Kitabı oku: «Love Affairs», sayfa 13
Chapter Eighteen
The pattern continued for four days and four nights. Avery was unfailingly polite, mildly affectionate to her in front of Alice and the servants and consulted amicably about what changes she might wish to make to the house. In the evening he listened intently to Alice’s news, courteously to Laura’s description of how she had spent her day and made unexceptional small talk over the dinner table.
At night he came to her bed, ensured she was adequately prepared for him, which, to her humiliation, was easy enough, and removed himself to his own chamber as soon as he had obtained his own release. Laura was furious and frustrated and had no idea what, short of chaining him to the bed, she could do about it. Easy though she had found it to speak frankly to Avery about desire, she found her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she tried to ask him to stay and actually make love to her.
‘You’re as cross as crabs,’ Mab observed on the fifth morning when Laura managed to upset her trinket bowl on the dressing table, sending ear bobs and silver chains flying. She knelt on the floor, muttering curses under her breath, and tried to gather them up while her maidservant nagged. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’ve got little Alice, you’ve got a lovely home and a fine husband who isn’t lacking in his attentions to you...’
Laura sat up abruptly and banged her head on the underside of the table. ‘Ow!’ She crawled out and glared at Mab. ‘I will thank you not to refer to private matters of that sort. Nothing is wrong.’
‘Then sit down and let me do your hair.’ Mab was, as usual, unsquashable. She swept the brush through Laura’s hair, provoking a gasp of pain as the bristles found a tangle. ‘There, of course! I know what’s wrong, its that time of the month. I lost count, what with the excitement over the wedding and all. That’s why you’re so down in the mouth, just like normal.’
‘So it is.’ Laura rubbed her back, which now she thought about it, was aching. She did some rapid calculations. ‘Tomorrow.’ Now she had the knowledge that she was not pregnant to add to her usual monthly misery. She would be fine by the day after, once she had got through a day of being clumsy, achy and prone to tears and another day of cramps. Tonight, she thought, with the feeling of someone glimpsing a small patch of silver lining in a very dark cloud, she could tell Avery to keep to his own bedchamber for a few nights. He’d be hoping he had got her with child, she was sure, gloomily pleased to be spreading the misery.
* * *
By the time she went downstairs she had talked herself into a more positive frame of mind, although she was grateful that Alice was going to be spending the day with her friends, the granddaughters of Mrs Gordon. Avery had ridden out early to inspect some distant woodland with a view to selling some of the timber, Pritchett informed her.
She had been reluctant to turn off any of her old staff so Avery had agreed to Pritchett taking over at Westerwood while his own butler remained in control of the town house and the Westerwood butler, who had been feeling his rheumatics, moved to the easier duties at the Leicestershire hunting lodge.
Pritchett refilled her coffee cup. ‘Which room do you wish to look at today, my lady?’
The rooms at Westerwood Manor were all in excellent condition, but some seemed dated, others were not very comfortable. Laura had been working round them, making notes and listing necessary work. It made a neutral topic of conversation with Avery and it was helping her learn his tastes before they moved to his main country house, Wykeham Hall. It was best for Alice, they had agreed, for her to become used to the changes to her family in a house she was familiar with.
‘This room, I think... No, the Blue Sitting Room.’ Avery was away, that was the safest time to investigate the room where Piers’s portrait hung.
‘Very well, my lady. I will send Jackson and one of the maids along to assist you.’
‘No need for that, thank you, Pritchett. I do not expect to have to change anything around. I just want to familiarise myself with that room.’
* * *
It took an hour of procrastination before Laura finally shut the door behind her and went to sit at the writing table that faced the fireplace and Piers’s portrait. This was the table where Avery had kissed her with such passion, the place where she had learned the truth about Piers’s return to Spain and his death.
Laura folded her hands on the blotter and made herself look steadily at the picture until she felt her calm return. He looked so young, so unformed in that flamboyant red jacket. Had he really loved her or was it simply a boy’s first calf love? If she had refused to make love with him, would they have drifted apart naturally?
Yes, she thought, sadly. Yes, what we had was sweet and strangely innocent. Or perhaps naive is the better word. If he had lived, we would have married because of the baby and by now we would have outgrown each other and yet be tied together for life.
