The Lonely Heart

by Jacquelyn Webb

  “I mean, we’ll hang on to the apartment,” Sonia apologized. “But there will be plenty of room for all this stuff at the chateau. With Pierre deciding to work in France, we’ll spend most of our time commuting backwards and forwards anyway.”

  Melissa grinned. Sonia had the grace to blush. ‘This stuff’ included baby-clothes and shoes, and fluffy toys, and from the very back of the bigger linen press a carved wood cradle. Sonia was decidedly going sentimental!

  The photographs had been packed flat with the contents of the wardrobes, and the stored household linen, silver and glassware crated in more boxes.

  “I’m exhausted,” Sonia confessed. “I had never realized I was such a hoarder of junk.”

  “I would hardly call it junk,” Melissa objected. “It’s all going to be very useful when you set up housekeeping and need to entertain.”

  “Well, Sweetie,” Sonia laughed. “From now on I have been cured of collecting souvenirs and bargain-buying in my tripping around the world.”

  At that moment the door opened. Pierre put his head in cautiously. He looked relieved when he saw the cases and crates stored against the wall. He had fled from the inundation of clothes from the wardrobes as soon as they started their sorting out and packing.

  “Peter promised to show me over the factory,” had been his parting excuse.

  “And a fine time to return,” his wife greeted him.

  “You are finished, yes?”

  “We are finished yes,” Melissa assured him. “Is there any lunch ready?”

  “I came up to bring you both down,” Pierre replied.

  They went down the stairs arm in arm. From behind the double doors of the drawing room came the sound of raised voices.

  “Sounds like Moffatt,” Sonia remarked.

  They went into the drawing room. Nurse Moffatt, almost unrecognizable in a smart tailored suit, faced Uncle Harold, her face red with indignation.

  “And I tell you again, Mr. Davenport, Mrs. Hamilton gave it to me.”

  “A likely story,” sneered Uncle Harold. “Why should she give away a valuable watch like that?”

  “And you can hardly expect us to give you a reference,” snapped Aunt Cynthia. “What proof have we got that you didn’t just take it?”

  “Mrs. Hamilton gave it to me,” repeated the nurse, fighting back tears as she spoke.

  “Gave you what?” asked Peter’s voice, as he and Pamela came into the room behind the others.

  “Mrs. Hamilton gave me her watch as a keepsake, and Mr. Davenport has accused me of stealing it.”

  “It’s quite all right, Uncle Harold,” Peter said smoothly. “I was present when Grandmother gave Mrs. Moffatt the watch.”

  “That watch is valuable and should be put with the estate,” Uncle Harold grumbled. “If your grandmother did leave it to her in the will, then she can have it back when the rest of the stuff is sorted out.”

  Peter ignored him, and spoke directly to the nurse. “Was there a reason you came back today, Mrs. Moffatt?”

  “I came back to get a reference, but Mr. Davenport ...”

  “I will be only too happy to give you a reference. Is it for your job with the Manington family?”

  Peter escorted her out of the room and his voice faded as the door closed behind him.

  “Well, well,” Sonia drawled. “You are taking a lot on yourself, Uncle Harold! Refusing references and accusing her of stealing.”

  ”If you had any sense you would realize that everything belongs to the estate,” Uncle Harold roared back at her.

  “No business of yours,” Sonia said with a shrug. “You’re not one of the executors.”

  Uncle Harold and Pamela exchanged a quick, furtive glance. Uncle Harold smiled, suddenly good-humored.

  “Oh, yes I am, my dear.”

  “The will she made when you flounced out nearly two years ago named your uncle and myself as executors,” Aunt Cynthia explained, and her eyes were triumphant.

  Sonia shrugged and leaned against Pierre. The silence lasted until Peter walked back in, still with that amused expression on his face.

  “Any reason why we can’t start lunch? I’m starved,” he declared.

  They all walked through into the dining room. Melissa was glad to sit meekly beside Peter at the table and shelter behind her plate. Today she thought the Davenports were outdoing themselves in unpleasantness.

  “Peter, you of all people should know that any trinkets of your grandmother’s should be put towards the estate,” Uncle Harold said as he seated himself at the table.

