by Jane Jackson
Lucy stiffened. ‘You surely can’t think –’
‘I am going with him, Lucy. I’d like to go with your good wishes. Do you recall what my life was like back in Falmouth?’ After a moment Lucy nodded. ‘And do you remember the birds we saw in Shanghai? We’ve lived like that, you and I. Trapped in cages of expectation, of duty, and convention. But the doors have been opened, for both of us. Please, Lucy. I want to fly.’ She rested her head on the bony knee utterly drained. There was nothing more she could do or say.
After several long moments she felt her cousin’s fingers stroke her shorn hair and heard her whisper, ‘God bless and keep you safe, child.’ Raising her head she saw Lucy trying to smile as tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘Promise you’ll write to me?’
As the schooner eased out into the river, Susanna looked up from the pink jade lying on her palm. How much had happened since the Portuguese pressed it into her hand. She had suffered but she had survived. Magic? A stubborn refusal to give in? Or something else. Loving and loved, she had discovered within herself reserves of strength, compassion and understanding as powerful as they were unexpected.
Filled with gratitude for all that was good in her life, she closed her fingers over the medallion. She thought of Meredith but saw instead the mound of fresh earth in a corner of the garden. Her mind shied away. Some memories were still too painful.
The crew’s shock at her appearance had been quickly replaced by a clumsy inarticulate solicitude she found deeply touching.
Hearing Lowell hand over command to Tom Binney she felt her heart quicken as he crossed the deck behind her. His large hand covered hers on the wooden rail. She leaned against him. Her dress had survived its washing. Before she put it on Lucy had applied more linseed oil and limewater to her back. Already it was much less sore. She watched with Lowell as Kewkiang receded into the distance.
‘Tom and Oliver were quite prepared to let you have their cabin,’ he said dryly as he led her below.
‘That was kind.’
‘But unnecessary. You will remain here,’ he indicated his bunk. ‘And I,’ he added as she glanced up quickly, ‘will use the sea-berth.’ He caressed her flushing cheek with his fingertips. ‘You need rest and time to heal.’ She looked down knowing he was right yet obscurely disappointed. He cupped her chin and gently raised her head. ‘Susanna …’
Glimpsing the hunger in his eyes she felt a leaping response. His lips brushed hers. Her eyes closed and she held her breath, entranced by the sensation of his mouth against her own. Her head swam and her pulse raced. He drew away. Bereft she forced her eyes open. His jaw was knotted with tension and she saw his throat work as he swallowed.
Anxiety fluttered like a swarm of butterflies. ‘Wasn’t it …? Didn’t I …? Don’t you …?’
He lay his index finger on her lips. ‘Hush. It was perfect. Now try to rest.’
‘What will you be doing?’ If he couldn’t be with her she wanted to picture him in her mind.
His mouth twisted. ‘Keeping extremely busy.’
Stepping onto the jetty, Lowell took Susanna’s hand, feeling her grip tighten as she surveyed the bustling waterfront and broad avenue beyond. Aware of the curious glances her cropped hair and scorched dress were attracting he drew her arm protectively through his.
‘I’ll take you to the hotel. After you’ve bathed and rested you can choose colours and materials for your new wardrobe. I’ll ask Soman Prakash to send –’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To see my father.’
‘I’d rather come with you,’ she said quickly. ‘If it’s not inconvenient?’
He squeezed her hand. ‘Of course it isn’t. I want him to meet you. I thought you might prefer to wait until …’ he indicated her dress. ‘I understand women attach great importance to such matters.’
‘That is something else of which I have limited experience.’ She made a wry face. ‘I love colour but my father required us to dress as plainly as possible. It’s funny. I’ve spent my life trying not to be noticed. But with my hair like this I shall be stared at regardless of what I wear. Anyway,’ she sobered, ‘if your father is so very ill you really should see him as soon as possible.’
‘I love you,’ he whispered.
Her smile was radiant. ‘And I you. With all my heart.’
Entering the elegant high-ceilinged room Susanna was at once aware of a strange smell. She had prepared herself for the particular odour of incurable illness. But this was different. The air in the room was hot, close, and hazed with smoke. She glanced quickly at Lowell. His face was totally devoid of expression, the mask with which he concealed deep and powerful feelings. She loved him so much.
