by Mary Cummins
Anne drew a deep breath. Didn’t Helen also know that her own holiday had been cut short because of that ring?
“So Roger Baxter has won after all,” she said heavily, and Helen’s eyes sparkled again with mischief.
“Roger Baxter? Of course not, Anne darling. You didn’t really think it was Roger, did you? I’m engaged to Peter ... you know, Peter Birkett.”
Sheer bewilderment kept Anne silent. She had met the tall quiet man with the crisp dark hair who was their vet, and who often came to examine the horses, and she liked him very much.
But Helen ... Helen had never given any hint of a love affair between them! She stared at the smiling mischievous face.
“If you want Mummy to agree to something, then offer her an alternative she won’t like at all. It always works. Peter hated my methods and we rowed about it sometimes ... but I was right. You should have heard them when they thought it was Roger! Francis likes Peter, though ... and so does Mummy, come to that.”
“I’ve never heard anything so ... so outrageous,” Anne told her, when she got her breath back. “Why on earth bring Roger Baxter in when there was no need?”
“I’ve just told you, darling.”
Anne remembered that she was supposed to be the alternative to Caroline ... on Helen’s advice!
“No doubt you think it a pity it didn’t work with Francis and me,” she said, her eyes stormy, and Helen’s laughter faded.
“No, Anne,” she said quietly. “Oddly enough, I don’t think that any more. I’m glad Francis chose you.”
Francis’ voice interrupted as he walked downstairs, and both girls turned to look up at him.
“I would like to talk to you, Anne, when you’ve refreshed yourself after the journey. That is ... if you aren’t too tired. If you’d rather, it will keep till tomorrow.”
“No, I’ll come to the study after dinner,” Anne told him. “I’ll just say hello to your mother. I...”
She turned back to Helen. It was no good discussing the engagement further, when Francis so obviously wanted to talk to her about it. Perhaps he wasn’t as happy about it as Helen believed.
Yet what could she say? She could have supported Francis if he wanted to make Helen think twice about Roger Baxter, whom she had never managed to like.
But Peter Birkett was a fine man, and Helen was lucky to be marrying him. She could see that the girl was in love, and probably they had both been in love all along. She could imagine Peter Birkett would hate Helen’s methods, as she put it, but it seemed to have worked, judging by the girl’s radiant face.
As she climbed upstairs to freshen up, Anne felt rather apprehensive. In this case, she and Francis were probably going to be on opposing sides.
Judith was with her mother in her favourite room, her own frilly bedroom. She was chattering happily while Mrs. Wyatt was busy sorting through some clothes. Anne was surprised when the older woman suddenly came to meet her and kissed her cheek.
“Welcome home again, Anne dear,” she said. “We’ve missed you. Francis told me about Judith ... and now she’s telling me herself. I ... I don’t mind telling you, it’s a relief. I was so afraid that there was something wrong with the child, I couldn’t even bring myself to admit the possibility deep down, even to myself. It’s been worrying me. But Judith says your friend thinks it may just be wax in her ears.”
“Quite right,” said Anne. “He’s pretty sure it’s only wax. We must see her doctor, though. Could you send for him as soon as possible?”
“I’ll ring straight away and leave a message. I ... I never thought of her hearing. I...”
There was a small break in her voice, and again Anne had to overcome her surprise. Mrs. Wyatt had always seemed so aloof and self-contained, but now it was as though a barrier had been broken down.
In many ways Francis was like her, thought Anne wonderingly. He, too, seemed to be behind a barrier.
“There’s to be a jumble sale at the Church Hall,” Mrs. Wyatt was explaining. “I’m sorting through my clothes. Have you anything you don’t want, Anne?”
“Perhaps.”
She thought of a few clothes which she would soon be unable to wear, and which would no doubt be sadly out of fashion by another year.
“Put them on this bundle, then, dear. Mrs. Hansett is going to get Hansett to take them over to the Church Hall in the Land Rover. I should have done this during the week, but I forgot.”