  “Unless they are heirlooms, or she has specifically left them to someone,” Peter reminded him.

  Uncle Harold scowled down at his mutton broth. “Well, that doesn’t give that woman the right to help herself!”

  Pamela looked across the table at Sonia. “Of course, your marriage changes a few things.” Her voice was thoughtful, and her eyes hard and very bright.

  “I don’t think so,” Sonia said with a shrug.

  Aunt Cynthia finished unfolding her serviette to her satisfaction and then spoke. There was undisguised venom in her voice. “Yes, my dear. Perhaps you should have taken your grandmother's advice and married Peter. As his wife you would have inherited the extra block of shares.”

  Sonia’s face lost its unhappy tightness and relaxed. Her eyes were mocking. “My dear Aunt Cynthia! Haven’t you heard? Grandmother changed her will again!”

  “She couldn’t have,” Uncle Harold protested.

  “Why couldn’t she?” Peter asked courteously. He had finished his soup, and was tackling the salad with a very good appetite.

  “She would have been rambling and senile if she did,” Uncle Harold scoffed.

  ”The doctor and solicitor didn’t seem to think so,” Sonia informed him, her blue eyes wide and innocent.

  “She didn’t see the solicitor,” her uncle snarled. “I would have known if he called.”

  “But you did know when he called,” Sonia almost purred. “I believe you told him she was too sick to have the interview she had requested.”

  Her uncle’s face went grey, and he pushed away the salad he had been eating. Melissa also stopped pushing her salad around her plate. She suddenly remembered the odd incident of the elderly gentleman and his vintage Packard car and Nurse Moffatt running so fleetly through the shrubbery to stop him before he left.

  “I believe that Nurse Moffatt escorted him back inside,” Sonia continued. “And by an odd coincidence, the doctor was there as well.”

  “So I won’t have to trouble you for your services as an executor.” Peter’s voice was quite polite, but Uncle Harold deflated visibly.

  “And if you are interested, Uncle Harold, I have been left half the extra block of shares,” Sonia explained.

  “So Grandmother approved your marriage to a penniless Frenchman?” Pamela sneered.

  “Pierre’s mother, the Baroness,” and Sonia emphasized the word a fraction, “was a very dear friend of hers.”

  Melissa watched with glee as Uncle Harold’s jaw dropped. Far from cringing at the unpleasantness of the Davenports on the attack, she discovered to her surprise that she was actually enjoying their complete rout by Peter and Sonia.

  “Who gets the other half of her shares?” Aunt Cynthia demanded in a sharp tone.

  “It goes to my wife,” Peter explained. “Whoever she might be.” He turned to Melissa. “If we leave now, I can guarantee having you back in time for the afternoon visiting hours at the hospital. Have you finished your lunch?”

  “Of course,” Melissa agreed, shaking herself out of the paralysis that had enfolded her.

  She murmured a polite goodbye to the Davenports. She doubted the old man had heard her. He still huddled in his chair with a stricken look on his face. Aunt Cynthia gave her a distant nod and Pamela a very forced smile. Sonia gave her the usual quick impulsive hug.

  “See you back at the flat tonight, Sweetie,” she promised.

  Over her sh
oulder, Pierre winked at Melissa, and the three faces in the background framed him in dour disapproval. Melissa fled upstairs for her case. When she came down the stairs, she sat beside Peter in the car with a sigh of relief. It had been a very interesting lunch.

  “Sure I’m not rushing you away?” Peter asked.

  “Thank you, no,” Melissa said politely. “A little bit of the Davenports…”

  “Goes such a long way,” Peter finished. “Never mind. The next time you come down here, they will have wiped the dust off my house from their feet and be gone.”

  The emphasis on the words ‘the next time’ implied a promise that brought the color into Melissa’s face. She didn’t answer. The scene with the Davenports replayed itself in her mind. She was curious about the way Uncle Harold’s confidence had deflated at the mention of a new will.

  “So your grandmother did change her will?” she asked.

