The Downstairs Maid

by Rosie Clarke

  It would have been rude to say no instantly, but of course she could never think of marrying again. In her heart Nicolas was her husband. Her marriage to Christopher had never been a proper marriage and she would never want another man in her life.

  Somehow she would manage when the baby was born. Emily wasn’t certain what she had in the bank, and the day following her enforced retirement from the hotel, she caught a bus into Ely and visited the bank in the High Street. She asked for a balance and when it was given to her she asked again, but the same answer was given.

  She had one hundred and fifty five pounds. When she enquired further she was told that her monthly payments had been inadvertently stopped, because of a mistake by the bank itself, for two months, and then restarted. It was nothing to do with the War Office!

  ‘You were sent a letter of apology, Mrs Barton.’

  ‘I had moved,’ Emily said. ‘I had no idea that the payments were still being made.’

  Emily’s heart was racing as she left the bank. Why hadn’t she checked her account before this? Possibly because she’d been working so hard that she really hadn’t had the time – and because she’d managed on her wage.

  What did the reinstatement of her payments mean? Was the government still paying her part of Nicolas’s wage as a pilot – or had Jonathan arranged it? He’d promised to do so, but she’d thought he’d forgotten or neglected to keep his word.

  Her throat caught with tears. It was ridiculous to hope that Nicolas was still alive and yet, illogically, she could not stop the little seed of hope from growing inside her. Could Nicolas still be alive? Should she write to Jonathan and ask him – or visit the manor herself?

  A part of her wanted to rush there at once, but she forced herself to be sensible. It was ridiculous to hope for too much. Besides, she didn’t particularly want his family to know she was carrying Nicolas’s child. Lord Barton would deny it and if by chance he believed her, he might try to take the child from her once it was born. He was a powerful man and he hated her. Emily had a small but ridiculous fear that somehow he could force her to give her baby up to him.

  Perhaps she would write to Jonathan and explain that she’d moved. He might have written to her at the cottage in Waterside or even visited.

  Even though she told herself over and over again, Emily couldn’t help hoping that a miracle had happened. After all, she’d never seen a notice of Nicolas’s death – and yet if he were still alive he would have found her. Even though she hadn’t told her family where she was living, people knew. Anyone who really wanted to know could have discovered where she worked – couldn’t they?

  It was stupid to hope, just because some money had been paid into her account, but at least it meant that she didn’t have to worry how she would live until she could work again.

  Emily wrote her letter that evening and gave it to Vera to post when she took Jack into Ely. However, three days later the girl confessed that she’d forgotten it so it was not posted until the next day. Emily couldn’t scold her, because she’d had months to write and it was foolish to be impatient for a reply.

  Ten days passed and no letters came for Emily. It was midway through that morning that she felt the first pains. The child was coming several days early and Emily felt a rush of panic. Had she harmed her baby by working too long – or had the shock and anxiety she’d felt after that visit to the bank brought the birth on too soon?

  ‘You mustn’t fret, lass,’ Mrs Green told her when her waters broke. ‘Mr Green’s gone for the doctor but he likely won’t get here until it’s over. That baby seems in a hurry to be born.’

  ‘Will it be all right? It’s too early …’

  ‘I was a month early with my first son,’ the kindly woman said. ‘He was as strong as a horse from the moment he popped out – still is come to that. Don’t you worry, me and you will manage just fine on our own. Vera is putting the kettles on and I’ve had four of my own, besides helping others.’

  Emily nodded, but cried out as the pain ripped through her. She felt as if she were being torn apart as she bit down on her lip and tasted blood. It was sheer agony and for a while she thought she might die, but then, pushing when she was instructed, she felt a pain worse than all the others and in another moment the child came rushing out of her in a mess of blood and slime.

  ‘There, what did I tell you?’ Mrs Green said as she dealt efficiently with the cord then wrapped the child in a towel before placing it in Emily’s arms. ‘You’ve got a lovely boy – beautiful child he is, though not as big as my Sam was when he was born.’