‘Father, I want you to meet Susanna Elliot.’
Susanna walked towards the skeletal figure hunched under a rug in the high-backed armchair and held out her hand.
‘Good morning, Mr Hawke.’
Fever-bright eyes flickered over her. The gaunt face was greyish-yellow but for twin blotches of hectic colour on the prominent cheekbones. A spasm, which might have been amusement or pain, briefly tightened the thin mouth. Then he looked straight past her to glare at his younger son.
‘Where’s John?’
Susanna folded her hands, glad Lowell had warned her, and thankful for the training that enabled her to appear undaunted by his father’s rudeness.
‘I gave him your message.’
‘And?’
‘He’s not coming back.’
Though Joseph Hawke remained totally still Susanna sensed something crumble inside him.
‘You told him I’d leave it all to you?’
Lowell nodded.
‘I don’t believe you. You can’t have.’
Lowell shrugged. ‘I told him. He said he’d chosen a different life. He looks well. And he’s happy.’
‘Happy?’ Joseph spat venomously, but his thin mouth trembled. His head jerked up. ‘Why is she here?’
‘Because if you leave the business to me Susanna will be running it.’
Deep grooves furrowed the thin skin stretched across Joseph’s forehead. He glowered at Susanna, his gaze brutal and intimidating. ‘A woman?’ he sneered, deliberately offensive. ‘What’s wrong with your hair? Some ridiculous new fashion?’
‘That’s enough.’ Lowell took Susanna’s arm. ‘Come along, I’ll –’
‘It’s all right,’ she reassured him. Turning back to Joseph she forced a smile and found it less difficult than she expected. ‘I wish it were a new fashion. I wouldn’t feel quite so conspicuous.’
Suddenly she recognised in Lowell’s father the same fear, the same awful sense of isolation, that had destroyed Meredith. Filled with compassion she calmly folded her hands. ‘I was in a fire, Mr Hawke. Believe me, it looked far worse before it was cut than it does now.’
He fixed her with a narrow glittering stare. ‘Sit down,’ he snapped waving a bony claw at her. ‘You’re making my neck ache.’
‘Father,’ Lowell warned as Susanna sank gratefully into a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace.
‘Are you another of his fancy women?’ Joseph demanded.
‘Father!’ Lowell’s roar made them both jump.
Susanna raised a hand to forestall him. ‘It is a fair question.’ A scalding blush flooded her face. ‘Not polite perhaps, but understandable.’ Though Lowell would do his utmost to protect her she had to share the responsibility. ‘Not yet, Mr Hawke, but I hope to be soon. And I shall be the last.’
Joseph Hawke began to shake and his gaunt face creased into a strange grimace. Then she realised he was laughing. ‘Damn me, girl, I like your spirit.’
‘Come along, Susanna.’ She felt Lowell’s hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ve put up with quite enough for one day.’
‘Where are you going?’ Joseph demanded, his gaze darting between them.
Lowell answered. ‘I have some other business –’
‘Go on then,’ Joseph waved Lowell away. ‘But leav
e her here. I want to know what makes her think she can run my company.’
Chapter Thirty-three
Hearing the front door close and the sound of voices in the hall Susanna lifted the black crepe over the brim of her hat.
It was four weeks since her return to Shanghai. Joseph Hawke had died two days ago. She had been reading to him. A sudden stiffening, a caught breath, a long slow exhalation: all over before she could move.
‘An easier death than he deserved,’ Lowell had muttered looking down at the shrivelled figure, but Susanna had seen tears in his eyes.
For years the house had known only anger and grief. But Joseph’s departing spirit had taken with it the rage and pain that had encased him like a shell and tainted the atmosphere. Now tranquillity permeated the house. Her house.
She still found it hard to believe. Joseph hadn’t said a word to her about his intentions. He had told Lowell, but sworn him to secrecy. She hoped that Joseph had at last found peace and that he knew how grateful she was.
