‘I don’t mind in the least,’ Esmie assured him. ‘I prefer simpler pleasures too.’
Esmie thought there was another reason for Harold’s reluctance to attend such social events: having to watch Lydia’s growing infatuation with Tom. Harold hid his dismay well and Esmie only noticed because she too was alert to every gesture and look that passed between the handsome couple – the Templeton heiress and the war hero – who were becoming the talk of the county. It should have become easier to ignore her feelings since Tom had grown more reserved towards her but Esmie found herself thinking about him more and more.
His dark good looks preyed on her mind. When she caught his occasional glance, the startling blue of his eyes set her pulse thumping. Was it time for her to return to Vaullay to take up her work at the hospital again? She needed to be occupied. Her mixed-up feelings for Tom were doing her no good. But when she raised the idea with Lydia, her friend was aghast.
‘Go to Vaullay? Whatever for? I thought you were enjoying being here with me?’
‘I am,’ said Esmie. ‘I’ve had a marvellous time and your parents have been so kind. But I can’t stay indefinitely and Aunt Isobel might need me.’
‘I need you,’ Lydia cried. ‘Please stay. You’re so good at keeping Harold company. He’ll miss you if you go, I know he will.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Esmie.
‘But he will. He’ll be at a loose end and want to tag along with Tom and me – which is fine, of course. I’m very fond of Harold. But things are progressing so well with Tom, and you know how to talk to Harold better than I do. And don’t suggest Tibby as a stand-in for you. She’s hopeless. They have nothing in common – she’s far too eccentric for dear Harold. So say you’ll stay?’
Esmie gave in to her friend’s pressure. She knew that Lydia was using her to keep Harold at bay but she owed the Templetons so much. When Esmie had been orphaned, theirs had been the most welcoming of households and Lydia had generously shared her parents and her home with her bereaved friend. Esmie promised to stay longer.
Lydia, wrapped up in her new love affair, was doing all she could to make friends with Tibby and to charm Colonel Lomax. Discovering that Tibby was a keen golfer, Lydia had arranged for them to play with her father. Sometimes Lydia would go over to The Anchorage and play on the rough pitch-and-putt course that had been created by the convalescing soldiers during the War. Tom, who thought he had outstayed his welcome with Harold’s widowed mother and censorious maiden aunt, was back living at the castle but the colonel was still refusing to speak to him.
Tibby had taken Lydia to meet her father. At first he’d been frosty towards her but when she’d shown an interest in his toy soldiers and a capacity for drinking whisky, he’d been won over – or so Lydia told Esmie.
One time, when Esmie went with Lydia to hack around the course with Tibby, her friend brought up her concern over the rift between father and son.
‘What can I do to bring them both together?’ Lydia asked Tom’s sister.
Tibby, pausing over a shot, was blunt. ‘Marry Tommy and give my father an heir.’
Lydia blushed furiously and giggled. ‘Goodness!’
Tibby putted successfully into the hole and picked up her ball.
‘Well, you did ask,’ she said. ‘Lomaxes are terribly patriarchal – continuity of the line and all that. Papa can’t bear Tommy but he longs for a grandson. If my brother gave The Anchorage a son and heir, Papa would stop all this nonsense about disinheriting him. Until then, you’ll just have to accept Tommy won’t get a penny from the old boy.’
‘I’m not interested in his money,’ Lydia insisted. ‘I’ve got plenty of my own. I just don’t want to see Tom estranged from his father.’ She gave a sweeping gesture towards the towered mansion. ‘Or cut off from all this. The Anchorage must mean so much to him.’
‘Well, that’s my advice,’ said Tibby. ‘A baby boy.’
Esmie and Lydia exchanged amused glances.
Esmie was taking her shot when a sudden call made her miss. Tom appeared through the belt of trees onto the lawn, his dark hair ruffled in the breeze and his handsome face smiling.
‘Back luck,’ said Tibby. ‘Have another go.’
‘Hello, you!’ Lydia called over, abandoning the game to greet him.
‘Don’t let me stop you,’ he said. ‘I just brought some refreshment.’ He held up a bottle of champagne. Behind him traipsed a kitchen maid with a tray of glasses.