  Emily looked at the child in her arms and saw Nicolas’s features. His eyes were open, blue and wide, staring in wonder at the strange place he’d come to in such a hurry. Tears stung Emily’s eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she looked at him. He was so very beautiful and her love swelled, pouring out to surround him as she drew him closer. He was her little Nicky, a part of her husband come back to her.

  ‘That’s it, see if he wants a bit of a feed,’ Mrs Green encouraged. ‘My Sam was a greedy bugger, sucked me dry he did – and it can hurt. Hold your nipple between your fingers, lass, and put him to you. He’ll know what he wants once you show him.’

  Emily laughed. Happiness flooded through her. She was no longer alone. She had Nicolas’s son … she had Nicolas’s son …

  Chapter 50

  Emily was sitting in the parlour, Nicky in a cot beside her when Mrs Green came in to tell her she had a visitor. For a moment her heart raced but she nodded her head, feeling almost sick with apprehension when Jonathan entered. He looked at her and then at the cot.

  ‘Mrs Green told me you have a son?’

  ‘Yes. Nicolas’s son,’ Emily said. ‘He was a little early but he’s quite healthy.’

  Jonathan looked down at the child and smiled.

  ‘He looks like his father. Was he born here in this house – before the doctor arrived?’

  ‘Mrs Green was very good and he was in a hurry to be born.’

  ‘Had you told me, you would have had a doctor in attendance.’ Jonathan frowned. ‘Why did you just go off like that, Emily? You knew I intended to keep in touch.’

  ‘You didn’t come and I – I couldn’t afford to keep the cottage on when the money stopped coming. I know it has been reinstated – why?’

  ‘Because Nicolas wanted to make sure you were all right …’

  Emily knew her face must have gone white with the shock, because he looked alarmed. She closed her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks as she said, ‘He’s alive? Where is he?’

  ‘Alive, yes – and living with us at the manor,’ Jonathan said hesitating, then, ‘it is not good news, Emily. Nicolas was badly burned in the crash. He was picked up by a foreign ship and taken to a hospital in Jersey. We didn’t know anything until about four months ago. He’d been ill and for a long time no one knew who he was – other than that he was a British pilot. When he finally felt like talking his survival was reported and he was moved to a hospital in England.’

  Emily felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Her throat was tight with grief and it was a while before she could speak again.

  ‘Where are the burns?’

  ‘One side of his face – and he can’t see well, Emily. The doctors think he may recover partial sight in the future, but they can’t be sure. At the moment he can only make out shapes and sometimes colours.’

  His injuries were so like Christopher’s that it struck Emily to the heart. She knew that it wasn’t unusual; too many men bore the same terrible injuries. Fire was such a wicked thing and men caught in an explosion suffered terrible burns; the hospitals were filled with them.

  ‘My poor darling Nicolas …’ Emily whispered. ‘How can he write his poems when he can’t see? How can he bear it?’

  ‘Not well,’ Jonathan said. ‘He asked about you but when I said I would have someone trace you he forbade me to tell you what had happened. I am breaking a promise, but I thought you had the right to
know. You’re not a widow, Emily – though Nicolas doesn’t want you to sacrifice your life for him.’

  ‘You mean he regrets our marriage?’

  ‘That’s bloody rubbish,’ Jonathan said. ‘He loves you and it’s breaking his heart because he is refusing to see you – had I been able to find you before I should have told you as soon as we knew.’

  ‘The letter I sent …’

  ‘I’d been away. I haven’t told him. I didn’t want to raise hopes if you would rather not see him.’

  ‘Of course I want to see him.’

  Emily was aware that she was crying. She didn’t know whether they were tears of happiness because Nicolas was alive or tears of despair because he was in such pain. She knew what had happened when she insisted on marrying Christopher. Emily had wanted to make him happy, but instead she’d made his life a living nightmare. Supposing Nicolas couldn’t bear her being near him … and felt desperately unhappy because he couldn’t be the man he had been when they married.

  She could see that Jonathan was angry with her, angry because she was silent and because he thought she was hesitating for her own sake. If she tried to explain he wouldn’t understand. No one could know what it felt like to be in hers and Christopher’s shoes unless they had suffered the same fate. She longed for Nicolas with all her heart – but he might not want her.

