She hadn’t been to blame. She’d been naive. She’d been stupid not to lock her bedroom door but she hadn’t been to blame. There was nothing she’d either said or done that he could have misconstrued as an invitation into her bed. If it hadn't been for the fact she'd gone to sleep flicking through Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management, all two thousand pages of it and in hard copy, an eighteenth birthday present from Hamilton, goodness knows what would have happened. As it was, Marielle walked in to find him rolling about the floor clutching his groin. She'd ended up taking him to hospital for emergency surgery thus providing her a window of opportunity too good to miss. She'd stuffed what she could into her rucksack and hailed a taxi, her cookery book clutched to her chest. It had never been far from her side since.
Her hands grasped the back of the chair as she remembered something she’d forgotten when Hamilton had told her about her supposed role in the divorce. If she could subpoena Louis's health records there was bound to be a record of his operation. There’d be some jumped up excuse as to the cause but at least it was something. She even had the book, a little battered it was true, but she'd happily give it over for forensic testing or whatever it was called, her brows pulled into a frown.
‘Is Isaac still working for your solicitors?’
‘What was that?’
‘Isaac?’ She sighed, trying to contain her annoyance. ‘Is he still working for Messrs. Pike, Pidgeon & Prue?’
‘Yes dear, although I have no idea what that's to do with anything?’ her mother said, reaching for her spectacles. ‘By the way, Nanny will be leaving us at the end of the week.’
‘Nanny will be what?’
‘I do wish you'd listen, darling. We’ve kept her well past her sell by date but it's now time for her to retire. She is sixty-six after all.’
‘That’s nothing these days.’
‘It is if you’re as arthritic as she is. Your father had to help her up the stairs yesterday as it was Hodd’s day off; most inappropriate in addition to being most inconvenient. We were entertaining members of The Cabinet when Clemmy came and fetched him. The PM didn't know where to look, and as for The Chancellor of the Exchequer…’
But Tansy had had enough. With a brief excuse, she raced upstairs to find out just what had been going on during the few short weeks of her absence.
Nanny was ensconced in her usual chair with a book on her lap when Tansy burst through the door.
‘Well, well, there's a sight for sore eyes and no mistake,’ she said, placing the book on the table and picking up her knitting. ‘I take it you've heard my news,’ she added, shooting her a look under beetling brows.
‘And I take it you've heard mine?’ she tossed back, careful to ask Haggis’s permission to sit next to him by proffering a cautious hand, a hand he studiously ignored as he carried on performing his morning ablutions.
‘A stuff of nonsense. I didn't believe one word and neither should your parents…’
‘The least said about them, the better. In fact, I've been wondering if I'm too old to divorce them or is that something they just do in America? I'll have to remember to ask Mr Pidgeon when I see him.’
‘Aye, you do that, although I think he’ll laugh himself daft,’ she said, starting on a new row.
Tansy watched her in silence for a moment, this softly spoken woman she'd known all her life. It was probably selfish but she'd always hoped she’d be around forever, and she’d not just hoped. She’d just assumed when she finally got around to starting a family, Nanny would be on hand to advise her on the finer points of childcare. But now… but now, with no man on the horizon apart from Tor, a man who wouldn't marry her if she was the last woman in Scotland, there'd be no babies. She certainly wouldn't consider having them with anyone else so it was time for a life rethink. She'd start again. She'd managed to make a go of it at The Shard so there was no reason she couldn't somewhere else; somewhere far away, as far away from the reach and influence of her parents as possible. Scotland was probably far enough, but the other side. She had her credit card back and money in the bank, not forgetting Violet, her cerise pink Mini. The one thing she didn't have was any company…
‘So, enough about me, what are you going to do?’
‘Me, oh I'll be fine. I have a little put aside and my pension. Don't you worry about me,’ her voice quiet.
‘But I do, I can't help it. After all you've done for them, for us.’