She got up and went to lift down the heavy cavalry sabre from its stand on the mantelshelf. It was not even scratched, Piers had owned it for such a short time. A bullet in the chest had killed him before he was able to raise his sword in anger at the enemy. Laura touched the tassel that hung from the finger guard, then set the weapon back in place.
It felt as though she had said goodbye, finally. Laura went back to her seat at the table and straightened the blotter, the paper knife and the inkwell automatically, unable somehow to leave the room yet. Presumably there should be writing paper and sealing wax in the drawers, she had better check that was all in order.
She opened the shallow right-hand drawer and found expensive paper, a knife for trimming pens, a taper and a coil of wax. All as it should be. She pulled at the left-hand drawer and it stuck. When she bent down to check she realised it was locked, although the wood of the drawer had shrunk so that the tongue of the lock was visible. Impulsively she picked up the paper knife and pushed it into the gap. The flimsy lock popped open and the drawer slid out.
It was empty except for a tattered, much folded, piece of paper. Curious, Laura picked it up and flattened it out on the blotter. It was not even a full sheet of writing paper, just a torn quarter of a page, ragged at the edges, covered in a brown stain with only a few words visible.
Then she realised she was looking at her own handwriting and that this must be part of that desperate letter she had written to Piers when he had left for Spain and she had realised she was carrying Alice.
These brown stains must be blood, Piers’s blood. She snatched her hand back, then, ashamed at her squeamishness, traced the few faintly legible words with her fingertip, seeing again the full message she had tried to send. Her fear, but her trust in him despite his apparent desertion. Her anxiety and her desperate need for reassurance.
She had no idea how long she sat there or when the realisation came to her that he must have kept her letter beneath his uniform against his heart, and that was why it was rent and bloody, just as his body had been. He had died knowing she loved him, knowing he was to be a father. She hoped he had been happy at the news, even if, like her, he would have been apprehensive.
Something dripped onto her hand and she realised she was weeping, the tears sliding silently down her cheeks. Laura found her handkerchief and mopped her eyes.
‘How very touching.’
She started and the paper fluttered to the desk, as brown and tattered as a dead leaf. Avery ducked under the raised window and stepped down into the room, just as she had all those weeks ago when she had found him here.
‘This is the last letter I wrote to Piers.’ Why was Avery’s face so set and hard? Because she had opened the locked drawer? She answered the unspoken accusation. ‘I know the drawer was locked. I did not intend to pry, it must have been instinct.’
Avery shrugged. ‘I wonder you care to touch it.’
‘Because of the bloodstains? If he was wounded and in my arms I would not care about the blood.’ She looked down at the scrap again, away from her husband’s hard, inexplicably accusing, eyes. ‘Piers must have carried it against his heart.’
‘A strange thing to do, considering what you wrote.’
‘I do not understand.’
* * *
Why did she sound so confused—surely she recalled what she had written in that last letter? Avery reached across and picked up the fragment and stared at it again. ‘It was how I found you, and Alice,’ he said absently as his mind grappled with the puzzle. ‘Your name is not common.’ It was like trying to read the occasional coded message that had come his way when abroad, the sort where individual words and the spaces between them had to be shuffled and...
The spaces between. God, had he been so blinded by his own guilt and grief, the need to blame someone? ‘Read me what you wrote.’ He thrust the paper at Laura.
She stared at him as if he was drunk, but she was prepared to humour him, so took it and laid it in front of her. One rounded nail traced the first line as she read, hesitating out of forgetfulness or emotion, he was not sure which.
‘I feel such a coward. It seems...like a betrayal of everything I told you I could be as a soldier’s wife. I hate to...worry you, but I am pregnant with our child. Please don’t blame yourself, we were both at fault, but write, I beg you, tell me what to do... Please look after yourself, with all my love, Laura. There was only the one page. The beginning of the letter was me thanking him for his note and hoping he was safe.’ Her voice trailed away.
‘You really did love him, didn’t you?’ He was trying so hard to stop his voice shaking that it came out harder and more abrupt than he meant. What had he done? Instinct should have told him to look deeper. To have trusted this woman. Prejudice, guilt and fear. What a toxic mix.
‘Yes, of course. I told you how I felt about him, I would never have made love with him if I had not.’ Laura’s hands clenched into fists. ‘I am sorry, but the fact that I loved Piers does not mean I cannot be a faithful wife to you.’
