Lakeland Lily

by Freda Lightfoot

Without thinking of the wisdom of such an action, forgetting the open-mouthed Mrs Adams and her grinning son at her elbow, forgetting Mrs Edgar and Mrs Robbins, pausing as they were about to climb aboard the horse-omnibus, Lily fell into his arms. As he lifted her off her feet, swinging her round and sending her hat bowling across the station yard, she kissed him as though she would never stop.

  ‘I should go,’ Selene said, searching for her stockings. ‘Mama will be having a small fit that I’m not home already.’

  Marcus reached out one hand to smooth her bare back but made no attempt to get up from the couch. They were in his study, having sneaked her in via the French windows as usual. The door firmly locked, the servants ordered not to disturb him at his work, they were free to enjoy each other at their leisure. Upstairs Catherine took her afternoon nap, as usual. Later, she would come down and offer Selene tea and cakes, and the two would chat together, as the good friends they had become.

  A scheme had been devised for every occasion. This was the procedure for a Saturday afternoon. Marcus approved of routine and discretion. Not that the latter was strictly necessary so far as his wife was concerned.

  Catherine would not ask when Selene had arrived, or how she had spent her time while her hostess slept. She never asked questions. It was one of the things Marcus liked most about her.

  But today there would be no tea-party. Catherine would not even see Selene as she was expected home for the return of the warrior son. Marcus scowled his disappointment. He hated to have his plans upset.

  ‘You’ll come tomorrow?’

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t, not with Bertie just home. It’ll have to be next Saturday.’ She leaned over to place a lingering kiss on his lips, allowing the soft warmth of her breasts to graze his chest. ‘Will you miss me?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘That you’re a fortunate man to be so well served by adoring women.’

  He chuckled, and, wrapping an arm about her, pulled her squealing back on to the couch. ‘Perhaps I think you are both fortunate women.’ He began to caress her with a new purposefulness and for a moment Selene sank against him with a sigh, the familiar excitement rising hot and sweet in her breast. Then she thought of Margot.

  ‘No, I must go.’

  ‘See what you do to me.’ He indicated his arousal. ‘How cruel to leave so soon.’

  Selene slanted a glance up at him. ‘I am not your wife, Marcus, so I must always leave, mustn’t I?’

  ‘There are times when I almost wish...’ He didn’t finish the sentence. He never did. ‘But you’re a damned sight more fun.’

  Selene found that, after all, she could stay a few moments longer.

  Much later, over a cup of weak tea in the station cafe, Lily saw that although Nathan had returned in one piece, with not a mark on him, he was not the same man who had gone away. He seemed in some way to have shrunk. No longer the big brawny chap he had once been, his face appeared gaunt and grey. His speech, when he spoke at all, was slow and halting and his eyes carried a haunting bleakness. She noticed too that he never moved his right arm. He left the hand resting on his lap while he drank his tea with his left. Lily had never seen him do this before.

  But the sight of him across the table, near enough for her to touch, as she felt compelled to do every few minutes, was utter bliss. She had never felt so happy. As bubbly as a young girl, as if she had drunk a whole bottle of champagne. She could simply sit here and gaze at him all day, greedily drinking in every beloved feature. And he was gazing at her in exactly the same way.

  ‘I-I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you,’ she said, for the hundredth time.

  ‘Me too.’ For a second his eyes lit up, telling her in more than words how he felt. ‘B- Bertie?’ he queried, and she pulled a wry face.

  ‘Being perverse, as always.’ She told him about the letter and the missed train. ‘I shouldn’t even be here. I should be hurrying back to Barwick House to give Margot the news that her chief guest has done a bunk.’

  ‘I-Is he - all r-right?’

  Lily could hardly bear to watch the agony it took for him to speak. Her head buzzed with questions. What had caused this disability? Gas? Or those terrible explosions? She’d heard talk of soldiers being too shocked to speak at all. But now was not the moment to pry.

