Susan Speers

by My Cousin Jeremy

His voice was so light, I thought for a moment I imagined the question. We’d come to the moment where a single word can alter a man’s fate.

  “No,” I said. “I love you more.”

  *

  We sat on the steps, my head on his shoulder, then his on mine. I held his hand. Beneath the flesh of his fingers I felt misshapen edges where the bones had been broken and badly mended.

  One by one the stars came out, pinpricks of light in the dark sky. I trembled and Jemmy put his arm around me. I wasn’t cold. I knew what would happen, what must happen for Jeremy to believe I loved him still, loved him better as I’d vowed.

  If he looked full on his horrific past and chose to go on, so must I choose a future where Dickon was beloved, but a memory. I could never forget him, but I couldn’t run away from loving the man beside me.

  We took a long, slow walk past our blue sitting room, the corridor that led to the library, the silent piano. Hand in hand we climbed the stairs and walked down a hallway he’d never seen. I opened my bedroom door and welcomed him inside.

  The wonder we found in Geneva, our lovemaking in Willow’s cottage, even the desperate longing we’d known at the Watch Tower Inn didn’t prepare me for the beauty and passion of our reunion. Just as I held him perfect in my heart, so he held me and our damaged selves could heal in each others’ arms.

  Long past the time we might have slept he held me close, his heartbeat matching mine. His lips rested against my forehead and I felt him smile.

  “Every lady loves a soldier,” he said.

  “I love a hero.”

  “Well, if I’m a hero, then you’re —”

  “Not a heroine.”

  “No, no, never that.” His teasing voice grew serious. “You’re an angel, my angel, now and forever.” He tightened his embrace and fell into a deep sleep.

  *

  Henry knew right away. His manner was formal as ever, but he seemed lit from within, he very nearly beamed at us.

  Jem and I had the luxury of time and space to find our way into the mature love we’d so long been denied. Night after night we fulfilled its promise and afterward slept sated in my bed. We took picnic hampers and rugs on long walks and made love in every secluded corner of Hethering.

  Both of us grew strong and brown with healthy appetites and smiling faces. We spent long afternoons in my study, now his, as I turned over the reins of estate management.

  “I’ll never have a better agent,” he said.

  “Not one so devoted.” My fingers were tangled in his thick hair and we had good reason to lock the door and find our way to the sofa.

  I finished Willow’s story and posted it to my publisher. I found renewed pleasure in embroidery and stitched a riot of rose covered cushion covers to decorate the summer house. I painted scenes showing the follies in all seasons, each one to be framed and hung in our sitting room, the salon or the library.

  I’ll admit we gave no more thought to the future than heedless youths in love with love and each other. It was true Jeremy still had nightmares and bad moments in his waking hours, but I was there to comfort him, cajole him and love him past the spectres. He, in turn, spoke often of Dickon, in a casual way, to help me remember him without pain.

  We made Hethering our kingdom and the last glorious weeks of summer our idyll, but the outside world was not long content to leave us in peace.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The first intruder in our paradise was Dr. Sachs. He sat closeted with Jeremy for a long time. When the salon door opened, I ceased my pacing and searched Jeremy’s face for the outcome.

  His lips were pursed in a serious expression, but his eyes were dancing. “I am pronounced recovered,” he said. “I am pronounced fit. I will be demobilized with honor.”

  I threw my arms around his neck, then stepped back blushing. I didn’t want his doctor to know how it was with us now.

  “Dr. Sachs wants to speak with you, Clarry.” Jeremy’s voice was quiet, but when he turned, he winked at me. Jeremy winked! This was a happy day.

  “You are blooming, my dear.” Dr. Sachs’ eyes twinkled as we sat down, alone. “Your cousin’s recovery blessed you too.”

  “I believe you said it might.”

  “Yes.” His face sobered. “Those were anxious days. You’ve done well, he’s done well. Neither of you lack for courage.” He looked at the piano. “You play for him?”

  “Every night,” I said. “When he wouldn’t look at me or speak to me, the music got through somehow.”

