A Class Apart

by Susan Lewis

  “Devoted,” Jillian laughed.

  “Shall we be getting on with it?” said Kate, putting her cup back on the tray.

  “If we must. Shall we start outside? It’s such a lovely day, let’s go for a walk. What do you say?” The question was clearly directed towards Nick.

  “Sounds fine to me,” he said.

  “Oh good.” Kate moved towards the door. “Then shall we go?”

  “Lead on,” said JiIlian.

  “Won’t you be needing your camera?” Kate asked, looking pointedly to where Jillian had left it on the settee.

  “I thought we were going for a walk.”

  “To take photographs.”

  Jillian shrugged. “OK. She’s not always like this, you know,” she said to Nick. “All work and no play. It’s usually me trying to get her to do something. I think she’s trying to impress you.”

  “Actually,” said Kate, “it was you I was thinking of. I thought the quicker we got to work, the quicker you could be off.”

  Nick tried to hide his smile behind his hand, but Jillian didn’t miss it.

  The next hour or so passed pleasantly enough, though Kate couldn’t help wishing that Jillian would be a little less attentive to Nick and more aware of why she was there, but she said nothing. She was too fond of Jillian, really, to be unkind.

  Much later, while JiIlian went inside to get shots of the staff at work, Nick and Kate strolled down to the river, where the Sally Anne was waiting for them. There was no one else around, so they had the boat to themselves. At last Kate felt she could relax. She had been afraid that Jillian might insist on coming with them on the boat; it was one part of the day that she had particularly wanted to spend alone with Nick.

  The Sally Anne’s skipper was discreet, and he realised there was no need to give his usual talk on the sights they were passing.

  Nick was most interested when they passed Spring Cottage, tucked in among the trees on the riverbank.

  “It was there,” Kate told him, “that the Profumo affair took place.”

  “There? I had always assumed it had happened in the house itself.”

  “No,” said Kate. “It all happened right there. And somewhere around here must be the lawn where they say the Prime Minister danced naked.”

  “What, Macmillan?” said Nick. “The mind boggles. Are you sure it was a prime minister?”

  “Well, that’s what they say. But who knows?”

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked. “The Tory party, the party of morality and Victorian values, is the party that has had the most scandal attached to it. Still, all I can say is, if the Conservative government were to face a downfall, where better to face it, and what better way to do it?”

  Kate laughed. “I think Mrs Thatcher might have something to say about that.”

  “Well, I don’t suppose anyone will ever catch her dancing naked on the lawn,” and from the front of the boat he heard the captain chuckle.

  When they disembarked Nick wandered on up the hill while Kate stayed a moment to talk to the boatman. When she turned to follow, she saw that Nick was already halfway up the steep slope. She stayed where she was and watched him.

  They had known one another for several months now, and still he had never made any advance, or any suggestion, that perhaps their relationship was more than mere friendship. She knew that without him she might never have got through that terrible time. He had understood, in a way that so many men would never understand, what she had been suffering then. Her longing for a child, her desperate guilt at having . . . She found it difficult to form the words even now. It had brought them close together, but now she wanted much more. She wanted him to love her, in the way a man loved a woman. She wanted him to hold her and tell her he would always be there for her. Hardly a day went by when they didn’t speak to one another, or see one another, but their relationship had never gone beyond the affection known between friends.

  It was because she was in love with him that she had brought him to Cliveden. When she had last been here, she had been struck more than anything else by the feeling of romance that pervaded the place. And if he couldn’t feel it too, with her and in these surroundings, then maybe he never would. Damn Margaret Stanley for sending Jillian. If she hadn’t, then maybe things would have worked out.

  Nick looked back and waved to her. She waved back, and started to climb the hill. He waited for her, and took her hand as she caught up with him. Was this all there was ever to be between them? That sometimes he would hold her hand? Sometimes he would slip his arm round her shoulders? Once, when he was leaving her flat one night, he had brushed his lips against her cheek, but he had pulled away again before she could turn her face. No, it seemed that theirs was no more than a deep and lasting friendship. She wished she had the courage to ask for more. The day was coming to an end and her heart was heavy, and she was suddenly struggling with herself to hold back the tears. Cliveden, dear, precious Cliveden, where she had believed that if Nick would ever turn to her in love, it would be here. The entire place was filled with love, it had an air for lovers. But he was walking on, a little in front, leading her back towards the house.

  “Nick.”

  He turned back to look at her, but seeing the question in his eyes, she couldn’t go on.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  He laughed. “I think someone is getting a little misty-eyed over their history.”

  They walked on into the house. In the hall she turned to him. “I was wondering . . .”

  “Ah, there you are. You’ve been gone ages.”

  Kate closed her eyes in exasperation. “Jillian,” she said, forcing a smile. “You still here?”

  “Been upstairs,” she said. “I watched you two love-birds, hand in hand across the lawns. Don’t worry, I’ve captured it on film. I’ll send it to you.”

  “Thank you,” said Kate, gritting her teeth and avoiding Nick’s eyes.

  “Tell you what,” said Nick, taking Kate’s hand, “why don’t we have a cocktail before we get back on the road?”