  ‘He’s fine,’ she said brightly, deciding the best thing was to behave normally. ‘You know Bertie. He’ll turn up tomorrow or the next day, bright as a button and with not one word of apology. "Got talking to this chap, old thing," he’ll say.’ She laughed at her own mimicry. ‘And, no, I’m not being unkind.’

  Nathan gave a lop-sided grin, one half of his face staying completely rigid. ‘You’re - right. Exactly - w-what he’ll s-say.’

  Lily’s heart clenched with love for him and from then on she did most of the talking. She chattered on about her own war efforts. How she’d helped Edward clean the Faith, even run it as an extra ferry as transport was so short. He almost laughed at that, as if the idea of her working on a boat were too far-fetched to contemplate. Lily grinned and went on to talk of her recent visits to her parents, and of Margot’s committees. Should she mention Thomas? Discretion made her hold her tongue. She’d been about to mention Selene when she stopped abruptly.

  ‘I’ve just had a wonderful idea!’

  Nathan’s brows lifted but he said nothing.

  ‘You can be our special guest instead of Bertie. Back at Barwick House there’s a Welcome Home feast of gargantuan proportions being prepared. Bertie isn’t here to enjoy it, but you are.’

  He shook his head, frowning fiercely, but Lily was in no mood for argument. Already reaching for her coat and hat, she urged him to leave his kit in the Left Luggage office until later.

  ‘It’ll be fun. When’s the last time you tasted champagne? And you really ought to hurry straight to your bride-to-be.’ Her words made them gaze thoughtfully upon each other. Here, in the station tea room, dreams were still a delightful possibility. Once they stepped outside, reality would intervene. Lily drew in a steadying breath and gave him a rueful smile. ‘Ready?’

  Nathan merely picked up his kit bag and stood patiently waiting for her to tell him what to do next.

  As they walked towards the gig, a group of young soldiers were singing a chorus of ‘Mademoiselle from Armentieres’.

  ‘At least,’ she said, ‘your presence will do me a great favour. It’ll stop Margot from blaming me for not bringing home her darling son!’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Barwick House seemed to have been spring-cleaned especially for the occasion. The grey and white pillared facade glinted in the cool sunshine, long windows mirroring the blue of lake and sky. Along the shore clusters of hazel catkins hung like yellow candelabra from winter-bare branches, and beneath their shelter a carpet of purple crocuses and white snowdrops shyly flowered.

  The ladies too were bright spots of colour against the pale green lawn in their unseasonably thin frocks, worn in honour of this special day - except for Millicent Gowdry, whose brown suit was so dull people walked past without even noticing her. Lily noticed Sophie Dunston with her spectacles sliding down her nose, and Felicia Morton-Cryer proclaiming loudly that her ‘darling orphans’ would now have to manage without her, since she really was perfectly worn out with all the work.

  All these once likely candidates for Bertie’s hand had come to welcome him home. But Bertie was not here. Even had he been, he was well and truly taken. Which sadly echoed the fact that with so many of their friends not returning from the front, the chances of matrimony for these girls had shrunk to almost nil.

  Even the lively Heddington boys would never again fall out over who was to give up their chair for Selene, having been killed together on the Somme. Lily could hardly bear to think what the carnage must have been like out there. Thank God Nathan had come home safe and well, if not exactly sound. Hadn’t she always believed he would? And with time and loving care, he’d improve, she was sure of it
. Unfortunately, it would not be she who had the right to give him that care.

  Lily linked her arm through his in a friendly fashion and smiled reassuringly up at him. ‘You don’t have to stay long. Just say hello.’

  He nodded, eyes flashing a look of gratitude at her understanding.

  They were stopped first by Clive and Edith Ferguson-Walsh, proudly relating the latest adventures of their brave daughter, though as Lily well knew, they’d done everything in their power to stop Dora going into the war. They were kind enough to shake Nathan’s hand and congratulate him on his safe return.

  Lucy and Philip Linden came next, showing off a bevy of children and a very flustered nanny. He’d managed to miss out on the action completely, he admitted, without explaining why. Seeing Nathan’s mouth tighten, Lily made their excuses and led him quickly away.