  “Despite Uncle Harold’s careful arrangements,” Peter explained. “She had decided to after you visited her, but the Davenports moved in to guard against the solicitor reaching her.” He laughed. “Sonia and Pierre were sent out of the way, and Pamela found an excuse for us to end up on the other side of the estate that morning.”

  “No wonder your Uncle Harold doesn’t feel inclined to be friendly to Nurse Moffatt,” Melissa mused. “I saw her take the solicitor back with her that day.”

  “Grandmother wanted the doctor there to witness her new will,” Peter explained. “He was always visiting her so no one took much notice. The old solicitor was hoping to slip in quietly, when Uncle Harold pounced and escorted him back to his car. Anyway, Nurse Moffatt had been asked to watch out for him and managed to whisk him into Grandmother.”

  “Good for Nurse Moffatt,” Melissa said.

  The conversation lapsed. Peter, although he seemed in a good mood, was content to concentrate on his driving, and Melissa was busy with her own thoughts. The silence lasted until Peter stopped his car in front of the small hospital.

  “I will drop your case at the flat later this evening,” he said, as he leaned across to open the door.

  He didn’t wait for her answer but waved and accelerated, and his white sports car vanished around a curve in the road. Melissa stared after him for a few seconds, and then shrugged. She was beginning to get used to his abrupt leave-takings. She hurried into the hospital ward. Her mother was already there, eyes alight and laughing at something her father was saying.

  He grinned as Melissa hurried in. “Hello, lass.”

  Melissa smiled back at him. She looked at her mother. They both smiled at each other.

  “What are you two grinning like Cheshire cats for?” he demanded.

  He was a lot better, even in the one day. He seemed stronger and more coherent in his speech. However, after a while, he sank back on the pillow and started to doze. This was the signal for the nurse to come over. She smiled as she pointed out that it was time for them both to leave.

  Melissa and her mother left immediately. They both felt light-hearted. There was a completely different atmosphere between them as they went home. After they had finished their dinner, Melissa’s mother walked to the bus stop with her.

  “He has to learn to read all over again,” her mother said happily. “We’re going to be very busy when he comes home next week.”

  The bus swung around the corner and slowed into the stop. Melissa’s mother kissed her. “He seems a nice young man you’ve got,” she said in parting.

  “I don’t quite know whether he is my young man,” Melissa admitted, but her mother hadn’t listened and was already waving down the hospital bus.

  Melissa’s bus connected with the train, and she settled herself for the long ride back to London. It was nice that her parents seemed to like Peter Darcy, but that didn’t make him her young man. She sighed, and the motherly woman sitting opposite her looked at her with concern.

  If only, she thought to herself, he didn’t affect me this way. After tonight I will never see him again anyway! Never, her heart questioned? She checked she had her ticket and stood up as the train slowed into the station. If tonight was going to be the last time that she was going to see him, she would farewell him with dignity and be aloof and unapproachable.

  The flat was dark and empty. She turned on all the lights and put the kettle on to make herself some coffee. The door opened. Sonia and Pierre had arrived. Pierre made trip after trip from his car, stacking cases against the wall.

  “Coffee on!” Sonia exclaimed. “Just what I feel like.”

  Pierre reached out a warning hand and tapped his wife’s shoulder firmly. “We go! Now!”

  Sonia shrugged, and then some hidden thought dimpled her face. “Back later, Sweetie. We have a previous engagement.”

  Pierre took Sonia firmly by the arm and led her towards the front door. He smiled at Melissa, his warm friendly smile. “She talks too much, that one.”

  Melissa followed them to the door rather forlornly. She wished they had stayed long enough to drink some coffee. At the moment, she didn’t want the company of her own thoughts. Another figure came up the steps, carrying a case. He raised a hand in mock warning to Sonia as she was bundled into the red sports car. Melissa stood back to let him in, her heart hammering.

  “Do come in, Peter.” She tried to sound casual but felt herself blushing.

  He put her case down and smiled at her. The silence between them lengthened.

  ”There was the matter of our unfinished business,” he said at last.

  “Is there?” she whispered.

  “I need to be put out of my misery,” he said. “You can’t keep leading me on and then changing your mind.”

