by Gloria Cook
While Honor went to her guests in the sitting room, Ben pulled off his boots and washed in the back kitchen, a lean-to roofed by rusted galvanized sheeting. On the rows of haphazard shelving was an argument of cooking utensils, cleaning agents and tools. ‘I’ve got a hundred and eighty-six acres, and there’s a lot of virgin land that should have been cleared. I’ve managed to get hold of a builder to renovate Bracken House, he’ll take a lot of what he needs from the old manor.’
‘I’m happy for you, Ben. I understand how devastated you must be over missing out on a regimental career.’
‘Thanks, Tris. It’s good to hear someone say that. I don’t think Alec cared all that much about how it affected me. He was too wrapped up in fathering Jonny, and plotting to take Emilia away from me.’
‘Is that how you see it? I don’t know the full details of what happened, but I can hardly believe Emilia would be so fickle.’
‘She was entirely responsible for our splitting up: it’s her damned fault I’m partially blind. You ought to be careful, Tris. Alec can be subtle, he might like to take over your son.’
‘He wants a family of his own, not mine.’ Tristan patted his brother’s shoulder. ‘Try not to feel bitter over what was a disastrous stroke of luck, Ben.’
In the bleak sitting room, made peculiarly distinguished by some of Florence’s elaborate curtains, Emilia noticed things belonging to Ben. A tie was cast carelessly over an overstuffed chair. Among his books was the dog-eared notebook in which he’d jotted down the scores of some of their childhood games. She had written him a love poem on the flyleaf. She opened the cover. He had ripped the poem out – she felt hurt by that and strangely abandoned.
Being in an unfamiliar place, Lottie was clinging to her hand and it was several minutes before she started up her habitual humming. Jonathan, bored and restless, made actions as if using a slingshot. Jim had introduced him to the delights of a real one – which had soon caused Alec to yell at Jim when Jonathan had deliberately startled the poultry. Florence came in with the tea tray, and Honor followed her.
All went quiet when the two men arrived.
Ben and Emilia stared at each other for a full ten seconds. Then as if he was chewing something sour, he said, ‘I suppose Grandma needs the services of someone for her visits to the unmentionable.’
Emilia did not lower her steady gaze at him. The atmosphere seemed to crackle with animosity and Florence quickly enquired about Captain Harvey’s health.
‘I’m healing slowly,’ Tristan replied. ‘What happens next depends on this ankle.’
‘Well, all I can say is it’s an honour to have such a brave officer in our midst.’ Florence’s voice was husky with emotion. ‘So terrible, the number of our casualties, thousands and thousands lost. I feel sad for all those poor wives and mothers.’
Ben dropped his head, and Emilia guessed he was festering with the same humiliation that had caused him to unjustly accuse her of causing his blindness.
‘Have you set a date for your wedding, Em?’ Honor asked, self-conscious and pink, but the subject might as well be aired and done with.
‘Not yet, April probably.’ The wood on the fire was damp, the logs smouldering. A sudden crackle and flare of anaemic flame took her eyes to the fireplace. The tiles were cracked and soot-stained; the carpet didn’t meet the edge of the dented brass fender, and was frayed and grubby from generations of slumbering dogs and cats.
‘Well,’ Florence said, as if she had been criticized. ‘We’ve all got what we wanted, now it’s up to us to make the best of it.’
Florence had brought in some savoury patties, and while Emilia passed one on a plate to Lottie, the sudden greasy smell made her feel nauseous. As the tea was drunk and the patties eaten by the others, she was growing hotter and hotter, and feeling dizzy and strange. Her stomach heaved and she shot to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, I feel faint. I’ll have to go outside.’
Nearest to the door, Tristan opened it for her as she picked her way past feet and the various encumbered spaces. The crisp late November air revived her, but on her apologetic return she found herself almost at once in the same predicament.
As she hastened for the door again, Ben stationed himself in front of her. ‘It would appear the next local wedding will have to brought forward.’ He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘It is safe to assume that?’
Emilia dashed a hand to her mouth and pushed past him. She stayed outside. If the sickness hadn’t prevented re-entry, her embarrassment would have done.
