‘Yes, we are friends,’ he answered, and in that very private space where she was close enough to make out the flecks of bronze in what she had thought were deep brown irises, she saw a fire that shone back at her.
Stella sat back, watching him, barely realising she had placed her fingers against her lips. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to lose the moment, or the sensation of his mouth against hers. She needed to slow her heartbeat, needed to understand the implications of what had just occurred.
‘I can’t apologise for that. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the night I first saw you glowering at everyone in the dance hall.’
Her eyes watered and she wasn’t sure why. It was connected with what a romantic yet lonely figure he cut; the fact that she’d glimpsed his childhood, the less-than-happy adult life and indeed the double life he seemed to be leading. And the worst of it was that she wanted him to hold her again.
‘Which of you just kissed me?’ she said, airing a thought aloud although it was only just above a murmur.
‘All of me,’ he replied with a hint of a wry grin. ‘I thought you’d be angry.’
‘But you took the chance anyway.’
‘I’m a risk taker.’
‘If that’s true, then it wasn’t Monty who kissed me. And Douglas is a family man, so he wouldn’t risk his family name. No, it was the secretive Rafe . . . and only Rafe who took that risk.’
He grinned sadly as if disappointed in himself. ‘I suppose so. You’re not upset?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘What is appalling is not that you are committing adultery with me but because I welcome it and I’m glad you kissed me. I should hate myself . . .’
She turned away but he moved quickly to grab her shoulder and spin her around. ‘Please don’t hate yourself.’
Stella sighed. ‘That’s my point, I should but I don’t. I get no sense of a love existing between you and Beatrice. I feel no guilt. If anything, I am angry that I am so easily fond of you and I barely know you and yet you have both known each other for seventeen years at least and she barely knows you.’
‘Again, that is my fault, not Bee’s.’
‘Then why, Rafe? Why?’ she pleaded. ‘What are you keeping secret from her? Why does she have such a hold on you? Is it Grace?’
He looked momentarily lost, then glanced at his watch. ‘Let’s walk. We shall have to be back shortly.’
She nodded unhappily but allowed him to help her back to her feet.
‘Do you think anyone saw?’
‘No,’ he gusted. ‘I can assure you that as open as this all feels, we are hidden from the house.’
‘Speaking from experience, no doubt.’
‘I’ve never brought anyone up here. Not even Grace. And I sometimes think that Grace is my best friend.’
‘It shows. You are lovely together.’
Rafe sighed. ‘I’m a terrible father and as a husband I think I fail on all counts.’
She said nothing for a few moments as they began a slow descent.
‘Why does being Doug help?’
‘I can hide behind him. Beatrice controls him. He amuses Grace and he doesn’t threaten Georgina.’
‘Why must you hide?’
‘Oh, Stella,’ he shook his head. ‘That’s the hardest question to answer.’
‘Why?’
‘And that’s the next one,’ he laughed.
‘What have you to hide from me?’
‘Nothing, I hope. You are with the real me and it feels exhilarating.’ He began to lead her down the steepest part of the hill and she noticed they were following a similar path back.
‘Rafe?’
He paused to look at her.
‘Are we still hidden?’
‘From the house, you mean?’
She nodded.
‘Yes, the view is obscured by those trees.’
Moving purely on instinct, she didn’t allow herself a moment to consider. Stella reached for him and he responded unguardedly, as though it was the most natural response, holding her tightly as she buried her face into his chest and reached around his back.
‘Why do I feel so safe in the circle of your arms?’ she murmured, sounding mournful.
He stroked her hair and she closed her eyes, revelling in the sensations that his touch brought. ‘Perhaps because you’ve been coping with a lot of grief and pressure; it’s always reassuring to be held.’
‘No, this is a different sort of safety. I’m in control of my emotions – or at least I thought I was, until now. You’re not playing with my heart, are you, Rafe?’
He kissed her head.
‘Playing? No,’ he said, in a broken tone. ‘This wasn’t meant to happen. I thought I was strong enough.’