Anne couldn’t keep back a smile.
“All right,” she agreed, “though I must wash before we have dinner.”
“It’s nice having a busy table again in the evening,” said her mother-in-law with a sigh. “I didn’t realise till you left that I liked it that way. I must be getting old, Anne, and I’m beginning to realise there’s much to be said for a back seat.”
“Don’t say that,” said Anne unthinkingly. “You may need to take a front one again shortly.”
“Why is that?”
Anne turned away quickly, realising how easy it was to give away her secret. Soon, too, it could no longer be kept a secret, she thought, looking at her belt which needed a new latch.
“There’s enough work here for both of us,” she said evasively. “I’ll get those dresses.”
CHAPTER TEN
FRANCIS was sitting at his desk when Anne finally went to talk to him after the high tea which they often had instead of dinner. A log fire had been lit as the evening had grown chilly, and Anne looked out on the lovely long view across the park, now dulled behind scudding clouds, but strangely beautiful in all weathers. The picnic, that afternoon, seemed years away instead of a few hours.
“Your flowers are dying, Francis,” she said, pulling out withered roses from a large floral arrangement on the table. “I’ll have to do another one for you tomorrow.”
“Never mind the flowers, Anne,” he said as he rose from behind the desk. “Sit down for a moment, please.”
She sat down and he came to sit opposite to her, kicking at a log on the fire. The flames drew deep lines down his face, and made his eyes glow sombrely.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the child, Anne?” he asked, and she stared at him, bewildered.
“I didn’t know she was losing her hearing,” she defended. “Surely you know that. It was Graham who spotted it.”
“Don’t prevaricate,” he said wearily. “I mean our child, of course.”
She felt the blood drain from her face.
“How do you know?”
.He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
It did matter! Anne had a sudden vision of Graham talking quickly to Francis while she waited in the, car at the picnic. She had thought he was explaining Judith’s condition, but now she knew he had also been explaining hers!
“How could Graham tell you!”, she cried. “How could he betray my confidence?”
She saw the dark blood mounting his face.
“You told Lord, then, when you couldn’t tell me!”
He got up and walked about the room.
“You had parted with Graham Lord before I asked you to marry me,” he reminded her. “I didn’t come between you. Yet you run to him now. You and he ... did you find out you’d made a mistake in parting from one another? Was that it, Anne? Are you still bound to your old love?”
She felt anger stirring as a vision of Caroline Cook rose before her, the girl looking young and defenceless, and bewildered by Francis’s sudden change towards her.
“How dare you ask me that!” she cried, “when you yourself are still bound to your old love. What about Caroline Cook? You loved her, didn’t you, then all of a sudden you married me. You didn’t explain to her, did you, Francis? You left her utterly bewildered. Why did you marry me when you were still bound, morally at least, to another girl?”
He was staring at her, white-faced.
“You believe that of me? You...”
“Caroline isn’t the sort of girl to be treated lightly, Francis,” Anne went on without heeding. “Maybe ... maybe you a
ll felt she wasn’t quite right for mistress of Elvan, but ... but by birth I’m no better, nor has Helen chosen any better, come to that. But surely no one is old-fashioned enough to set a great deal of store by suitable marriages these days! Surely one should marry for love, nothing else.”
She broke off abruptly, feeling she could have bitten out her tongue. Had she given herself away completely?
“You didn’t marry for love, did you?” Francis asked, his eyes brightly hard.
“Nor did you,” she flashed, and he was silent.
“I can’t let you go,” he told her, “even if you have made a mistake, and want Graham Lord now, I can’t let you go. Our child must come first now, Anne.”
“Was that what you wanted?” she asked bitterly. “An heir for Elvan? You married a mistress for Elvan, and now you can have an heir. That ought to satisfy you.”
“It ought to,” Francis repeated.
