“Don’t make fun of me, Charlotte. I didn’t think you would do that.”
“I’m sorry—but, darling, you are so amusing. You have put your case quite clearly, so I had better do the same, hadn’t I?” She paused and went on. “The simple fact is, I am not going to be denied the love of my life because of your scruples. I have waited a long time for happiness, and I am not going to give it up when I find it. I understand that you can’t propose. I do respect your position. So, I shall make things easier for you.” She stepped closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “I am quite determined to marry you, Captain MacAllister. I shall marry you, and live in a tent, or a hovel, or whatever you prefer, and clean and cook and all the rest of it, and be quite common and perfectly happy, on a single condition—that I see your smile every day.”
“Charlotte—”
“Do you understand now? I am proposing to you. What about it, pal?” She couldn’t stop her smile now. “And I warn you that if you refuse, I shall simply follow you about in the most disgracefully abandoned fashion, until you, as a gentleman, have no choice but to make an honest woman of me. Is that clear? What do you say?”
Flint had been staring at her in astonishment, a huge smile breaking across his face. Now he burst out laughing, and took her in his arms. “Ain’t got much choice, do I?” he said, and the tenderness in his voice told Charlotte that if she’d needed any confirmation that she’d made the right decision, this was it.
“Who’s there?” said Sebastian.
He cocked his head, listening. Charlotte had gone out, and someone had come in. He didn’t know who. The person, whoever it was, had not spoken or moved. A stab of unease hit him—or not unease, exactly, but something that shortened his breath. A kind of wild happiness, without reason, like a child waking early on the first day of the holidays, not yet remembering why he was so excited.
“Who’s there?” he said again, and a sudden fear that he would be disappointed made his voice sharp.
The person at the door made a slight movement toward him. It was at that second that Sebastian knew. Of course he didn’t need to see Oliver to know it was him. Just the rhythm of his breathing, a sound so beloved and familiar, a sound he had dreamed of, imagined, longed for, throughout his time in the trenches, told him who it was. He automatically put a hand to his face to hide himself, sick at the thought of Oliver seeing him like this. Then there were running footsteps, and Oliver reached him. His arms were around him; he was on his knees before him, sobbing. Sebastian reached out despite himself to touch Oliver’s soft curly hair. How he had longed for that touch, that sweet smell.
“Sebastian—” Oliver gasped through his tears. “Thank God. I thought I had lost you.” Still kneeling at his feet, he took Sebastian’s hands and covered them in kisses.
Sebastian lingered for a delicious, beautiful moment, then forced himself to pull his hands away. He had to be strong. He could not allow himself to give in to this wonderful temptation. “I can’t,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here.”
In answer, Oliver reached up and drew him down into a kiss so long and passionate that Sebastian lost all his breath, all his resolutions not to be a burden. For a long time they only kissed, and Sebastian did not try to fight it. He knew that he was not strong enough to resist this.
Finally he gained the strength to draw back. He felt Oliver’s fingers caressing his hair, stroking the puckered skin around his sightless eyes. He tried to fight down the happiness that was threatening to overwhelm him. “You shouldn’t have come,” he repeated. “This is impossible.”
Oliver gently kissed his mouth again. “Don’t keep saying that.”
“She shouldn’t have called you.”
“Of course she should. You don’t know how hard I’ve tried to find you. I never imagined you’d gone into the ranks.” His gentle fingers traced Sebastian’s eyes. “Your beautiful eyes. Do they hurt you?”
“No.” Sebastian cringed inside himself. “But you must find me repulsive now.”
“Do you really think so?”
Sebastian was silenced by the weight of warmth and love and reproach that was in his voice.
“I don’t want to be a burden,” he said. “Not to you, not to anyone.”
“A burden? Sebastian, finding you again has lifted the only burden I was carrying.”
“But I don’t want you to give your life to looking after me.”