  ‘I love him,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll come as soon as I feel able. Please don’t say anything until I do. If you do he might refuse to see me.’

  ‘The burns aren’t a pretty sight, Emily.’ Jonathan looked at her doubtfully. ‘I’ve heard of cases where women just run out of the room when they first see their husbands or lovers … you wouldn’t do that?’ Emily’s head went up and he smiled oddly. ‘No, of course you wouldn’t. You’ve had experience of something very similar I know. I just don’t want him to be hurt more than he has been.’

  ‘Will your father accept me in his house?’

  ‘He has no choice,’ Jonathan said. ‘I told you, the manor belongs to me – and it is Nicolas’s home for as long as he needs or wants it – and you will always be welcome as Nicolas’s wife. I’ve always admired you, Emily. Believe me, you need have no fear about coming to us.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Emily sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. She was lost in her own thoughts and the pain that came over her in waves as she thought of all the lost days and weeks when Nicolas had been alone, believing she’d deserted him, wanting her and yet denying her because he did not want to ruin her life. He had such terrible injuries, but so many men had come home from the war with burns and, in severe cases, blindness. Yet Nicolas had escaped lightly compared to Christopher; for if Jonathan spoke the truth, his injuries were less extensive, despite the burns and the blindness. Christopher had practically lost the use of his hands, and his internal injuries had been much worse than she’d known when she wed him. It was doubtful Nicolas would see it that way, but it was true.

  For a moment she felt bitterness and anger that it should have happened again. She’d been through this with Christopher. Could Fate be so cruel a second time? Yet in another moment she’d dismissed the unworthy feelings. Nicolas was alive and she had another chance.

  Could she convince him that she loved him and wanted to be with him – and that his terrible injuries meant nothing to her other than for the pain they gave him? Or would she just make him unhappy if she tried to force him to accept her?

  ‘You’re tired and this has been a shock,’ Jonathan said. ‘I’ll go – but let me know when and I’ll come to fetch you, Emily. Nicolas needs you. He might not admit it but he does …’

  Emily was paying for her taxi when Lizzie came flying out of the house towards her.

  ‘Where have you been all this time?’ she demanded. ‘Jon nearly went mad when he couldn’t find you …’

  ‘I wasn’t far away if anyone had looked,’ Emily said but her cheeks flamed. She ought to have told Nicolas’s family where she was living – and that she was having his child.

  ‘Jon told me he’d seen you but Nicolas doesn’t know. If he did he would probably refuse to see you. Don’t let him know Jon told you or he would be so angry with him.’

  ‘Of course. He thinks I would sacrifice myself for him and he can’t bear it … the foolish darling. Where is he? May I see him please?’

  ‘Yes, of course. He might shout at you and tell you to go away. He makes Mama cry every time she tries to visit him. He won’t speak to anyone but Jonathan or me.’

  ‘He will speak to me whether he likes it or not,’ Emily said. ‘Would you take the baby for me please, Lizzie? I would rather not shock him too much at first.’

  ‘Can I really?’ Lizzie took the warm bundle into her arms. ‘He smells delicious – of talcum I think. Do you mind if I take him to visit Mabel? She lost her baby and it might cheer her up to see him.’

  ‘Oh no, how awful for her,’ Emily said. ‘Yes, of course you can take him to see his aunt if you’re sure it won’t upset her. Is Nicolas in his old room?’ Lizzie nodded. ‘I’ll see myself up.’

  ‘Yes. Good luck,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ll take Baby Nicolas to visit his grandmother as well.’

  Emily nodded. She walked up the main staircase, after handing Hattersley her gloves, bag and short coat. He stared at her in shock but she smiled and walked on, turning to the right at the top and walking along the landing to Nicolas’s room. She took a deep breath and knocked.

  ‘Go away, Lizzie. I don’t feel like talking.’

