren’t you?”
Aubrey stared at him in dismay. “How did you know?”
“You’ve looked familiar ever since you came to work here. You used to come in quite often as a lad, spending your pocket money on books. You’ve changed a lot so I wasn’t sure at first. If you want to conceal your real identity, that’s your business as far as I’m concerned, but I should warn you that one or two people have told me you remind them of someone. I said you had relatives in the town.”
“I appreciate you keeping this to yourself.”
Ted came to clap him on the shoulder. “I always felt sorry for you when you were a lad. You weren’t happy. Fleming kept trying to change you into something you weren’t. But I think you’ve grown up now and are your own man.”
That compliment pleased Aubrey greatly. It was how he felt, his own man, but of course the proof of that would come when he met his father again.
He knew he had to do that soon, couldn’t run away from his past—not if he hoped to build a better future for himself.
Marcus walked slowly home from the station in Horton, still thinking about his encounter with Serena’s brother. At the Hall he went round to the kitchen door, rapping twice, then once again, to let them know it was a friend.
What was the world coming to when you had to keep your door locked in the daytime? Was this a “fit country for heroes to live in” as Lloyd George had promised? It didn’t feel like it at the moment. Well, he’d had just about enough of Fleming and intended to do something about the fellow after Christmas, with Redway’s help.
It occurred to him that a few things might be thrown into the balance once Aubrey revealed himself to his father.
Serena was on the other side of the big kitchen chatting to Pearl and he just had time to slip the parcel behind a plate on the shelf near the door before she turned round. Gladys saw what he was doing, so he winked at her and she gave him a shy smile before carrying on with her work.
He went across to kiss Serena on the cheek. She didn’t stiffen as she usually did, but smiled and said, “Come and see what Pearl and I’ve been doing.” Taking his hand she pulled him through the hall to the sitting room, which now had bunches of holly to brighten it up with a couple of bright red bows on the bunches at either side of the fireplace. “Your aunt told me where to find the ribbons. I wanted our first Christmas to be—a bit special.”
He noticed a bunch of mistletoe hanging above the doorway and swung her back under it, pulling her into his arms and kissing her quickly before she could protest. When he drew his head back she went a bit pink but smiled shyly at him, so he didn’t let go of her. “I’ve been dying to kiss you properly ever since we got here. You don’t mind, do you?”
Serena drew a deep breath. Today, when they were making beds, Pearl had teased her about her “frozen” expression and she’d suddenly realised that she’d fallen into her old ways of hiding her feelings, so afraid was she of being hurt by Marcus, because he had far more ability to hurt her than Fleming had since she was already starting to care for him.
After that she’d made an excuse of having some mending to do and stayed in her bedroom for half an hour, not noticing the chill, glad that Marcus was out. She didn’t do any sewing just sat staring out of the window, wrapped in her mother’s old lilac shawl, thinking long and hard about what Pearl had said. And in the end she came to the conclusion that she was being cowardly and promised herself to be more open with her husband. It was more than time things were settled between them. Either they were married or they weren’t. “I don’t mind at all, as long as you really want to kiss me.”
He’d been waiting patiently for her reply but when she said that, he gaped at her. “Of course I want to! You’re my wife.”
“But you haven’t—we haven’t—” She broke off, could feel her face flushing, but kept her eyes on his face.
“—we haven’t consummated our marriage?” he finished for her.
She nodded.
“I thought you didn’t want to.”
“Oh. Well, I thought you didn’t want to. But I must admit I’m glad we didn’t rush things, glad we waited a day or two. It all happened so quickly I panicked—well, I hardly knew you.”
“Have we waited long enough now, do you think? Have you stopped panicking?”
She nodded, staying within the circle of his arms and leaning her head against his shoulder.
His words and the promise behind them made her feel breathless and excited in a way she’d not known before.
“That’ll be the best Christmas present I’ve ever had, a real wife,” he murmured from just above her right ear. Then he remembered. “Come and sit down. There’s something I have to tell you. It’s good news, at least I hope it is.” He pulled her towards the sofa and told her about the encounter with the young man working in Bailey’s Bookshop.
She burst into tears before he’d finished, losing herself in a tangle of disjointed phrases and sobbing against him for a while. When she pulled herself together, she accepted his handkerchief and blew her nose, then nestled against him once more. “You don’t think it’s a hoax, do you, Marcus? I couldn’t bear it to be a hoax.”
“No. He seemed a nice fellow.”
“What did he look like?”
“Just a little taller than you, hair rather like yours in colour now I come to think of it, but with grey in it, especially at the sides, and a scar on his chin.”
“Frank’s going grey?”
“That’s the other thing. They gave him a new name when he couldn’t remember his old one.
He calls himself Aubrey now—Aubrey Smith. And he says he feels more Aubrey than Frank.”