Footsteps crossed the landing and Lowell appeared in the doorway. Her heart quickened as it always did each time she saw him. His black coat and trousers gave him a slightly saturnine air. His thick hair was neat for once. The scar on his forehead now a thin white line against his tanned skin.
Less than three hours ago the big double bed with its neat coverlet had been a tangle of damp sheets and pillows as they clung together, hot, breathless, melting into the subtle rhythm that deepened, gathered power, rose like a curling wave, and swept them both to gasping, shuddering fulfilment. Then holding her with infinite tenderness he had rained kisses on her face and whispered his adoration.
Their eyes met and he smiled; knowing, calming, encouraging. ‘Ready?’
Nodding she followed him down. But at the door to the drawing room she caught his sleeve. ‘Will you give us a moment alone?’ He hesitated then stood back, and Susanna entered by herself.
Marjorie was standing by the window. Her dress of black silk and taffeta was styled in the very latest fashion, and decorated with rosettes, bows and inserts of lace. A froth of fine black veiling crowned the small hat perched on top of her elaborately coiffed blonde hair. At first glance she epitomised sophisticated elegance. Then Susanna noticed the pallor cosmetics could not hide, and the constant smoothing of the black silk gloves over taut knuckles.
Closing the door Susanna was face to face with Lowell’s wife for the first time. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’
‘I’m not at all sure why I did.’ Lines of strain surrounded Marjorie’s blue eyes. ‘Except …’
‘You’re curious?’ Susanna smiled. ‘Do sit down. Would you care for some tea?’
‘No, thank you.’ Marjorie perched on a rosewood and green velvet sofa. ‘I should have replied to your letter.’
‘It’s of no consequence.’ Susanna seated herself opposite. ‘We both had much to consider.’
Marjorie’s alabaster forehead furrowed. ‘You are not at all what I expected. I confess I am astonished at your decision. I know Lowell would have preferred –’ she looked away, her composure on the verge of cracking.
‘Lowell loves me,’ Susanna said quietly. ‘And I love him. I hope you will forgive my candour but I see no other way of making my point.’
Marjorie stiffened. ‘Which is?’
‘That as you have no desire for the intimate privileges of married life it cannot be said I am depriving you of them. Nor do I wish to usurp your position and status in society as Lowell’s wife and Joseph Hawke’s daughter-in-law. So with those facts in mind it seems only proper that you and Lowell should receive the funeral guests together, and in your home.’
Marjorie’s gaze widened in comprehension. ‘I wondered … I thought he might want …’
Susanna clasped her hands in her lap, happiness shimmering through her like liquid sunshine. ‘I already have more than I ever dreamed of.’
Marjorie stared at her. ‘You are content to remain his mistress?’
Susanna nodded. ‘In fact, strange as it may seem my position gives me certain advantages: particularly in relation to the business. As Miss Elliot I am an unknown quantity. Naturally I am still required to prove my ability. But I don’t have to worry about my decisions reflecting badly on a husband. Nor do I have to put up with patronising condescension from men with loud voices and empty heads who consider the only place for a married woman is at home.’
Marjorie’s burst of laughter took them both by surprise. ‘Forgive me, Miss Elliot –’
‘Please call me Susanna. I hope you see now that there is no reason for us to be enemies.’
Marjorie rose gracefully to her feet and smoothed her glove again. ‘I believe you’re acquainted with Geraldine Wilbury?’
‘We have never been formally introduced. But I met her, and a friend of hers, while I was working for Mr Prakash.’
Marjorie nodded. ‘Not a kind woman.’ She held Susanna’s gaze. ‘The gossips have had sport with me long enough. If you and I were to present a united front …’ Her brows rose.
Relief spread a slow smile across Susanna’s face. ‘My thoughts exactly.’
Marjorie’s lips twitched. ‘My dear, I can hear teeth grinding already.’
The door opened to admit Lowell whose first glance was for Susanna. ‘Tau is waiting for you in the carriage. You’re sure you want to go?’
‘Quite sure.’ A frisson of nervousness tingled down her spine. ‘As Mr Hawke was so well-known in Shanghai I imagine there will be a lot of people paying their last respects.’
‘Oh yes,’ Lowell smiled grimly.
Marjorie’s sigh held regret. ‘I did not find him an easy man.’
