by Mary Mackie
‘Miss Clare…’ Ashton said. ‘Lily…’
He reached for her chin, to make her look at him, but before he could touch her she jerked her head away, staring at him wide-eyed, questioning both him and herself. She wanted him to touch her. But she was afraid of it, too.
His fingers curled into a fist and he withdrew the hand, saying, ‘Suppose I tell you I hardly know the girl, hardly noticed her, hardly ever spoke to her, let alone… Lily, if she implied there was anything else between herself and me, it was a falsehood. I swear – it was a lie.’
Reading the candour in his dark brown eyes, she believed him. Oh, she believed him. Hearing it from his own lips, how could she doubt? Her heart had always known it. ‘Then who did she meet? If it wasn’t you, then—’
He leaned closer. ‘You know she went out at night?’
‘Yes. But how did you?’
‘Men talk about such things! And because… I was there, the night they called after you in the street.’
The memory of that humiliation made her scramble to her feet, crying, ‘Oh, I know you were there! Clemency saw you. It was you who told them my name.’
‘It was not I!’ He too scrambled up to deny the charge with a passionate gesture. ‘I didn’t know you were among those girls. I swear I did not. The truth is… The truth is, I was too drunk to know much at all that night. But it wasn’t you they were cat-calling. The girl my friend recognised was Clemency Clare.’
Lily was shaking. ‘I – I don’t understand.’
‘She used your name during her nocturnal escapades. That’s what I discovered when I questioned my friends when we all had clearer heads: when she and her friend went out at night she called herself “Lily Vee”. So you see, it was Clemency they were calling after in the street that night, not you.’
Swaying where she stood, Lily threw a hand to her buzzing head, hardly able to take it in.
‘I tried to warn you,’ Ashton said. ‘I took the risk of writing you a note, to ask you to meet me. But you didn’t come. And then when you refused to speak to me at the shoot… I gave up trying. You evidently had no wish to listen to me.’
‘Oh, Ashton…’ Fresh tears stung her eyes as she lifted a trembling hand, instinctively reaching for him. ‘Ashton…’
‘Lily.’
After all her torment and heart-searching, it was as easy as that. She opened her heart to him and found him waiting to welcome her. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he drew her into his arms, bending his fair head, letting his lips meet her soft, willing mouth.
Under the onslaught of that first kiss, her lips parted and she found herself clinging to him, her arms twined around his neck and shoulders as he held her ever tighter, pressing his body to hers. She didn’t try to stop him when he lowered her to the rug. She even helped him, excited by the air that lapped round her lower body. Such was the burning need that filled her she could think of nothing else. Feeling the shape of his manhood against her thigh she almost fainted. So this was how it happened. This was what a man was.
‘Please…’ she heard herself whisper.
It happened all at once. A spear of pain, then the pleasure began to spread, claiming her, overflowing to roll over her in waves of such incredible delight that she wept at the sheer release of it. Thank you, Ash. Thank you, my darling. Oh, my darling…
She expected him to leave her and allow her to savour the ecstasy of it, but Ash was oblivious to her. His body still thrust inside her, deeper and deeper, scraping her backside on the rug as he rode roughly to his own paroxysm, shuddering over her before clamping his hot mouth on hers in a final, punishing kiss.
As he rolled away to lie on his back beside her, breathing heavily, Lily stared at the distant ceiling, seeing it veiled in dusty gloom. Every vein in her body seemed to be throbbing with hot blood. At last she knew the secret of the great mystery of life. No, she wasn’t sorry. She was glad it had happened. Ash loved her. She knew that now. Your heart’s desire, the gypsy had said. Only twenty-four hours ago.
A sob erupted from somewhere deep inside her.
‘Don’t cry!’ Ash was all concern, moving to bend over her and stroke her face, wiping her tears on his fingers. ‘Oh, my dear… You were a virgin. I didn’t realise. You seemed so eager. You were so ready—’
‘I was!’ she wept. ‘Oh, Ash, I have wanted you for ever!’ Blindly she reached for him, burying her face against his throat. ‘Oh, Ash, I love you. I love you so! Do you hate me now? Do you think me wicked?’