She looked up, torn by the inclination not to be owned by anyone, warring with an equally strong inclination to belong only to him. ‘I’m like one of your butterflies, aren’t I? You’ve collected me, you keep me close, you want to look at me and admire me, but you want to put me away again.’ She searched his sad expression. ‘But, Rafe, I’m not dead and pinned to a board. I’m real. I have feelings.’
‘I know, I know. I should never have brought you here. It was selfish and yet I believed I could help your situation to change quickly. I wanted to make that happen.’ He leaned back so he could cup her face. ‘I thought I could keep you at arm’s length.’
‘Yet here I am in your arms.’
He bent his head towards her and kissed her again. This time his lips were more insistent and she opened up to his desire and returned it. No one had kissed her this deeply before. Stella sensed in this moment that Rafe may well have had many lovers – may indeed still have women beyond his family life . . . but none were permitted this glimpse into his depths, to feel his emotion pouring into her, buffeting against her heart. She held him harder, felt his arousal and trembled against it, wishing with every ounce of herself that their lives were not as complicated as they were.
It was Stella who pulled away, blushing, lips swollen. ‘That’s a frightening feeling.’
‘Well, I’ve been accused of a lot in my time but never frightening.’ He waited, amusement shining in his gaze.
‘Is it just me?’
A shadow passed over his expression. ‘I’ve thought of no one else since I danced with you that evening. There’s something about you, Stella, which haunts me. I thought if I went away, I could forget you quickly. I didn’t, your image only etched itself more strongly in my thoughts. I came home and tried to immerse myself in family but you’ve seen the results of that. Finding a way to bring you here felt as inevitable as the sun coming up each morning.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I had no idea, of course, of how you felt. But you’re right. I’ve treated you like a butterfly. But you’re a beautiful, desirable one, Stella, and if anyone’s pinned down, it’s me. I’m the one trapped. I’m trapped by family and duty and now I’ve ensnared myself deeper by opening us both up to pain.’
‘Where do you expect this might go?’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t expect anything from you.’
‘Except a kiss?’
He gave a smile of hopelessness. ‘Not even that.’
Stella looked back down the hill. ‘We’d better get back.’
‘I wish we could run away together.’
She smiled sadly. ‘Do you?’
‘I do. But Grace and dinner are waiting.’
‘And we both agree that Mrs Boyd is scary.’
They shared a sympathetic, sorrowful smile and continued walking.
He surprised her by halting to show his exasperation. ‘Her manner is strange and controlling but Bee loves me, Stella.’
‘Is the feeling mutual?’
‘No. It never has been. I was tricked into marrying her because she told me that Georgina was my child.’
‘And then along came Grace, of course.’
‘My wife and her family managed to convince me that a second child – entirely our own – wou
ld patch up a relationship that we all knew was broken from the start.’
‘You don’t have to explain. You and Beatrice met and were together when I was Grace’s age, after all.’
‘I need you to know this, though.’
‘Why? It doesn’t change anything for us.’
He shrugged heavily. ‘I have a desire to start being truthful with someone as if I’m not careful my entire adult life will be based on lies.’ Rafe frowned as if surprised by his own admission. ‘Until you danced with me, it didn’t seem to matter that I have been moving through the years as if trying to get them behind me as fast as I can.’
‘Oh, Rafe, that’s an awful thing to say . . .’
‘It’s honest, though, and I’m not used to confronting my own truth. At the start of this year if I’d been told I was dying of some hideous disease, I really don’t believe I’d have been as upset as the next man.’
‘So what do you want to tell me?’
‘That I had a fling with Beatrice Templeton on leave from the war; my mind was utterly scrambled and I defy anyone to be thinking rationally in such a short space of time away from the Front; it felt like paradise should. I’d been mildly injured and hospitalised briefly and she was one of the women volunteering in the ward where I was being treated.’ He began to pace in a short line, turning his back on her to take a few angry steps before swinging around to pace back. ‘I convalesced at home for barely more than a fortnight and she visited regularly, undeterred that I had not invited her to my home or into my life. Beatrice seemed determined to offer her help to nurse me back to the best of health. I turned down her offer to live in. I asked her not to visit but she seemed incapable of accepting that I just wanted to be alone. She is an attractive woman, even more striking now, I might add, than she was then but not used to men unaffected by her presence.’ He stopped walking, and instead raked a hand of exasperation through his hair.
