by Carola Dunn
At the lamp that stayed alight all night in the hall, he ignited a spill. He lit one of the candles, waited until the flame burnt steady, then turned to hand it to Letty. As she reached for it, he abruptly set it down again, fumbling behind him, and pulled her into his arms.
His lips were on hers, warm, gentle, yet insistent. His hand caressed the nape of her neck, sending tremors down her spine. Then he pulled off her cap, scattering her pins so that her hair cascaded about her shoulders.
He raised his head long enough to murmur, “Glorious!” His eyes burned into hers, and then his mouth met hers again and her bones melted.
Time stood still.
“Letty. Laetitia. Gladness.”
Was it his passionate whisper that brought her to her senses? She wrenched herself out of his arms. “Don’t! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”
She fled up the stairs, along dark passages, to the safety of her chamber, her chamber, hers alone, with a key in the door.
For hours Letty sat on the window seat, gazing blankly into the night. At last the chill penetrated her daze. Slowly, with numb fingers, she began to undress.
Her locket was gone. And her cap! Her hairpins, scattered on the floor of the hall.
With a dry sob, she wrapped a warm shawl about her and crept back down the stairs. The polished oak of the floor was bare, no betraying sign of cap or pins. Her locket, which could have dropped off any time by chance, lay on the table, beside the flickering lamp. She picked it up.
The catch was undone. He had looked inside, had seen the lock of steel grey hair that must be her father’s, that could not possibly be her young husband’s.
What Harry might make of it, she was beyond guessing.
He was long gone when she awoke in the morning. When she rang, Betsy brought her tea and toast instead of the hot water she expected.
“Her ladyship said she’s set the children their lessons, madam, and you’re to lie abed as long as you want. Oh, and here’s a package Mr Talgarth asked me to give you.” She delved into the pocket of her apron.
Flustered, Letty took the small parcel. “I daresay he has left something for the twins. They will miss him. Thank you, Betsy. I shall get up in half an hour.”
As soon as the chamber door closed behind the maid, Letty tore open the parcel: her cap, of course, and the hairpins—had he really called her hair glorious?
And a letter. She unfolded it with trembling fingers.
My dearest Letty—Give me leave to call you thus!—I depart for London with a heavy heart. Were our errand less important, were I able to tell my cousin the true reason I wish to stay—but I will not lie.
You are deeply offended, and rightly so, yet I meant no offence. Such ungentlemanly conduct is inexcusable, yet I dare to hope that your tender heart will excuse me. I can only plead that you were irresistible. You must be aware of my admiration, and you surely cannot suppose that I would toy with your affections! My aim is honourable—to offer you my hand and my heart. If Laetitia will be my wife, Gladness will be mine forever.
Forgive, my love,
your most devoted humble servant,
Harry Talgarth.
He did not understand. How could he understand? How could she tell him that marriage was what she feared?
* * * *
At first Catriona was quite pleased to see her daughter moping. Letty undoubtedly missed Sir Gideon. So did Catriona. One quickly became accustomed to having gentlemen about the house, she told herself.
Then, one evening, returning to the drawing room with a book from the library, she found Letty in tears. Damp patches on the blue muslin she was embroidering showed where the drops that trickled down her cheeks had fallen.
“My darling!” Without another word, Catriona took the sewing from her, sat down on the sofa beside her, and drew her into her arms. Just as when she was a child with some childish hurt, she sobbed on her mother’s shoulder. Just as when she was a child, Catriona ached for her grief.
Gradually the sobs stilled. Letty fumbled for a handkerchief and Catriona pressed one into her hand.
“Tell me.”
“Oh, Mama, I am so unhappy!” Letty wailed. “He kissed me the night before he left for Town.”
A cold shock took away Catriona’s breath. So Sir Gideon did love Letty.
It was what she had hoped for. If she felt her heart had been riven in her breast, it was because she had not thought him so ungentlemanly as to force his attentions on Letty before they had come to an understanding. Had he proposed, a kiss would not make Letty cry. She was no inexperienced maiden.