  ‘There’s Margot. I can see her through the conservatory window with Selene. Do you want to go in on your own?’ As panic filled his eyes, squeezed his hand. ‘You don’t have to.’

  They set off across the lawn, feet sinking into the mossy turf, Nathan’s hand closed tight on hers and he stammered out three words. ‘D-don’t - l-leave - me.’

  Lily’s heart swelled with love for him. Wouldn’t she go with him anywhere? To hell and back if he asked, although that was silly. Hadn’t he been there already? She couldn’t bear to contemplate how it was that such a strong, forceful man had become so fragile.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re home.’ Oh God, how she loved him, and yet she must somehow give him up!

  Swallowing her pain, Lily couldn’t help wondering what control, if any, she could exercise over Selene and Margot. She came to a swift decision and, glancing about to check they weren’t overlooked, pulled Nathan into the azalea bushes.

  ‘Perhaps it would be best if I were to go in and speak to them first. What do you think? I could explain about Bertie’s not being here, and that I’ve got a surprise for them. Selene will be delighted.’ She waited for Nathan to comment. When he didn’t, merely continued to wait for her decision, Lily reached up and kissed him softly. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise. You stay here till I call.’

  He nodded, indicating agreement, but his eyes were filled with anguish and he let her go reluctantly.

  The pain in Lily’s chest weighed heavy as she crossed the lawn. They’d better be pleased or she’d give them what for! But then, he wasn’t her man. She really should remember that.

  Thankfully she achieved the house without being stopped, took a deep breath and entered the conservatory.

  The sun streamed through the tall narrow windows and the cloying scent of gardenias, summoning memories of that long-ago graveyard, became almost overpowering, seeming to add to Lily’s growing sense of unreality.

  The tableau before her of two women in oyster silk pleated tea gowns and strings of beads, entertaining the elite members of the assembled company in the privacy of their conservatory, reminded Lily of some Impressionist painting. What was she doing living in this house with people she had vowed to hate? Why bring Nathan to Selene when she desperately wanted to keep him for herself’

  But it was too late now to turn back.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she began carefully to explain how Bertie had not been on the train after all. The few privileged guests hurriedly melted away, as if the artist had blotted them from his canvas.

  Margot’s outraged voice rang out, bouncing off the window panes like splinters of ice which refused to melt in the overheated room. ‘Not here? How can he not be here? What have you said to my son to make him not want to come home?’

  Lily sighed with resignation, her fears instantly being proved correct. As always Margot blamed her. Patiently she tried again, reassuring her that Bertie’s missing the train had no doubt been an accident, a simple misjudgement of the time, or perhaps he’d been held up for some other reason in London.

  ‘What other reason could there possibly be? He would certainly wish to see me, his own mother.’

  Hastily Lily interrupted, in case this should turn into yet another of Margot’s endless lectures. ‘But I do have a lovely surprise for you both. Particularly for Selene.’ And turning to her sister-in-law, Lily took both her hands in her own. ‘There’s someone waiting for you down in the garden. Someone very special.’

  Selene merely looked blank.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Margot butted in, determined not to be ignored.

  Lily smiled, struggling to dampen her own emotions and concentrate on the happiness of the woman before her. ‘It’s Nathan. After all these months of worry, he’s come home safe and in one piece. How about that?’

  ‘Nathan?’ Selene whispered the name in wonder, as if she had never expected to hear it again.

  Lily nodded, puzzled by her lack of reaction. Was the poor girl too stunned to take it in? ‘Yes, Nathan. In person. Isn’t it wonderful?’ This was a girl so eager to be his wife she had spent the last four years endlessly planning and re-planning her wedding. Was the reality of seeing him in the flesh suddenly too much for her? These thoughts, racing through Lily’s head in seconds, brought with them an echo of concern. Selene had never had occasion to handle sickness or show any kind of compassion. How would she cope with this new and different Nathan? ‘Before you go to him, you ought to know that he is not quite perfectly well.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Fear flickered briefly in brown eyes so like Bertie’s, and Selene snatched her hands away.