“Does Fleming know?”
“No. Aubrey’s not even sure he wants to get in touch with his father, doesn’t like what he’s been hearing about him, doesn’t feel good when he tries to remember things about him.”
“I’m not surprised. If my so-called father loved anyone he loved Frank, but he had a strange way of showing it, always nagging him. Nothing Frank did was ever good enough and he was bad at sport, which made things worse. He absolutely hated the boarding school he was sent to. When he was younger, he used to cry when it was time to go back there.” She sighed. “I felt so sorry for him, but there was nothing I could do except write to him and send him parcels of food.”
“You’d better go easy on reminiscences when you see him. He says he finds it painful to recall some things, Fleming especially. Anyway, Aubrey’s coming here tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful! The best Christmas present I could have!”
Her eyes lit up and she looked so pretty, Marcus couldn’t resist kissing her again. “The way you smile makes me want to kiss you. You do it so rarely. No wonder Aubrey remembered it.
You have the most beautiful smile.”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
The gong in the hall sounded and she jumped
to her feet. “Oh, dear, I was supposed to be helping with dinner.”
“They won’t mind when we tell them the news about your brother.” And he kept his arm round her as they went to join the others in the kitchen. He saw Pearl nudge Vic and grin, but he didn’t care. He wanted to show the whole world that he loved his wife. He blinked as that thought slid into his mind. Loved her! Yes, he did.
But how exactly did she feel about him? Would it be rushing things to tell her he loved her?
He didn’t know, didn’t understand women well enough.
That night when they were getting ready for bed, Serena suddenly froze, paralysed with the fear that he’d find her lacking in bed, that she really was, as Fleming had said so often, a poor excuse for a woman.
Marcus seemed to understand that she was afraid because he put his arms round her very gently, saying only, “I’m not going to pounce on you the minute you lie down, you know. I need to cuddle you before anything else, holding you close will be a lovely way to begin, don’t you think?”
That made it easier to slip into bed beside him and let him take her in his arms. She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. When he stroked her hair and pulled her face round for a kiss, she found herself enjoying it. He began to caress her gently, and his hands seemed filled with their own magic. It felt as if he set a glow on her skin wherever he touched it. She tried to speak, but he laid one finger on her lips.
“Shh, darling. Let me love you. We’ve nothing to rush for, only ourselves to please.”
And so she lay back and shyly let him explore her body, amazed that this man’s lightest touch could send warmth flooding through her, make her want more touching. When he kissed her again, a deeper kiss that went on for a wonderfully long time, she kissed him back, daring to stroke his head, her fingers lingering on the scars in his check. As he stiffened she moved to kiss those scars. They were badges of honour as far as she was concerned. And that seemed to make him relax. It also gave her the confidence that she could learn to sense his needs, learn to love him, that he could need her love.
But her thoughts soon grew as tangled as her emotions, for his clever fingers continued to play across her body. She’d been afraid of his touch, now she craved it and her fingers took on a life of their own, caressing his body in turn, avoiding the sore places, enjoying the strength and firmness of him.
The world blurred around her, narrowed down to Marcus, so that all led gently and naturally to an intimacy that both shocked and delighted her. It didn’t hurt, as gossip had hinted, though it didn’t take her to ecstasy either. But he seemed to lose himself in her and it was wonderful that she could give him this pleasure, hear him cry out in joy as his rhythmic movements came to a climax. Once he’d stilled, she held him tightly, not wanting to let go of him ever.
After a while his voice sounded in the darkness beside her. “It’ll be better for you next time, I promise.”
“It felt wonderful.”
“My lovely Serena.”
That endearment above all brought tears to her eyes.
He felt the moisture against his chest and asked urgently, “What’s wrong? Tell me. Did I hurt you?”
“There’s nothing wrong. I’m just—happy.”
With a soft chuckle he relaxed against her. “I’d forgotten how you cry when you’re happy.”
Soon he was breathing evenly and deeply.
She lay there for a while—feeling wanted, feeling married, feeling so much love for this man whose heartbeat was close to her ear that it filled her with amazement. She hadn’t expected this much joy in her marriage.
Aubrey woke before it was light, filled with such a sense of anticipation that he couldn’t bear to stay in bed. When he went out to use the lavatory at the bottom of the yard, he was delighted to find it wasn’t raining. Later, when the sun rose, the world was briefly filled with the sparkle of sunlight on melting frost and he went out to watch that. The air was free of smoke today because the mills weren’t operating and that added to the brightness of everything.
He was going to see his sister!
The mere thought of that made him happy and nervous at the same time. Would she like him?
Would he feel comfortable with her? Would he remember anything painful while he was with her? Questions tumbled through his brain one after the other as he tried to occupy himself by arranging more of his new furniture upstairs. He must definitely get another bed, because Jim had promised faithfully to come and see him before he returned to Australia. He’d written to give his friend his new address and hoped to get a reply before Christmas.