Catriona struggled to calm herself and to gather her scattered wits. Letty, still sniffling and with an occasional hiccup, awaited comfort. “I cannot believe he is dishonourable. He must have meant to make an offer. Did you give him a chance?”
“I ran away...”
“There you are, then. He had to leave in the morning—he had appointments with several influential men. He will ask for your hand when he returns. Such matters are not to be entrusted to a letter.”
“He left me a letter, Mama. He does want to marry me.”
Catriona was baffled. “Then why are you unhappy, darling? Surely I am not mistaken. You are fond of Sir Gideon, are you not?”
“Oh yes, I am, but it was Harry—Mr Talgarth who kissed me.”
“But...but...” The weight that lifted from her was quite out of proportion to the discovery that Sir Gideon had not, after all, taken advantage of Letty. “Oh dear, and you have always disliked Mr Talgarth, though I must say I have come to like him very well, and to respect him. However, I have frequently noticed that you are uncomfortable with him. My poor child, no wonder you are overwrought.”
“I do not dislike him, Mama.” Letty’s voice was so soft as to be almost inaudible. “I...I hold him in great esteem. If he makes me uneasy, it is because...I think...I think I wanted him to kiss me.”
“Gracious heaven, then why—?”
“I don’t want to marry him!” A huge sob shook her and tears again began to flow.
Catriona held her again, but she said quite severely, “You cannot marry Sir Gideon while you yearn for Harry Talgarth’s kisses.”
“I don’t want to marry Sir Gideon. I don’t want to m-marry anyone. I h-hated being married.”
As light began to dawn, Catriona felt a terrible guilt. Why had she never guessed? She had failed Letty when she was most needed. Was it too late to heal the hurt? She held her close, rocking her and murmuring nursery words of comfort.
“I love him, Mama,” Letty whispered into her shoulder, “but if I married him, he would...would expect to...to share my bed, wouldn’t he?”
Once she started, the sorry story poured out. Bart Rosebay, nineteen years old and off on a great adventure, had come drunk to his marriage bed. For Letty, losing her virginity had been painful and humiliating enough to make her cry. Bart had cursed her for a watering-pot and gone to sleep.
Every day of the three weeks before his departure, he had spent carousing with the friends who admired and envied his smart new uniform. His bewildered bride was left to face the curiosity and pity of his sisters, the polite indifference of his parents. If he came home at all at night, he was foxed and the dreadful experience repeated itself.
“I was going to kill myself before he came back from Spain,” Letty blurted out. “But then there were the twins. And then he was killed. I was glad when he was killed, Mama. It was almost the worst of all, being happy that he was dead because I’d never have to...to let him do that again. Only the twins have made it bearable. Was I...was having me enough for you?”
“Oh, my darling, you would have been, had I needed compensation. You were an added joy. Your papa was the gentlest, most considerate, most loving of lovers, and from the first I...” Her throat was too tight for speech. It was her turn to weep, for Jeremy and for the tender, passionate intimacy she would never know again.
Shocked, Letty put her arm around Catriona’s
shoulders and said helplessly, “Papa was different. Papa was the dearest man in the world.”
Catriona fought for composure. What she said now might alter the entire course of her daughter’s life. She took Letty’s hands in hers.
“Papa was special, Letty, but not, I am certain, unique. You must not judge all men by your husband. He was young and heedless and in a ferment over going off to war. Papa and I should never have let you marry him.”
Letty’s lips quivered. “It was my fault, Mama. I, too, was young and heedless, and would not listen to you.”
“That is what parents are for, to protect their children from their youth. We failed. It is not always an easy task.”
“I know!” said Letty feelingly, and Catriona returned her smile, memories of the twins’ scrapes flitting through her mind.
“Donald and Daphne obey Harry Talgarth,” she observed.
“Yes.” Letty was silent for a moment. “He is not a bit like Bart, is he?”
“Not a bit.”
“You think I should marry him.”
“You said you love him.”
