The Granville Affaire

by Una-Mary Parker

  She was consumed with jealousy towards the woman who was his wife, safely tucked up in Devon now with his children, all of whom he obviously adored. Loved so much, in fact, he’d forgotten all about her. And the poor little baby she was carrying. If Daniel didn’t want her, he wouldn’t want their baby either, so there was no point telling him she was pregnant now.

  Stuffing a handkerchief into her mouth to deaden the sound of her sobs, she wept as much for herself as she did for her baby who would never know his real father.

  How could Daniel behave in this uncaring way towards her… when they’d been so much in love? she asked herself, over and over again. Perhaps he’d never loved her? Was sex all he’d wanted? Had she just been a bit on the side, while his real devotion was confined to his family?

  She eventually fell asleep, worn out with emotion, and crushed by heart-broken disappointment.

  As soon as she awoke, some hours later, the memory of their conversation came flooding back. Fool! she thought. What a bloody fool I’ve been! Why did I go off the rails like that? Of course I don’t want to finish with him, in spite of what I said. What’s the matter with me? Juliet felt as if being pregnant was turning her into another person; a pathetic clinging hysterical woman, when she’d always been so independent, and so unemotional, thinking with her head and not her heart.

  Except, perhaps, where Daniel had been concerned.

  Staggering over to the wash-basin in a corner of her room, she sponged her swollen face with cold water, feeling ill and wretched, half-wishing she’d never gone back to Daniel after she’d found out he was married, regretting now she’d let her temper get the better of her. Should she call him back at the cottage and apologize? Or wait until he cooled down, when he would surely phone back, and apologize to her?

  Pride made Juliet decide on the latter strategy. He needn’t have been so brutally hurtful. Needn’t have called her a spoilt brat. But as she applied fresh make-up to hide her blotchy face, her insides ached with a tender longing for him. I love him, she thought. I love him and I need him. And so does our baby.

  * * *

  ‘I’m going back to Scotland tomorrow,’ she informed the family, two days later.

  Rosie looked at her strangely, guessing something was wrong, but said nothing.

  ‘You must be missing Cameron,’ Liza said eagerly. ‘Are you doing up a nursery suite at Glenmally?’

  There was an edge to Juliet’s smile. ‘I haven’t thought about it,’ she said evasively. What was she going to do now she was sure she’d lost Daniel? There’d been no phone call of apology from him, and in desperation she’d phoned him herself, several times, but there’d been no answer. Now was the time to play her cards carefully. To run away from Cameron right now would be stupid. She had no intention of leaving this marriage empty handed. She had to plan her future, and that of her baby, very carefully.

  * * *

  ‘How nice that you’re back so soon,’ Cameron said in welcome, when Juliet arrived at Glenmally the next day. ‘Did everything go all right? Is your doctor pleased with you?’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Juliet replied in a small tired voice. She felt defeated, and as if she’d surrendered something special in her life. ‘I’ll need to go for regular check-ups. He says it will be perfectly all right for me to have the baby at home, in London. I’ve also got a list of agencies, for a monthly nurse, and then a proper nanny.’

  ‘You seem very organized.’ He sounded doubtful. ‘I still wish you’d have the baby here.’

  Juliet was prepared for that. ‘He said that with a first baby it was vital to be very near a hospital, just in case anything were to go wrong,’ she replied glibly.

  ‘Nothing went wrong with my mother, when I was born.’

  ‘Then she was lucky, wasn’t she? But look at the poor Queen. Both Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret had to be born by Caesarean at the last moment.’

  There was no answer to this, but Cameron stuck out his bottom lip and looked mutinous.

  However, and perhaps because the Dowager had a few tricks up her witch-like sleeves, the following few weeks were unlike any Juliet had known since she’d got married.

  Iona’s manner towards her was sickly sweet, like molasses; the brood mare had conceived and Juliet could do no wrong. In the circumstances she allowed herself to be pampered, having her favourite food prepared for her, resting alone in her private suite as much as she liked, with the latest novels to read, and accepting generous presents from Cameron.

