‘I didn’t think she’d be too pleased,’ he said.
‘Why not?’
‘Well – the young lady is very pretty. And sort of – well, sort of a bit cheeky. And she implied to Miss Lytton that—’
‘Yes? What did she imply?’
‘That more was going on than there had been.’
‘So something had been going on?’
‘Not – not really.’
‘But something?’
He hesitated.
‘Mr Ford,’ said Celia severely, ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything. What exactly had been going on?’
‘Well, she was after me. I did know that.’
‘Really?’
It was hardly surprising. Any young lady worth her salt would have been after Mr Ford.
‘How – why were you so sure about that?’
‘Because – that is, I thought – well, the other night she – she did kiss me. Just goodnight, really, of course.’
‘She kissed you? I see. And did you kiss her?’ Celia was becoming rather engrossed in this; it was hugely intriguing. She saw him looking startled, said quickly, ‘I’m sorry. It’s just, as I say, I need to have all the facts.’
‘I—I suppose so, yes, I did.’ Humour briefly crossed his face. ‘Didn’t have much choice really. And she had been making it clear she liked , me.’
‘So then you invited her to your house?’
‘Well, in a manner of speaking, yes.’
‘Mr Ford, that’s a fairly clear manner of speaking, I would have thought.’
‘Yes. I suppose so. But it was only to do the leaflets.’
‘Oh really?’
He hesitated. Then ‘I suppose I did want her to come, I liked her. But it was only – oh, dear God, I’m stupid.’
‘It does seem as if you might be. What are your feelings for Miss Lytton? If I might ask?’
‘Oh,’ he said simply, ‘oh, I love her.’
‘You love her?’
‘Yes. Very much.’
‘So you lie to her. You invite another girl to your house, a girl who you know perfectly well finds you attractive, who, I would guess, you in turn find attractive, who will probably cause you trouble . . .’
‘Yes,’ he said, his voice very low, ‘yes that’s all perfectly right, I’m afraid.’
‘But why?’
Jago looked at her.
There was a long silence. Then, ‘For – for fun I suppose,’ he said. ‘Fun? You risk a relationship that’s important to you, for fun?’
‘I – suppose I did. Yes. I – well, I think that’s just about the size of it. She’s – well she’s a wonderful woman, Miss Lytton, but she isn’t exactly fun. And—’ he hesitated.
‘Yes?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘No, please tell me.’
‘Well I’m always the underdog,’ he said finally, meeting her eyes, his own half amused, half embarrassed, ‘she’s got everything, Miss Lytton has, the money, the – the class, the education, the position. I can never win. This other young lady, she thought I was wonderful. It might have been wrong of me, but that was really nice. Just for once.’
She looked at him, suddenly and sharply touched with sympathy. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly, ‘yes, I can understand that. I really can. But it was still very wrong. What you did. Wrong and terribly hurtful for LM – for Miss Lytton. And I don’t see what I can do.’
‘Lady Celia,’ he said, ‘Please. I do need your help.’
‘Yes, I daresay you do. But—’
‘Haven’t you ever done something,’ he said suddenly, ‘quite different of course, but still something that you felt you couldn’t help? That you knew you were going to regret?’
‘Possibly,’ she said carefully, ‘but I really don’t think we need to debate that now. It’s hardly going to help you.’
He was silent.
‘What you have to do,’ she said slowly, ‘is go and see her. Tell her everything you’ve told me. Even about – well about feeling you couldn’t help it. Try to make her understand.’
‘She won’t see me,’ he said with a shuddering sigh, ‘don’t think I haven’t tried. All last night, I just sat on her doorstep. And this morning, I was still there. She just stepped over me. She won’t listen to me.’
‘Well I’m hardly surprised,’ said Celia, ‘I’m afraid.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘neither am I. But – well I do love her. And she loves me.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yes, she does. And she needs me,’ he added after a moment.