  Emily opened the door and went in. Nicolas was sitting in an elbow chair by the window, the sun on his face. She saw the extent of his burns immediately and felt a rush of tears but held them back. His beautiful pale face was red and angry on one side, though the other was just the same as it always had been. She must not cry. Nicolas would not want pity. It would make him angry, hurt – even destroy him. She must never ever show pity, only love.

  ‘It isn’t Lizzie, it’s Emily,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been before but I didn’t know. I thought you’d died in the accident.’

  ‘Who told you?’ he demanded harshly.

  ‘Lizzie, just now,’ Emily crossed her fingers as she told the small lie. He wouldn’t be cross with his sister and Jonathan had only done what he considered right.

  ‘You didn’t know before you came? I forbade Jonathan to tell you but I know he’s been trying to find you in case you need money.’

  ‘Jonathan didn’t find me. I decided it was time to see my friends.’

  ‘They will be pleased to see you in the kitchen. Go away, Emily. Lizzie shouldn’t have told you.’

  ‘Lizzie did just as she ought. You are my husband. If I’d known I would have come much sooner.’

  ‘I don’t need pity. I have a nurse in Lizzie if I want her and the doctor visits once a week. You’re wasting your time here.’

  ‘I have no wish to be your nurse. I’m your wife. If you’re angry with me for running away I must apologise – but I just couldn’t bear it when Jonathan told me you were dead. I felt I wasn’t wanted here and I couldn’t face anyone. I wanted to be alone.’

  ‘Then you’ll know how I feel.’

  ‘You are not the only man to come home with injuries like this, Nicolas. There must be hundreds of men with scars on their faces and blindness too. Lizzie said there was nothing else wrong – nothing to stop you living your life and making it a good one.’

  ‘Nothing else? Isn’t this face enough?’ he asked, a note of bitterness in his voice.

  ‘It isn’t that bad. I’ve seen worse. At the hospital … some of the men were much worse off than you. You have all your limbs and your senses.’

  ‘Should I think myself lucky?’

  ‘I feel lucky to have you back.’

  ‘Go away, Emily. I don’t want you here.’

  She took a deep breath, her eyes smarting. ‘I’m sorry, because Jonathan told me this is my home. I can bring Jack if I want, and I shal
l, of course, though Mr Green loves him, and when he’s older he might go to live with them. I’ve decided I shall live here.’

  ‘Why?’ Nicolas’s voice was harsh. ‘I don’t need pity and I don’t want you to stay with me out of duty.’

  Emily’s laughter rang out. ‘Is that what you think – that I would stay with you out of duty?’

  ‘It’s what you were prepared to do for Christopher Johnson.’

  ‘I cared for him as a friend. I love you, Nicolas. You are the only man I’ve ever loved. I want to be with you, and to spend my life with you, loving you – if you will let me?’

  ‘What’s left of me. I can’t see you. I’m scarred. I can feel the ridges on my face even if I can’t see them and I know I must be a monster. I don’t want that for you, Emily. Jonathan will give you money. You can divorce me and find a new lover.’

  ‘I wouldn’t even think of it.’ Emily hesitated, then, ‘So you don’t love me? What have I done to be sent away as if I was less than nothing? Do you hate me for ruining your life? Have you decided that your father was right – that I’m not good enough for this family?’

  ‘Hate you?’ Nicolas stood up, took a step towards her, hands outstretched. She could see tears running down his cheeks. ‘How can you think I could hate you or think you not good enough? I love you too much to let you ruin your life looking after a wreck like me. You didn’t have a choice before – and I want you to know that you can choose to walk away now. I shan’t blame you.’

  ‘I don’t want to walk away.’

  ‘Think of what you’ll be giving up … tied to a man who can’t see …’

  ‘I love you, Nicolas. I’ve never stopped.’

  ‘It isn’t fair to you, Emily. I can’t see … If I can’t see I can’t write about what I see. Without my poetry I’m only half a man …’

  Emily’s voice was a whisper, charged with emotion. ‘I can see. I can be your eyes, Nicolas. I can tell you when the leaves are out and what colour the grass is and when there’s dew on the spider’s web …’