  “My wife played for me,” he said. “After dinner. I miss it.”

  I’d always assumed his black mourning band was for a soldier.

  “When the war is done, Mrs. Scard,” he said. “My duties will be less. I’d like to write a treatise on shell shock. I wonder if I might interview you for it?”

  “If Jeremy agrees.” I couldn’t discuss my experience without revealing his.

  Dr. Sachs searched my face. I was foolish to think I could hide what happened with Jeremy. I blushed again and we both smiled.

  “Here I am, Mrs. Scard,” he said, “on an occasion that only requires words of praise, with another caution.”

  Did Jeremy face another hurdle?

  “Sometimes, as a last step into wholeness, a recovered spirit will reject his savior.”

  I couldn’t imagine it.

  Dr. Sachs raised his eyebrows. “Think how an infant runs from his mother. Remember how a young man or woman scorns loving parents.”

  We could hardly wait for Dr. Sachs to leave. Jeremy was free.

  A few days later, I came home for tea after hours spent sketching the Medieval Tower. Jeremy was off hacking a better path to Madison’s Folly. As I ran down the steps in a fresh dress, the great bell sounded.

  Henry was below in the kitchens, so I pulled on the front door and came face to face with Rutherford Dane, dressed in a crumpled driving coat, his hair askew from the wind.

  “Is there tea?” He demanded.

  I burst out laughing and held out my hand. “Any minute now.”

  Henry was run off his feet fetching urns of hot water and additional plates of scones and cake. I sat and watched Rutherford demolish mountains of refreshment. Really, his greed was an inspiration.

  “I see your appetite has improved,” he commented. “And I heard your cousin is recovered.”

  “He’s doing very well. I’m quite satisfied with his progress.”

  “Moving on then, are you?”

  “I — I don’t know. It’s still early days.” I felt the first shiver of alarm that our idyll wouldn’t last.

  “The Germans are finished, you know,” he said. “The Americans are mopping them up like bread in sauce.”

  “You think the war will end.”

  “We’ll win it,” he said. “But the peace? There’s plenty of room for mischief there. Diplomats are needed, a gross of ‘em at least.”

  “You think Jeremy will be summoned —” It was too soon, it was early days. But Rutherford had connections high up.

  “He will be. They know he’s well. Word in your ear.”

  After he left, Jeremy came in. He still avoided strangers.

  “Who was that dreadful man?” He frowned at the wreck of the tea tray.

  “Rutherford Dane. My father’s elder brother. He thinks to look out for me, but he’s not —” I was going to say ‘good at it’, but I was wrong.

  “Must he shout every word?” The war made Jem jump at loud noises.

  “Almost always. Did you hear what he said?”

  “Not the words. Was it important?”

  “It’s hard to say.”

  *****

  “This is the life we were meant for,” he said a few days later. We were on one of our picnics. I sat with my back against a huge elm in a meadow far across the estate from the Marchgate Wood. Jeremy lay sprawled on the rug, his head resting in my lap, a long piece of grass between his teeth. As perfect a moment as I could ask.

  “I’
ve written to Caroline.” In a split second our perfection splintered around me.

  “Have you?” I said at last, my voice sticking in my throat.

  “I asked her to send a photograph of Arthur.” He reached for a new piece of grass, examined it and exchanged it for the one in his mouth. “I asked her for a meeting.”

  His casual tone of voice didn’t fool me. His shoulders were tense and a fine trembling transferred from his skin to mine through the thin stuff of my summer dress.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “I can’t wait any longer. We have matters, important matters to settle.”

  “You and your wife will settle things?”

  “I’m not sure I like your tone.” He sat up and looked at me, his eyes narrow.

  “What matters then?”

  “A divorce, of course. The time has come.”

  “She won’t give you a divorce, Jeremy.”

  “Of course she will. We’re nothing to each other.”

  “You’re Arthur’s father.” Caroline would fight hard to reunite them.

  “Yes, quite.” A longing entered his eyes. “That won’t change. We’ll live apart, but he’ll come to visit us.”

