But how badly life had gone from there. Not all at once, it was true. But, as time passed, the family’s isolation became clear. They were cut off from any kind of social life, too grand for the village and not grand enough for Amberley. There was a forcible turning in on themselves, with bleak results. Her father’s expansiveness took on a hollow ring, as, month by month, he’d known himself excluded from the club he thought he’d joined while her mother had retreated from any shared life, guarding the boy she adored from Joshua’s growing frustration with an heir who disappointed.
The damp was seeping through the thin soles of her shoes and she quickly corralled the coloured balls into a cluster, dredging from memory the rules she thought must be the most important. The boys seized a mallet each and began swinging wildly at one ball after another. She gave a small laugh. ‘It’s not that easy, is it?’
A few practice shots later and Oliver threw down his mallet and disappeared into the house, reappearing in minutes with Beatrice in his arms.
‘We must have an umpire, and here she is!’ he proclaimed, installing the large doll at the top of the terrace steps, where she languished in an ungainly slump.
The match began and it was evident that both boys were playing to win, tackling the game with verve. One round complete and Oliver was slightly in the lead. Cock-a-hoop, he began a victory dance around the lawn but while he wasn’t looking, William equalised the score.
‘Hey, you can’t do that!’ Oliver yelled. ‘It wasn’t your turn!’ He marched up to the terrace steps and appealed to the doll. ‘Is that fair, Beatty? C’mon, old girl, you’re supposed to adjudicate.’
But William was already taking his turn at dancing around the lawn. At the sight of him, Olly began to laugh uproariously, then joined in the victory celebrations, clasping his friend in a bear hug, and they proceeded to whirl together in and out of the hoops. She noticed Oliver’s face as they danced. Love was so clearly written there that she felt afraid for them both.
When they returned to play a second round, she thought she would leave them to it. Her feet were now thoroughly wet and her arms chilled. She turned to go back into the house, but had barely taken a step when chaos enveloped the small party. Before she knew it, something brown and terrified had streaked by her and then a dog appeared, tearing towards them at full speed. And not one dog, but dogs, dozens of them, it seemed. Howling and snarling in frustration that their prey had mysteriously disappeared. They were in a frenzy, bounding over each other this way and that, and giving vent to angry growls as they did so.
At the first sound of the hounds, William had frozen to the spot. He stood paralysed, his mallet still raised as though ready to strike the ball. It was as if boy and mallet were permanently carved in stone. The hounds, milling angrily in a pack, caught sight of the raised stick and decided, in the absence of any other enemy, to attack it. As the hounds leapt up, scrabbling against the boy’s body, William let out a thin scream that pierced the still sodden air. The eeriness of the sound galvanised Oliver into action. He ran from one side of the lawn, waving his arms at the dogs, while Elizabeth charged at them from the other. But no amount of arm waving was going to see the pack disperse. The dogs continued to jump and snarl at the wooden stick, clawing at William’s legs, his arm, his body.
‘Drop the mallet!’ Olly yelled frantically.
But William could not. It was doubtful that he even heard his friend. He stood stock-still, as though in a trance, his face ashen, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Elizabeth was terrified that his heart would burst. Did hearts burst? she thought wildly. She tried to fight her way through the pack to take the mallet from him and throw it to one side, but the hounds were a huge, heaving barrier and she was beaten back.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver dart back to the steps. He picked up the cloth doll and ran back on to the lawn, waving it wildly above his head.
‘Here. Here!’ he called. ‘Look what I’ve got for you.’
Something in the timbre of his voice made the hounds’ ears prick. Several of them at the outer edge of the pack looked in Olly’s direction. For an instant, they stood staring at him then launched themselves forward. Oliver threw the doll into their midst and retreated. The rest of the pack, seeing some of their number tossing an object that looked uncommonly like prey, ran to join the tussle. Snarling and snapping, the dogs dismembered the doll, piece by piece, until not a scrap of her was left intact.
Elizabeth edged her way around the sated dogs to get to her brother’s side, and had just reached him as a posse of gardeners, who had been working on the kitchen plots, appeared at the edge of the lawn. Aiden was just behind them, with Mr Harris in tow.
The younger man ran to her side. ‘Let me take him,’ he said urgently, and grasped William by the arm. But the boy remained frozen to the spot.
‘What’s happened to him?’ she sobbed.
Aiden put his arm around her and gave her a swift hug. It was the briefest caress, yet at that terrifying moment she knew with complete certainty that she wanted this man by her side, always.
‘He’ll be all right,’ Aiden said. ‘He’s in a stupor that’s all. Self-protection, I imagine, but we must get him inside.’ He lifted William off his feet and half slung him over his shoulders.
She ran ahead, up the stone steps, to open the glass doors leading into the drawing room, and almost collided with her uncle, stepping out onto the terrace, a white-faced Alice immediately behind him.
‘We heard the noise,’ he said.
And saw that hug, she feared silently.
