‘What if Bunny had known nothing of this? About my being the product of an affair between you and one of the Vaughns? He might have renounced me rather than face the shame that might have caused.’ An image of Beatrice Harrington’s disapproving pout loomed into her head.
‘I pride myself on being a good judge of character, Ruth Lazarus notwithstanding.’ She winced. ‘I vowed that if I saw something uncompromising in your husband that day at the hospital, I would keep silent.’ Her features softened as she went on. ‘However, the moment I saw Ptolemy, I knew what sort of man he was. What a charming name by the way. It suits him far better than Bunny.’
‘I agree, but he has always been called that, except by his mother.’ Had Bunny been a different sort of man, Flora might have spent the rest of her life in ignorance. Would that have been worse? Or Better?
‘I see, a schoolboy nickname, I assume?’ Flora nodded, smiling as Alice went on, ‘I knew then there was nothing I could say which would change his love for you. Had it been otherwise, I would have never spoken. I also owe him my life as he jumped into the river and saved me last night. How can I ever forget that?’
‘Something tells me you would have got out on your own, but I admit my heart turned over when you fell in.’
‘You must feel so confused,’ Alice said gently. ‘I’ve had twenty years to reconcile myself to what I did, but all this is new to you. I hope you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me for the past. Although I would understand if you wished to have nothing to do with me.’ Her voice remained calm but the look in her eyes revealed what she really wanted.
‘I’m not sure what I feel about you or Riordan – yet.’ Flora’s mind whirled with excitement, happiness and resentment as well as disbelief and even jealously. None of which lingered long enough to dominate, leaving her numb and confused.
Should she throw her arms round this woman or slap her? Rail against her selfish act all those years ago, or try to understand her reasons? Whichever she did wouldn’t obliterate the misunderstandings that had grown over the years. Though what would be the point of making everything worse?
‘Were you aware I recognized you that day at St Philomena’s?’ Flora fought to keep her voice steady.
‘I wasn’t sure, but I hoped you had. I used those missing children as a way to keep seeing you. Not that finding them wasn’t important. It was. I imagined if we could do it together we could form a bond which would make it easier to explain everything.’
‘And did it? Make things easier?’ Her voice came out sharper than she intended.
‘No.’ Alice’s lip quivered and she stared off for a moment, visibly overcome.
A brief, but heavy silence fell between them, interrupted only by the chink of china and the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. The everyday sounds of the household appeared to have stilled. No chattering from the kitchens reached them, no doors slammed or footsteps sounded across floorboards.
Her thoughts went to Bunny, who was most likely pacing his study at that moment. Trying to decide if this woman deserved to be in his house, or would he be summoned to throw her out.
Flora’s thoughts whirled and collided, but with no immediate solution, she rose and gave the bell pull beside the fireplace a sharp tug, taking refuge in practicalities. ‘While we decide where we go from here,’ she said, her voice scratchy with emotion. ‘Would you like to meet your grandson?’
‘I would, very much.’ A flash of warm pleasure lit her eyes. ‘I never dreamed I would become a grandmother.’
Flora’s hand stilled on the strip of tasselled brocade as she recalled that William had used those same words. Keeping her eyes averted, she swallowed the lump in her throat, taking wry comfort in the fact her son would receive more loving attention from Alice than he ever would from Beatrice.
‘Did you know Arthur was my brother’s name?’ Alice said as Flora resumed her seat opposite. ‘He died during the Ashanti war under General Wolseley.’
‘Actually I did. Though don’t tell Bunny. He thinks I chose it because I like Arthur Conan Doyle’s detective stories.’
When Stokes arrived in answer to her summons, he found them in gales of delighted laughter, and startled, he froze on the threshold. ‘Madam?’
‘Ah, Stokes.’ Flora wiped tears from her eyes while handing Alice an embroidered handkerchief as she did the same. ‘Would you ask Milly to bring Arthur down?’
‘He has an excellent nurse, who doesn’t like me very much,’ Flora said when they were alone again.