‘You didn’t turn down the opportunity to sleep with her, though,’ Stella said pointedly and at his glower, she sighed. ‘I’m sorry, it was a long time ago and I shouldn’t judge.’
‘I slept with Bee on the night before I returned to France in 1916. I want to say she made me do it but that sounds pathetic. I realise of course I had a choice but she did have a way of making me feel guilty. She still uses that stick against me.’ He reached for her arm. ‘Listen, Stella, everyone took their solace where they could back then. You were only little when war broke out – I’m not sure you understand how it was. There was no certainty anywhere and I didn’t believe – not for a moment – that I would return whole, let alone survive the war.’
‘Well, my father went to war and he didn’t take his solace anywhere but in his wife’s bed.’
‘Frankly, you wouldn’t know if he had slept with every farm girl from Dover to Paris.’
She glared at him.
‘Now I’m sorry.’ He grinned. ‘Life was uncertain but at least your father had a wife, a woman he loved. I wasn’t even twenty-one in 1916 and Bee was older.’
Stella could not have guessed that about them.
‘And far more conniving that I could imagine a woman to be.’
‘Because she was already pregnant, you mean?’
‘Yes. And if that had been all it was, I believe I could have ruthlessly walked away from her by the time Georgina was seven and already showing the signs of the indulged, selfish adult she would become. But Beatrice had fallen in love with me – there’s no ruse there, I’m sure of it. Beatrice’s love is so committed it’s almost sinister.’ Rafe looked even deeper into Stella’s face to reinforce his claim. ‘She has told me on various occasions that she will kill herself if I ever leave her. Can you begin to imagine what a burden that is?’
Stella felt a thrill of shock at his confession but it made her thoughts flee to her parents, almost relieved to discover they were not the only people in the world who loved to distraction. ‘Yes, I think I can. I suspect my mother felt the same way about my father.’
He looked at her with such remorse that she reached for and squeezed his hand. ‘Go on, tell me so I understand your situation properly.’
They began to walk again, slowly.
‘She wouldn’t hear of me leaving. I offered her everything. Stella, I can’t tell you how ugly it became. She even threatened to kill Grace in her sleep if I walked out on our marriage.’
Stella gasped.
‘That’s what I’m up against. I admit to loving Grace from the day I first held her tiny hand and gazed into her chubby face. She reminded me of my sister and I wanted to be Grace’s protector; needed to be there for her. I didn’t want her mother to have such influence that Grace might turn out like Georgina. And so I stayed and I played my part, mainly to be around my daughter but also to hang onto Harp’s End.’ He swept the lock of dark hair that had blown across his parting and flopped forward.
They’d nearly reached the side gate into the walled garden. ‘What does that mean? Why was Harp’s End part of the bargain?’
His voice dropped even lower. ‘I was persuaded – mostly blackmailed – that I should “do the right thing” by Bee. You see, Stella, Bee’s family is loaded and she came to our marriage with such an enormous endowment that it meant I could keep Harp’s End at a time when it looked as though estate taxes from death duties would make it impossible for me to do anything but carve up the family home and sell it off in chunks, maybe hang onto just the house or a few of the cottages. I simply couldn’t hack it up but by the same token I also couldn’t face selling it as a whole to some opportunist; give up my birthright . . . I could have just walked away, I suppose, but I did have a child and my wife was cluey enough to dangle the fact that her money could retain Harp’s End. That juicy carrot and her spicy threats wore me down. As I say, her so-called love is twisted. She is, dare I say, obsessed with us being together. She has been ever since she met me in the hospital as “Captain Montgomery Douglas Ainsworth” as I was known in the military. She liked my middle name and from that young age I’ve been Dougie to her, and I’ve allowed that bumbling persona that began when I was injured to simply grow up around our marriage to the point where no one in London knows Doug Ainsworth. I encourage most to call me Monty. It’s just easier.’