‘I’ve brought you a glass of water. Can I get you anything else?’ Honor joined her at the side of the house, which looked over some of Ben’s under-harvested fields.
‘No, thanks.’ Emilia sipped the water and took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry it’s ruined our visit. I so wanted to talk to you alone, but it’s not going to be possible with your aunt’s constant tittle-tattle.’
‘I’m sorry about Ben’s lack of tact. Are you pregnant, Em?’
‘I think so. I’m always regular and now I’m several days late.’
‘Could it be Ben’s? I’ve guessed that you and he…’
‘It’s definitely Alec’s. You must think me loose.’
‘We women submit either out of love or because we must. Ben hasn’t made advances to me.’ Honor’s voice grew winsome. ‘But then he’s always seen you and I in a different light. I know he doesn’t love me, Em, but he’s good to me. He says I’m everything he wants in a wife. I’m content with that. My future was looking horribly dim before.’
‘But if Ben hadn’t played his dirty trick, Alec would be your landlord now. Is this life better for you? One half of a loveless marriage?’
‘Whatever you think of him, he’s still the same old Ben inside. Now it’s my turn to be frank, Em. Ben’s right about one thing. Alec hankered after you for a long time, he might not be above manipulating things for his own ends too.’
‘Oh, I think I know all about Alec. I didn’t go into our relationship with my eyes closed. Setting him and Ben aside, let’s agree we’ll always be friends, Honor. I’m going to need your support. My dad’s going to be furious and disappointed with me.’
‘He won’t take it so hard after losing Billy, I’m sure. He’ll come round when it sinks in he has a grandchild to look forward to.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Well, Edwin, have you got over the shock of looking forward to becoming a grandfather yet?’
Outside the church, where the Christmas Eve wedding party were posing for photographs, all eyes of both families, guests and villagers, turned on Edwin Rowse to see how he answered Ben’s question.
Emilia glanced anxiously at her father. He had not spoken to her or Alec since being informed of her disgrace, and had walked her up the aisle, pursed-lipped and staring ahead. Dolly, in a hat loaned her by the rector’s wife, dewy-eyed and hoping for a grandson, peeped round Edwin and slipped Emilia an encouraging smile.
Edwin stuck out his chest, seeming to grow several inches in stature. ‘The answer’s yes, to you in partic’lar, seeing as how I approve of who the father is.’
Alec studied Ben’s burning face with pious nonchalance, then ignored him. Emilia was sad to see Honor pinched and self-conscious. Before she and Alec climbed up on the trap for the journey to the farm for the reception, Ben and Honor were gone – in Julian Andrews’ motor car, she was later to learn from Tilda.
Tristan allowed Jonathan to go on to the farm with Winifred, Great-Aunt Clarissa and Vera Rose. He stayed in the churchyard to pay his respects to his parents’ grave. Henry’s name was inscribed under theirs on the headstone. Not far away Billy Rowse’s name was remembered on a simple wooden cross, of Edwin’s making. At least Alec and Emilia were salvaging something out of the insanity. A child was to be born. New life. Nothing gave greater hope. The merest touch of innocent spring in this God-forsaken world of winter.
On his way out he looked in the area of more recent burials but couldn’t find a grave belonging to
Lucy. Then he remembered the letter informing him that the Pollards had taken her body away from the farm as well as all her things.
His mind turned to Ursula, he couldn’t keep her out of it. Worrying and fretting about her. She was to have a child, another man’s child. Don’t think about that. Imagine she’s dead. It’s the only way. But if she was abandoned, all alone, with no money and no honest way to make a living. Dear, God, not that for her. She might even be dead. He couldn’t bear that thought.
He limped on over the gravel path, trying to keep his mind on his next duty, a speech for the reception, not seeing the woman on the other side of the lychgate until he had climbed down the steps outside. He made to lift his cap but solidified on the spot. She was even more pale and drawn than himself. Her clothes were soiled, her hair was in tangles, fading bruises mottled her face. She was big in pregnancy and about to faint.
‘Ursula!’ He hurried the small distance to her and caught her before she hit the ground.