‘That is not why I asked.’ Hell, this was difficult. ‘I have a confession to make.’ He made himself meet her startled gaze. ‘When I found that letter all I could read were isolated words, negative, angry words. Together they sounded like a diatribe from a woman who felt bitter and betrayed, who was writing to accuse Piers of abandoning her. I thought those were the last words he received from England, that he had gone to his death not with a message of love over his heart, but one of furious rejection.’
Laura gasped and stared down at the letter. ‘Coward, hate, blame. But...you condemned me on those isolated words alone? How could you!’
He almost said it aloud, spoke of the grief and the guilt, the awful guilt, but how could he excuse himself when he had done Laura such an injustice? It would sound as though he was trying to justify the unjustifiable. ‘I am sorry. I was wrong and I was prejudiced.’ I love you. How am I ever going to be able to say those words to you now? How will you ever accept them from me?
‘I should have been open with you from the start. Told you what I thought, asked you to explain.’ He was unused to being in the wrong so completely. The great diplomat, the man who can read faces, delve into minds. Look at you now. ‘I should have been totally open and honest.’
‘Open and honest,’ Laura echoed, almost to herself. When she stood she seemed paler than normal, frailer somehow, as though she was in pain. ‘I cannot speak of this any more now. It is too... Excuse me.’
Avery was still standing on the same spot when little Annie, the downstairs maid, came in, her hands full of feather dusters and polishing cloths.
‘Oh! I’m sorry, my lord. I thought the room was empty when I saw her ladyship come out. I’ll come back later.’ She bobbed a curtsy.
‘No, I am just leaving.’ Avery folded the bloodstained letter into a piece of fresh paper and took it with him. He would lock it in the desk in his bedchamber where there was no risk of Laura finding it and being upset all over again.
Who am I trying to deceive? I was the one who upset her, not the letter. She was weeping, yes, but that was simply normal grief. The pain came later when she realised what I had thought, how little I valued her. I thought all I was risking with this marriage was my place in Alice’s heart. He had glimpsed something more than he had ever hoped for. A wife he loved and who might love him, a family built on truth and trust and not lies and secrets. And he had thrown it away.
* * *
Laura did not appear at luncheon, although it was not unusual for them to miss each other for that informal meal. Perhaps she had gone to collect Alice early so she could enjoy the company of someone who trusted her, he thought, spearing a slice of ham with unnecessary force. But how could he tell what she thought or what she wanted? He was coming to realise he did not understand her at all and that she might never trust him enough to let him try.
* * *
Laura had been still pale and quiet during dinner. She had left him to his port and was sitting with a book open on her lap when Avery joined her in the drawing room. After ten minutes of stilted conversation she announced she was going to her room, said goodnight and left him standing on the hearthrug with no idea of how to reach her.
After half an hour spent brooding Avery came to the conclusion that they had only two things in common. Alice could not be involved in this, but perhaps they could talk honestly in bed. He felt a glimmering of optimism as he shed his clothes and donned his banyan.
Laura was sitting up in bed, pale against the white pillows. When she heard him she opened her eyes and said, quite simply, ‘No.’ Then she closed them again and lay back.
Avery found himself out on the landing with no very clear memory of how he had got there, only the knowledge that he had never been with an unwilling woman in his life and he was not going to start now with his wife. Even persuasion was unacceptable.
He thought about the library and its decanters, only to be jolted out of his inertia by a snort right behind him. When he turned Laura’s woman Mab stood there regarding him with disapproval over an armful of clean linens.
‘Yes?’ he enquired in the tone that normally had staff scuttling for cover.
‘Have you been bothering my lady?’ Before he could tear her off a strip for impertinence she added, ‘You men! And now of all times.’
‘What do you mean?’ Was Laura sick? ‘Come in here.’ He steered her into his bedchamber where Laura would not be able to hear them.
‘I mean, she’ll be feeling poorly for a couple of days, bless her. Always has taken her badly. And it’s no good you glowering at me. You might be upset she’s not going to give you your dratted heir this time, but I expect she’s not too pleased either.’
‘Poorly? Heir?’ Light dawned. ‘You mean it is that time of the month?’ No wonder the poor woman had looked so drained. He could not have found a worse time to distress her if he had tried for a year.