  ‘I’m certain it’s nothing permanent. I believe they call it shell shock. God knows what the boys suffered out there. He’ll need love and care, and plenty of patience to help him get well again. Now go to him. He’s waiting for you by the azaleas.’

  Selene half turned to Margot. ‘Mama?’

  Margot, who had remained silent through all of this, lowered her chin and clasped her hands upon a stomach grown plumper with the years. ‘You must certainly go and see how dear Mr Monroe is. Then bring him up here for a glass of champagne and to meet our guests. We must all celebrate his safe return.’

  But the smile on her face was stretched to an unnatural stiffness, and as Lily watched Selene weave her way slowly through the crush of guests, Lily feared she might have done entirely the wrong thing in bringing him here at all.

  Over the next few days Nathan was to be a constant visitor to Barwick House. Margot surprised Lily by her apparent concern for him, dutifully inviting her future son-in-law to tea or dinner, urging him to call in for a chat or take a turn about the garden with Selene.

  ‘So lovely at this time of year. Selene will require a garden nearly as pleasant when you are married, Mr Monroe. I trust you could manage that?’

  Edward attempted to talk to him about his experiences but Nathan rarely responded, his silences seeming to grow longer as time went by.

  Lily watched with growing concern.

  With each visit Nathan seemed to shrink more and more into himself, his face tired and drawn. Sounds startled him alarmingly. It only needed Margot’s pen to clatter upon the wooden floorboards and he would leap from his chair, ashen-faced and shaking. Lily guessed he slept little, and there was a constant tremor in his hand which caused the china cup to rattle against its saucer so fiercely that eventually Selene was driven to take it from him, emitting a deep sigh as she did so.

  ‘I-I’m s-sorry,’ he stammered.

  Lily’s heart went out to him. To watch Nathan daily strive to appear normal, desperately struggle to form his words, and so miserably and frequently to fail, brought her unbearable pain. His bride-to-be, unfortunately, was less charitable.

  ‘He really makes no effort to converse,’ she complained when he had finally, and silently, taken his leave one afternoon. ‘Sits there saying nothing, not caring a jot how difficult it is for me.’

  ‘I tried to explain that he’s suffering from shell shock.’

  In her cosy chair by the fire, Margot sniffed. ‘There, didn’t I say this would happen? We’ve giv
en him ample opportunity to feel welcome in our family, no one can deny it. But as you say, my dear, he makes no effort. It’s all sham, of course. "Swinging the lead", isn’t that what they call it? Pretending to be suffering from some unknown disability, when really it is nothing but cowardice.’

  Lily could hardly believe her ears. ‘That simply isn’t true. It’s some kind of nerve damage.’

  Edward said, ‘I asked him what was wrong with his arm. Said he’d woken up one morning and found he couldn’t move it. Wouldn’t say why.’

  ‘Perhaps he can’t bear to remember,’ Lily said.

  ‘Seems to me that there’s a lot about Mr Nathan Monroe that he can’t bear to remember.’

  Lily swallowed, not knowing what to say, for hadn’t she once said exactly the same thing herself? ‘He doesn’t like to talk about himself, or seem to ask for pity.’

  Margot clicked her tongue. ‘If you ask me, he’s a malingerer. Playacting to cover his cowardice. Not like my brave Bertie who single-handedly went behind enemy lines without any thought for his own safety.’

  ‘And took a dozen prisoners while he was about it,’ Edward finished. This was the closest he had ever come to expressing pride in his son, and his neck flushed slightly with the embarrassment of it.

  ‘However,’ Margot continued, warming to her theme, ‘I really am having second thoughts about allowing our darling girl to rush into marriage. How will the man look, walking down the aisle with one useless arm hanging by his side? Not to mention that lop-sided leer. What will people think?’

  The room seemed to grow perfectly still as Lily held her breath, waiting for Selene to tell her mother that what people thought of Nathan was unimportant. It mattered only that he was home, safe, and in reasonably good health. But she remained silent.

  ‘Selene?’ Lily gently prodded, at which she instantly burst into tears and ran from the room.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Margot said, and frowning at Lily, hurried off in the wake of her weeping daughter.