He began making a list of things to do, even the simplest item making him feel happy, because he could choose for himself, not have someone else choose for him.
Not wanting to be early, he didn’t let himself set off until ten o’clock then strode out briskly in the direction of Horton, breathing in deeply and enjoying the fresh air. It was so good to be out of doors. He studied the winter landscape he was passing through with a keen eye, eager to know it again. Had he gone for walks round here before? He must have done.
He loved walking in the countryside. It had been his one chance to be on his own when he was working at the convalescent home. He’d loved to watch plants blooming and dying in their eternal cycles, birds nesting, insects humming busily around. Most of all he’d enjoyed the sky, the cloud formations, the glorious freedom of that great space above him into which his thoughts sometimes seemed to soar like birds.
When he reached the village of Horton, he stopped to ask directions to the Hall and then, for the first time, his feet slowed and he began to feel nervous. Did his sister care about him as he felt he’d cared about her? Or was he wrong about everything?
Serena had also woken early that morning eager to see Fr—no, she must remember to call him Aubrey now. Eager to see Aubrey, she corrected herself mentally.
“Are you awake already?” Marcus inquired from beside her.
“Yes.”
“You won’t make him arrive any earlier by lying and worrying.”
“How did you know I was worrying?”
He ran one hand down her arm. “I can feel the tension in you.”
“I might as well get up. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“We’ll get up together and share a pot of tea before the others join us.”
The kitchen was chilly, but Marcus soon got the fire blazing and as they sat there together, she smiled at him. “I feel really, truly married now.”
“So do I. And I like it.”
A short time later Gladys peered in through the door and Serena tried not to let her amusement show. The elderly maid was having difficulty adjusting to such an egalitarian household and rarely entered a room without first peeping in to see whether she’d be intruding on anything.
“Come and join us!” she called. “I’ve just made a pot of tea. You sit down and I’ll pour a cup for you.”
So Gladys sat there shyly, hardly saying anything, but clearly enjoying the luxury of having a warm room and hot drink waiting for her.
Vic came out of the rooms he would share with Pearl after they were married, and at almost the same time his fiancée came down from the servants’ quarters. Soon Ada was with them too.
“It only needs my aunt to join us for there to be a full household,” Marcus joked.
Ada looked round apprehensively. “Well, Mrs Lonnerden did say she might come down for dinner tonight if you could find time to lend her your arm down the stairs, sir. But she wouldn’t want to eat in the kitchen with us, I’m sure.”
Serena answered for him because he was sitting frowning. “Of course he’ll help her down, Ada. It’s good news that she’s feeling better.”
The maid hesitated. “She’s not better, exactly, still very weak, but she says she’s fed up of staying in bed.”
“Anyone would be,” Pearl said. “Shall I clean the morning room and set the table there for luncheon, Mr G—Marcus?” She still had troub
le calling him by his first name.
“Yes, I suppose so, though I’m sorry to add another room to the cleaning roster. Don’t think I don’t appreciate how hard you’re all working. No, on second thoughts, we’ll eat in the kitchen tonight.”
“Mrs Lonnerden?”
“Yes, my aunt as well. Start off as we mean to continue, eh?”
After breakfast everyone set about their chores without being told and Serena found it comforting to know they were each supporting her in their own way. Pearl was in charge of preparing a lunch worthy of the occasion and Gladys helped Serena make sure the smaller sitting room was immaculate, so that she and her brother could chat in private. As they lit a fire, its cheerful blaze seemed to add the finishing touch.
A few minutes before eleven the front doorbell rang and Serena clutched Marcus’s arm.
“We’ll answer it together,” he said reassuringly.
She stood beside him as he opened the door, not moving for a moment, looking at her brother, instantly sure it was Frank, even though he looked a lot older. Then she flung herself into his arms, weeping hysterically, saying, “It is you! It is!”
Realising how stiffly he was holding her she pulled back. “I’m sorry. You don’t really know me any more, do you? But I’d have known you anywhere, even with the grey in your hair. Come in, do.”
But he was feeling dizzy as more memories cascaded into place and it was Marcus who guessed what was happening and stepped forward to lend him an arm, supporting him into the small sitting room.
“Sorry,” Aubrey muttered.
She followed them, terrified she’d done something wrong.
As he sank down on the sofa Aubrey smiled at her, his old wry, twist of a smile. “Don’t look so worried, Serena. I get a bit dizzy sometimes when I remember things, that’s all. This wasn’t painful stuff, just a lot of memories flooding back at once. Come and sit beside me, let me look at you.”
Marcus winked at her and let himself out of the room, then she turned to Aubrey and took the hand he was offering.