by Mary Mackie
‘Oh, I see,’ she sighed. ‘You intend to honour me…’ The sentence trailed into silence as the light from her lamp reached her doorway and discovered the tall figure leaning there. He was no ghost.
Suddenly her pulse was leaping wildly. He looked as if he had been undergoing similar tortures to those she had experienced that night; his shirt was rumpled, his waistcoat hanging open, his hair dishevelled, agony in his eyes. A different kind of terror assailed Lily. Now was the moment when she must choose.
His voice a strained rasp, he said, ‘If you tell me to go, I shall do so, and never bother you again. For weeks I’ve been telling myself I must not do this. But I have to, Lily. I have to know if what my heart tells me is true – that you feel as I do. Tell me, must I go?’
Lily hung there, on the edge of an abyss whose depths she both feared and craved. Here was no longer her employer, the kindly squire, fond father of her charge; here was a strong, hot-blooded man whose embraces she needed as a flower needs sunlight. Looking at him, crumpled and disarrayed in the lamplight, she knew that she loved him as she had never loved before. How could one deny fate? Your heart’s desire… perhaps this was what the gypsy had meant.
Her lips said, ‘Yes,’ but she was shaking her head, moving towards him as in a dream. ‘Yes, you should go. But I want you to stay, too. Oh, Richard… I knew you would come. I believe I was waiting for you. My heart said—’
‘It was answering mine!’ the anguished whisper came as he threw up his hands to capture her face and bent to kiss her in a way that swept aside all her doubts. She only knew that he set her body alight with a desire that equalled his need of her. Beyond that, nothing mattered.
Beyond that, nothing even existed.
Twenty-Four
To Jess’s relief, as the spring advanced so Lily’s spirits lifted, too. It was the old Lily who now went about smiling and singing. Of course, she’d always loved walking in the woods and with the warmer weather she was free to roam again. She took Bella with her, teaching her about the wonderful things that nature had to show. Sometimes Jess went with them, and on Sundays they often had tea at Park Lodge with Miss Peartree and Dolly.
‘Miss Bella have fairly taken to Miss Lily,’ Dolly declared as she and Jess washed dishes to the accompaniment of laughter from the next room, where Lily was playing the harmonium and singing a silly song about a cat. ‘Why, you can see her fairly bloomin’.’
‘You too,’ Jess said, smiling at Dolly’s rosy face. ‘You like bein’ here with Miss Peartree.’
‘That I do. She’re a dear old soul.’
The lodge stood by Hewinghall’s west gate, a spacious cottage with a garden which Matty tended in his spare time, out of fondness for Miss Peartree and, Jess guessed, because it was a way of seeing Lily.
‘Even Lady Maud seem to approve,’ said Jess, watching her brother out in the garden, on his knees tying up faded daffodils. ‘Bella sleep better, and eat better. That’s been ages since she had one o’ her bad nightmares.’
She spoke too soon. Only a few days later she was shocked out of sleep by terrified screams. The little girl lay on the floor, having apparently fallen out of bed; she was giving agitated, incoherent cries, pointing at the window where the curtains were pulled back to show a starry sky.
‘Mama! Mama!’ she kept whimpering.
‘That’s all right, my darlin’,’ Jess crooned. ‘You’ve been havin’ one o’ them bad old dreams again. There en’t nobody out there. Nobody at all. Your mama’s safe, fast asleep in her own room.’
‘She’s not! She was out there. Harry called her! Harry wants her!’
Crooning comfort, Jess picked her up, reflecting that she was getting heavy, growing fast. Then, as she put the child in bed, she heard the schoolroom latch give a soft snick and a moment later the telltale floorboard creaked as someone crept towards the family stairs.
Lily came to see what was happening and after they had settled Bella down they went back to the schoolroom and lit a candle.
‘When I looked out of my door,’ Lily said, ‘I saw the schoolroom window open – and Lady Maud climbing back in. Do you suppose she was drunk again? They do say she turns to gin when she’s unhappy.’
Jess recalled, ‘That must be a year ago that I last saw her out there. She was walkin’ on the parapet.’