‘Few did,’ Lowell murmured. Then he smiled at Susanna. ‘Except you. I don’t know how you put up with his ranting.’
She gave a small shrug. ‘He reminded me of Meredith. And it wasn’t for very long.’
Marjorie addressed her husband. ‘Susanna and I have reached a most amicable understanding. I would like her to join us at the house after the service.’ She turned to Susanna. ‘Will you come? We might as well start as we mean to go on.’
Seeing the light of battle in Marjorie’s eyes Susanna gave an impish grin. ‘I should be delighted. Thank you.’
Bowing briefly to his wife Lowell caught Susanna’s hand. ‘You are amazing,’ he murmured raising it to his lips. ‘And I adore you.’ Then the corners of his mouth tilted in an ironic smile. ‘I can see this being a most interesting afternoon.’
A bitter December wind howled outside the bedroom window. But the icy blast was mild compared to Lowell’s eyes. Despite the glowing fire Susanna shivered and drew her quilted silk robe more closely around her.
‘How long would you have tried to hide it from me?’ he demanded.
‘I wasn’t –’ Susanna began, but his anger and hurt were such that he didn’t even hear.
‘Do you think I did not see the difference? Feel the changes? I know your body as well as I know my own.’
‘Lowell, please –’
‘I will not have my child born a bastard, Susanna.’
‘That’s why I didn’t tell you immediately.’
‘What do you mean?’ He glared at her, black brows drawn down.
‘As soon as I suspected … I guessed you would want …’ She gestured helplessly. ‘Surely you understand I needed to be sure?’
‘But not to tell me –’ he shook his head, turning away.
Scrambling onto her knees Susanna threw her arms around him and pressed his shaggy head to her swelling breasts, ignoring their tenderness as she sought to comfort him. ‘You knew,’ she kissed his thick rumpled hair.
‘Of course I knew.’ He held her close. ‘That’s not the point. I wanted you to tell me.’
She kissed him again then sighed. ‘Are you really determined –?’
He reared back, features hardening. ‘You are carrying my child. That changes everything. But you are not to worry. I will tell Marjorie.’
‘No, Lowell. It was my promise. It’s my responsibility. I’ll call on her this afternoon.’
Though there was much about Marjorie she would never understand, Susanna had found her a staunch ally. Together they had calmly ignored the flurry of rumour and gossip. And her dignity in the face of what must surely be every married woman’s nightmare won Susanna’s boundless admiration.
‘A baby?’ Marjorie’s expression betrayed a tangle of conflicting emotions. Beneath her primrose tea gown her posture was stiff and defensive. ‘How nice.’
‘I haven’t come to gloat,’ Susanna reproved gently. ‘You should know me better than that.’
The fragile porcelain cup and saucer rattled as Marjorie passed it across and her mouth trembled as she tried to smile. ‘I’m sorry. When is it due?’
‘Mid-June, I think.’
‘And how are you feeling?’
‘Wonderful. Perhaps a little more tired than usual. But apart from that I feel marvellous.’
‘And Lowell?’
A bubble of happiness burst softly in Susanna’s chest flooding her with radiant warmth. ‘He’s thrilled.’ But the mention of Lowell’s name reminded her of why she had come. ‘Marjorie –’
Gazing at her delicately patterned teacup Lowell’s wife set it down very carefully. ‘You want the annulment.’
‘Not me. But Lowell does. For the sake of our child.’
Marjorie glanced up. ‘So why did he not come himself?’
‘He wanted to. But I persuaded him it was my responsibility. I was the one who promised you nothing would change. And now I’m going back on my word. I’m so sorry.’
Marjorie looked at her hands. ‘I’ll have to leave Shanghai.’
‘I don’t see why. It won’t be any worse than the last six months, and we survived that. In fact I’d say we’ve come through it remarkably well.’
‘Yes, we have, haven’t we? Do you really think –? You see I don’t know anyone … I have no relations anywhere else …’
‘Stay here then.’
‘How odd that I should think of you as a friend.’ Abruptly Marjorie’s face closed into the social mask she rarely permitted to slip. ‘Of course I know why.’