  “I wasn’t …” She sneaked a quick appalled look up at him. His eyes were anxious and uncertain. Why would he have the impression she had been leading him on? She took a deep breath and tightened her stomach muscles. “You will have to define how I was changing my mind.”

  “Sonia said I have to let you make your own choice.”

  “You discussed me with Sonia?”

  “Your very best friend I went to for advice.”

  He reached into his pocket and produced a small, shabby, velvet-covered box. Melissa looked at the box. Really, Peter Darcy was the oddest person she had ever met in her life. She lifted the lid. The bluebell brooch nestled inside! Her heart sank. A farewell present!

  “I can’t accept it,” Melissa gasped. “It is a family heirloom! It should stay in the family!”

  “I intend it to stay in the family.”

  ”What choice did Sonia say I had to make?” Melissa whispered.

  “Melissa, you goose! Will you marry me?”

  “Your choice as well?” Melissa asked.

  “Of course,” he whispered.

  His arms went around her, warm secure arms. Melissa tightened her arms around his neck. Her knees had gone boneless and she needed support. “What about Pamela?” she asked.

  A tremor of amusement shook his body. She felt it through her growing delight and thudding heartbeat. “I sent them all packing! From now on any business transacted with the Davenports will be around the boardroom table and not over my dinner-table.”

  He bent his head to kiss her as a mocking voice asked, “Have you proposed yet?”

  Peter drew in a resigned breath, lifted his head and glared at Sonia. “I thought Pierre was supposed to be keeping you under control? Really, Sonia!”

  Behind Sonia Pierre spread apologetic hands.

  “I just had to know if my Melissa is part of our family yet. Did you give her the ring?” Sonia continued.

  Peter took the flat box from his pocket and fitted the narrow circlet of sapphires on Melissa’s finger. “It belongs with the brooch. Grandmother wanted you to have it.’”

  Melissa looked at the ring on her finger and looked up at him doubtfully.

  “Oh, yes! Grandmother was play-acting and blackmailing to the end,” Peter assured her. “She did know it was you but decided tha
t you wouldn’t say no to a dying woman.”

  “That was a dreadful thing to do,” Melissa said heatedly. “Besides, I don’t know...”

  “We’re a bad lot,” Sonia agreed.

  “Runs in the family,” Peter continued. “You’ve got to marry me anyway. You can’t go back on a death-bed promise.”

  Melissa looked at him with indignation, but his eyes were warm and teasing. Her dimple deepened beside her mouth, and her lips curved upwards. She realized it was useless to use the aloof, dignified and unapproachable act any more, and again nestled comfortably against him.

  “She saw through the imposture right from the start,” Sonia continued. “But it was you who caused her to rethink her will.”

  “And she wanted me to marry you, whoever you were,” Peter said. He tightened his arms around Melissa. “Who are we to go against Grandmother’s wishes?”

  “Exactly,” agreed Sonia. “I am absolutely delighted to welcome you into the family, Sweetie.”

  She pulled Melissa away from Peter to kiss her. Pierre followed her example with enthusiasm.

  “I, too,” he said, his warm brown eyes dancing.

  “If you don’t mind,” Peter said. “I want to kiss my own fiancée.”

  “Haven’t you kissed her yet?” Sonia teased.

  Pierre swept Sonia towards the door with a firm arm. He winked broadly at Peter and shut the door gently behind them. There was the last sound of Sonia’s chuckle, her heels tapping down the steps, the distinctive roar of Pierre’s car driving off, and then silence. Melissa rested her head on Peter’s shoulder and looked at the ring sparkling on her finger.

  “You can give notice tomorrow morning,” Peter ordered. “I don’t believe in long engagements!”

  Melissa went rigid, disbelief mixed with joy. Peter misunderstood her tension. He examined her face, and the exuberance faded from his own. “I never know where I stand with you, my little mouse,” he said humbly. “Is marriage and all the other old-fashioned nonsense okay with you?”

  “Yes,” agreed Melissa meekly. She raised her eyebrows in an imitation of Sonia’s mocking arch. “Just how much reassurance do you require?”

  “I have this insatiable insecurity,” Peter murmured, drawing her down on the couch beside him.