Hetty's Secret War

by Rosie Clarke

  She shook her head, staring up at him wordlessly. Her body was one mass of need, her ability to think completely lost as she let him gather her into his arms and carry her from the room. When he laid her on the large bed that smelled faintly of him, she thought that he meant to leave her and she made a protest, catching at his hand.

  ‘No, no, my little one,’ Stefan said, his voice soft and caressing. ‘I shan’t leave you to weep alone. I’ll stay with you, hold you…’ His eyes gazed down into hers, dark and hot with passion. ‘Love you if you want.’

  ‘Yes…’ Hetty heard the pleading note in her voice and was half shamed by her need, and yet she could not stop herself crying out, ‘Everyone leaves me. Everyone I love hurts me or leaves me…’

  ‘I shan’t hurt you,’ he promised as he bent over her, his lips sweet with promise as they lingered on hers.

  Vaguely, Hetty felt that she ought not to be making love when her brother had just died and yet the pain, the aching need inside her, was so great that she let herself be swept away on a tide of passion.

  ‘You are so beautiful, chérie… so beautiful. I have wanted you from the first moment I saw you…’

  He was helping her out of her clothes, shedding his own to lie beside them on the stained wood floorboards. His eyes seemed to devour her flesh, as if he had been hungry for the sight of her. She feasted her eyes on the strong, muscled arms that reached out for her, sending shivers of anticipation running through her.

  His mouth was warm and demanding, his hands gentle and yet firm as they sought out all the secret places of her sex, arousing her to a need so painful and urgent that she no longer had the ability to think at all. She felt the heat of him burning her, the firmness of his thighs and chest as he drew her against him. His loving was taking her to places she had never been, making her writhe with pleasure, making her scream and dig her nails into his shoulders as he covered her body with his own.

  His mouth was warm on her breasts, his teeth teasing and nibbling at her nipples, causing a ripple of sensation to run through her; he suckled at her breast, making her ache with pleasure, her back arching as he continued to lavish her with tongue and lips.

  The clever, bold, slightly ruthless spirit she had admired in him was there now beneath the tenderness of his loving. It made him an excellent lover, as he was an excellent leader, and she felt something deep inside her surrender to him.

  ‘You are lovely, chérie,’ he murmured as they lay entwined, satiated by a loving so fierce and satisfying that Hetty felt drained of all emotion. She lay quiet in his arms, her pain eased for the moment. ‘I want you for my woman. Come live with me. Be mine. Together we are invincible.’

  ‘You are so sure of yourself,’ she murmured against his shoulder. ‘I should disappoint you.’

  ‘You could never disappoint me,’ he told her, and stroked her hair as she buried her face in the warm dampness of his shoulder. ‘Go to sleep now, little one. There are things that must be done. We must bury Ben, but there is no need for you to worry. A priest will say the words that matter, and one day, after the war, we will put up a plaque to him in the church of his own faith.’

  ‘Yes,’ Hetty said. She felt the pain curdle inside her, but it was not so desperate as it had been. Ben was dead; weeping would not bring him back. ‘Yes, after the war…’

  Hetty turned over and went to sleep after Stefan had left her. She would think about Ben another time.

  *

  The rain had stopped when Hetty woke the next morning. She found that a jug of water and a woman’s dress had been brought to the room while she slept. The water was cool, but she thought it refreshing as she washed herself and then put on the dress; it was simple, probably old and yet the colour was still bright. At least it was clean – her clothes had been covered in Ben’s blood. No doubt Stefan had disposed of them. Any trace of stained clothes or a body would have brought the Germans down on them hard. He’d taken care of it all and she was grateful, because she might have found it too hard to bury her brother in a secret grave.

  Hetty went downstairs to the kitchen. A young woman of perhaps twenty or so was washing dishes at the sink. She was fair-haired and pretty, but as she turned to Hetty, her face was sullen with dislike.

  ‘There is bread and cold bacon if you want it,’ she said. ‘You slept too long. The others have eaten and I have something more important to do than feed you.’