“I do. I do, but...I’m frightened, Mama.”
“I cannot make up your mind for you,” Catriona said gently.
“What if I accept him and then find I cannot bear to...to be a proper wife to him? He will not understand. He will be hurt—I don’t want to hurt him—and he will hate me.”
Catriona nodded thoughtfully. “Did Bart ever kiss you before you were married?” she asked.
“Yes, once,” Letty admitted, puzzled.
“What did you feel?”
“A bit breathless. As if...as if something more ought to happen.”
“And when Harry kissed you?”
Letty crimsoned and looked down at her hands. “As if the world had gone away and there was nothing left but him, and I only existed where he touched me.”
“I doubt you will have any insuperable difficulties being a proper wife to him,” said Catriona dryly. “Nonetheless, it is only fair that he should be warned before you accept his hand.”
“Tell him about Bart?” Letty was appalled. “I cannot!”
“I shall, if you wish, but I believe you ought. His reaction will tell you a good deal about him, and you may change your mind. If he changes his, then you will be well rid of him! If not, then he will understand your fears and take care to dispel them.”
“I will try, Mama.” She kissed Catriona’s cheek. “Shall I ever be as wise as you?”
As they tidied away their sewing, Catriona felt exhausted and far from wise. Letty’s long-delayed disclosures were forcing her to confront her own feelings.
She was sorry for Sir Gideon’s disappointment when he learnt that Letty loved his cousin, but her chief emotion was relief. She could not have borne to see him married to her daughter, because she loved him herself.
And could anything be more foolish than a middle-aged widow in love?
* * * *
“Fireworks?” squealed Daphne. “Real fireworks?”
“Sshh.” Harry Talgarth grinned. “It’s a secret. We’ve been abroad so long we haven’t celebrated Guy Fawkes Day for years, but it’s Gideon’s birthday and I want to make a proper do of it.”
“His birthday tomorrow!” Catriona dropped her sewing in dismay.
“His fortieth. I took the liberty of writing from London to invite those of our neighbours who have children.”
“Heavens, I must speak to Cook. I wish you had told me sooner.”
“You are not to do a thing, ma’am. Gideon has already made arrangements for the traditional gathering of tenants and villagers as Mrs Rosebay described it to us.”
Ignoring his slight flush as he spoke Letty’s name, Catriona cried, “Yes, but a bonfire and mulled ale are scarcely sufficient entertainment for our...for your other guests, even with fireworks.”
“Can we have the bonfire too?” Donald asked anxiously.
“As well as the fireworks?”
“We’ve been building it.”
“And making a guy.”
“In splendid clothes.”
“And we’ve got chestnuts and potatoes to roast in the ashes.”
“But if you want just fireworks, that’s all right,” Daphne assured Harry earnestly. “That will be a special treat, even better than a bonfire.”
“We’ve never seen fireworks,” Donald confirmed.
“We shall most certainly have both,” Harry promised. “In fact, Gideon insisted on inspecting the bonfire the moment we arrived, before coming into the house, which is why he has not yet put in an appearance.”
Daphne heaved a deep sigh of pure joy. “Thank you, sir. Grandmama, please may we go to the stables and finish our guy?”
“Yes, but put on your coats first.” As they ran off, Catriona started to rise, saying again, “I must go and speak to Cook.”
“Indeed, ma’am, there is no need. Besides mulled ale there will be potatoes and chestnuts, not to mention gingerbread, apple turnovers, meat pies, and cocoa for the children. I warned the people I invited to expect simple fare, and I brought from Town the ingredients for punch for the gentlemen and negus for the ladies.”
“I see you have everything under control.” She subsided, inviting him to sit. “All the same, I wish you had told me sooner about Sir Gideon’s birthday. I should have liked to give him some small gift. He has been so very generous to all of us,” she added self-consciously and hurried on, “Are not fireworks dangerous?”
“They will be set off down by the lake, to avoid any possibility of fire, and I have hired a man from Vauxhall Gardens to be in charge.”