‘Gracious goodness! Do you think she’s mad? Oh… how dreadful, Jess! There might be madness in her family. Perhaps poor Harry was infected with it. You don’t think that dear little Bella might—’
‘What I think, miss,’ said Jess, getting wearily to her feet, ‘is that the middle o’ the night en’t no time for thinkin’. Let’s go to bed and see what that look like in daylight.’
By morning the incident seemed less disturbing. Lady Maud just had these spells, that was all. She was, as Jess had always thought, a very sad lady.
* * *
Lily, though, was happy. Gloriously happy. Oh, she felt sorry for Lady Maud, but Lady Maud had only herself to blame. She was a frigid wife. She had endured Richard’s lovemaking until she became pregnant and then she had banned him from her room. Their sexual relationship had never been other than perfunctory.
Richard told Lily so, lying with her in her narrow bed, warm and close in the afterglow of love. The lovemaking was only a part of the joy they took in each other; beyond that physical conjunction lay a calmer, even more precious companionship.
‘I have never been able to talk to anyone as I can talk to you,’ he told her. ‘You’re infinitely precious to me. You always have been, ever since I saw you growing up. Did you know that? I’ve watched you becoming a beautiful woman, and I’ve loved you. Even so, my love…’ He lifted himself to look down at her, stroking the tumbled hair from her face with a hand that trembled. ‘I did not intend to seduce you. I swear I did not.’
‘I know that, Richard.’ She caught his hand to her, kissing it with tender passion. ‘But we were meant to be together.’
‘Yes,’ he said, and there was pain in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘I feel that, too. It may be wrong in the eyes of blinkered men, and in the eyes of the great, unforgiving God they invented. But the old gods know what it is to love unwisely. They make allowances for human frailty. They will be smiling on us. You’re my soulmate, Lily, my sweet other-half.’
At moments like this she didn’t think of the future, or the past, only this present time, when being with Richard meant everything. He found her beautiful – he even loved her odd eyes and would kiss them tenderly. He liked to kiss her, every inch of her, taking his time, touching and rousing her until she was trembling for him. She had never dreamed how sweet and right love could be.
How could she ever have thought she loved that arrogant youth Ash Haverleigh? She had been naive to mistake infatuation for love. Ash had always left her vaguely unsatisfied; she had never been sure of him, never really trusted him. If only she had waited for Richard!
He’d known, of course. The first time they made love, he had known he was not the first man for her. He’d been angry and had vowed to kill the vile seducer. But she had begged him to forgive her, to understand how young and foolish she had been, seeking love blindly.
‘It was not like this with him, Richard. It was never like this. I was a child, and he left me still a child. Unawakened. You… You have made me a woman complete. All woman.’ And it was true. Every time he came to her their mutual pleasure increased. Richard showed her delights that Ash had never known – Ash was too selfish to give so much joy to any woman.
Poor Clemency. Oh, poor, poor Clemency.
And poor, sad Maud, detesting the sexual act, more comfortable with horses than with people… She continued to mourn her son, blaming herself for his death. Nor was time healing that wound. Every year on the anniversary of that tragic day she locked herself in her room and drank herself into a stupor.
Richard was horrified to learn that, as a final act of remembrance, she walked the parapet where Harry had danced like a w
ild Indian.
‘Maud saw him fall,’ he recalled. ‘She was in her room and heard him scream as he fell past her window. And then… she ran up to the nursery to find him, not down to the courtyard below. I’ll never understand why.’
Lily didn’t understand it, either, unless Lady Maud ran up in the hope that she’d find Harry still alive. Perhaps that was why she felt driven to come to the attic. Perhaps she believed he was still there, somewhere. If so, was she mad? And if she was mad, might Richard divorce her? Divorce was scandalous, of course, but no longer the stigma it had once been – not among people of Richard’s class.
But mention of it made him draw her even closer and cradle her against him, her head pressed to the smooth hollow of his shoulder.
‘I could never divorce her,’ he said quietly, his arms tightening when she tried to move, to protest. ‘No, listen, my darling. Think of what it would mean. Not for Maud, or for me, not even for you, but – for my little, innocent Bella. I could not let my love for you harm Bella.’
‘You love her more than me,’ Lily muttered, and again tried to escape his tender captivity.