  “What an absolutely splendid idea,” Jillian cried. Kate tried to catch her eye, but she was looking at Nick. “I’ll just go and put these in the car. Champagne cocktail for me, be right back.”

  “And for you?” said the butler.

  Kate looked at him, she hadn’t seen him come in. “Uh, the same please.”

  “Make that three,” said Nick.

  “Would you like to have them served by the pool?” the butler suggested.

  “Good idea,” said Nick. “I’ll go and tell Jillian where we’ll be.”

  “We have to walk past her to get there.” Kate pointed out.

  “Then we can both go and tell her where we’ll be.”

  “Thank you,” said Kate, as the butler started to walk away.

  She followed Nick outside. “Jillian!” he called. “We’re going over to the pool.”

  “OK,” she called back, poking her head out of the car.

  Kate walked on. She knew she was sulking, but she was furious with Jillian for having stayed so long. She walked round the edge of the pool, and heard Nick behind her.

  “You’re very quiet all of a sudden,” he said.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes. Something upset you?”

  “I’m here!” Jillian cried, coming in through the door in the wall.

  “Yes,” Kate muttered, “I think you could say that.”

  Nick gave a knowing smile but Kate wasn’t looking at him.

  “Now, where shall we sit?” said Jillian, as she caught up with them. “I know, how about in that darling little summer house over there?”

  “I think I’ll sit here,” said Kate, plonking herself down on a sun lounger.

  “Right you are then, here it’ll be.” Jillian sat down beside her. Nick sat the other side of Jillian.

  A footman arrived and placed their cocktails on a small table in front of them. “The butler asked me to inform you,”
he said to Kate, “that the Lady Astor and Buckingham suite has been vacated now, if you would like to take a look round.”

  “Oh, yes, thank you,” said Kate, sitting up. “I’d almost forgotten.”

  “How wonderful!” said Jillian. “I’ve been wanting to see that suite all day, but they wouldn’t let me in.”

  They sat in silence as they sipped their cocktails. Kate was fuming, and trying hard not to show it, and Nick was amused, and trying equally hard not to show it. Jillian lay back on her sun lounger, apparently completely oblivious.

  “Isn’t it the most glorious evening,” she sighed. “You know, it’s been so wonderful meeting you, Nick.”

  Kate flinched and felt her nails digging into the palms of her hands. It was no good, she simply couldn’t stand it any longer. She jerked herself to her feet and started to walk away. Nick glanced at Jillian and winked before he got up.

  “Where are you off to?” he asked Kate, as he caught her up.

  “Two’s company,” she snapped through clenched teeth, and walked on.

  Laughing, he caught her by the arm as she was going through the door in the wall. “What’s up?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Jillian?”

  “Ten out of ten.”

  “I rather like her, myself.”

  “So I’d noticed.”

  “Well, you guys,” said Jillian, sauntering up to them, still clutching her cocktail, “I suppose it’s time I was making tracks.” She looked at Kate and couldn’t resist adding: “Sorry I can’t stay any longer.” Nick turned away to hide his smile.

  They walked Jillian to her car and stood in front of the house, waving her off, until she disappeared round the corner at the Fountain of Love.

  “And not a moment too soon,” said Kate, turning back to the house.

  “Oh, don’t be like-that.”

  “I’ll have a few words to say to her next time I see her.”

  “She was winding you up, you know, the whole time,” said Nick. “Couldn’t you see that?”

  Kate turned her head very slowly to look at him. He nodded. “Now come on. The Lady Astor suite, please.”

  While Kate went off to get the key and return the champagne glasses, Nick strolled round the hall looking at the portraits again. He was struck by how almost everyone, with the exception of Nancy Astor, had bald eyes. Maybe artists didn’t feel the need to paint eyelashes in those days. Shame though, they’d look much better with them. He walked to the end of the room, and stood before the portraits of the second Duke of Buckingham, and the Countess of Shrewsbury. He grinned at the Duke, and winked. And then he turned his eyes to the haughty Countess, and thought how dreadfully ugly she was. Kate would be horrified! But honestly, one had to admit, the Countess was a bit of a dragon. The Duke wasn’t much to write home about either. He shrugged, and turned away. Probably thought to be great beauties in their day, he told himself, and wandered back towards the door.

  Kate came back, holding the key, and waved to him to follow her. He was pleased to see that her enthusiasm for the place had returned, and followed her up over the staircase. A portrait of George III looked down at him with a knowing smile, and Nick smiled back. Yes, Your Majesty, he said silently, you might well be right, and he continued on to the top of the stairs. Kate led the way down the hall, and then stopped to unlock a door at the end.

  Nick followed her inside. He almost gasped to see the splendour of the room. So this was the famous Lady Astor suite. Everything was so delicate and feminine that he felt as though he had stepped into a lady’s bedchamber, and almost expected the lady herself to appear beside the magnificent fireplace. He walked over to the heavily draped windows, and looked down on the parterre below, trying to imagine what it would be like to wake up every morning, and look out on all this.

