‘None of this would have happened if Clifford had taken my advice,’ Mrs Huntley-Osborne continued. ‘I said we could make other arrangements. I even offered the girl money to go away and have the baby quietly, then give it up for adoption. I told him: just because you’ve made a mistake, it doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of your life paying for it.’
‘And what did he say to that?’
Mrs Huntley-Osborne’s nostrils flared. ‘He told me he had no intention of turning his back on his child or the woman he loved. But that was Sarah talking, not him,’ she insisted. ‘She got inside his head, made him think differently.’ Mrs Huntley-Osborne swallowed hard. ‘We were estranged when he died. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.’
She stole from me … something precious. No wonder Jess had thought Mrs Huntley-Osborne was talking about a ring. She talked about her son as if he were a possession.
‘Perhaps he loved her?’ Jess said quietly.
Mrs Huntley-Osborne sent her a cold stare. ‘I know – knew – my son,’ she said. ‘He would have grown bored with her eventually. But as it is …’ Her voice faded. ‘He died before the situation could resolve itself.’
‘And so you threw Sarah out. I bet you couldn’t wait to do that, could you?’
‘What else could I do? Besides, I only had her word for it that Clifford was the baby’s father. For all I knew it could have been any one of a dozen men.’ Her lip curled. ‘You can hardly trust the word of a common maid, can you?’
Jess’s hands balled into fists at her sides, and it was all she could do not to launch herself at Mrs Huntley-Osborne’s smug, superior face. But she kept her temper with a supreme effort.
‘Your son is the father,’ she said, glancing at the photograph on the piano. ‘If you saw the baby, you’d know she was the spitting image.’
‘I don’t want to see her!’ There was real panic in Mrs Huntley-Osborne’s voice. ‘I don’t want to have anything to do with her or her mother.’
‘Is that why you’ve been trying to drive Sarah out of the village? Because you didn’t want to see your own grandchild?’
Mrs Huntley-Osborne winced at the word. ‘I want nothing to do with either of them,’ she repeated. ‘I loathe that girl for what she did to my family. She took my son away from me, drove a wedge between us during the last few precious months of Clifford’s life. I’ll never forgive her for that.’
‘And now she could be dying,’ Jess said. ‘I’d say you’ve more than had your revenge, wouldn’t you?’
‘That’s very unfair,’ Mrs Huntley-Osborne said. ‘I didn’t cause her illness, did I?’
‘No, but you could help her.’
‘How?’
‘By taking in her child if anything happens to her.’
Mrs Huntley-Osborne reared back in her seat. ‘Certainly not! How could I possibly do that, without giving people cause to talk?’
‘Let them.’ Jess shrugged.
‘That’s very easy for you to say, I’m sure,’ Mrs Huntley-Osborne snapped. ‘But I have my position in this village to consider. People look up to me …’
‘And that’s more important than your own flesh and blood, is it?’ Jess said. ‘Look at yourself. You live in one of the biggest houses in the village, and you have no one to share it with. You spend all your time on committees and everything else just to keep busy and stop yourself being lonely. Don’t deny it because it’s true,’ she added, seeing Mrs Huntley-Osborne opening her mouth to protest. ‘But in spite of all that, you would rather see your own granddaughter sent to an orphanage than claim her!’
Mrs Huntley-Osborne looked scornful. ‘They’re not my family.’
‘No, but they could be,’ Jess tried to reason with her. ‘I know Sarah might not be the girl you’d choose as your daughter-in-law, but she was the girl your son fell in love with, and surely that should be good enough for you? Besides,’ she went on, ‘I think you’d actually like her if you stopped seeing each other as the enemy and took the trouble to get to know one another.’
Mrs Huntley-Osborne laughed harshly. ‘I can assure you, that will not happen! Hell would freeze over before I ever accepted that woman in my house.’ She reached for the bell, ringing it in agitation.
‘If that’s how you feel about it, there’s nothing else to be said, is there?’ Jess said. ‘But just think about this. Sarah kept your secret all these months. She didn’t even tell me, and I’m supposed to be her friend. She did it for your sake, out of love for Clifford.’