* * *
Jim Killigrew had his eye on the wedding fare, a good spread despite the ever-tightening rationing, set around tall candles encircled by holly. Used to scant workhouse food, he was savouring a dip into the meat pies, while flicking over the wines with dishonest intent.
‘Don’t you dare,’ Sara, in ribbons and her one good dress, warned him. She was waiting to entertain the gathering with a song or two, but the proceedings were being held up by Captain Harvey’s absence.
‘Master wouldn’t mind.’ Jim received a disapproving frown from Tilda, intimating he should move away from the dining table and stop slouching with his hands in his pockets. Jim blew her a kiss and she tut-tutted and he blew her another. Of the few things he took seriously, one was outsmarting those who thought themselves superior, another was his duty to protect his twin, and her extraordinary beauty meant he was having to watch out for her more and more.
From the window he saw Archie Rothwell in the garden. There could only be one reason the strange-eyed cripple was this close to the house and so many people. Sara. He never missed an opportunity to ogle her. Mr Harvey may respect him, but Jim thought the same as some of the villagers, that there was something ‘not quite right’ about him.
‘What are you doing here?’ Jim confronted Archie on the lawn.
Archie had his smarter Red Cross donated clothes on. He was using two walking sticks, the second once belonging to an ancestral Harvey; Alec had persuaded him he’d keep his balance better with a second aid. He regarded Jim with mutual distrust. ‘It’s none of your business, boy. Go away.’
Jim leaned towards Archie’s face. ‘I know your game, mister, but don’t think for a moment I’d let you get your hands on my sister. What’re you always hanging around her for? You’re old enough to be her father. Disgusting, that’s what it is. You’re one of those perverts, aren’t you? I’ve heard you at night, all those weird noises you make, it’s not bad dreams, like Mr Harvey reckons. I learned all about your sort in the workhouse. Your mind’s either gone west or you’ve been like it all your life. It’s why you want to keep everything about yourself a secret, ain’t it?’ Jim produced some shocking swear words. ‘Don’t forget, I’m watching you. Upset Sara and I’ll have you. Get all that?’
A tiny muscle worked in Archie’s cheek, his fair complexion was suffused with blood. ‘You’re accusing me of something so unspeakable? That I’m… it’s so unfair, so cruel.’ Keeping his eyes on the ground, he stumbled out of the garden.
Satisfied, Jim’s thoughts returned to the food waiting to be eaten inside. If Captain Harvey didn’t come soon he’d have to go back to his jobs, and even though Tilda would put something aside for him, he’d miss the best stuff.
Then he saw the captain hobbling up the front path, carrying a burden. He raced towards him, shouting, ‘Miss Em – Mrs Em, it’s the Captain at last and something’s up!’
* * *
‘Your fiancée’s a sweet little thing, Ben,’ Polly Hetherton said. It was long past dinner, Honor had gone up to her room for the overnight stay, and Julian was asleep in his chair.
‘Yes, she is, very sweet,’ he replied. He was taking in the modish simplicity of Polly’s small drawing room. Christmas decorations were kept to the minimum, but few houses had the heart for the festivities. There was nothing fussy or dull or packed in. Pristine white paint and light colours; smooth lines to furnishings; paintings of shapes and abstract figures, and the occasional eye-catching bronze figure or glass ornament; all as if Polly had something new to say. He might have a similar approach in his new house. Honor had said she liked it. She shared none of her aunt’s stuffiness.
Yes, Polly had flair and originality. There was a lot he admired about her. She was well travelled, intelligent and witty. Now he was a landowner, the difference in their ages and experiences seemed less marked. Not that she had ever made him feel patronized. They had talked a lot when Julian drifted off into his often and necessary sleeps, and she had understood, as a friend would, how he felt, even now, about the things he had lost, and why and how he had won his property.
‘I can still hardly believe you’re thinking of getting married, you’re so young, Ben.’ Polly brought him a brandy for which he was grateful. Before this, alcohol had not been drunk because of Julian’s necessary abstention. ‘Are you going to be happy with Honor? She’s a different prospect to the other girl. That one’s got spirit, an earthy beauty, which I believe you prefer.’
‘It will be a long engagement, Polly. May I ask if you were happy with your husband?’