‘Yes,’ Mab said baldly. Her face softened a trifle. ‘I’m sorry if I spoke out of order, my lord, but I worry about her. She might seem as if she’s hard sometimes, but she’s not. Not as sophisticated as her reputation makes out and not as strong either.’
‘I cannot fault you for caring for your mistress.’ He should not be gossiping with servants, let alone taking one into his confidence, but he had to ask. ‘You’ve known her for years. She loved my cousin, didn’t she?’
‘Aye,’ Mab agreed. She shifted the laundry onto her hip and scratched her ear as if deep in thought. ‘Doubt it would have lasted though. Calf love.’ She eyed him up and down, a purely feminine appraisal that brought the colour to his cheeks. ‘He wasn’t the man you are, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
‘It is not. Thank you, Mab.’ He opened the door for her. ‘Is there anything I can do for her?’
‘Stay in your own bed for a few nights.’ He heard the wretched woman laugh softly as she padded off down the corridor.
Avery abandoned thoughts of the brandy, went to bed and lay awake, brooding on the enigma that was his wife. He had misjudged her badly over Piers, but why had she rejected the baby? Perhaps her grief for Piers was the cause. Or she simply could not face the scandal and then, if she feared she was never going to marry and have children, a belated maternal instinct had driven her to seek out her daughter. But if scandal worried her, why had she returned to society and behaved in a manner that was certain to brand her as fast, to put it mildly?
But he could hardly demand an explanation now, not when he had so obviously destroyed whatever shreds of trust she had in him. He shifted uncomfortably, going back in his head over her shock and hurt that he had so misread her letter. It seemed that she was right not to trust him and yet he dare not risk trusting her utterly either, not when he loved her like this. It felt like baring his throat to a sword.
Alice had been his only vulnerability, his only weak spot. In everything else his life was his to command and he could rely on his determination, his intellect, his ambition, to achieve what he wanted. He was not used to failure. Somehow he had to turn this around for all their futures.
Chapter Nineteen
Laura took breakfast in bed the next morning. It was easier to yield to Mab’s bullying than face Avery over bacon and eggs that would simply make her queasy. She was uncomfortably aware that he was probably very angry with her. No man would take a monosyllabic refusal with equanimity, she was certain. She should have explained, however embarrassing it was and however hurt she was by his interpretation of her letter to Piers.
And that did hurt, deeply. No wonder Avery had thought so little of her if he could believe she was fickle enough to send a letter full of accusations and recrimination to a man facing danger and death. He was a hypocrite, too, she told herself, stoking her anger. He had virtually forced Piers to go back to Spain when, who knows, if he had sold out to marry her and be a father to their child, he would be alive now.
What if, what if... No, it was a futile game to play. Piers might have walked out of his house and been run over by a cart, or have been struck down by typhoid. Every second of every day everyone made choices that could result in life or death. If Avery felt guilty, then that was his burden to carry and she had to learn to forgive him.
It was curiously difficult to do, even when she loved him. Perhaps that was the penalty of becoming older, one saw the shades of grey in everything, in everyone.
‘Mama?’ Alice peeped around the door. ‘Blackie and Mab say you are poorly and I mustn’t come and bounce on the bed.’
‘But you may come in and sit beside me.’ Laura patted the bed. ‘I will be better soon, it is just a tummy ache.’
‘Papa has written you a letter. He said I could bring it.’ Beaming with importance, she handed over the note, folded but unsealed.
Laura opened it and read: I have accepted an offer on the timber in the far woods and I must go to St Albans to my lawyers to finalise the sale and for other business. I may also need to go to Buckingham, but I will be back in four, or at the most seven, days. There was no salutation, no signature beyond his initials.
‘Papa has gone away for a few days on business,’ Laura said and managed a big smile. ‘So the ladies of the house are in charge. What mischief shall we get up to while Papa is away?’
That did make Alice bounce, until Mab wagged a finger at her. They would have a picnic with nothing but cake, go riding all day, buy a puppy...
Laura let her rattle on and told herself that it was only her present condition that made her feel so miserable. But she knew she wanted Avery back, needed to talk to him, needed to find a way through this suspicion between them.