The maid appeared at the doorway. ‘Miss Jago is leaving,’ Mrs Huntley-Osborne said. But she sounded less sure of herself than she had a moment before.
Jess followed the maid to the door, then turned to look back. ‘At least go and see them,’ she pleaded. ‘Talk to Sarah, while you can, for your son’s sake. And your grandchild’s.’
Chapter Forty
EFFIE SAT AT a corner table in the Keeper’s Rest, watching her future husband flirting with the woman behind the bar.
Kit was supposed to be buying their drinks, but he’d been chatting to the landlady for ages. He’d spoken to her longer than he’d spoken to Effie all evening.
She turned her gaze away to look around the bar. It was crowded with airmen and WAAFs as usual, as well as a few locals. There was no sign of Connor, thank God; the last thing Effie needed was him making fun of her.
She looked over at Kit, willing him to return to her. But his back was turned so she couldn’t catch his eye. All she could see was the way the landlady ran the tip of her tongue over her parted lips as she looked him up and down, like a lioness sizing up her next meal.
Don’t be daft, Euphemia, she warned herself. The landlady could flirt all she liked, but Effie had no reason to fear. Kit was her fiancé. She was the one he had chosen to marry, not a brassy barmaid with hungry eyes and a dirty laugh.
Except Effie didn’t feel very engaged. She looked down at her bare left hand, still bereft of a ring after nearly a week. The other girls were beginning to ask questions.
‘Are you sure you’re really engaged?’ Janet Carr had asked her with a mocking smile. Janet had also got engaged on Valentine’s Day and now she was sporting a very nice diamond and sapphire ring from her airman fiancé.
Effie had made the same excuse Kit had given her, that he didn’t want to buy her any old ring – ‘I have to choose one that’s absolutely perfect, darling’ – but she’d reached the point where she would have stuck an old curtain ring on her finger just to make herself feel better.
No more, she thought. Tonight, she was determined to pin him down to a date, at least.
Finally Kit returned to the table with a lemonade for her and a whisky for himself.
‘Can you believe they don’t have any beer?’ He nodded to a sign hanging above the bar.
‘It took you long enough to find that out,’ Effie murmured under her breath.
Kit put her drink down on the table and sat down opposite her. Over his shoulder, Effie could see the landlady smirking at them as she polished glasses behind the bar.
Effie turned her gaze away, ignoring her. ‘Kit, we need to talk about the wedding,’ she said.
He took a gulp of whisky and put down the glass. ‘What about it?’
‘There are things we need to sort out. When we’re getting married, for a start. I was thinking the spring is a good time.’
‘This spring?’
‘Why not?’
‘But it’s February now. Surely that’s too soon?’
Effie frowned at him. What had happened to the young man who lived like there was no tomorrow?
‘I don’t think so. Janet Carr and her fiancé have already booked their church for late April.’
‘Not Janet Carr again!’ He rolled his eyes. ‘That’s all I ever seem to hear about these days. “Janet Carr’s booked the church, Janet Carr’s chosen her bridesmaids, Janet Carr’s done this and that” – I pity her poor fiancé!’
‘At least her f
iancé wants to get married,’ Effie shot back, hurt. ‘I’m beginning to think you’re getting cold feet.’
‘I told you, darling, there’s plenty of time.’ Kit rested his hand on hers, reassuring her. ‘Of course I want to marry you, more than anything in the world. But I want it to be really special.’
Like my ring? Effie thought, looking at her left hand again.
‘I suppose so,’ she agreed with a sigh. ‘I expect my mammy will want to help me decide all the details anyway.’ She smiled across the table at him. ‘I can’t wait for you to come to Kilkenny to meet my family,’ she said. ‘My daddy might be a bit difficult at first, but I’m sure he’ll come round when he—’
Kit blinked at her. ‘You want me to go to Ireland with you?’ he said slowly.
‘Of course.’ Effie frowned at him. ‘Why? Don’t you want to meet my family?’