‘Ooh, bubbly, how lovely,’ cried Lydia. ‘What are we celebrating?’
Tom grinned as he popped the cork. ‘I am now the proud owner of a hotel in Rawalpindi. I’ve just been with my lawyer and it’s all signed and sealed.’
‘Wonderful!’ Lydia gasped. ‘Oh, clever you.’
Tibby smiled. ‘Well done, Tommy.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Esmie.
‘Thank you, kind ladies,’ said Tom as he poured from the bottle. The maid handed round the glasses.
‘To Tom and the Raj Hotel!’ Lydia raised her glass. The others chorused the same as they toasted him.
As the champagne frothed in her throat, Esmie felt instantly light-headed. Tom knocked his back and poured himself a second glass.
‘Don’t let me stop the game,’ he insisted. ‘Who is winning?’
‘Your sister, of course,’ said Lydia. ‘I think we should retire gracefully from the game, don’t you, Esmie? We’re not nearly as good.’
‘Fine by me,’ said Esmie. ‘This champagne has gone straight to my head and I’m not sure I can hit the ball.’
Tibby laughed. ‘You haven’t been doing much of that anyway.’
Esmie grinned. ‘No, I haven’t, have I?’
‘Too much gossiping?’ Tom teased.
The women exchanged knowing looks and laughed.
‘Tibby was giving some wise advice,’ Lydia said archly.
‘About your game?’ Tom asked.
‘In a way, yes,’ said Lydia and then burst into giggles.
Tom looked at them baffled. ‘Am I allowed to hear what my sister has been saying?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Tibby. ‘But something tells me you’re going to find out in the fullness of time.’
A couple of days later, as Esmie was reading on the balcony, she overheard Lydia below in heated conversation with her father.
‘All I’m asking you to do, Daddy, is to arrange a meeting – find out if he has any intentions towards me. You could invite him to your club or take him out for lunch.’
‘Don’t you think it’s all a bit soon?’ Jumbo asked. ‘Five minutes ago you were keen on Colin Fleming and his vineyards. You hardly know Captain Lomax. He seems a nice enough young man but—’
‘I love him, Daddy! And I think he cares for me. Please just ask him. You can find out more about his business venture. I told him you’d be happy to give him advice. That could be your excuse to have a chat.’
‘Well, I don’t mind having a talk about business,’ he agreed. ‘But as for marrying my baby girl . . .’
‘I’m not your baby girl any longer!’ Lydia cried. ‘I’m a grown woman and I know what I want. I simply must know if I’m to be in his plans for India.’
‘Has he hinted at such plans?’ Jumbo asked.
‘As good as,’ said Lydia. ‘He’s told me such a lot about Pindi as if he expects me to go there. But I want this done properly with you asking him about his prospects and encouraging him to ask your permission to marry me.’
Jumbo gave a sudden laugh. ‘My darling girl, you should have been a general rather than his driver – we would have won the War in half the time.’
‘Is that a yes?’ Lydia asked.
‘If that’s what you want,’ he conceded.
‘Oh, it is,’ Lydia said, her voice animated. ‘Thank you, Daddy. You’re such a good sport.’
Esmie was disturbed at the exchange, wishing she hadn’t overheard it. She shared Jumbo’s concern that Lydia was rushing headlong into marriage with
a man she had only known for a few weeks. Esmie was also uncomfortable with the idea that Tom was about to be manipulated into marrying her friend. She pushed away the thought. It was none of her business. Tom was a mature man and could make up his own mind on the matter.
Within a week, Tom had proposed to Lydia. They’d all been for a day out at the races in Newcastle with the Templetons; Tom, Tibby, Harold and Esmie. Tom was in high spirits and had been drinking all day. When they returned to Templeton Hall for a late supper, Tom seized Lydia by the hand, pulled her down the terrace steps and disappeared into the twilight.
Minutes later, they heard a shriek from near the ornamental pond. Minnie Templeton went to the French windows and peered out in alarm.
‘Don’t worry, dearest,’ said Jumbo, smiling. ‘It’s just Lydia being excitable.’
Minutes later, Lydia was rushing into the house, squealing with joy.