‘William, my poor dear boy,’ her mother cried, as Aiden appeared at the top of the steps, Oliver in tow. Alice launched herself at the prostrate figure, frantically smoothing his hair and kissing his cheeks. William was not a large boy but Aiden had begun to stagger beneath the burden.
‘Shall I carry him up to his room?’ he managed to ask, his breath coming in spurts.
‘Yes, yes, please do, Mr Kellaway. But I must go with him.’
She scurried through the French windows, following on their heels, but almost immediately turned round to her daughter. ‘Elizabeth, please ring for Dr Daniels to come immediately.’
‘You must keep calm,’ Henry was saying in a hearty voice. ‘The men have things under control.’ Elizabeth turned her head and saw that between them the gardeners had managed to round up the pack and were driving them back the way the dogs had come.
Alice was looking too. ‘But why…?’ she began.
‘No idea,’ her brother answered. ‘Unless your fences are not secure.’
‘This is the second time your dogs have found their way into the garden.’
‘Then I suggest you send your carpenter on a reconnaissance mission. Don’t fuss, Alice, there’s no harm done – except for a ruined doll.’
‘But William—’
‘The boy will be fine. You mollycoddle him. Joshua is right about that at least.’
*
Several hours later, Elizabeth tiptoed out of her mother’s room. Alice was sleeping heavily, thanks to the draught administered by Dr Daniels. William, too. Wearily, she climbed the stairs to her studio. What a truly terrible morning it had been. She must pack away her paints, for there was no possibility she could work again that day. She was filled with an odd, queasy feeling and needed time to think. Her heart was beating faster than usual and she put it down to the shock she’d sustained. But it was more than that. There were things she didn’t understand, yet she could feel herself flinch at the idea of probing too deeply. The questions, though, kept coming. Why had those dogs escaped for a second time? Her uncle claimed that the Summerhayes fences had to be faulty but surely, after that first intrusion, Cornford would have made sure they were secure.
And why had Henry been here talking to her mother? It was to do with Giles Audley. It had to be. There could be no other reason, since to her knowledge her uncle had never before crossed the threshold of Summerhayes. He had come to quiz Al
ice on the dinner invitation, she was sure. Come to make certain it still stood and that preparations were already in train, though the date was fixed for several weeks hence. Her uncle, though, would be eager to seal whatever arrangements he’d made with Audley. He would be doubly eager, now that he had seen Aiden. Seen the way the young man had instinctively comforted her. Henry would be outraged and determined to bring the alliance he’d negotiated to a satisfactory conclusion. Satisfactory to him. She packed away the last tubes of paint and sat down in the old bentwood rocker. What could she do? How should she behave now that the net was drawing ever closer? But it didn’t have to be that way. There was rescue at hand. More than rescue, a different future – of adventure, of new horizons, of uncertainty, if she could find the courage to reach out, grab hold and ride the storm.
She closed her eyes, trying to relax, but almost immediately a small scratching caught her attention. Mice? They were not unheard of in the attics. There were enough soft furnishings abandoned here to make comfortable bedding for a family of mice and keep them from hunger. The scratching became louder. Reluctantly, she rose from the chair and walked towards the sound. The creaking of floorboards as she walked seemed to cause alarm, because the scratching abruptly ceased. She stopped opposite a discarded console table – they’d had that when they’d first moved to Summerhayes, she remembered, when they were living in just half a dozen rooms. A thick blanket covered the table and, bending down, she very carefully lifted one edge and peered into the darkness beyond. Two bright eyes stared unblinkingly back at her. This was no mouse. She reached in and hauled out the small, brown body.
A rabbit. The little creature lay in her arms, panting with fear. Rhythmically, she smoothed its fur, every so often gently stroking its long ears, and all the time talking quietly to it. Soon the small heart beat a little less fast. This was what the hounds had been chasing, the streak of brown fur she’d barely glimpsed as it ran for its life. In its terror, it had bolted through the open window and as far into the house as was possible. But the rabbit presented her with another puzzle. It was tame, used to people, or it would never allow her to nurse it in this fashion. So how had it escaped from its hutch, and how had the hounds picked up its scent?
She gave up the puzzle, and instead fixed her mind on what she should do. It might be possible to trace the rabbit’s owner, she supposed, but it seemed a long shot. Meanwhile, she must find a place for it to live. Perhaps Cornford could make a hutch? William would love the small animal. It might even hasten his recovery. Once her mother was rested, she would ask Alice if they could keep the rabbit, at least until they found the true owner. In the meantime, she would take it down to William’s room. Oliver could look after the little creature until William woke. It would be something to delight him, to distract him from the horrible memories of today.
When she opened their door, William was still asleep, with Oliver lying close by him on the same bed. He lifted his head at the sound of the door opening and put a finger to his lips. She nodded. She had no intention of waking her brother.
‘I’ve brought a present,’ she whispered, and showed Olly the rabbit.
‘He’s a beauty,’ Oliver said, taking the little animal in his arms and stroking him gently.
‘I’m going to ask Mama if we can keep him. I think William would love him as a pet – until he goes back to school at least.’