“How efficient you are, Mr Talgarth! You must have gone to considerable expense, I fear.”
“Nothing I cannot afford, ma’am. When Gideon made his fortune in India, I was not idle.” Abruptly he stood up and moved to lean on the mantel, gazing down into the fire. “I am well able to support a wife,” he said in an agitated voice. “Is Mrs Rosebay very angry with me?”
Catriona chose her words with care. “Not angry, no. She is...disturbed and afraid.”
“Afraid!” He groaned. “That I should have made her fear me!”
“She does not fear you, but herself. She will explain, but you must be patient with her.”
He swung round eagerly. “Then I may hope? When may I see her?”
“At dinner, if not before,” she said, smiling. “She is not trying to avoid you. However, if I may advise you, treat her as no more than a friend for the present. Let her choose her own time for explanations. Do not press her, Mr Talgarth.”
“I shall not, I swear it.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “You are the best of mothers, and I pray I may soon call myself your son. Will you not call me Harry, ma’am?”
She acquiesced, and he departed, a spring in his step, leaving her feeling unutterably aged. His mother! He was near thirty. And she was two years older than Sir Gideon—two years eight months to be precise. Nearly three years. What would be nothing if he were the elder was in fact an impassable gulf.
* * * *
The weather was perfect, clear with a hint of frost and a crescent moon sailing in the starry sky. Warm in her old cloak, Letty had to admit that with an excited twin hanging on to each hand, she was enjoying herself.
She stepped back as the seven-foot tower of kindling, faggots, and logs flared up. The heat from the bonfire was intense. Its ruddy light shone on a circle of small, thrilled faces and, behind them, on the parents enjoying their offspring’s rapture. The Marchbank servants passed through the crowd with trays of food and drink.
Every now and then, Letty caught a glimpse of Harry. With her mother and Sir Gideon, he was circulating among the guests, gentle and common, making sure everyone had what they wanted. He stopped to exchange a few words with her, as casual and noncommittal as he had been since his return to Marchbank the day before. Had he changed his mind before she even revealed her secret?
“The guy’s
on fire!” someone whooped as the flames reached the top of the pyre.
“We made it!” Donald screeched. “We made the guy!”
“Aahhh.” There was a collective sigh of satisfaction as the centre of the fire gave way and the traitor Guy Fawkes dived to his yearly doom.
“Look!”
The cry was taken up. “Look, down by the lake!”
Those on that side of the dying fire turned. The rest moved to join them. Down by the lake, three Catherine wheels spun, sparkling red, yellow and green. Daphne and Donald were by no means the only children jumping up and down and squealing. Indeed, Letty barely managed to limit herself to a gasp of delight. She, too, had never seen a fireworks show.
“So that’s what you were up to.” Sir Gideon’s laughing voice came from behind her. She glanced round, saw Harry Talgarth standing there, and quickly turned back to the fireworks.
“Ten years’ worth of birthday celebrations wrapped into one,” he said. “My man has been scurrying about to set them up since darkness fell, to keep the secret from you.”
As if the man from Vauxhall Gardens knew he had everyone’s attention, he set off a flurry of fire-lances, gold and silver stars, and Roman candles; squibs and crackers banged; serpents crawled along the ground, spitting sparks; the smell of gunpowder drifted up the slope. Even as Letty wondered at the ghastly, ghostly sight of faces illuminated by the glare of blue lights, she was very much aware of Harry standing close behind her.
At last there came a pause. “Keep your fingers crossed,” he murmured in her ear. “The fellow wasn’t sure he could get the set piece right in a hurry in the dark, with untrained men helping him.”
Then to one side appeared a French tricouleur. Beside it a ship in full sail blossomed. Opposite, another ship took shape, followed by the white ensign of the Royal Navy flying from the stern. The ships shot balls of fire at each other until the French flag winked out. The French ship faded and a cheer went up from the audience. The British ship spluttered out, and then the ensign, but before it was quite extinguished, a fiery red, white and blue Union Jack flourished in the centre.