‘Lily…’ His voice was unsteady, though whether with laughter or concern she couldn’t tell. ‘Lily, my sweet girl… No, of course I don’t think you wicked. I love you. You’re a warm and generous girl, not afraid to show your feelings. So many girls are cold, but you… You have made me very happy today.’
‘Have I?’ She blinked up at him, glowing with a joy that seemed to bathe her from toes to scalp.
Ash smiled down at her, stroking her cheek, playing with the little curls of hair that framed her ears. ‘Indeed you have, my love. Did I make you happy too?’
‘Oh, yes!’
‘Then will you meet me here again tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Or any day you say. I’m staying for a few weeks with my uncle at Martham Staithe. He has a cottage there. He paints, so he’s often out, and I’m left to my own devices. I was about to call on Dickon to see if he could ease my boredom, but I should far prefer to spend time with you.’
‘Oh, Ash… Ash… You do love me, don’t you?’ Gazing into her eyes, he slid a hand up under her skirts to caress her thigh and let his thumb graze her most intimate parts. Lily caught her breath, and saw him smile. ‘I love you with all my heart,’ he said. ‘Would you let me do this if it were not so?’
‘No.’ She shook her head convulsively. ‘No. No one else has ever…’
‘I know,’ he murmured, bending to kiss her again. ‘And no one else ever shall, my love. You are mine now. All mine.’
* * *
Through the most awesome moments of Lily’s young life, the cat Ching had remained curled in his chair, apparently oblivious to what was happening only a few feet away.
Ash offered to take the cat back to the Hall and Lily watched from a broken window as he made his way back through the overgrown gardens to vanish under the trees. She hoped he had hidden his horse well. If anyone had seen her trap and Ash’s horse, waiting together so near to the ruin… But no one had. No one knew. Only she, and Ash.
Only then did she realise how hot and dishevelled she felt. And dusty. Her clothes were covered in it; there was even dust in her hair. Not that it mattered. Nothing could spoil the glorious consummation of her love for Ashton. The memory made her long for him to touch her again. She would never get tired of it. Oh, how long it seemed until tomorrow, endless hours of nothingness before she could see him again. And he loved her – that was the wonder of it. After all her doubts and despairings, Ashton loved her.
* * *
‘It’s true, Jess!’ In the gardens at Hewinghall, a radiant Lily shared her joy. Most of it, that is. She didn’t say that she and Ash were lovers, but she did tell Jess about the misunderstandings over Clemency and the ways Ash had tried to warn her, because he cared about her. ‘All this time!’ she cried. ‘If only I had known! How much heartache I could have avoided.’
Jess wondered if she’d done wrong by not telling Lily about the note that Clemency Clare had torn up in a jealous rage, but it was too late now for regrets.
‘You ought to be careful, though, miss.’
‘Careful?’ Lily laughed. ‘Why? Oh, Jess, you don’t understand. Ash loves me. He wouldn’t harm me. He loves me. Oh… I really believe I am the happiest, most ecstatic, completely alive woman in all the world! I simply had to tell you. But you’ll be discreet, won’t you? No one else must know. If Papa, or Cousin Oriana, discovered that I’m seeing him, they would not understand. They’d only try to stop it. And nothing can stop it, Jes
s. This is what I’ve been waiting for. The gypsy said it would happen, didn’t she? My heart’s desire.’
As she talked, her face alight, her glance had been flicking beyond Jess, to where in dappled shadow, one of the under-gardeners had stopped in his work and was staring at her.
‘What is that man looking at?’ Lily demanded.
Glancing round, Jess saw that the distant onlooker was Matty. ‘Well, miss, you know what some on ’em are like. Nosey.’ She waved at him, gesturing him to go away, and with evident reluctance Matty turned to trundle on along the wooded path, pushing a laden wheelbarrow.
‘What’s his name?’ Lily asked. ‘I often seem to see him about. If I didn’t know better I might think he was spying on me. And I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before. How long has he worked here?’
‘Started a few week ago. Name’s Henefer. Matty Henefer.’