Celia thought fast. That was probably true. LM did need him. He had clearly been making her happy. It might be a long time, if ever, before she found someone else. And she felt instinctively that, in spite of some rather regrettable behaviour, he was actually a good man. Probably because of it. It was a rather sad, poignant story. She didn’t suppose LM was much fun. In the way he meant. He was obviously younger than her, and hungry for pleasure. And it must be very hard, being a man in so subservient a position. There was – or had been – an echo in her own situation, with Oliver.
‘Look,’ she said suddenly, ‘I’ll talk to her. I’ll try and get her to see you.’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘Oh, Lady Celia, would you? I’d be so grateful to you.’
‘Well don’t start being grateful yet. She hasn’t even listened to me. Let alone you. But I’ll do what I can. Only I have to be quite quick because I’m going away tonight, on a trip.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I know, she told me. On the Titanic. What an adventure. What I wouldn’t give to go on that.’
She looked at him and smiled for the first time.
‘I hope you’d give up this other young lady,’ she said, ‘for a start. But yes, it should be wonderful. I do know how lucky I am. Now you go and sit downstairs, and I’ll telephone Miss Lytton and see what I can do for you. I’ll come down when or if I have some news.’
It was twenty minutes later that she found him, with his head in his hands, sitting in reception. She put out her own hand, touched him gently on the shoulder.
‘If you go up to Hampstead straight away, she will at least see you. I can’t promise any more than that. Now I must go. I have a boat to catch.’
‘She’s dreadfully hot,’ said Lettie, ‘and her pulse is that fast. Breathing funny too. I don’t know that we shouldn’t get the doctor back.’
‘She’s perfectly all right,’ said Nanny, ‘she’s asleep isn’t she? Best left. We shouldn’t worry Lady Celia. It wouldn’t be right. Spoil her trip.’
‘But Nanny—’
‘Lettie, she’s no worse than Venetia was. Look what happened to her. Forty-eight hours, and right as rain. You’ve really got to trust my judgment on this.’
‘Yes, all right, Nanny. Oh, there’s her car now. You don’t think we should tell her?’
‘No, Lettie, I don’t.’
‘You may come in, just for a moment,’ said LM, ‘but I have only five minutes. I really am extremely busy.’
Her voice was cold, detached; she looked at Jago as if he was a stranger, a travelling salesman come to waste her time. He stepped inside.
‘Could we – could we sit down somewhere?’
‘I don’t see any real necessity for that. Since it will be such a short conversation.’
‘Meg—’ His voice was heavy, shaky with emotion.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m so – sorry.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Yes. Very, very sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘I should have thought,’ said LM, ‘that was rather obvious. From what I saw, at any rate. A young, rather attractive woman. Overcoming you to a considerable extent. Well, I suppose it was natural, after all.’
‘Yes,’ said Jago, taking a deep breath, ‘yes, it was. Natural, I mean.’
LM physically blenched. She went very white.
‘I think you should leave at once,’ she said, ‘if th
at is all you can offer me. By way of explanation.’
‘It is,’ he said, ‘yes.’
She stood up, walked over to the front door, opened it.
‘Good evening,’ she said.
‘Meg! Meg, don’t. Don’t be like this.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she said, a red flush rising now in her pale face, ‘how do you expect me to be? Forgiving? Understanding? I’m sorry, Jago, but you read me very wrongly if that is the case.’
‘I don’t expect that, of course,’ he said, ‘but I – hoped for it.’
‘I daresay you did. Well, you are to be disappointed, I’m afraid. Please leave.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘I won’t leave. Not till I’ve had my say. Then I’ll go. Shut the door, Meg. If you will.’
She looked at him; he seemed more authoritative suddenly, less demeaned. She shut the door again. ‘Go on then,’ she said, ‘have your say.’
‘It was – natural as you say. None the better for it. I don’t feel any less ashamed. But that was what it was. She was pretty and scheming and she got the better of me. It didn’t change how I feel for you, Meg. It didn’t make me love you less.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ she said, ‘what am I supposed to do now? Give you my blessing, send you off to see her whenever you want to?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘no, of course not. Just – see it my way. Not the – the being unfaithful. It was only a kiss and a cuddle, mind.’