Alice followed Mab into the dressing room to ‘help’ her sort out Laura’s shoes and Laura smiled at Miss Blackmore, standing quietly in the corner, waiting with her usual patience. ‘Do you think we should find Miss Alice a governess, Miss Blackmore? My husband was speaking of it a while ago.’
‘That was when he did not know who he would be marrying so soon, if I might be so bold as to put it that way. He hasn’t said any more about it to me, my lady.’
‘She is still a little young. I could undertake her lessons for a year.’
‘That would please Miss Alice, my lady. But might it not be a problem when his lordship wishes to travel with you and not always take Miss Alice? You haven’t had your bride trip yet, for one thing.’
That was true. Somehow Laura could not imagine Avery wanting to whisk her away alone on a romantic journey, but he might want her to act as hostess if he was sent on a diplomatic mission and Alice was becoming rather old to take around the capitals of Europe with parents who were distracted by matter of state.
‘A governess would give her continuity,’ Laura agreed. She stretched and rubbed her back. The cramps were easing, by tomorrow she would feel her usual energetic self. ‘Which carriage has Lord Wykeham taken?’
‘The small one, my lady.’
‘Well, in that case, I think I will take the travelling carriage and we can go up to London tomorrow and set about finding someone. Mab, Alice!’ They looked around the door, one head above the other, and made her smile. ‘I think we will have a ladies’ trip to London, just the four of us, and we will see if we cannot find Alice a nice governess. What do you think of that, Alice?’
The child came in, her face scrunched up in thought as she considered this hard question. ‘Will she be fun?’
‘Of course. She will be young and cheerful and she will teach you all kinds of exciting things.’
‘And you won’t go away, just because I’ve got her?’
‘I will have to go away if Papa is travelling and needs me, but I will always come back, Alice. If we choose a governess now, then you will have plenty of time to get to know her before I go anywhere with Papa. And Blackie will be here, as well.’ Alice nodded approval. ‘In that case, ladies, this afternoon we will pack for London!’
* * *
Avery had intended to stay away a week, time for Laura to recover from her temporary indisposition and from her distress over the letter. Time for him to decide how to deal with a wife he desired, whom he had, undoubtedly, wronged and yet, somehow could not quite bring himself to trust. She has wronged me, a mutinous voice reminded him. She had never explained how she could shut Alice out of her life for six years. She had acted a part as Mrs Jordan. She had tried to entrap him into marriage. And yet I love her.
Avery gritted his teeth and looked out of the window at the sight of the park rolling past the carriage windows. The sun was just setting and the stands of beech trees cast long, lovely shadows across the grass.
He was in no mood to appreciate natural beauty. Four days he had managed to stay away, not long enough to get his own guilt and resentment under control and not long enough, he was sure, for Laura to be feeling very kindly towards him.
His mood was not helped by Pritchett’s expression of surprise as he walked through his own front door. ‘My lord!’
‘Yes?’ Avery raised an eyebrow. ‘Why the surprise? I believe I live here.’
‘Yes, of course, my lord. It is just that her ladyship—’
Something cold ran a finger down Avery’s spine. ‘What is wrong with her?’ Was she sick after all? He would forgive her anything. Anything at all—
Pritchett took a step back. ‘Nothing, my lord, I assure you. It is only that her ladyship and Miss Alice left for London the day before yesterday. I assumed you knew, my lord, and would be joining them.’
‘Of course.’ Whatever else was happening, preserve appearances in front of the staff. One of his mother’s favourite rules. Appearances are all, never mind the hell beneath. ‘I will be joining them in London. Tomorrow.’ If they are there. Stop it. Trust her. Of course they will be there.
* * *
‘I feel confident we can find someone suitable from these five, don’t you?’ Laura conned the list of young women she had asked for interview the next day.
‘I think so, my lady. I particularly liked that one and that one.’ Miss Blackmore touched two of the names on the list that Laura held out to her. ‘They all have the qualifications you are looking for, and are under thirty and seem to be of a kind and cheerful disposition, but those two gave me the impression of a natural firmness.’
‘Which is what they will need to handle Alice,’ Laura agreed with a chuckle. ‘Miss Blackmore, I hope you do not feel that I am attempting to detach you from Alice. You have been such a major influence on her and she loves you very much. But I am hoping that perhaps there may soon be someone else for you to look after...’