  “Visit us? Here at Hethering? That would be irregular.”

  “We’ll marry, of course, Clarry. Everything above board.”

  “Caroline won’t let you put her aside.”

  “She’ll have to. I won’t spend another night beneath the same roof as she.”

  “Even for Arthur’s sake?”

  He looked away. “It won’t come to that.” Two fever bright circles of red spotted his high cheek bones. “I’m a diplomat, Clarry. I can talk a bird down from a tree. You’re the one who told me that.”

  “Jeremy, think of your diplomatic career. A divorce would put paid to it.”

  “I don’t want that life any more, even if they’ll have me.”

  “Why not?” I hadn’t told him what Rutherford said. What if he were wrong? What if he wasn’t?

  “It’s not good clean work like carpentry. It’s lies and posing, threats and slippery promises. I wouldn’t mind a bash at the peace talks, but that’s a dream with my record.”

  “They owe you that much, you’re better now.” Carpentry wouldn’t hold his attention for long.

  “Don’t turn the subject. I’ll divorce Caroline, remain Arthur’s father, and love you for the rest of our lives.”

  I felt a deep chill within me. The world was not so simple. Caroline was not so uncomplicated. She was capable of trusting Jeremy to me as a last resort. She was capable of turning her face away from what resulted. She would not easily be persuaded to live as a divorced woman, abandoned by her husband. She could hurt him and he was so vulnerable.

  “You don’t trust me. You don’t think I can do this.” He threw away his bit of grass and chewed his thumbnail as he’d done when an angry schoolboy.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what?”

  I cast about for a way to stall him. “I don’t know if I can be a scandal.”

  It was a poor excuse and he scowled. “What does that matter? We love each other. We’re meant to be together. It’s mad to think otherwise.” A bitter smile curled his lip. “If you’ll forgive me that word.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Our difference of opinion began to color our bright days with an acid tinge. I searched the post for a letter from Caroline, but there was none. I’d stopped writing her when Jem and I became lovers. I couldn’t keep up a pretense, not even in brief notes. I avoided Amalia, too, so not to disappoint her. I felt very much alone.

  Jem didn’t mention Caroline again, and I would not, I think we both feared another quarrel. We were industrious during the day, at night he made love to me with such great tenderness, I could not fail to respond. Could anything come between us, now we’d found the love we’d craved so long?

  Jeremy took leftover wood from the summerhouse to the top of Willow’s meadow and built a bench, a twin or as near as he could make it of the one by the pond. The view of its autumn blue waters beside my fairytale cottage inspired sketches for embroidery, though I didn’t like to sit still for long, so many questions would go through my head.

  One morning I woke before the birds. Jem was awake too. He knew sleep had left me.

  “I will love you forever, Clarry,” he said, his voice soft and deep.

  Slow tears dripped from my eyes into the pillow. “No matter what?”

  He sat up in one abrupt motion. “There is no ‘what’. I will love you forever. That’s all. It’s everything.”

  But I knew better. After he left for his bath, I sat at my dressing table, brushing my hair until it crackled with electricity. Jeremy had a wife and a child, a career and a reputation. All would be sacrificed to the disgrace of divorce. I couldn’t pretend he would mind Caroline’s loss, but the rest were irreplaceable.

  A breakfast, I ate only tea and toast. At lunch, very little more . At tea, I only stirred my cup. His eyes were fixed on my empty plate. “Clarry, are you poorly? You’re not —”

  “No,” I said, though I’d longed for his baby. “I want to talk about our future, Jeremy. I don’t want a divorce.”

  “We don’t need one,” he said with a poor attempt at a joke. “And once we’re wed, I won’t give you one either.”

  “It’s too costly for you,” I said.

  “So we will part? Again? It’s unthinkable.”

  “I’m willing to consider a — a different arrangement.” My face felt hot with blood. I couldn’t meet his eyes. We’d been so free at Hethering. Bridling our love with society’s cruel bit was a travesty, but if he could keep his son —

  “So, after all we have been to each other, you choose dishonor?”