If Lily had shown any real interest Jess might have told her the truth, but in her present state a mere gardener, however importunate, was no more than a momentary distraction. What really occupied Lily was her romance with Ashton Haverleigh; everything had to be ordered so that she could see Ash as often as was possible.
‘Aunt Jane Gittens is lonely,’ she told Jess, ‘so I shall be spending a lot of time with her during the summer. Which means I shall have to leave Gyp behind – he’s not welcome at the Manor.’ The dog and Ching shared a mutual loathing and Lily was afraid her pet might get badly scratched. So she wondered if Jess would continue to take him for walks. He was not well, was occasionally sick for no reason. Even Miss Peartree had begun to wonder if it wouldn’t be better to have the poor animal put out of his misery.
‘But I shall not have him put to sleep!’ Lily said with a mutinous thrust of her lip. ‘He has a delicate stomach, that’s all. But he loves you, Jess. If you’ll take him out for me, I know it will do him good.’
‘While you… visit Miss Gittens,’ Jess said.
Lily looked at her, parti-coloured eyes bright with mischief. ‘But of course!’ she declared with a conspiratorial grin. ‘Where else would I be?’
* * *
On a bright hot Saturday morning, little Miss Bella was sadly out of sorts. A bad head cold had turned into a chesty cough that confined the child to the stuffy nursery suite where Nanny was fussing over her – and making things a good deal worse, in Jess’s opinion; Bella would have benefited from some good fresh air.
‘Perhaps I ought to send word to Sir Richard,’ the old woman fretted. ‘If anything should happen to Miss Bella he would never forgive me.’
‘She en’t that bad,’ Jess said. ‘Look… would you like me to stay in with her today?’
‘No. No – you’ve made your arrangements, you go off as we planned. The carter will be expecting you. I need those messages run in Hunstanton and, while you’re there, you can bring another bottle of Lanham’s Elixir – it’s the only thing that seems to clear her congestion.’
The messages weren’t all that urgent, though, not that Jess could see, and there was already a full bottle of the elixir in the cupboard. ‘Well, if you’re sure…’
‘Sally Gooden can manage well enough. You have a quiet day to yourself for once. You deserve it. And here’s a shilling for you to spend.’ Nanny couldn’t wait to get rid of her, it seemed.
Thinking that a trip to the sea would be good for Gyp, Jess called at the rectory to collect him. She saw, briefly, an elated Lily, who was in such high spirits that Jess guessed she had an assignation with Ash Haverleigh that day. Sighing to herself, convinced it would all end in tears, Jess departed and, with the little dog trotting beside her on his lead, went on her way.
In the fields the corn was high, the root crops green, and gangs of workers bent to hoe and pick the never-ending weeds. One of the girls Jess saw hoeing along with the rest was Dolly Upton. She wore the standard linen bonnet, a broad brim shading her face, a frill guarding her neck, but her arms below rolled-up sleeves were red with sunburn and even as Jess watched the girl paused to look ruefully at her hands and spit on a broken blister before once more bending over her hoe. Jess might have called out to her, but didn’t want to rouse the curiosity of the others. One or two of them had already stopped to stare at her, wondering what she was doing out walking so free when they were all slaving away.
One of the women called, ‘If yew hen’t got nawthin’ better to do than stand there a-starin’, Lady Muck, come yew hare an’ tek a turn wi’ my hoe while I tek a piddle.’
Jess moved on, followed by raucous laughter, glad when the tall thorn hedge hid her from sight. ‘Lady Muck’ indeed, and her in her second-hand grey print and a straw bonnet Mrs Roberts had given her. True she had trimmed the hat with velvet violets and a piece of green ribbon, but she knew she looked the same plain old Jess, nurserymaid to Miss Bella Fyncham. Still, that position was better than some. Jess didn’t envy Dolly her toil in the fields.
* * *
In the fine new seaside town of Hunstanton St Edmunds, Jess’s errands were soon done. Her shopping basket remained light, especially after she’d eaten her bread and cheese picnic and washed it down with homebrewed ginger beer. And she still had the whole afternoon ahead of her before she must start the long walk back. That itself would be a pleasure on a day like this. Oh, God bless dear Nanny Fyncham for allowing her this freedom!