‘We’re engaged! Tom’s proposed and I’ve accepted. Golly, I’m so happy. Just look at my ring! Isn’t it divine? It was Tom’s mother’s. It doesn’t quite fit but we can have it altered.’
There were cries of delight from her parents and friends. Tom stood grinning foolishly as Jumbo and Harold shook him by the hand, and the women embraced Lydia.
‘I know it’s not a surprise for you, Daddy,’ said Lydia. ‘Tom said he’d asked your permission last week. I can’t believe you kept it a secret from me!’
‘I’m very pleased to have Tom in the family,’ said Jumbo, winking at his daughter. He ordered Baxter to bring up a bottle of his best champagne from the cellar.
As they toasted the young couple, Minnie grew tearful. ‘If only you didn’t have to go to India, darling. It’s so far away. Do you really have to run this hotel, Tom? I’m sure Jumbo could find you a business opportunity here.’
‘Oh, Mummy, don’t spoil it,’ Lydia chided. ‘India’s going to be such an adventure but we won’t be there forever. Once we’ve got things off the ground, we’ll be able to hand over the day-to-day running to a manager. We’ll have heaps of time to come back here and visit. And you can come out and stay.’ She looked at everyone with shining eyes. ‘You must all come and visit. We absolutely insist, don’t we, darling?’
Lydia slipped a possessive arm through Tom’s. Tom looked befuddled but nodded. ‘Of course – all come – stay as long as you want.’
Esmie hardly slept that night. She felt a clash of emotions at the news of Lydia’s engagement to Tom; great happiness for her friend, who was ecstatic to be betrothed, mixed with a twinge of envy that Lydia would be embarking on an adventure to a new exotic land with Tom. And something else – was it relief? – that Tom would be out of her reach. It baffled her to feel this way because at no point had he shown any romantic interest in her.
Yet, increasingly, she would feel her heart lift whenever she saw him. She would never ever admit such feelings to anyone but she couldn’t deny them to herself; she was falling in love with Tom Lomax. Now that Tom was safely engaged, she must redouble her efforts to smother her attraction towards him.
As the rest of the household slept off their champagne celebration, Esmie rose early, pulled on her swimsuit, a pair of knee breeches she kept for cycling and an old jumper and crept out of the house. No one was stirring; not even the servants. With hot water on tap, no maid was expected to get up early and boil water in the kitchen. In one of the outhouses, she found the old bicycles that she and Lydia used to ride and pulled one out of its dusty corner. Checking that the chain and brakes still worked, she set off down the dew-soaked drive, revelling at the cool air and the sound of birdsong.
Twenty minutes later, Esmie was skirting the town and heading for the beach. Her favourite one nestled in a sheltered cove beneath steep cliffs. Leaving the bike propped against a hawthorn bush in full flower, she scrambled down the stony path, grabbing onto tufts of damp grass to stop herself falling. The tide was in so there was only a small rim of golden beach to walk on but Esmie unlaced her tennis shoes and plunged bare feet into the cold sand. She stood at the water’s edge and let the ice-cold sea lap over her ankles. Seabirds soared overhead as the low morning sun sparkled on rippling waves. Esmie breathed in lungsful of salty air and then, stripping off, went for a swim.
Swimming always restored her vitality and optimism; it was the most joyous activity. One of her earliest memories was being taught to swim in Loch Vaullay by her father and lessons from Isobel Carruthers in the asylum bathing pool. ‘Good for body, mind and soul,’ the doctor had declared. It was part of Isobel’s treatment for the traumatised veterans in her care and Esmie saw how it helped in their recovery.
Emerging from the sea and rubbing herself vigorously with a towel, Esmie determined to return to Vaullay as soon as possible. She had been away for six weeks and was feeling the need to be working and useful again. Lydia and her parents would be preoccupied with plans for the hastily arranged wedding and she would just be in the way. Lydia wished to marry in Scotland before she and Tom embarked for India in late August. To Esmie, it would come as a relief to no longer have to skirt the town to avoid bumping into Maud Drummond or play along with Lydia’s game of keeping Harold company and pretend to Tibby that she enjoyed games of golf.