  Hetty was startled by her hostility. ‘I don’t know your name.’

  ‘It’s Fleur – but I don’t see why you should want to know it.’

  ‘I thought that perhaps you brought the water. I wanted to thank you.’

  ‘Stefan brought it to you himself. He said you were tired and must not be disturbed.’

  ‘That was thoughtful of him.’

  ‘He is too good for you,’ Fleur said, her eyes snapping with anger. ‘He is fascinated by you now because you wear a man’s clothes and do things no self-respecting woman would do – but he will tire of you. I know him! I know that he will hate you one day and then he will come back to…’ She broke off abruptly, on the verge of tears. ‘Why did you have to come here? You don’t belong here!’

  ‘No, you are right, I don’t,’ Hetty said, feeling cold and dead inside. Fleur reminded her of herself as a young girl in love with a man who had betrayed her. Stefan should be ashamed of himself for using and then hurting this child! ‘And I’m just about to leave. Goodbye, Fleur. I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to hurt you.’

  She walked out of the farmhouse, her back straight with pride. Last night she had lost her head because Stefan had come to her when she needed comfort. It hadn’t meant anything to either of them. Obviously, he had someone in his life already and Hetty was just an exciting moment, an amusement. He lived on excitement, was always at his best in the midst of an attack. Fleur was right: he would tire of her one day and then he would look elsewhere for his pleasure. She could not – dare not – trust him. He would let her down as Henri had before him. It would be foolish to let him under her skin.

  She must get back to the chateau. The Comtesse would be worried about her.

  *

  Hetty knew something had changed the moment she walked in. Bernard had been talking to one of the maids, but when he saw her he broke off and came towards her, a look of excitement in his eyes.

  ‘Mademoiselle ’Etty – good news!’

  ‘Is there?’ She wondered if she would ever feel that anything was worth getting excited about again. ‘What is it, Bernard?

  ‘Monsieur de Faubourg is home. He has been badly wounded – an arm is lost and he has been in hospital – but they have let him come home at last.’

  ‘Pierre is here?’ Hetty felt a rush of surprise. ‘That is good news, Bernard, but I don’t understand – why wasn’t he arrested by the Germans if he was wounded in the fighting just before the end?’

  ‘The hospital was run by the Sisters of Mercy, mademoiselle. They kept him hidden behind locked doors as they have other wounded soldiers of France. He was fortunate to be found by them after he had been left for dead.’

  ‘Then we must thank God for it,’ Hetty said and gave him a forced smile. Of course it was good news, but it didn’t ease the ache inside her. ‘I am hungry, Bernard. Do you think I could have something to eat?’

  ‘We were worried about you when you did not return all night, but a messenger came to say you were safe.’

  ‘Did the messenger tell you anything else?’

  ‘I understand your brother was wounded, mademoiselle. Is he safe?’

  ‘He is where they can’t touch him any more,’ Hetty said and her eyelids flickered for a moment as she felt a return of the stabbing grief. ‘He died last night, Bernard. Someone buried him soon after because they could not allow the Germans to find him.’

  ‘Forgive me, mademoiselle.’ Bernard looked stricken. ‘I had no idea…’

  ‘How could you?’ She smiled wearily. ‘There is no need to feel upset. I am t
ruly glad that Pierre is home. I shall go to my room. If someone could bring me something to eat in a little while?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Hetty was aware of his eyes following her from the room, but she did not want to grieve in front of him. Ben was dead and she had been foolish enough to seek comfort from a man she did not dare trust.

  It would take her a while to regain her usual sangfroid, but she would do it – and she would do it alone!

  Nine

  ‘Harry looks a little better,’ Georgie said as she kissed her aunt’s cheek. ‘At least now that I’m here I can take some of the tiresome jobs from you and that will give you more time to relax with your family.’

  ‘You mustn’t think I asked you here just for that,’ Jessie said. ‘But I must admit I shall be grateful for some help. It would be easier if Jonathan was home, but this wretched war spoiled all our plans.’