But she could see that it didn’t. He thought she had made a mistake over Graham, but it was his own thoughts which were pointing him in that direction. Was he now regretting Caroline? She looked at him and saw the lost, rather helpless look back on his face again, as he bent to throw another log on the fire.
“Let’s think about Judith, not about us,” she said, more gently.
“Aren’t you happy ... about our baby?” he asked, and she could feel his eyes searching her face. If only things had been different, how happy she would have been!
“Of course,” she said quickly, and refused to meet his eyes.
For a moment his hand gripped her shoulder till it pained her, then she felt his hold loosen.
“It’s getting late, Anne. It’s been a very long day and you must be tired. I’ll see that you have as much help as you need in the house. Mrs. Hansett will arrange it.”
“Don’t go treating me like an invalid,” she said crossly. “I shall carry on normally for several months yet.”
The words lay between them, then Francis turned away awkwardly.
“You know best ... about these things.”
She felt tears grip her throat as she walked out of the study. The news of their baby should not have been discussed like that, with anger and distrust between them. If they hadn’t love, at least they’d had liking and respect. Yet now it seemed that everything had gone, and only a shred of toleration remained.
Yet they must make it work, for their baby’s sake. But how? wondered Anne. How could they ever be happy in their marriage?
It was Anne and Francis who took Judith to a special clinic, arranged by her doctor, to have her ears examined and syringed. As Graham had suspected, the loss of hearing had been caused by hardened wax, and very soon Judith could hear again perfectly, if too loudly for comfort.
“That will pass quickly,” they were told, “then she’ll be perfectly all right.”
Anne rejoiced to see the little girl so well and happy again, and Francis asked Judith what she would like to do before they went home.
“Go down to Keswick to my favourite coffee shop, and have coffee and cakes,” she said happily.
“Very well, young lady,” Francis agreed, and drove south through Embleton to Bassenthwaite Lake, and along the narrow road which skirted the Lake to Keswick. It was a run which never failed to please Anne, and she felt strangely contented as they parked the car, and made their way towards the quaint old coffee house. Francis, too, looked cheerful, though now and again his eyes rested on Anne broodingly.
“Can I also get some Kendal Mint Cake,” Judith was asking, “and take rum butter home to Mummy? She loves it.”
“There’s a word for young ladies who trade in on things,” said Francis severely, though his eyes were suddenly twinkling when they met Anne’s. If only he was always like this, she thought, rather sadly.
They had told the rest of the household about the coming baby, and Anne had also written to her parents. They had been showered with congratulations which had been bitter-sweet to Anne, as she carried a small knot of unhappiness inside her which, she felt, would always be with her. It made her very conscious of the barrier which stood between her and Francis.
Now they both watched silently, while Judith chose boxes of sweets and tubs of rum butter to take home.
“I ... I’d like to thank you for helping Judith,” Francis said awkwardly, leaning towards her.
“I did nothing,” she told him.
“Only took the proper interest in her. You’ve made a difference to my home, Anne. It ... it feels like home now. I was going to ask you...”
He broke off as Judith came back to their table, and Anne felt her heart beating rather fast. There had been something different in Francis’ voice when he spoke to her. There had been a more personal note.
“I’ve got fudge for me and for you, too, Anne, and brandy butter for Francis.”
“Thank you very much,” smiled Anne, though she wasn’t very fond of fudge.
“Oh, look!” cried Judith suddenly. “There’s Caroline ... and David Mellor.”
Anne looked hastily out of the window, catching a glimpse of the small dainty girl, her dark hair streaming on her shoulders, and the young groom holding her arm. She remembered long ago overhearing part of a conversation between them. Could Caroline be getting over her love for Francis? she wondered, and glanced at his face.
Once again the shutters were down and he looked grim. Anne’s heart sank. Whatever Francis felt for Caroline, it was still with him, even if Caroline was beginning to forget.
“Come on,” she said, suddenly reaching for her handbag. “Can’t we go home now?”