  Kate was sitting on one of the blue sofas that flanked the hearth, watching him, waiting for him to say something. He walked over to the bed, and touched the drapes that flared round the headboard. Everything was so beautiful, almost too beautiful to touch. He crossed over to the fireplace and, putting his hands behind his back, stood with his legs apart, marvelling at the room.

  “You look quite the lord, standing there like that.”

  “I feel it.”

  After a little while she said, “I wasn’t jealous, you know.”

  Nick gave a shout of laughter. “You were!”

  “I was not.”

  “You were. And so you should have been. She fancied me rotten.”

  “I noticed. And I was not jealous.”

  He went to sit beside her on the sofa. Putting his hands behind his head, he stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Didn’t she used to be a fashion model, Jillian? She’s very beautiful, don’t you think?”

  Kate shrugged.

  “Lovely figure she’s got.”

  Kate was silent.

  “I have to admit, I could hardly keep my eyes off her legs.”

  Kate started to stand up.

  He reached out and pulled her back. “Of course,” he said, sitting forward and turning her face towards him, “she couldn’t hold a candle to you. But then in my eyes no one could.” His eyes were still laughing, and despite herself Kate felt a smile creeping up on her.

  “And,” he went on, “I’m glad you were jealous.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak he leaned forward and kissed her. Gently he pushed her back against the cushions, and for a long time held her in his arms, just kissing her. When he let her go he looked down into her eyes, searching her face, waiting for her to speak. She looked away, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. He pulled her face back again and brushed his lips gently against hers.

  “I think,” he said, “that the romance of this place is beginning to get to me.”

  She smiled. “I confess, I hoped it would.”

  He brushed the hair away from her face and kissed the tip of her nose. He looked round the room again, and she followed his eyes.

  “Only the very rich, or very fortunate, ever get to stay here.”

  “A pity we’re not rich, you’re thinking,” he said, gazing at her.

  She didn’t look away.

  “However, who knows, we could be fortunate.” He raised his hand, and began to stroke her cheek. “Would you like to stay?”

  She swallowed, and tried to speak, but nothing would come out. She nodded.

  “Tonight?” His face had become serious.

  Her heart was racing, and she tried to smile. He was teasing her, he must be. “Are you making improper suggestions, Mr Gough?”

  “I doubt that anyone could do anything improper in surroundings like these.”

  So he had been teasing her. She turned away, trying to hide her disappointment.

  “But it wouldn’t be improper,” he said, “if you were to say you’d marry me.”

  Her heart did an exquisitely painful somersault, and she looked into his face, expecting to see him laughing at her. But his eyes were soft and serious, and she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “Well?”

  “But we’ve never . . . we hardly . . . we haven’t even . . .”

  “Then where better to begin?” Taking her face between his hands, he bent his head to hers, and kissed her so tenderly she thought her heart would burst. “You still haven’t given me an answer,” he said, as he let her go.

  Suddenly she felt her eyes fill with tears, and she nodded, “Yes.”

  He kissed her again, and she clung to him; she never wanted to let him go. He pulled away, and once again his eyes were laughing. “I think we had better go down and check in, don’t you?”

  “It’s very expensive,” she said, as she was closing the door behind them. “Are you sure you want to stay?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” He ran his hand across the back of her neck.

  The butler seemed to be delighted that they had decided to stay the night, and he smiled a King George III
smile as he pushed the book towards Nick for him to sign. Nick picked up the pen, and it was all he could do not to gulp when he saw how much the room was going to cost. But he knew it was worth it.

  “How about an early dinner?” said Nick, as he took the key from Kate.

  Her eyes had a mischievous gleam. “If we must.”

  The butler came back. “A table’s been set for you in the dining room. And breakfast? Will you be taking that in your room, or will you be joining us in the French dining room?”

  “Dinner we will have in the dining room,” said Nick, “but breakfast we won’t.”

  The butler smiled. “If you’d like to follow me.”

  A table had been laid for them in a corner, beside the window. They sat in silence a while, looking out across the gardens to the lazy hills in the semi-distance, a sparkling triangle of river in its midst. The distant horizon was hazy, blending with the sky, giving the impression that it was joined with heaven. The sound of a lawn mower could be heard, but there was not a soul in sight.

  Nick turned his eyes back to Kate’s, and reached out for her hand. The footman brought the menu, and he let her go again.

  They looked the menus over, Kate trying to decide what she would have, Nick trying not to look at the price.

  The footman came back and took their order, and presented Nick with the wine list. There was nothing for it but to order champagne, so checking for the third time that he hadn’t come without his wallet, he ordered a bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal ’79.

  Their food arrived. The terrine of broccoli and foie gras, first. Then the poached fillet of salmon with chive sauce. But neither of them ate much.

  “Dessert?” said the footman, wheeling a trolley to their table.

  Kate looked at Nick, and they both shook their heads.

  “Coffee?”

  “No thank you,” said Nick, before Kate could answer, and the footman went away again.

  Nick turned back to Kate, and took her hand. “Are you ready?” he said, and his eyes were dark. The breath caught in her throat and she nodded.

  He led her from the dining room, and back up the stairs. He glanced at George III, and smiled. When they reached their suite, it was Nick who this time unlocked the door. He pushed it open, turned back to Kate, and took her in his arms.