‘He would.’ Oliver beamed at her. ‘It will help. He’ll need help, you know.’ And he turned towards his friend and, with his free hand, stroked the boy’s cheek.
Chapter Twenty
‘Joe’s hand will likely mend, thank the Lord,’ Ivy said, ‘though he’ll be laid up for a while with a bad fever.’ She was packing the chest of drawers with neat piles of newly delivered laundry. ‘But he’ll be fine to walk down the aisle in a week or so. And come to the party afterwards.’
‘Do you really want to marry so soon?’ Elizabeth had wondered at the haste, but the girl seemed unperturbed by the change in her plans.
‘Of course I do, miss. The sooner the better. We’ll have some time together – you know –’ two pink spots dotted her cheeks, ‘– before Eddie has to go, if he does.’
‘Go where?’ Elizabeth looked blank.
‘It’s all this talk. Not in the village – no one knows anything there – but when Eddie was in Worthing the other day, people were saying there’ll be a war here. I dunno who’s fighting who. As long as it’s not us. But if it is, Eddie says he has to do his bit.’
Ivy’s words were a shock. She’d been as indifferent to the news as the villagers, but without their excuse. At the breakfast table this morning, her father, hidden behind a double spread of the Daily Telegraph, had growled out one piece of bad news after another. Several days ago, she’d gathered, Germany had given its support to Austria-Hungary, and was now threatening to declare war on Russia. The situation in Europe was very serious, she could see that. Serious maybe, but dreamlike as well. What had any of it to do with ordinary people? Very little, it seemed. Ordinary people weren’t concerned that the London Stock Exchange had closed this very morning or that a wave of panic had swept the business world. The upper classes weren’t much concerned either. Life for them flowed on without interruption. This summer was like every other English summer: the Derby had been run and won, Royal Ascot had come and gone, the Chelsea Flower Show admired, the Wimbledon championships cheered and the regatta at Henley staged in all its glory. For virtually everyone in England, the belligerence in Europe seemed far away and unimportant, but here was Ivy bringing forward her wedding in case her new husband should leave to fight.
She looked up from the book she’d been trying to read and saw that her maid had not left the room, but was standing awkwardly in the middle of the carpet and fidgeting with her starched apron.
‘Is there something else, Ivy?’
‘I know you won’t want me to say this, but I have to.’ She worried what was coming.
‘I want to say thank you,’ Ivy rushed out. ‘I know it were you that persuaded the master to give Eddie and me a present. Money,’ she added.
Elizabeth jumped up from her chair and took both the girl’s hands in hers. ‘I’m glad my father came up trumps. I hope he was generous.’
‘More than generous, Miss Elizabeth. It’s enough for a real good party and some sticks of furniture that we’re needing. We’ll be going down to the Horse and Groom straight after the ceremony. You’ll come, won’t you?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I told you, I’ve been saving the pink crêpe for the very day.’
‘And I’ve saved the lovely frock you gave me months back. It will be my wedding dress.’
‘The blue velvet?’ It could prove a difficult choice in sweltering weather, but she kept her qualms to herself.
‘Eddie has never seen it,’ her maid said happily, ‘and I’ll make sure he don’t until the day I walk up the aisle.’
‘And what is Eddie wearing? Not his chauffeur’s uniform, I hope,’ she teased.
Ivy’s face puckered. ‘To tell the truth, it were a bit of a problem. Your pa’s gift was very generous, but we reckoned that by the time we’d bought enough beer, not to mention the food and the new bed, there wouldn’t be over much left for Eddie’s suit. But his mother made him new trousers – she used to be a seamstress, you know. They’re black and very smart. And your young man has given Eddie his best jacket.’
‘My young man?’ It was her turn to flush pink.
‘Mr Kellaway. He’s been so kind. He had a new jacket made for when he graduates as a proper architect. There’s some kind of ceremony, I think. And the jacket is ever so smart, but it fits Eddie something perfect. So he’s given it to him for the wedding. Just like that. Eddie will give it back, I know. But isn’t that kind?’
‘Yes,’ she said faintly. ‘Very kind.’
*
When Ivy had left, she crossed to the window and stood looking out, hoping the quiet beauty of the garden might
help her regain poise. The weather had settled and cotton-wool clouds high in the sky signalled another lovely day, but she found little consolation in the sunlit landscape. Ivy’s parting words had jolted her severely. Were her feelings for Aiden so obvious? They must be, if her maid knew of them. And Eddie would know too, and probably the rest of the indoor staff. And what of the gardeners? She was appalled. How did they know? How had they guessed? Ivy had shared her mistress’s life for very many years, but she would never have confessed to the girl what was in her heart. She had not spoken of her feelings to anyone. At the margins of her mind, she knew that she was flirting with a future that, if it should happen, would sever her from her family and from Summerhayes. How could she have spoken of that? How even consciously acknowledge it? Yet she must have given herself away – in looks, in gestures. That hug of Aiden’s, a simple hug, but one loaded with significance. And if it were loaded with significance for her, why not for those who had witnessed it?
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