Padding up the beach, her gaze was drawn to the top of the far cliff. Perched above the crumbling pink stone was The Anchorage. The ancient towered dwelling looked noble as its sandstone turrets and vaulted windows glowed in the early sunlight. For a moment, Esmie allowed herself to wonder in which room Tom Lomax slept and then she pushed the dangerous thought firmly from her mind. Shoes in hand, Esmie scrambled barefoot back up the slope. In the strengthening sea breeze, she cycled back to the shelter of Templeton Hall.
Later that day, Esmie told Lydia her intention to travel back to the Highlands. Lydia looked dismayed.
‘But don’t you want to stay and help me choose a wedding trousseau?’ she asked. ‘I thought we could have a trip to Paris to buy my dress. You can practise your French. It’ll be such fun.’
‘That’s kind of you to offer – but it’s something you should do with your mother,’ Esmie said. ‘And maybe Grace could join you from Switzerland?’
‘And have my bossy older sister telling me what to wear?’ Lydia retorted. ‘No thank you!’
But her friend put up less resistance to Esmie going than previously.
‘Well, as long as you promise to come back for the wedding at the end of July?’ Lydia bargained. ‘It would spoil the day if my best friend wasn’t there.’
Esmie smiled. ‘I promise. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
With some relief, Esmie learnt that she would be gone from Ebbsmouth before the Templetons threw a lavish engagement party for the young couple. All the gentry of the county were being invited, along with the Templetons’ business friends and acquaintances. Colin Fleming had gracefully accepted to attend and was showing no reproach at Lydia being so swiftly engaged to another in his absence. But Esmie was not surprised to hear that the diffident Harold had declined the invitation.
‘He’s gone on holiday,’ said Lydia in annoyance. ‘Just taken off with hardly a word to anyone.’
‘Where to?’ Esmie asked.
‘Some missionary friends in Wales, Tom said. He thinks he’s gone hiking.’ Lydia gave a shrug. ‘Strange man. But as long as he’s back for the wedding it doesn’t really matter. Tom wants him as his best man, so he’d better jolly well turn up.’
Esmie thought there was nothing to be gained by pointing out to Lydia that it might be Harold’s way of dealing with his disappointment that Lydia was marrying his oldest friend and not him. Yet Lydia would never have entertained marriage to Harold – and had given him no encouragement – and Harold had never asked. However, Esmie felt sympathy for the kind doctor, who kept his feelings so private, and hoped that walking in the Welsh hills would bring him peace of mind.
Two days later, Lydia was dropping Esmie off at the railway station on her way to meeting Tom and Tibby for lunch.
They kissed cheeks and Esmie thanked her again for her holiday at Templeton Hall.
‘You will always have a home with us,’ said Lydia. ‘You’re more like a sister to me than my own sister. You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Esmie, her eyes smarting with tears. ‘And I love all you Templetons like family too. I can never repay your kindness.’
‘You don’t have to,’ said Lydia, smiling. ‘Just make sure you come and see me married at the end of July.’
Chapter 6
As she travelled north, Esmie’s spirits lifted at the sight of mountains and tumbling waterfalls. She turned her mind to her work at the hospital and was eager to discover how her patients had fared in her absence. She was in awe of her guardian, whose underlying philosophy for the inmates was to let them lead as useful and unrestricted a life as possible. Bathing, fresh air, exercise and keeping them occupied were the therapeutic remedies she employed at the asylum; resorting to opiates and restraint to subdue only the most violent or dangerously manic.
‘Activity gives them a purpose and a sense of worth,’ Isobel would say. ‘Even the feeble-minded can get joy out of growing flowers or sewing handkerchiefs.’
Only the very ill were confined to bed, while the majority were encouraged into the gardens or to help at the asylum farm. There was a theatre for entertainments and dances – since the War there was a patients’ band – and a library for reading and writing. The asylum had a church for Sunday worship and a heated swimming pool for regular bathing.
Esmie was particularly keen to see what progress her favourite patient, Tommy Grey, had made. Some of the more recent patients had been physically disabled by war as well as mentally shell-shocked and had been admitted because their families could not cope or they had no family to care for them. Tommy, a farm labourer from Perthshire who had served with the Highland Light Infantry, was one such man. A piper for his regiment, he had lost both legs in a grenade attack on his trench and when admitted to the asylum had been put in a separate room because his nightly screaming kept the others awake.
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