‘I love you both,’ he breathed into her hair. ‘That’s the cross I have to bear. Would you prefer me to lie to you? I love you too much to be other than honest, however brutal the facts. We must go on as we are, loving each other in secret. And we shall go on – for as long as we are both alive. I shall always love you. Whatever happens, Lily, I shall look after you. Can you be content with that?’
No, she thought. I can never be content with less than all. And yet… Oh, he was right. The scandal of a divorce would destroy everything. She knew who would be blamed for it – she would, the gypsy brat, the scarlet woman, the seducing governess… Tears seeped out between her tight-closed eyelids and fell like a libation on his skin. She tasted the salt as she let her lips move against him, adoring him, her arms winding round him as she begged, ‘So long as you love me! Never stop loving me, Richard. Please, don’t ever stop loving me.’
Writing her journal later, she reminded herself that she would not be alone in her role as mistress. Mistresses were fashionable, even accepted and tolerated, so long as they were discreet – one had only to look at the Prince of Wales to see the most illustrious example. Love affairs went on for years, sometimes for a lifetime. The partners might be married to others, have children by others, lead an outwardly respectable life, while all the time they continued to meet with and enjoy each other.
But… Oh, surely it could not go on like that for ever, not for her and Richard! They would surely, one day, find a way to be together, legally and unashamedly. They must. One day… oh, one day soon…
* * *
At first, Jess simply thanked the Lord that the worst was over, that Miss Lily had come back to herself, but she soon began to wonder if there was more to it than a simple lightening of depression. Lily was as gay and careless as she had been last year, during those weeks when she was seeing Ashton Haverleigh.
Once started on that course, Jess began to garner a collection of hints and observations which became like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, all helping to complete the same picture. Nor was she the only one. Too many people knew of Lily’s former attachment to Ash Haverleigh; too many people now saw how merry she was, after being in the pit of despair all winter.
‘Betty say as how that Mr Haverleigh have been seen shootin’ pigeon, all by hisself in Bennet’s Wood,’ Sal Gooden remarked one day as Jess was passing. ‘Don’t Miss Clare like wanderin’ that way?’ Someone else said Mr Haverleigh had been seen walking his horse along the coast road, very slowly, and a third tale recounted him sitting on a stile one evening, as if he was waiting for someone.
The Haverleighs did not get on, it was said, nor was Mr Ashton a favourite with his in-laws. Oliver Clare had offered to train him to the law, but he didn’t take work seriously; he preferred to be out hunting or shooting, or driving too fast in a fancy sporting gig, or dining out with fashionable friends.
Jess’s suspicions finally congealed into certainty when Matty told her he’d actually been approached by Ashton Haverleigh, who had offered him a shilling if he’d deliver a message to Lily.
‘Blast, but I’d a liked to give him a troshin’!’ Matty said angrily. ‘“What d’you now take me for?” I say. “I hen’t your messenger-boy. Nor don’t Miss Lily want no doin’s wi’ the likes o’ you no more. Clear you off and don’t come back,” I say. So off he go, cursin’ me up hill and down dale as if that was me as was the wrong ’un.’
‘You done right,’ Jess assured him.
Matty looked down at his battered boot-toes, then slid a look at her from the corner of his eye. ‘She wouldn’t… I mean, if he tried… You don’t think she’d…’
‘No, ’course she wouldn’t!’
‘Ah. That’s what Mr Rudd now say, too. But Miss Lily en’t worldly-wise. He bruck her heart, but if he come a-sniffin’ round her again she might still believe his sweet-talk. Lor’, Jess, I reckon I could kill that man do he do more hurt to her.’
‘He ’on’t! She’ve now learned her lesson.’
But even as she denied it, she was remembering the outings Lily took after supper, going to see Miss Peartree and take a stroll with her, in the woods or down to the sea as the evenings lengthened to midsummer – so she said. When Jess mentioned it to Dolly, the maid usually confirmed that Lily had been at the lodge. But there were times enough when she could also have met with Ashton Haverleigh.