She and Gyp headed for the beach, which was stony in places, formed of big, rounded flint pebbles that were hard to walk on and took all Jess’s concentration in placing her high-buttoned boots. Lucky she had small feet, she thought as she stepped from one rock to another and wished she had a leaping pole. Further on there were stretches of wet sand, and pools left among flattish red rocks as the tide receded.
Under the shelter of the cliffs, Jess paused to let Gyp free and watch him patter among the rock pools, curious over crabs, startled by seagulls. She herself perched on a low outcrop of orange rock which, though above the tide line, was surrounded by damp sand. Not far away a governess was watching three small children play in the shallows while an older boy, in knickerbocker suit and straw boater, sat frowning at an easel trying to capture the colours of the cliff. Seagulls swooped and called and a squadron of waders hunched motionless on the sands, facing into the breeze as they waited for the tide to expose their favourite feeding ground.
It was all too tempting. Jess unbuttoned her boots and set them neatly beside her basket, then reached up under her skirts to the garters above her knees. Glancing round to make sure she was unobserved, she pulled off her black woollen stockings and tucked them inside her boots. How cool the sand felt under her stifled feet, oozing between her toes as she curled and flexed them.
Hearing Gyp bark, she looked up and saw him chasing a seagull that lifted lazily and flapped away. The dog’s charge took him into a shallow pool where he stopped, surprised to find his feet wet, looking so comical that Jess laughed out loud. Feeling suddenly carefree, she unpinned her hat and pushed it into her shopping basket so the wind wouldn’t catch it, then jumped up and went to try her toes in the nearest pool. It was only inches deep, but so cool and refreshing, alive with tiny shrimp. Holding her skirts bunched in one hand, she wandered on, lost in the magic of the seashore.
After a while, Gyp came splashing by, playing a game of chase with another, bigger dog. A black dog. A curly-haired retriever. Dash? Or Bracken? Jim Potts, or…
Squinting against the brightness, she saw Reuben Rudd standing by the rock where she had left her basket and boots. The sight of him made her heart hurt. His right arm was free now, no longer in its sling, and he was wearing his usual boots and breeches, leather gaiters replaced by long socks. As concession to the heat he’d removed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, leaving himself in waistcoat and shirt, with loosened collar and tie.
Jess wanted to run to him; she wanted to wave like an idiot and call his name. Instead, she stood as if rooted, like a sea anemone in the pool, the strong beat of her pulse sending out little ripples in t
he water. Rudd had a knack of catching her unprepared. She was aware of her bare legs and feet, skirts all crumpled and splashed, hair flying loose from its knot.
Although she knew he had seen her, he made no sign, only bent and tossed his jacket near her basket, then calmly squatted on the low rock and took off his cap, ruffling his hair to let the breeze cool his scalp. He wasn’t looking at Jess, he was watching the sea. Just sitting there, leaning on his knees. Waiting. Every line of him said he was prepared to stay there for as long as it took.
Jess delayed a little, pretending not to have seen him, pretending to be searching for more shells and stones, but a meeting with Rudd could not be avoided and, since she couldn’t think about anything else with him sitting there only yards away, eventually she made her way towards him.
‘Mr Rudd.’
He tossed her the briefest of glances, said, ‘’Afternoon,’ and went back to staring at the sea, his gaze following Gyp and Dash as they romped in the receding shallows.
Jess watched his tousled hair and sunbrowned profile, wondering if she should grab her things and go. Make it clear to him, once and for all…
Rudd squinted up at her. ‘If I’m not welcome, I’ll go. Right away.’
Then go. She opened her mouth to say it, but the words wouldn’t come.
Silence stretched, and it was again Rudd who broke it: ‘Why don’t you sit down, lass?’ When she didn’t move, he added gruffly, ‘I’ll not bother you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I want to talk, that’s all. I should have done that before, I know, instead of… I just thought… well, any road up, I was wrong and I’m sorry. I’ll not be making any more foolish moves, that I promise you.’
‘That wan’t your fault,’ Jess managed, suddenly remembering, in vivid detail, how his lips had felt, soft on hers.
‘Wasn’t it?’
‘I was… took by surprise.’