“That is exactly what I want to do. And I want you to look after me, too. That is what we should do, just as you said—and I was too proud and silly to know what a treasure you were.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll live together. We’ll live in retirement. No one will suspect I am anything other than your servant. One day this war will be over, Sebastian, and when it is, the world will be a better place. Nothing will be the same, and perhaps things will be easier. But even if they are not, we will make it work. Whatever the future holds, I know we can face it—together.”
Sebastian touched the khaki of Oliver’s shirt, his rough braid. He did not reply. He knew that Oliver was giving him the best thing he could ever have hoped for. It was only a tragedy that it had taken a war to realize it.
Oliver’s kisses touched his hair. He turned his face up to them. This was how a dying flower must feel, he thought, when the rain, finally, falls.
“I do not understand your insinuations, Lady Ada, but I feel they are in the worst possible taste.” Captain Wyndham’s voice was raised. Ada saw Georgiana wince and glance at the door. It would not be good for the servants to overhear this scene.
“I think Lady Ada is quite clear. The document you produced to support your claim that the estate was entailed was a forgery.” Connor’s voice was cold and calm.
“Nonsense,” Captain Wyndham blustered. “It is an old document—”
“It does look old, certainly. There are people who can do that, for a price.”
“I don’t see how you can know—”
“Captain Wyndham, I’ve dealt with matters like this before.” Connor’s voice was full of cold contempt. “The clues are easy to see, especially when left by a bungler. You might have paid more money and got a more convincing forgery.”
“I cannot believe it of you, sir,” Mr. Bradford spoke up. “And for Lady Georgiana’s sake in particular—I could not be more saddened.”
“Why?” said Ada sharply, at the same instant that Georgiana said. “Oh? Why for me, Mr. Bradford? That is, I thank you, but—”
“Well, your engagement…I expect things can hardly be the same now?”
Georgiana looked back and forth between Captain Wyndham and Mr. Bradford. Captain Wyndham was by now looking extremely red in the face, Ada was intrigued to see.
“I am not engaged to Captain Wyndham,” Georgiana said, her eyes wide.
“Oh!” Mr. Bradford exclaimed. “But the earl gave me to understand—”
“And you advanced him money from the estate on the basis of it,” Connor interrupted with a sarcastic smile. “Of course. Châpeau, Captain Wyndham, you think of everything. Have you done this before?”
“Not very much money.” Mr. Bradford blushed.
“Well, let us be thankful for small mercies,” Ada said dryly.
“I don’t understand.” The countess put a hand to her forehead. “But I am sure that if this is true, Captain Wyndham can have had no idea that his lawyer was mistaken.”
“Unfortunately, a letter written in his hand would seem to suggest otherwise,” Connor said. He took a sheet of paper from the folder and held it up so that everyone could see the bold signature: F. Wyndham.
“I am sure Captain Wyndham has an explanation,” Georgiana said, looking at him. Ada wondered how anyone could have the heart to betray her trust. Captain Wyndham seemed to feel it too, because his eyes flickered, and for the first time in the conversation Ada thought he looked ashamed.
“I shall need to consult my lawyer,” he mumbled.
“Let me tell you what you will do,” said Ada, finally losing patience. “You will sit down here, now, at this writing desk, and write a letter that explains that you understand the document you based your claim to Somerton on was a forgery. You therefore withdraw all your claim to the property.”
“And you will leave it at that?”
“I do not want my late father’s title dragged through the mud.” Ada glanced around at her sisters and the countess. All of them nodded agreement.
Captain Wyndham took a deep breath. Ada watched him carefully, sure that his mind was working very hard beneath the smooth exterior and seeking the best way out of this situation.
“Of course I have no desire to profit from my lawyer’s roguery,” said Captain Wyndham finally. He bared his teeth in a smile. “He has been a servant of our family a long time, and no doubt he thought I would approve of his action. But I am prepared to take your word as a gentleman, Mr. Kearney, that this document is not what I believed it to be.”
“Mr. Kearney’s word, and the proof of your letter!” Ada exclaimed, furious at the way he so coolly seemed to be shrugging off the guilt.