‘More to hide behind, you mean. And she likes Dougie – why? It doesn’t make sense as she’s so strong.’
‘No, but that’s the point. Dougie still seems a bit helpless; she gets to control him, boss him around.’
‘And even fewer know Rafe.’
‘Only one person alive really knows him. There’s one other who knows the real me but we are so rarely together . . .’ His words tailed off.
‘And what would you have me do with this secret?’
‘Keep it. Let it remain something precious only we share.’
‘Is that all we shall share?’ She hated herself for sounding needy.
Suddenly, they heard someone calling ‘Mr Ainsworth!’ repeatedly.
‘That’s Potter.’ Rafe frowned. ‘Over here! The side gate!’
‘Mr Ainsworth?’ Potter burst through the gate faster than they’d imagined he could. They parted as if burning embers had just landed on their hands. ‘Sir?’
‘Mr Potter? Is everything all right?’
‘Miss Stella,’ Potter said, lifting his cap. The poor man looked terrified.
‘It’s your daughter, Sir.’
‘Grace?’ They said it together and immediately Rafe began to run.
His stride lengthened as Potter yelled after him. ‘She’s had a fall, Sir.’
Stella grabbed Potter’s arm and they both trotted after Rafe, who had begun to put distance between him and them as he dodged around the gravel paths of the walled garden. ‘What’s happened?’ Stella asked.
‘I don’t know, to be honest. Mrs Boyd sent me to fetch Mr Ainsworth. We knew you were out walking on the Weald.’
‘Right, I’m going to hurry ahead. I suspect I’ll be needed.’
&nbs
p; ‘You go on,’ he wheezed.
Stella ran into the house and didn’t bother with salutations, hurrying past the parlour and up the back stairs into the main part of the house. She overtook Hilly on the carpeted flight, leaping up the stairs two at a time until she was on the landing of the nursery and dashing down the hallway. She could hear voices, which led her to Grace’s room. She burst through the doorway to find the adults – Mrs Boyd, Miss Hailsham and Rafe – bent over the bed.
Mrs Boyd was shaking a prone, seemingly unconscious Grace.
‘Come on now, Miss Grace,’ she was saying.
‘Stop that please!’ Stella ordered, her training from the department store kicking in. ‘Everyone step back.’
Stella shoved herself past a grey-faced Rafe. She glanced at the other woman, young and terrified. ‘Miss Hailsham?’
‘Yes? What should I do?’
‘I want you to call the hospital immediately. How close is it?’ Everyone was looking at the unconscious child, lost in their collective shock. ‘Mr Ainsworth! How far away is the hospital?’
He looked stung by Stella’s tone. ‘Three miles.’
‘Right, get the car started. It’s quicker for us to take her. Please – go now. I’ll stay with her, I promise.’ She glanced around. ‘Miss Hailsham, what the hell are you waiting for?’ The woman leaped away from the bed and fled, following Rafe out of the room. ‘Mrs Boyd?’
‘Yes?’ the housekeeper looked up, sounding tame for the first time since Stella had met her.
‘I need smelling salts immediately.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Hilly arrived. ‘Hilly, go and fetch the sal volatile. It’s quicker if you go into Mrs Ainsworth’s room. It’s in the top right-hand drawer of her dressing table,’ Mrs Boyd instructed.
‘Run, Hilly!’ Stella commanded.
She was now alone with Mrs Boyd. ‘What happened?’
‘Slipped on the bathroom tiles, hit her head.’
Stella raised the girl’s legs off the bed and held them above the mattress. ‘Do this for me, Mrs Boyd, please.’
The housekeeper immediately obliged as Stella moved to take Grace’s tiny wrist.
The Last Dance Page 18