‘That’s not uncommon.’ Alice smiled knowingly. ‘A nurse who has sat up for four nights with a desperately sick child can become critical, even resentful of the child’s mother when it comes time for the patient to go home.’
‘But Milly knows how much I love Arthur,’ Flora said, defensive.
‘Of course she does, but with sole charge of a young baby, it’s hard for her not to become attached. She might feel she’s the only one who has his true interests at heart, with you as an intruder.’
‘What should I do?’ Flora asked. ‘I don’t want to dismiss her, she’s a good nurse, but I cannot employ someone who disapproves of me.’
‘Might I suggest you ask her advice from time to time? Even if you don’t need it. She knows your son as well as, even better than you in some ways. Discuss his sleep patterns and teething remedies with her in a non-judgemental way. Involve her rather than treat her as if she should disappear into the walls when she isn’t required.’
‘I doubt any of my servants would accuse me of that. Ask Sally.’
‘Ah yes, your spirited lady’s maid. How is she after her ordeal?’
‘Holding court in the kitchens from what I last heard. She’s quite the heroine and enjoying every minute of it. She’s even ordering Stokes around, demanding he serve tea to all her visitors. The poor man might never recover.’
Milly’s arrival interrupted more companionable laughter, causing the nurse’s eyes to widen a fraction at the sight of the stranger.
‘This is Mrs Finch, Milly,’ Flora said so as not to create more gossip in the servant’s hall than was already circulating. ‘You’ll be seeing a great deal of her in future as she’s Arthur’s maternal grandmother.’
‘Good morning, madam.’ Milly’s astonished gaze remained on Alice as she handed the baby to Flora.
Flora rested her lips against the baby’s fluff of fair hair, and inhaled the sweet scent of his newly washed skin, his attention focussed on the garnet pendant round her neck. ‘I’ll warn you, he’s heavy.’
‘He’s quite adorable.’ Alice’s eyes softened and she reached eager hands for Arthur, who went to her without protest.
Arthur’s face creased in puzzlement at the stranger, but within seconds he had grasped the flowers on her hat in his chubby fingers and mouthed her cheek while making incoherent baby noises.
‘I’ll come back later, Madam.’ Milly curtseyed and backed away.
Alice called her back at the door, ‘One moment, Milly is it?’
Milly's eyes became wary, her eyes flicking to Flora and away again.
‘I would like to ask you a little about Arthur, being as you know him better than most.’ She held the baby’s hand and bounced him on her lap in a miniature dance.
‘He’s a good baby.’ Milly beamed, inflating her diminutive chest. ‘He’s a good sleeper and rarely fusses. He’s never ill other than a cold and he’s got five teeth now. I’m sure he’ll be walking before his first birthday.’
Alice asked gentle, non-critical questions about the baby’s care, even congratulating Milly on the child’s obvious intelligence, as if giving her credit for it.
For his part, Arthur was delighted with the strange new face, poked his fingers into her mouth and eyes and tried to gnaw at a gold locket around her neck.
Alice probed with more gentle questions, even congratulating Milly on Arthur’s intelligence, as if giving her credit for it.
Flora observed them with growing emotion.
This was what she had missed all her life; a mother’s advice and gentle guidance on subjects she could never have broached with anyone else. Even Bunny, for all his practicality and kindness, didn’t always understand that at times, Flora felt ill-equipped to be a mother. Like most men he regarded motherhood as instinctive; a skill that females were born with. How could she tell him that most of the time she floundered, with panic and doubt taking turns?
As Alice made baby noises against Arthur’s plump cheek, rewarded with soft looks and endearing nonsense talk, the warmth left Flora and something else took its place.
Surely Lily had done the same for her when she was a baby? There must have been precious times when she held her close as a toddler and marvelled over the small miracle that was her child? When had that ended? With Sam Coombe’s blow, or before? While Lily enjoyed the opulent life in the Buchanan’s house on Birdcage Walk as Alice, did she ever think of Flora growing up in the servant’s hall at Cleeve Abbey?
Flora knew without doubt that she could never abandon her child, no matter what the circumstances. Or was she being unfair and Alice truly believed she had had no choice? That Flora would be better off without her, no matter how painful that decision was?