Captain Wyndham crossed the room to the escritoire, sat down, and glanced at her with a knowing smile. “Letters can be misinterpreted. I might have been writing to him on quite a different matter.”
Ada was breathless with indignation, but she caught Connor’s glance and swallowed it down. You have won your case, his eyes said. Do not undo the good work by losing control of yourself.
There was silence except for the pen scratching across the paper. Finally Captain Wyndham rose and handed the letter to Ada. “Will this do?” he inquired with a sarcastic smile.
Ada read the letter. It seemed plain, but she passed it to Connor. He read it too, and indicated approval with a brief nod.
“Very well. I shall take my leave. Lady Ada. Mr. Kearney.”
Ada acknowledged his bow with the frostiest tilt of her head. Connor was a little more generous.
Captain Wyndham turned to the countess with the same sarcastic smile. “I shall not expect to be invited here again soon, Lady Westlake. I thank you for your hospitality. Lady Rose, I wish we had known each other better; I do hope your husband survives the war. And Lady Georgiana—”
“Don’t push your luck,” Michael said between his teeth.
Captain Wyndham hesitated, his smile died, and he darted for the door. Ada was not surprised; the look on Michael’s face was enough to make any man turn tail and run.
“Well,” said Rose, with a sigh of relief, as they watched Francis’s car roll off down the drive. “At last that is over.”
“To think I was encouraging Charlotte to marry him! I think he got off too easily,” the countess said.
“But how could we do more against him? We could not involve the police.”
“Oh goodness, no. The newspapers would be full of it.”
“Let us simply be thankful that Lady Ada’s intelligent research has paid off,” Connor said. “He may be Earl of Westlake, but he will never be master of Somerton. And even an earl can be blackballed at his club.” He raised an eyebrow.
“You can arrange that, I suppose?” Michael looked at him in amused admiration. “You seem to be able to arrange anything.”
“But you are not going,” Georgiana exclaimed. “You must stay, Mr. Kearney.”
“Thank you, but I must get back to Oxford,” Connor said. “I have some business still to tidy up, in preparation for the new term.”
“So odd to think of teaching and learning still going on, as if there were no war,” Georgiana said with a sigh, as they walked down the stairs to the waiting motor car.
“But life does go on. Isn’t that what we are fighting for?” Ada smiled at her sister as Connor got into the car.
“It goes on, but not unchanged, I fear,” Georgiana replied.
Ada touched her sister’s hand lovingly. From the car, the familiar smell of warm wood and leather, and the aromatic scent of Connor’s cigar, wreathed her.
“Good-bye, Connor,” she said. Georgiana echoed her farewell.
Connor, inside the car, raised his hand in farewell. “Good-bye, Lady Ada. Good-bye, Lady Georgiana. Until the next time we meet.”
He knocked on the partition, signaling his chauffeur to drive on. The car moved slowly away, crunching across the gravel.
Ada watched it go.
“All things change,” she said to Georgiana. “But perhaps some of the changes will be for the better.”
Charlotte held Flint’s hand tight and peeped around the edge of the door. Ada and her visitors had left the room, and so, it seemed, had Captain Wyndham. She guessed that something big had occurred, but she could not settle her mind on anything until she had done what she knew she had to do. The countess was sitting by the window, silent and clearly lost in thought. The evening light was unforgiving; for the first time, Charlotte thought of her mother as a woman on the brink of old age—for the first time, she felt sorry for her.
Flint pulled her back as she was about to speak. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered. “Because, from what I’ve seen of Her Majesty, I don’t think she’ll be rolling out the red carpet for me.”
Charlotte smiled. “I’m sure,” she replied in the same whisper. “We have to let her know, and the sooner the better.”
She stepped through the door and cleared her throat. “Mother, may I speak to you for a moment?”
Her mother looked up and saw Flint, and Charlotte saw her expression sink into long-suffering exhaustion. “I expect I am not going to like what I hear,” she said, rising to her feet.
“That’s exactly what I told her, ma’am, but she wouldn’t listen,” Flint said wryly.