‘Jago, I don’t want this sort of detail.’
‘You do,’ he said, ‘well, you should. It’s important. I would never bed another woman, never ever. I couldn’t. Not after you, not after knowing you. It would be unthinkable. Horrible.’
‘I see,’ she said. She sounded grim; but there was a gleam of something forming in her dark eyes: humour? Understanding? He took courage from it.
‘No. But I can’t help finding someone – attractive. That’s what’s natural. No one can help that.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Well – no one but you,’ he said and risked a grin. She stared back at him, stony-faced. Too soon to grin. He hurried on. ‘But what I did, inviting her to my place, the lying, that was unforgivable. I could help that. And for hurting you, making you so unhappy. I feel so ashamed, Meg. So very ashamed.’
She looked at him, said nothing.
‘I love you,’ he said, ‘hard for you to believe it, just at the moment, but I do. I love you like I never loved anyone. Well, there’s not been many of course. But – more than – more than anyone. Ever.’
He didn’t say Annie’s name: clearly feeling it would be the ultimate disloyalty. LM felt deeply moved; tears rose behind her eyes. She blinked hard, she couldn’t afford that. Not tears. Not now.
‘And there could never be another. Never,’ he said, ‘not after what we’ve had, what you’ve shown me.’
‘I have to say,’ she said, and her voice was softened, despite her efforts to prevent it, ‘your behaviour hardly illustrates that.’
‘Meg! You’re not listening to me. I’m talking about love. Not – not a bit of nonsense.’
‘That bit of nonsense,’ she said, ‘was very bad. For me.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘I know it was. You don’t have to keep telling me. But I want it to be over. For both of us. I want us to be together again. So much.’
‘How can I trust you?’ she asked, and she could feel herself softening, almost against her will, ‘that’s the thing, Jago. Ever again?’
‘You’ll have to,’ he said simply. ‘There’s nothing else you can do. Either trust me, or say goodbye.’
She was silent.
‘Thing is,’ he said, ‘what I haven’t said, it’s not always easy for me. You being so clever and so on, and having everything.’
‘I don’t have everything, Jago,’ said LM coolly. But she allowed herself now to smile.
‘Yes, you do. Money, education, your career. That’s what I call everything. I never realised, till I talked to those women, how important Lyttons was, how important you must be. It made me feel pretty small. Feeble. With – well with her, just for a while I had more. I was the one in charge. I think that had a bit to do with it. Quite a lot, matter of fact.’
LM stared at him; it was her turn to feel small, demeaned. She had never actually considered that: how difficult it must all be for Jago. Not within the confines of their relationship, at any rate. She had enjoyed being in charge as he put it; not in an arrogant way, perhaps, but enjoyed it, nevertheless, always the one to give, to offer, to – well, to have. Never to take, never to feel gratitude. She looked down the years, saw it as he must surely see it, saw herself inviting Jago into her house, giving him fine food, good wine, presents, always giving, and suddenly felt ashamed.
She took a breath, to tell him – what? How? But he spoke first. ‘Thing is, except in bed, it never is me. In charge that is. But no, that’s wrong, isn’t it? Then it’s both of us. Which is how it should be, of course.’
LM gave in to the tears. They flowed, unstaunched, down her face, silent, aching tears; she stood there, quite still, crying, looking at him, across the hall. Finally she stopped, held out her hand; he stepped forward and took it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said again, ‘so sorry I made you unhappy.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘Perhaps I – well perhaps I can understand a little now, at least. Which is not to say I ever want anything like it, anything—’ she smiled again, ‘anything natural happening again.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘no, it won’t.’
‘And I’m sorry, too. About – well about how you feel. I hadn’t considered it before. I don’t know what I can do about it, but I will try.’
‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘I don’t want any of that. Not you changing, Meg. I love you how you are. If you can believe it.’