She’d learned discretion, though, Jess thought. She didn’t chatter about him as she had last year, except to mention the rumours about his marriage and say how sorry she was for Clemency. Otherwise, she talked about everybody in the friendliest way, finding all her acquaintances splendid, forgiving them all their faults, praising Bella until the child glowed under such open approval. Lily’s world was bright.
Until she heard the gossip about herself and came hurrying, ashen-faced, to find Jess.
‘I just saw Eliza! She said… she hinted… Oh, you know how she makes remarks so slyly… Jess, have you heard these rumours? Why didn’t you tell me? Oh, it’s not true. It’s not! I haven’t seen Ashton since… since before the ball last year. Well, not to speak to. Once, I saw him in the distance. But I went another way to avoid him! I did, Jess! Oh… why do people make up these tales?’
Jess tried to believe her, but she knew how Lily could lie even to herself when it suited her.
After that, she began to see a change in her friend. Lily tried to keep up a face, as she always had in the past, but behind her brittle smiles now lay fresh heartache and uncertainty. She no longer went out quite so readily but stayed in the nursery suite – using it as a hiding place: Lily had always needed hiding places. Whether she could hide away for ever from the gossip she’d now invited was another matter.
The Fynchams went to London for the season as usual. Lady Maud loved mingling with royalty at Ascot and Goodwood, but Sir Richard wasn’t so fond of the social round. That year he came home twice during July and August to keep an eye on the estate. The weather wasn’t good: the hay came in damp, the corn was long in ripening, and the pheasant poults were prey to gapes – Matty said Rudd was wearing himself out working all hours. So the squire came home to share the worries of his staff. Bella was always glad to see him, and that cheered Lily up, too, temporarily. But Jess knew there was something wrong, something giving her that wild, worried look again.
It was late August, when her own menstrual cycle caused her the usual day of cramps and discomfort, that Jess realised there’d been no bloody rags soaking in Lily’s slop-pail lately. She hadn’t had her ‘curse’ for six or seven weeks.
* * *
Lily had told herself that the delay in her cycle was one of the minor changes that occurred now and then. But as the days stretched into weeks she knew it was something else. The second time Richard came home she’d intended to share her fears with him, but he’d been so happy to see her, so ardent in his lovema
king, and so tired… he’d fallen asleep in her arms and, for the first time, stayed with her until morning. He had had to creep out when Jess went down for the hot water; and there had been no opportunity for Lily to tell him anything. Besides, she kept hoping that it might be a mistake.
Then one morning when she got out of bed she felt faint and had to grab for the slop-pail as her stomach erupted with bitter bile. While she was still huddled there shivering, Jess came in and found her.
‘You all right, miss?’ she asked.
Lily looked up, knowing she looked a fright and seeing from the expression on her face that Jess knew her secret. Neither of them could pretend any longer. ‘No, Jess, I’m not. And don’t look like that. Please don’t look like that! Don’t desert me now. I need you to help me.’
The look on Jess’s face only froze harder. ‘Help you do what? If you think I’m a-goin’ to—’
‘No! Oh…’ A shudder of revulsion shook through Lily. ‘No, I’d never ask you to… I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t.’
‘Well, I’m glad o’ that,’ said Jess flatly. ‘So what is it you reckon I can now do?’
‘Just…’ The lovely, mismatched eyes drowned behind tears. ‘Just help me. Be my friend. I’m so afraid… But I’m not sorry. That’s the strangest thing – I’m not a bit sorry. I’m glad! I want to have this child. But I didn’t do it intentionally. I never meant…’
Jess sighed to herself. No, Lily never meant any harm or any wrong, she simply went along her merry way, with her head so full of dreams she didn’t see the pitfalls waiting in her path.
‘Here, get you back into bed. I’ll bring you some tea and a biscuit – that’ll help to settle your stomach.’
Lily allowed herself to be put back into her warm bed and have the covers pulled up and tucked round her. It was like being a child again. Jess would look after her. Jess wouldn’t let anything bad happen. But through a dazzle of tears she saw that Jess wouldn’t look at her: Jess’s brown eyes were sombre, her face set. ‘Please!’ Lily threw out a hand and grasped the thin wrist. ‘Please, Jess! Don’t be angry with me. Don’t you… Don’t you want to know who—’