‘They don't see it like that. I'm just an inconvenience. If my hip hadn't stuck, I'd have managed the stairs fine but it did so there’s an end to it.’ She reached up a hand and patted her hair before picking up her needles again, only to set them back on her lap with a sigh, her eyes now fixed on Haggis.
‘The only thing I'm worried about is Haggis; he is nearly eighteen after all. Your parents wouldn't want him and I'm not sure I'll be able to take him. He's such a proud beast, too proud to settle just anywhere.’
Tansy followed the direction of her gaze where he'd finished his wash and was now lying on his back, all paws in the air. ‘I see what you mean. I'm tempted to tickle him but I have too much respect for my fingers, being as I'd probably never see them again.’
‘He's not that bad.’
‘Bad, of course he's bad. He's completely wicked but I do have a soft spot for him so he can come too.’
‘Come too? Come where?’
Oh, I thought I'd told you. I’m going on a road trip and you and Haggis are coming.’
They set off almost immediately. With the help of Mr Hodd and Clemmy and much to the displeasure of her parents, they’d packed their bags before helping Haggis into his state-of-the-art cat basket.
‘But you can’t leave just like that, Nanny. I wanted you to repair my pink Elsa Schiaparelli for next weekend’s party at The Ivy. You can go straight after.’
‘If it will help any, I’ll lend you a needle and thread, mam,’ she said, her head held high as she made her way out the front door.
‘Well, really.’
‘No, you deserved that and more, mother. That woman has been dedicated, loyal and willing and you’ve just discarded her like an old rag.’ Tansy said, slinging her rucksack across her back before picking up the cat basket. ‘Come on Haggis, we know when we’re not wanted.’
*
‘I think you should go back.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Tansy, I think you should go back to Oban or, at least tell the viscount what you’ve just told me and Mr Pidgeon.’
‘I don’t think I can…’
‘Well I do,’ Nanny remarked, strapping herself in before turning in her seat to check on Haggis.
They’d pulled into a service station after their visit to see the solicitor. They had a long drive ahead but trying to persuade an intractable cat he really should spend a penny and stretch his legs was a feat of both patience and ingenuity. Finally a trip to the café for a tuna sandwich was called for.
‘Such a waste of good tuna,’ Nanny tutted, but with a smile on her face as she watched Tansy enticing him outside. ‘It’s a good job he’s used to wearing a lead and no mistake.’
It was after they’d settled back in the car with a bag of sandwiches and crisps for the journey that Nanny started having a go.
‘He has a right to know what happened in Paris. If what Mr Pidgeon says is true they’ll want to keep that chef’s trip to hospital and the subsequent injuries to his privates’ private, excusing the pun. So he’ll never get to hear the truth. Your name will be dropped as co-respondent and he’ll always be left wondering what if.’ She reached across and patted her leg. ‘There’s nothing worse than regretting the ‘what if’s’ of life, love.’
Tansy tapped Oban into the Sat Nav with reluctant fingers. She’d do as she was told and then they’d scoot across to the other side of Scotland and find somewhere to call home.
‘What was your greatest regret, Nanny?’ she questioned softly, as she started the engine and headed onto the M6.
&nb
sp; ‘Me? Well, now. That was a long time ago. There was a man, a good man but I decided I needed to see the big wide world. In them days, there were no fancy jobs going out abroad. In them days I wanted London, nothing else would do. I wanted to stand outside Buckingham Palace and steal a glimpse at the guards in them fancy hats. I wanted to walk around Piccadilly and feed the birds. I wanted to do all those things. I did all those things, but I did them alone. Toddy was the only man for me but I didn’t know it at the time.’
‘Toddy?’
‘Aye, Toddy. It’s a long time since that name has passed my lips,’ she reminisced. ‘He had the most amazing brown hair tied back in a ponytail and the clearest blue eyes.’
‘Really?’ Tansy hid a grin as she wondered if the balding Mr Todd could ever have had a ponytail. It was true he had lovely clear blue eyes but the chances of them being one and the same were so astronomical she decided not to dwell on it.