‘We were a good match, but there was no spark, that something special, if you know what I mean.’
‘I thought Emilia was someone special. Well, that’s in the past, dead and gone.’ Ben looked fondly at Julian, his skin was almost translucent, veins visible in thin rivers, his lips blue. ‘I suppose I’d better get his nibs up to his room.’
‘I’d be grateful if you would. I’ll come with you.’
Ben carried Julian’s light weight up the stairs, then he and Polly undressed him and laid him in bed. ‘He looks even more of a boy than when I knew him at school,’ Ben observed.
Polly slipped her hand inside Ben’s, her voice a tremulous whisper: ‘I’m so afraid of losing him. I know it’s inevitable, but I’m hoping it won’t be for many years yet. Help me to look after him, Ben. Promise me you will?’
‘I’d do anything for him, I owe him more than he’ll ever know. Did you know he had a notion to marry Honor? But he accepted that I’d asked her first with all his charm and grace. Perhaps I should have stepped out of his way.’
‘No, Ben, they would have made each other miserable. She adores you, and Julian couldn’t have been a husband to her at all, you understand? He fools around, but his heart isn’t strong enough to make a proper bedfellow. He’s got me and you as the friends he’s always wanted. It’s enough, God bless him. Enough for him, while for some of us…’ Polly pressed the palm of her other hand on Ben’s chest. ‘We expect, we hope for something more.’
Ben found Honor waiting for him in his room. ‘Darling, is something the matter?’ There was a disapproving knot in her brow, an agitation in her delicate hands. Obviously she wasn’t here to share his bed, uninhibited away from her suffocating aunt. Hell, how that overbearing woman annoyed him – he’d have to find a little cottage for her before his marriage, far enough away where she couldn’t interfere.
Like a shadow Honor moved up close to him, sweetly gorgeous in demure white silk, smelling divine. ‘Where have you been all this time? I want to speak to you.’
‘I was talking to Julian, he’s going to help put a bit of business my way. It’s the chance… well, never mind. Then he dropped off and I carried him up to bed.’
There was something schoolmarmish in Honor’s expression. ‘Ben, you shouldn’t have said what you did to Mr Rowse.’
He loosened his tie. ‘What? Why are you bringing that up now?’
‘It was Emilia’s wedding day. It was a ho
rrible thing to say in front of her family, with practically the whole village there and Alec’s business friends.’
‘You’ve been waiting all day to say this to me? Is she more important to you than I am? Are you angry because I embarrassed you? Is appearances all that matter?’ Ben was irritated by her displeasure. Few people allowed him to lead his life without advice and recriminations. Polly was one of those few.
‘I’m not trying to be quarrelsome, dear. I don’t think there’s a need for all this continuing unpleasantness. Emilia’s been my friend all my life. The village children didn’t want to mix with me because of Aunt Florence’s attitude, and I had no one except for her, Billy and you. We all used to mean so much to each other. Why can’t we let bygones rest and try to lead a happy life?’
‘Because life’s not a game, Honor.’
He turned from her, wanting her to go. Just now Polly’s touch and sympathy had invoked desire in him, but Honor had no effect on him in that way. She was lovely, but she could never make him want her just by thinking about her; as Emilia had done. She was insubstantial, a child, incompatible with a man who had a man’s needs.
Since leaving his brother’s wedding, he had been thinking about how he had got himself engaged to a creature of fairytale, a doll, while the bride today was a woman in body, soul and spirit. Emilia’s kisses had been filled with passion, and passion had been in her every touch. Through his eagerness and inexperience he had hurt her that time in Tristan’s bed, but she had still given him all she could, and just at the end she had discovered the same joys, which in subsequent times would have been exciting and fulfilling for both of them. Alec, damn him, would be receiving her woman’s love tonight, while all he was likely to get, if he seduced Honor, was a little chaste reaction and half pleasure. He felt cheated all over again.
He turned back, kissed Honor’s forehead. ‘Look, darling, you run along and enjoy a good night’s sleep in the sort of surroundings your aunt’s always wanted for you. I’m not tired. Think I’ll pop down to the study and go over those figures Julian and I were looking at. See you at breakfast.’