Among the sounds of female laughter and babyish chuckles, questions circled in Flora’s head with nowhere to go. Perhaps they should be left in the past, or she would never be at peace with her mother’s return. No one can truly guess the hearts of others, and all that mattered was that Alice was back in her life.
However, despite her calm reasoning, a worm of resentment sat at the back of her mind and repeated over and over. How could she have left me?
Chapter 32
Alice’s visit lasted through luncheon and on into a pleasurable afternoon, ending only when she politely refused their invitation to dinner insisting she had overstayed her welcome. Giving promises to return soon and often, Bunny had asked Stokes to send a maid to summon a hansom to return her to Birdcage Walk.
Bunny said little as they changed for dinner, as if he sensed Flora’s conflicting emotions. It wasn’t until the maid who stood in for Sally had withdrawn did he venture a question.
‘How do you feel now you know the full story?’ He leaned a shoulder against the frame of his dressing room that adjoined their sleeping quarters.
‘Truthfully? Strange.’ She turned to look at him on their way out of the room. ‘Do you really think I look like her?’
‘I do, yes.’ He studied her face, his head tilted as they strolled side by side along the hallway. ‘Not so much in individual features, but the way you bite your bottom lip when worried, or have heard something outrageous and are trying not to laugh. Then there’s that tiny hiccough when you—’
‘Enough!’ She elbowed him gently. ‘I’m thrilled to have her back again, but I keep asking myself the same question.’
‘How could she have left you?’ He paused at the top of the stairs and turned towards her.
‘Exactly.’ She summoned a shaky smile, unnerved by his keen perception. ‘Will I ever be able to look at her and not dwell on all those wasted years in between?’
‘Knowing you. Yes. But it will take time. Your perception of your past and hers has been altered in the course of one day. Don’t try and make sense of it now. Let your thoughts settle a while and see what happens.’ He turned away from the stairs and tugged her towards the rear of the house. ‘I have an idea. Why don’t we call in at the nursery before the dinner gong sounds?’
‘As long as you promise not to wake him. He’s been thoroughly spoiled today and I suspect Milly had trouble putting him down.’ Despite her mild protests she allowed him to lead her towards the nursery. ‘So no tickling his feet, and then pretending he woke up on his own? Promise?’
‘If you insist.’ Bunny said over his shoulder as he pushed open the door. ‘Though it’s not as if he has school in the morning.’
‘Be careful.’ Flora winced as the hinges gave a tiny squeak. ‘We don’t want to alert Milly. Her room is only next door and she has impeccable hearing.’
‘You say that as if I’ve never done this before.’
The nursey was a square room with a window at the far end that slanted a shaft of pearly light across the crib set beneath it. A heavy Victorian chest of drawers occupied one end, a waist-high set of shelves at the other, a neat row of soft toys lined up on the top; parodies of rabbits, dogs and elephants in inaccurate colours and textures and wide, staring glass eyes.
The lower shelves held children’s books Arthur was years too young to appreciate yet, but which Flora could not resist buying. Peter Rabbit jostled beside The Water Babies, Tom Sawyer, Treasure Island, and a copy of a new story, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz that Lady Amelia, the Vaughn’s eldest daughter, had sent her from America when he was born; all favourite tales of her own childhood she anticipated sharing with him when he was older.
Arthur lay on his back, knees bent like a little frog and both arms thrown back on either side of his head, his fingers curled into his palms.
‘I could never leave Arthur.’ Flora’s voice cracked as she gazed at her sleeping son. ‘She just walked out of the door and never went back.’
‘She was injured at the time,’ Bunny said gently, having been given Alice’s complete story again over afternoon tea. ‘How could she have taken you with her when she left? The courts don’t favour women who leave their husbands, whatever the reason. Riordan would probably have kept you anyway, which is what he wanted.’
‘She lied to the Buchanans as well.’
‘Again, quite understandable. Had she told them she was a married woman with a child they might have sent her straight back to Riordan. She must have been desperate, Flora. In ways you couldn’t possibly understand.’