‘He sounds a real looker.’
‘He was. I’ve often wondered if he ever settled down. But it hasn’t been all doom and gloom, lass. I’ve always had to work hard but hard work never hurt anyone. You’re cooking, now there’s a thing. Do you think you’ll get that cookery book back from Mr Pidgeon after he’s used it for evidence? A fine heavy book that,’ she said, starting to giggle until the tears streamed down her face.
They arrived in Oban with no plans. Haggis was yowling as if in pain and, well, he might be after eight hours, give or take the odd stop every two hours or so. It was cold, dark and almost ten o’clock when Tansy almost automatically pulled on to the drive of the castle simply because she was out of ideas as to what to do with him. No self-respecting hotel would take them in so it was ask for help at the castle or spend the night in the car.
Chapter Twenty
‘Good morning, Lord Brayely. What would you like for breakfast?’ Tansy said, continuing to knead the dough in front of her.
He stood in the entrance to the kitchen and stared. The earth telescoped and light dimmed. Space, time, the present and past muted and merged. There was Tansy and Tor, nothing and no one else mattered in this, their little world of two.
Toddy, after one look, disappeared backwards through the baize door with a beam on his face. They didn’t notice.
‘For breakfast, sir? she repeated.
‘Whatever’s going.’
‘Porridge with some bacon for afters?’
‘That'll be fine; I'll have it here, if I may, at the end of the table?’
‘It's your house.’
Actually it’s a castle. Actually it’s our castle. Actually it’s our home.
But all he did was pull a chair back and sit down, his eyes watching as she collected eggs from the basket and started cracking them against the side of the pan. He’d been so scared, so afraid he’d never find her; that he’d never find the happiness and peace he’d found only with her. She was good at hiding, at running away so she must have wanted to be found. He knew in his heart it had to be lies, all lies but the doubts remained until just now; until…
‘What the hell is that!’ Glancing down he found himself being pummelled by a large tabby with very sharp claws before he finally turned his back and settled down to sleep.
Abandoning the eggs she went to his side.
‘Now why won’t he ever do that for me?’ she grumbled, reaching out a gentle hand and getting a low throated growl for her efforts.
‘I didn’t know we had a cat?’ he said, shooting out a hand and imprisoning her, his arm sneaking around her waist.
‘We don’t. It belongs to Nanny Mac.’
He blinked. ‘And just why would you bring Nanny’s cat all the way up here, won’t she miss him?’
‘No, silly. She’s here too. It’s a very long story.’
‘Is it indeed? What’s he called then?’
‘Haggis, but I’d be careful. He’s a spiteful beast.’
‘No you’re not, are you boy?’ he said, tickling him under the chin. ‘Now, I have some business with Tansy so hop off like a good chap and go find me a mouse,’ he added, helping him to the floor with a stroke.
‘I don’t believe it,’ her eyes wide.
‘Neither can I,’ he said, pulling her on to his lap and wrapping both arms around her before snuggling his face into her neck, his lips starting a little exploration all of their own.
‘I thought I’d lost you after…’
‘Never that, my love,’ she whispered. ‘I have to tell you what happened before...’
But he interrupted. ‘You don’t have to tell me a thing.’
‘I do,’ her body stiffening. But he wouldn’t let her move away, his arms tightening even as his hands started massaging her back.
‘Tell me then, but make it quick.’
‘It's all lies, all of it,’ her breathing laboured as his hand roamed up under her t-shirt.
‘I know it is, my darling,’ his lips now against the silky skin of her neck.
‘Shush. Let me continue. I can’t think when you do that.’
‘Would you like me to stop?’ His lips were now hovering over the little pulse hammering at the base of her throat.
She managed a shake of her head, her cheeks warming. ‘She did find us in bed together…’
‘Tansy, it's in the past. I don't mind,’ even though he did; he minded dreadfully.
‘Well, I do, so shut up until I've finished or else I'm leaving.’ He felt a shudder run along her skin and hugged her to his chest; his lips, his hands, his breath now still.