He looked as if he was about to say no, but then to her surprise he grinned and said loudly, ‘If that’s what you want, darling, then that’s what we shall do.’
His sudden change of attitude startled her, until she looked at the door and realised Connor Cleary had just walked in.
Effie’s heart immediately plunged. She hadn’t told Connor about the engagement yet. She told herself it was because she didn’t want him to rush off and tell her parents before she did. But if she was truly honest, it was mainly because she was a coward.
He approached their table and she waited tensely for him to throw one of his usual sarcastic comments her way. But to her surprise he walked straight past and joined his friends who were playing cards on the other side of the bar.
Effie let out the breath she had been holding ever since he walked in.
Kit watched him over the rim of his glass as he took his seat. ‘Your friend doesn’t look very happy tonight,’ he remarked.
‘As long as he’s quiet and doesn’t bother us, I don’t care,’ Effie said. ‘Let’s just ignore him, please?’
But Kit seemed too fascinated to ignore him. He watched Connor as he studied his hand of cards. ‘Maybe he’s upset about the engagement?’
Effie looked down at her drink. ‘He doesn’t know yet,’ she admitted quietly.
Kit frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know … I didn’t want him to make any trouble for us, I suppose,’ she said.
‘Well, let’s tell him now, shall we?’
He rose from his seat but Effie grabbed his arm. ‘Please don’t,’ she begged, but Kit had already shaken off her grasp and was making his way across the sawdust-covered floor to where Connor sat, still studying his cards.
Kit cleared his throat. ‘I say,’ he said in a loud voice, ‘I want to buy you a drink.’
Connor didn’t look up from his cards. ‘No, thanks.’
‘I insist. After all, we’re celebrating.’
Connor laid a card down silently in the middle of the table. He looked particularly dark and menacing tonight, his jaw shaded with stubble and his curls hanging in his navy blue eyes.
‘Don’t you want to know what we’re celebrating?’ Kit prompted. He was goading Connor, Effie realised. It made her cringe to watch him. Kit was like a small boy poking at a wasps’ nest with a stick. He had no idea what he might unleash.
Finally Connor raised his gaze to him. ‘If I ask, will you promise to go away?’ he growled.
Kit reached back and grabbed Effie’s hand, dragging her forward. ‘We’re engaged to be married!’ he announced.
Connor’s gaze flicked to meet hers. It was like a bolt of electricity, going straight through her, rooting her to the spot.
‘Engaged?’ he said.
‘That’s right, old man.’ Kit looked pleased with himself. ‘What do you say to that?’
Connor’s gaze never left Effie’s face. ‘Congratulations,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope you’ll both be very happy.’
Kit gave him a mocking smile. ‘I thought you’d be pleased that I was making an honest woman of her at last,’ he said.
Effie didn’t understand the look that passed between the two men. All she knew was that if the pub hadn’t been full of people, there was a good chance Kit would have been dead.
Instead, Connor said evenly, ‘And why would that be my business?’
‘Why indeed? But you seem to have made it your business lately.’
They stared at one other in silence for a moment, and Effie could feel the tension rise in the room. Other people noticed it, too; around them conversations ceased and drinks were lowered.
To Effie’s surprise, it was Connor who looked away first. ‘Not any more,’ he said brusquely. ‘She’s your problem now. So if you don’t mind?’ He indicated his cards. ‘I’d like to get on with my game in peace.’
‘Well, I think he took it rather well,’ Kit said, when they returned to their table. ‘Another drink, darling?’
As he went to the bar, Effie looked back at Connor. He was still concentrating on the game, but there was something about his expression and the way he threw down his cards that told her he hadn’t taken it well at all. It made her uncomfortable to watch him.
Kit noticed it, too. But unlike Effie, he seemed to take great delight in it. He kept smiling over at Connor, as if there was some great private joke between them that only they understood.
‘I wish you hadn’t told him,’ Effie said.
‘Why? He had to know sometime.’
‘Yes, but not like that. You were trying to provoke him.’
‘So what if I was?’ Kit looked petulant. ‘He’s provoked me enough times.’