  ‘Didn’t you tell me that Walter had plans to help out with the business?’

  ‘Yes, he does, but he may not be able to if his papers come through. He says he will go into the Air Force like Jonathan, but I do wish it could all be over so that he needn’t.’

  ‘That doesn’t look like happening. This new blitz on London and the South East is wearing people down; the papers seem full of gloom every day.’

  ‘Yes, well, moaning about it won’t help and I suppose we are lucky not to be in France or Poland or somewhere like that.’

  ‘Yes, very lucky,’ Georgie said and felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. Nearly three months had passed and she hadn’t heard a word from Ben. ‘Weren’t you going to tell me something – about the annexe being off limits?’

  ‘Oh yes. You remember I wrote to you that the man from the ministry told me we were too big for a convalescent home?’ Georgie nodded. ‘Well, he needed an office and somewhere to stay. We arranged for him to have the annexe and put a bed in there so he’s completely private when he’s here. Not that he is here often. Apparently, he travels a lot.’

  ‘So what happened to your tea rooms?’

  ‘One of our workshop tenants gave notice a few months ago, so Harry had his men do some work in there and we’re using that for the time being. It isn’t quite as pleasant as the annexe, but people don’t seem to mind. We don’t get anywhere near as many visitors as before the war, of course.’

  ‘But you’re managing to keep going?’

  ‘The main business ticks over slowly, but the money I got from publishing those cookery books just before the war has helped a lot. They were a huge success and I’ll probably get round to sorting out some more of my aunt’s recipes one day. I wanted to share the money with her, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Says she’s got plenty for her needs and it’s all going to be mine one day anyway.’

  ‘I can pay rent if that helps.’

  ‘Not if you want me to speak to you again!’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘I should have known you would say that. Well, I’ll just have to do my bit about the place, but there is one thing you should know, Jessie. You’re the first one I’ve told – I’m having a baby.’ Georgie laughed as she saw her aunt’s look of shock. ‘Close your mouth, dearest, you look like a fish out of water. It does happen, you know – even to women of my age.’ If it had been anyone but Jessie she might have felt embarrassed, but she knew that Jessie would understand better than anyone she knew. Jessie had been having Harry’s child when his divorce had finally come through and they’d been able to marry.

  ‘You’re not old. I was only a year or so younger when I married Harry. I’m just surprised. I didn’t know there was anyone special in your life.’

  ‘I’m not sure that there is,’ Georgie said. ‘It wasn’t just a fling, but there are complications. It may work out one day or it may not.’ She couldn’t tell Jessie about Ben, because it wasn’t her secret.

  ‘Is he married?’

  ‘Yes, but that is only half the problem. I can’t tell you any more, because it’s to do with the war and not something he’s allowed to talk about.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I understand.’ Jessie wrinkled her brow. At nearly fifty she was still an attractive woman with only one small streak of grey in her hair just above her left eyebrow, which looked almost as if she’d had it put there by a clever hairdresser. ‘You haven’t told Geoffrey yet?’

  ‘No. I’ve been waiting for the right time. I shall have to tell him soon, of course, but it rather depends on what happens next. I haven’t told the baby’s father yet, but I think I know what he’ll say.’

  ‘Yes. I see that it is awkward for you.’

  ‘You aren’t regretting inviting me to stay?’

  ‘Need you ask, my dear?’ Jessie smiled at her affectionately. ‘A new baby is always welcome and I’m looking forward to having your company. Shall you tell Annabel?’

  ‘Yes, when I visit later in the week. I’m looking forward to seeing Beth’s daughter. Annabel says she’s beautiful – but then she would naturally think so.’

  ‘Yes, she dotes on Beth and is over the moon with Elaine, but to be fair, she is really lovely. I think she looks a bit like Alice, because she has her colouring rather than her mother’s at the moment. That can change of course, babies’ hair often gets darker as they grow, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I believe so.’