‘I—think I can,’ she said, ‘and I love you too. Shall we – that is – would you like to – stay for a while?’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘yes, that’d be nice. Thank you.’
Brunson let Celia in, told her Mr Lytton was upstairs, packing.
‘Truman is ready with the car to take you to the station, Lady Celia. You have to leave in just over thirty minutes.’
‘I know, Brunson, I know. Goodness knows how I’m going to manage. Where are the children?’
‘The girls are all asleep as far as I know, Lady Celia. Master Giles is out at the house of a friend.’
‘Yes, of course. I’d forgotten. But he’ll be back in time to say goodbye?’
‘I imagine so, Lady Celia.’
She ran upstairs to their room. Oliver looked at her; he was flushed and exasperated-looking. ‘Why on earth are you so late? We have to leave in—’
‘In thirty minutes. I know. I was doing something. God, Oliver, I shall be glad to get on that train tonight. Then nothing and no one can stop us. How marvellous. Don’t worry, my darling, I can be ready. I’m almost all packed. Just my vanity case. I really think when we get back I shall have to see about getting my own maid. It’s too much for me to do, especially when we’re so busy socially. Anyway, give me twenty minute’s peace, and why don’t you go up to the nursery. Say goodbye to the girls?’
‘I’ve already been. They’re all asleep. Nanny was very anxious that I shouldn’t wake them.’
‘But – oh well, perhaps it’s for the best. Look, just leave me alone and I’ll be ready much more quickly. Do you know, in spite of everything, I’m terribly excited.’
‘Me too, my darling. Me too.’
Barty was trying to stifle her coughing in her pillow. She wasn’t sure where she was, sometimes she thought she was back in Line Street, in the bed with her brothers, and then she felt she was falling through the bottom of her bed, down and down to the bottom of the Lytton house, in a kind of hot swirling darkness. During the times she thought she was in Line Street, she kept calling for her mother; but she didn’t come, only Nanny, looking fierce, to spoon more cough mixture down her. She’d h
ad so much now she’d started being sick with it. Nanny had begun to threaten her now with more castor oil if she bothered Lady Celia.
‘I don’t want her worried if she comes up here, knowing you’re ill. It would be very wrong of you. There’s nothing seriously the matter with you, in fact you’re getting up in the morning, I’m not having you lying here, being waited on another day. Now you just get to sleep and stay that way; that’s what the doctor said you had to do.’
Barty knew quite well the doctor had said more than that but her tongue felt swollen and her throat was so painful, she couldn’t possibly have said so. She couldn’t have made the slightest sound of any sort; she had no idea why they were so worried about her bothering Aunt Celia. She did try to get up once because she wanted to go the lavatory, but even sitting up made her feel so ill she lay down again. She would just have to wet the bed. She was past caring.
Packed, dressed in her travelling outfit – a beige, tailored suit, in the style favoured by Queen Alexandra, with a wonderful wide-brimmed hat – Celia ran up to the nursery floor. It was silent; she opened the door of the day nursery stealthily. Nanny was sitting by the fire, mending. She rose, raised her finger to her lips.
‘They’re all three fast asleep, Lady Celia,’ she said, ‘I know you wanted to say goodbye to them, but I really think they’re best left. They’ll only be upset if they see you now.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Celia, ‘but I wouldn’t wake them, Nanny, I just want to look at them. I’m not going to see them for more than three weeks.’
‘Well – be all right if you went in to the twins, I suppose,’ said Nanny, ‘but maybe not Barty.’
‘Why not?’
‘She was crying earlier. For her mum. You know how she does sometimes. I gave her a cuddle, read her a story, and she went off fine. But if she woke – well. Best not risk disturbing her.’
‘Yes. Yes, I suppose you’re right. Oh, dear, poor little Barty I do wonder sometimes—’
‘Don’t you worry about her. She’s happy as a sandboy most of the time.’
‘I hope so. Oh, goodness, look at the time. I’ll just pop in, look at the twins—’
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