‘That is wonderful, my lady. His lordship—’
‘No, not yet, Miss Blackmore, but I hope it will not be too long. And I do not want Alice feeling that not only has her little nose been put out of joint by a new baby, but her Blackie has also been taken away from her.’
‘Of course, my lady. That seems very sensible and farsighted.’
‘Thank you.’ The carriage lurched as they rounded the corner into the square. ‘Almost home. I wish now I had not told Alice we were seeking a governess for her. When they call tomorrow and meet her I have no idea how she will react to them.’
‘Ah, well,’ Blackie said with a smile, ‘if the worse comes to the worst and she is difficult it will scare away the faint-hearted ones.’
* * *
Laura met Blackie’s gaze over the top of Alice’s head and raised an eyebrow. The nurse nodded the merest fraction. On the other side of the room Miss Pemberton, candidate number five, was deep in discussion with Alice over whether, as Miss Mirabelle was a French doll, Alice ought to learn some French words so she could talk to her. The young woman’s references were excellent and all from ladies Laura knew. She was quiet yet cheerful, bright-eyed, intelligent and decisive, and Alice took to her from the start.
‘Miss Pemberton.’
The woman looked up. ‘Excuse me, Alice.’ She came and took the chair next to Laura. ‘Lady Wykeham?’
‘I would like to offer you the position. Do you need time to consider the offer?’
‘No, I would be delighted to accept. Thank you very much, I greatly appreciate your confidence, Lady Wykeham.’
‘Excellent. So when would you be able to start?’
The door opened. ‘Lady Wykeham, what the blazes are you—?’ Avery stopped on the threshold apparently silenced by the sight of his usually elegant drawing room. The table was littered with dolls and their clothes, the Chinese carpet was obscured by a drift of drawing paper, the side table bore evidence to a hearty tea and Alice was bouncing with excitement.
‘Papa!’ She threw herself into his arms as Blackie and Miss Pemberton got to their feet.
‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ Laura said with a calm she was far from feeling. ‘Alice, please stop squealing, I wish to introduce Miss Pemberton to Papa. My dear, this is Miss Pemberton, who is to be Alice’s new governess. Miss Pemberton, my husband, the Earl of Wykeham.’
‘Delighted, Miss Pemberton.’ He offered his hand, she took it with a calm, well-bred manner that made Laura want to cheer. Apparently cursing earls disturbed Miss Pemberton’s composure no more than noisy six-year-olds did.
Avery was wearing his best diplomatic blank face, but she could not worry about that now, nor the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, nor the sharp pang of desire at the sight of him, windblown despite his immaculate riding gear, eyes sparking with tightly controlled temper.
‘Do allow me to show you out, Miss Pemberton.’ Laura stood and ushered the governess towards the door. ‘If you would like to come with your trunks in two days’ time?’
‘Thank you, Lady Wykeham. My lord.’ She dropped the slightest of curtsies. ‘Goodbye for now, Alice. Miss Blackmore.’
Laura said goodbye in the hall and left Miss Pemberton to the butler to show out. When she went back into the drawing room Avery was hunkered down, talking to Alice. ‘No, I have not brought you a puppy. Are you not glad just to have Papa home?’
‘Of course.’ She looked up winsomely from under her lashes. ‘But I’d have been even gladderer if you’d brought a puppy with you.’
‘You are a minx, young Alice. Don’t try those tricks on me, I’ve had older ladies than you flutter their eyelashes at me and none of them has received a puppy as a result, let me tell you. Now off you go with Blackie, I must talk to Mama.’
He waited, smiling and apparently relaxed until the door had closed and the sound of Alice’s excited chatter had faded. When he turned the smile had vanished. ‘What the devil is going on, Laura? What are you doing gadding off to London without so much as a by your leave?’
‘I have come to our house with my maid, our daughter and her nurse, using our carriage and leaving our staff fully informed of our whereabouts. I have engaged a suitable governess for our daughter as we have discussed in the past. I am not certain which part of that programme counts as gadding, but I am certain you will enlighten me.’ Her knees were knocking and the ginger snaps she had eaten with her tea were lying heavy in her stomach, but at least she managed to sound both composed and polite.
‘You did not consult me.’