Kit was at the bar again when Connor laid down his last hand, scooped his winnings from the table, drained his drink and got up to leave.
Effie glanced towards the bar. Kit was deep in conversation with the landlady again, laughing with her over something. On impulse, Effie grabbed her bag and her coat and slipped outside.
‘Connor, wait!’
He stopped and turned to face her. It was a full moon, and the bright silver circle illuminated his rugged, unsmiling face.
Seeing his grim expression, Effie blurted out the first thing that came into her head. ‘I’m sorry, I was going to tell you. I just thought—’
He shook his head. ‘You’ve surpassed yourself this time, Effie O’Hara. I know you can be a bit away with the fairies at times, but I didn’t think even you would be this stupid!’
Effie stared at him, taken aback. ‘What?’
He came towards her, his arms flung wide. ‘Can’t you see what he’s playing at? He’s got no more intention of marrying you than I have of cycling to the North Pole. This is all a game to him.’
Effie stared at him, bewildered. ‘Why would you say something like that?’
‘Because I know his sort! Don’t you see, he’s only doing it because he knows I—’ He stopped, his mouth closing like a mantrap.
‘He knows what?’ Effie prompted.
‘Nothing.’ The moonlight cast harsh shadows on the planes of Connor’s face. ‘But think about it, Effie. Does Kit seem like the marrying kind to you?’
She had thought about it. Doubts rippled beneath her excitement like sinister dark shapes lurking in the depths of a pond. She had managed to push them down so far, but Connor was dragging them to the surface, forcing her to confront them.
And she hated him for it.
‘People can change,’ she insisted.
‘Not him.’ Connor’s mouth curled with contempt. ‘He’s playing with you,’ he said. ‘And when he feels like it, he’ll drop you like a stone.’
Effie stared at him. She could feel her fragile confidence crumbling, and all her hopes with it.
‘Have you ever thought he might be marrying me because he actually loves me?’ she whispered, her voice clogged with tears.
Emotion flickered across his face. ‘Effie? Are you crying?’
‘No.’
‘You are.’ He reached out for her, but she wrenched herself free from his grasp.
�
��Go away, Connor,’ she said. ‘If you really care about me, just go away and leave me alone!’
She fled back to the pub before her tears started to fall. The last thing she wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset.
Chapter Forty-One
‘DON’T LOOK NOW, fellas, but we’ve got another popsy on the ward!’
Daisy was conscious of the men’s eyes following her as she walked the length of the ward to report to Sister’s desk. Usually she would have enjoyed the attention, but today she was just angry.
Of all the wards she could have been transferred to, why did it have to be the Military Ward? It was only temporary, Matron said, but Daisy knew her time spent here would feel like a lifetime.
Grace was already waiting at Miss Wallace’s desk to receive her list of jobs for the day. Lady Amelia, or Nurse Rushton as she called herself, was with her. Daisy deliberately didn’t look at her sister as she took her place beside her.
‘Good morning, you must be our extra nurse,’ Miss Wallace greeted her. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Maynard, Sister.’
‘Nurse Maynard?’ Miss Wallace frowned from Daisy to Grace and back again. ‘You’re related, I presume?’
‘We’re sisters, Miss Wallace,’ Grace replied for them. Daisy pressed her lips together and said nothing.
‘I see. Well, I hope you’ll be as much of an asset to the ward as your sister is.’ Miss Wallace smiled at Grace. ‘Now, I see you’ve come from Female Medical, but I daresay you’ve done some surgical nursing too?’ She looked enquiringly at Daisy, who nodded. ‘That’s good. You’ll need experience of both with our boys.’
She went through the morning’s work list, issuing them with their tasks for the day. Daisy was charged with looking after a wounded airman with severe burns who had been admitted a month earlier.
‘He’s making very good progress, but he still needs a saline bath and his dressings changed every day,’ Miss Wallace said. ‘See to it, please, Nurse Maynard. Your sister can assist you.’
Over my dead body! Daisy thought. But she managed to smile sweetly, and say, ‘Yes, Sister.’
Nightingales Under the Mistletoe Page 27