‘I know all that, but—’ though she hadn’t at all. Alice had told her story in a calm, pragmatic way, with little sign of the real pain she must have felt. Maybe there would come a time to revisit the past with her and examine those moments one day?
‘No buts.’ Bunny bent and ran a finger down Arthur’s cheek. The baby’s nose twitched and he batted it away with a fist before settling again. ‘She suffered for leaving you behind. And you have to admire her courage for seeking you out again, which proves she never forgot you.’
Arthur’s eyes fluttered open. At the sight of their faces staring down at him, his mouth curved into a smile and uttering eager mewling noises, he raised his arms.
‘I warned you not to wake him.’ Flora’s fierce whisper only served to make Bunny smile.
‘No harm done.’ He lifted Arthur into his arms, propped him on one hip and swayed gently from side to side. ‘Hello, young man.’
‘Shh! Milly will hear you.’
‘We’re not scared of Nursey, are we old chap. No-we-are-not.’ He bounced Arthur on his hip in time with each word, rewarded with a toothy smile and a sleepy burp.
Flora froze, listening, but when no sound of movement came from Milly’s room, she relaxed.
‘Now,’ Bunny dropped his voice to a whisper, ‘what should I call her? Mother-in-Law, Miss Finch or Mrs Maguire?’
‘She wants me to call her Alice.’ Flora softened at the sight of her son in his father’s arms, with Arthur’s head slumped against Bunny’s chest, his eyes open and his thumb in his mouth. ‘She says she isn’t Lily Maguire anymore.’
‘Which makes perfect sense. Alice it is then. You need to get to know her, and—’
‘To forgive,’ she finished for him. ‘Yes, I see that now. I was so bound up in the excitement of wanting her to be my mother, I forgot how I might feel if it turned out to be true.’
‘I recognize that look on your face. Are you hoping she and William will get together again?’ he asked over the top of Arthur’s fluffy head.
‘Is that so ridiculous?’ She stroked the baby’s neck where the skin lay in tiny folds as she pondered his question. ‘They are in their forties with years ahead of them. Why shouldn’t they spend them together?’
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‘It’s been twenty years, Flora. Years which must have changed them both beyond recognition. Perhaps they aren’t right for each other now?’
‘I don’t believe that.’ She recalled William’s face when he talked about Lily, and Alice’s when she explained why she had parted from her child’s father. Perhaps she could contrive a meeting between them once William returned from his mysterious trip.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Flora,’ Bunny interrupted her thoughts. ‘But you cannot write the end of their story for them. You’ll just have to trust to luck and nature.’
‘Luck and nature,’ Flora repeated under her breath. ‘And perhaps a little help from me.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing. What did Inspector Maddox say when he called you on the telephone this afternoon?’
‘Goodness, that’s a rapid change of subject. Not a very subtle one either.’ Bunny shifted position and wrestled his glasses back from Arthur’s clutching fingers.
‘I would like to reassure Alice that Mr Buchanan won’t be prosecuted.’
‘It seems his co-operation has abrogated any criminal responsibility, and with a child trafficking gang in custody, the police are feeling magnanimous. Not to mention Maddox getting his name in the papers as the lead investigating officer.’
‘I hope Victor Buchanan doesn’t have any more of those photographs floating about to cause trouble.’
‘Not if he has any sense. Or he could find himself penning verses in Reading gaol.’
‘Not funny.’ Flora narrowed her eyes, but his mischievous smile persisted. ‘What about the peeps?’ She stiffened slightly, prepared for bad news. ‘Sister Lazarus still has one.’
‘Ah yes, the notorious Sister Lazarus.’ Bunny’s eyes flashed behind his horn-rimmed spectacles as a memory returned. ‘She did break her nose by the way, which will make her police mugshots look very interesting. Maddox found the peep on her at the police station, which, as Mr Buchanan’s property, has duly been returned to him.’
‘As simple as that?’ She widened her eyes in surprise, then narrowed them again. ‘Or did you have something to do with it?’
The Forgotten Children Page 35