  “If it’s the only way.”

  “You couldn’t do that, Clarry, it isn’t in you. This is just your first step away from me.” His words were sparks snapping from the anger in his eyes.

  “And I, after all you’ve said to me about being a better man, I’m condemned to a life of cheating and pretense?”

  “Jeremy, I can’t think that a divorce is right for you.”

  “I’m well now, Clarissa, you don’t order my life anymore.” He was white beneath his tanned skin, his jaw clamped tight.

  “I order my life,” I said.

  He picked up a china vase and smashed it into the empty fireplace. “Don’t you dare give me up! Don’t you dare for a moment say you brought me back from one hell to live in another.”

  I held my breath. He saw the wariness in my eyes and laughed, a mirthless cough. “I’m angry. I’m very angry, but I’m not dangerous. You’re not in any danger from me.”

  Oh, but I was.

  He paced to the fireplace and back. “I will go for a long walk,” he said, “uphill I think. The decision before us is a hard one for you, you’ve convinced me of that, but we’ve lingered over it far too long. A decision like this should be made quickly, once, like a surgeon’s cut. We must never look back.”

  I watched him, fascinated. Jeremy the diplomat.

  “I will think, you will think,” he said. “I will decide, you will decide. For us to be together, the only right decision in my mind, requires two votes yes. Be careful Clarry. A single ‘no’ will deny us the joyful, truly joyful life we are meant to have.”

  I was mesmerized. He could talk a bird from a tree.

  “When I choose yes, I will sit on my new bench until sundown. I’ll wait for you. When you choose yes, you’ll join me there. It’s as simple as that.”

  *****

  How many hours were there until the sun set? I didn’t know, but I had a lot to think about. I was angry at Jemmy for forcing my hand. I understood his resolve, I understood his fears, most of them, but his decision to write to Caroline without consulting me could change my life as much as his. Or was writing to Caroline his first step away from me?

  We’d loved each other a long time, boy and
girl, man and woman, together and apart. We had a future before us as beautiful as the Fifth Folly on the hill, though the path to it was just as thorny. Jeremy wanted to hack our way through, but we wouldn’t be the only ones left bleeding. There was Caroline, there were countrymen who needed Jeremy’s skill to make a difficult peace. Most of all, there was Arthur.

  Jeremy had wept in my arms, inconsolable one night after an awful nightmare. He saw the face of the boy he killed, he saw it when he dreamed, he saw it in his waking hours. “I have to do right by Arthur,” he said. “Arthur and all the children.” There was so much to consider.

  And yet, he was right to insist we make our decision and not look back. Regret would belie our love or our sacrifice. I picked up the shards of porcelain, one by one, from the fireplace and put them in a basket. It could never be mended. What would I shatter this afternoon? Our hearts? His future? The bond between a father and what could be his only child? If only I had conceived during these happy weeks.

  Henry’s knock broke into my reverie. His eyes held a warning. “Mrs. Marchmont is here,” he said.

  I scarce had time to dust my perspiring hands against my rumpled skirt when she swept into the room.

  “Well, Clarry,” she said. She was dressed in the latest fashion, not a hair out of place. Bits of fur decorated her tailored suit. She was a huntress.

  “Jeremy isn’t here.” I was the prey. She knew what to say. I was tongue tied with surprise.

  “That’s unfortunate. I daresay he wanted this meeting, not you.”

  “Yes,” we could agree on that point. “He’s better now, you know.”

  “I know that, no thanks to you. I guessed he’d recovered as soon as your little letters stopped. You were never a good liar, Clarry. You and Jeremy are lovers, are you not?”

  I didn’t reply. I’d been hot with emotion since she was announced. Now I felt every bit of blood drain from my face.

  “You wouldn’t have risked his health with complication. You waited. No more letters from you. Then his summons. He wants a divorce.”

  I felt quite faint and kept my hand on the back of Jeremy’s wing chair to stay standing. I cleared my throat. “We haven’t decided, umm, that is —”