‘I was asleep. I was asleep and he got into bed with me. He said he loved me… I hit him with my Mrs Beeton so hard I…’
‘You hit him…?’
‘He had to have emergency surgery.’
He swallowed a laugh as he remembered the poker. His darling brave girl.
‘I love you so much, but I do have a question, just one. Who the hell is Mrs Beeton?’
Epilogue
‘Who would have believed it?’
‘I know, my darling. But the way to look at it is you’re not so much losing a butler as gaining a cook. Who do you think I learnt my love of cooking from?’
‘Your mother?’ His eyes crinkled up with laughter at the sight of Lady Nettlebridge holding on to the side of the rib for dear life. She’d already lost her designer hat to an erstwhile seagull and, now the wind had picked up she’d have to endure the bumpiest of journeys back to Seil.
‘My mother! In your dreams, my lord. My mother wouldn’t even know chickens laid eggs.’
‘Ah, that’s where you get it from, I often wondered.’ He said, starting to tickle her around the waist.
‘Get what from,’ failing to bat his arm away as she dissolved into a fit of giggles.
‘Your, er, prowess with animal husbandry.’
‘You said you’d never mention that again.’
‘Did I? I must have a very short memory, Lady Brayely,’ he murmured, his hands moving from her waist to her shoulders. ‘When was the last time I said I love you?’
She looked at her watch. ‘About five minutes ago.’
‘That long,’ his lips meeting hers in the sweetest of kisses.
‘How long do you think it will be before the rib gets back?’ she said after a time, nestling under his arm as they stared out across the Sound of Kerrera, her shoes starting to slip on the shale at her feet.
He’d arranged the most beautiful surprise of a wedding on the island of Belnahua. He’d put Toddy on the case before he’d even proposed, for the third and final time, that morning in the kitchen.
Apart from her parents and his mother there were only the servants who, even now, were weaving their way back to the castle for a champagne reception. But Tor had asked her to wait until the last boat. It was just them, the building wind and the odd seagull for company. She didn’t want for anything else.
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘Tomorrow morning?’ she said, her eyes widening. ‘So you mean to tell me my parents
and your mother are…’
‘Expecting us to host a champagne reception back at the castle and we’re not going to be there?’ he replied, stamping a kiss against her lips. ‘My mother and your parents don’t need us, and we certainly don’t need them.’ He held her hand and started leading her up the beach.
‘But if it hadn’t been for them we would never have met?’
‘We’d already met, my darling. Remember that sludge? I’ll never forget it,’ his hand now fingering the tulle of her dress. ‘You were wearing white too with the cutest knee length socks,’ his eyes now on her legs where the calf length skirt floated over her skin. ‘Have I told you how beautiful you are?’ he whispered, his gaze lingering on the tartan sash, his family tartan sash she’d cinched around her waist.
‘Several times,’ she laughed. ‘But I’m happy for you to tell me again.’
‘Minx.’ He scooped her up in his arms and carried her right on up to the second of the cottages before nudging the door open with his foot and setting her down just over the threshold.
‘We’re staying here?’ she questioned, her eyes roaming over the familiar and yet different room. There was a fire in the grate for a start and matting on the floor, and someone had cleared away all the cobwebs. There was even a table in the centre with a couple of camp chairs and candles everywhere she looked.
‘There’s no water or electricity, I’m afraid but there is champagne and food in the cool-box, his hand now fiddling with his tie before tucking it in his pocket and removing his jacket.
There was also a bed, or at least a large mattress on the floor, its white sheets scattered with rose petals.
‘Really? I’m starving,’ she answered, turning away and making towards the table. But before she got one step she found herself twisted round, his hand on her chin as he stared into her face.
‘Starving or shy, my love?’ he said, rubbing his finger over her lower lip with a sensual familiarity.
The Englishwoman Trilogy: Box set of: Englishwoman in Paris, Englishwoman in Scotland, Englishwoman in Manhattan Page 34