“I don’t believe we have been introduced, Mr.…”
“No, but I’m guessing you have some idea of who I am, given that you saw your daughter jump into my arms like a cat off of hot coals, just a few days ago.”
“That is not the same thing as a formal introduction,” the countess said frostily.
“Mother, that’s exactly it. That’s exactly why I’m here, now,” Charlotte broke in, before things could get out of hand. “You see, I know that wasn’t the best introduction, and I’m sorry. But I want to introduce him properly now. This is Captain MacAllister. He is an American, but he has been heroic in his defense of England, flying with the RFC. In fact, he is to receive the Military Cross.”
“That is admirable, but does it make him a gentleman?” the countess replied.
“I don’t give a damn if it does or not,” Flint said. “I don’t aspire to be a gentleman. As far as I can see, it means not being able to dress yourself or speak to any fellow unless you’ve been introduced to him first. Ma’am, if the world went on like that, nothing would get done at all. I figure the world needs some commoners like me to keep it turning.”
Charlotte stifled a smile at her mother’s expression.
“Mother, I know you’re not going to like it. I know you have invested a good deal in my successful marriage, and I understand how disappointed you must be. But I love Flint, and I am going to marry him.”
“I see! Well, your fortune is yours in your own right, from your father, once you are thirty. But that is a long time to live in poverty.”
“I don’t think of it as poverty. I can work and so can Flint. His arm only keeps him from flying, not from doing an honest day’s work.”
“I never thought I would hear you say this, Charlotte.”
“Neither did I,” said Charlotte softly. “But I am saying it. And it’s what I want. Flint makes me happy, and that is all I really need.” She took his hand. “Mother, I wish I could make you happy too. I am sorry that I’ve been such a…such a disappointment.” Her eyes filled with tears she hadn’t been expecting. “I know you wanted a great marriage for me, and I’m sorry.” She managed a smile, through her tears. “I think Flint and I will have a great marriage—perhaps not in the world’s eyes,
but in our own. Can you forgive me?”
Her mother sighed. “Oh, Charlotte. I love all my children, though perhaps I haven’t shown it well.” Her voice trembled. “Yet Michael does not trust me, and Sebastian is gone—” She stopped abruptly, and Charlotte heard tears in her voice. “I can’t bear to be estranged from you also. I will not prevent you from this marriage, though I think you will regret it.”
“Ma’am,” said Flint abruptly, “Charlotte has something else to tell you. Something that will put a smile on your face, I promise.”
Charlotte looked at him swiftly. She was not sure that this was the right thing to do. Sebastian had been so clear. But another look at her mother’s face told her that Flint was right.
“Oh?” The countess recovered some of her poise. “May I ask what?”
“Mother,” Charlotte said, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa, “I want you to sit down next to me. This may come as a shock…”
Palesbury
The train whistled and steam filled the platform, drowning the bright red geraniums planted in tubs, the stationmaster’s raised flag, and the polished sign that read Palesbury. Georgiana waved her handkerchief as the engine picked up speed and chuffed away into the distance, leaving behind a few soldiers, kit bags in hand, and ordinary travelers with cases to make their way to the station exit.
“So,” Georgiana said with a small sigh, turning to Rebecca and Rose. “Thomas is gone.”
“He’ll be back, my lady.” Rebecca smiled through her tears.
Rose took Rebecca’s hand and gave it a kind squeeze. “I know how hard it is to be parted from someone you love,” she said.
“It is hard,” Rebecca said, “but I know I made the right decision. I don’t want to leave Somerton, not now.”
“We are glad to hear it,” Georgiana said. “We wouldn’t lose you for the world—not till Thomas comes back to claim his prize, that is.”
“Thank you, my lady. It means a lot to hear you say that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting back up to the house.” Rebecca smiled and turned away to get her bicycle, which was leaning by the railing. Georgiana watched her go. Rebecca paused only to flutter her fingers to baby Edward, who was on Noor’s lap in the motorcar, looking out of the window with wide eyes. Noor waved his hand back to her as she bicycled away along the shady lane, toward Somerton.
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