“Of course,” said Francis, rising. “I’ll just pay the bill.”
Anne found the small pair of embroidery scissors next day, as she examined an old chair in the morning, wondering if she ought to buy loose covers.
For a long moment she looked at them, then she decided to walk over to Cravenhill and return them. It was odd that Caroline had not rung up to ask for them, though she may not have missed them yet.
Francis was again in Carlisle and the household had settled down to a steady routine. Mrs. Hansett was obviously happy, fussing a little over Anne, and Helen was excitedly planning her wedding with her mother, who was beginning to spend less and less time in her own room. She wanted plenty of frills for the wedding, and Helen was willing to indulge her.
“Mummy loves having all the trimmings,” she confided to Anne. “It was Daddy who hated fuss, and Francis is just like him. But he’ll have to put up with it for my wedding. We aren’t all like him ... sorry, Anne.”
“That’s all right,” said Anne equably. She was no longer annoyed by Helen’s tactless remarks.
But now she put on her anorak after lunch and wrapped up the scissors in a polythene bag. She would walk over to Cravenhill. The exercise would do her good.
Once again she found that Caroline was helping with the farm work, and Beatrice Cook asked her to sit down and wait.
“Caroline is down in the long field, seeing to the hens, Mrs. Wyatt.”
“Then would you mind if I just walk down there?” asked Anne. “I can’t spend too much time on my errand.”
“Not at all,” said Beatrice.
Caroline flushed deeply when she saw Anne walking towards her, and rubbed her hands awkwardly down her jeans, looking deeply embarrassed.
“I’ve brought your scissors back,” Anne explained, feeling sorry to have taken the girl by surprise. “I expect you’ll need them soon.”
“Monday,” Caroline told her, her head going down, “I travel to London on Sunday.”
There was a long awkward pause, while Anne began to feel as acutely uncomfortable as the other girl.
“I expect you really came to ask me why I did it,” Caroline said at length. “I ... I can only say I’m sorry. I guess I was a little bit mad ... I can see that now. David has made me see things so much more clearly, and it was wicked of me to try to harm you, especially when I broke your confidence that way.”
“Francis was furious when I told him ... about the baby, I mean. I thought he would be, if I told him instead of you, and I wanted to make him angry with you. It was the only thing I could think of left to do. Only I could see he was delighted, too.”
“You told him!” cried Anne.
Caroline nodded.
“I was going to tell you before I left.” Tears were beginning to thicken her voice. “I’m not proud of myself. I was the one who kept chasing Francis, you see. I pretended to myself he wanted me, too, and often I felt that this was really true. Only, now that I’m honest with myself, I can see it was all on my side. Francis never wanted me. To him I was just Helen’s best friend. He must have wanted you instead and I ... I was jealous and when I knew you hadn’t told him ... about the baby, I mean ... I told him instead because I thought it would make trouble between you.”
And it had, thought Anne, feeling cold inside. She looked up at the girl who had told her so many lies. Why had she believed her instead of Francis? And why hadn’t Francis told her it was Caroline who broke her confidence? Instead he had been furious when he thought she had confided in Graham, too!
Anne rose to her feet. She had heard enough.
“Francis didn’t tell me it was you,” she said heavily.
“Oh no, he wouldn’t! He’s awfully old-fashioned in some ways, especially about women. He’d never put the blame on a woman for anything.”
Except on me, thought Anne, remembering the panelling and other small incidents.
“I guess you despise me,” said Caroline. “I ... I hope the baby is a boy.”
“Thank you,” said Anne, and turned away. Now she only wanted to get home.
Francis was late that evening and it wasn’t until they were upstairs that Anne had a chance to talk to him. She heard him come up to bed and tapped lightly on the dividing door before going into the room.
“Can I talk to you, Francis?”
He looked at her for a moment as she stood tall and straight, her fair hair hanging long and shining to her shoulders, a new soft bloom on her cheeks.