  ‘Well, I have to start work,’ Jessie said. ‘I have someone coming to pick up a piece of furniture this morning and Harry had to go into Torquay. He has someone to drive him, of course, but I worry when he’s away, especially since he had that heart attack.’

  ‘Yes, of course, that’s only natural. You get on with whatever you need to do and I’ll potter about – I could look through those accounts you had a problem with,’ Georgie said. ‘And then I’ll wander down to the shop and have a talk to the girls…’

  It had been easy enough to keep the secret of her child’s father from Jessie, she thought as she made her way to the study. But evading Annabel’s questions was going to be more difficult. If only she could hear something from Ben, at least to say he might be coming home soon.

  *

  After spending a little time in the kitchen talking with Jessie’s staff, most of whom had been with her for years, Georgie strolled down to the shop to see what they were selling these days. There was less variety than before the war, but the shelves were still sufficiently well stocked to attract customers.

  After buying a box of coloured pencils with a picture of Kendlebury on the box to send to Geoffrey, she left the girls to attend to their other customers and began to walk back to the house. As she neared the annexe, she saw that a man was coming out and smiled as she stopped to speak to him. Jessie had said he wasn’t often here, but this was obviously one of the times he’d chosen to visit.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Rathmere,’ she said. ‘I was surprised when Jessie told me you had an office here.’

  ‘Good lord, it’s Mrs Bridges,’ he said and offered his hand. ‘How nice to see you here. Is Jessie Kendle a friend of yours?’

  ‘Actually she’s an aunt by marriage,’ Georgie said. ‘She asked me to come and stay with her until I make up my mind what I want to do now that you’ve put me out of my home.’

  ‘Oh dear…’ He looked concerned. ‘Are you feeling very upset?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Georgie confessed. ‘Actually, I’d been feeling lonely for a while and I’m enjoying the prospect of a long visit.’

  ‘You relieve my mind,’ he said. ‘I do feel for the people I have to tell they must give up their homes, you know – but it’s my job.’

  ‘Yes, of course it is,’ Georgie said and smiled. He was rather a nice man really and she quite liked him. ‘I was just going to have some tea – why don’t you come and join me?’

  ‘I…’ He hesitated and then nodded, looking pleased. ‘Yes, why don’t I? I was going to drive into Torquay, but I can do that later.’

  *

  Hetty saw him coming towards her down the long drive to
the chateau and her first reaction was one of anger. How dare he make love to her when he’d already been promised to Fleur. At least, Fleur clearly believed he was hers and had hated Hetty on sight. For a moment, she wanted to rage at him, to wipe that hateful look of pleasure from his face, but then she realised that she still had to work with him and there were more important things than her feelings.

  ‘I need to get a message to my family,’ she said coldly. ‘I suppose you’ve passed the news about Ben back to London, but I want to tell my sister in my own way.’

  ‘They won’t let you say how or where he died,’ Stefan said and frowned, puzzled by her tone. ‘You know you can’t do that, Hetty. If it fell into the wrong hands it could lead back to us and then…’

  ‘That’s all you ever think about, isn’t it?’ she said, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘You don’t care that my sister is worrying about Ben – or that his lover is probably going out of her mind because there’s no news.’

  ‘I’m telling you that you can’t send a letter,’ Stefan said, his expression grim and unbending. ‘I can’t allow it, Hetty.’

  ‘Damn you!’ she flashed at him, temper rising. ‘I don’t have to do everything you say.’

  ‘Yes you do, as far as this is concerned anyway. I can’t force you in other things, but when it’s a matter of the group’s safety, you will do as you’re told.’

  ‘Sometimes I hate you!’

  ‘Do you?’ He smiled and she felt the desire hit her stomach like a punchbag. ‘Not always, eh, chérie? There was one night when you loved me.’

  ‘No! I needed someone and you were there,’ she retorted, head up, expression proud. ‘That’s all it was, Stefan. Anyone would have done.’ That was such a lie, but it saved her pride.