  Nothing assuaged the pain she felt, though, or the sense of terrible loss at her break-up from Daniel, but somehow taking everything she could from the Kincardines seemed like a delicious form of revenge; if Daniel wasn’t prepared to look after her, then she’d show him that at least Cameron was more than willing.

  As if he sensed her unhappiness, though she suspected he put it down to her being pregnant, Cameron was kindness and consideration personified.

  He spent more time with her than before, taking her for gentle walks, showing her around the estate, which she realized was very beautiful, and constantly advised her to get ‘plenty of rest’.

  It was all very pleasant, and Juliet made the most of it, but she wasn’t fooled. It was the son and heir her husband wanted, not her, and she didn’t doubt that once the baby was born, he’d ignore her again, and the old witch would start weaving spells.

  But she planned to be long gone before that happened.

  First, though, she wanted the Park Lane house put in her name. From the moment she’d seen the imposing cream stucco building, with its colonnaded front which supported a Regency style glassed-in veranda, she’d fallen in love with it. Nine French windows led on to this veranda, from magnificent reception rooms which overlooked Hyde Park. It was, Juliet felt, like a town house set in the country; sophisticated, elegant, yet palatial and peaceful.

  Anyway, she reckoned the place bore her stamp, and had always been hers in a way that it had never been Cameron’s, and she was determined to keep it.

  Two

  Juliet gazed out at the glistening white blanket that covered everything for as far as the eye could see. They’d been kept like prisoners in Glenmally for the past week as the snow fell relentlessly, muffling sounds and making Juliet want to scream with frustration.

  Roads were impassable. Lakes were frozen. The cattle and sheep had been herded into sheds. Only Cameron left the castle every day to ‘see to everything’, while Juliet and Iona were forced to remain indoors.

  ‘You mustn’t go out,’ Cameron told Juliet. ‘The ground is treacherous and very slippery. You mustn’t risk a fall.’

  And lose Daniel’s baby, she thought despairingly. As if Daniel would care if she did. There’d been no word from him and she had no intention of getting in touch. Time was hardening her feelings towards his attitude, increasing her anger. She was still reeling with hurt and shock, but if that was the way he treated people, then she was better off without him.

  At times she hoped she’d never see him again. But then there were moments when she ached for him so deeply, she hurt all over and her arms had never felt so empty. There was no one like Daniel and there never would be.

  But how was she going to survive the next five, ten, twenty years without him? Without his smile and the deep vibration of his voice? Without his touch and his tenderness. Without the laughter and the love?

  ‘You haven’t forgotten tonight is the tenants’ and staff Christmas party, have you?’ Iona broke into her thoughts as she marched into the library, once again as active and interfering as ever.

  Juliet had forgotten, so absorbed was she with her own troubles.

  ‘Of course I remember,’ she lied, turning away from the window. She and Cameron and his mother were expected in the servants’ hall at eight o’clock, resplendent in evening dress, to hand out presents from under the Christmas tree, drink a noggin and dance a couple of reels before slipping diplomatically away.

  ‘Good,’ Iona
replied, eyeing Juliet suspiciously. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

  Juliet shrugged. ‘I hate being cooped up indoors.’

  ‘If you’re bored, why don’t you so something useful?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know…’ Iona floundered. ‘I’ve never suffered from boredom in my life. You need to take more interest in Glenmally.’

  ‘You know Cameron won’t let me do anything. He doesn’t even tell me what he’s doing. Hector McKenzie seems to be the only one who knows what’s going on in Cameron’s secret private life,’ she added bitterly.

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth Juliet had a strong presentiment that she’d triggered something that was going to be unstoppable.

  * * *

  When they returned shortly before eleven o’clock from the ball, Hector, who had escorted Iona, managed to manoeuvre Juliet into a corner of the drawing room, as they had a final nightcap.

  ‘I hear, my dear, that you think there are secrets in Cameron’s life that only I know about? Is that right?’ His manner was oily and patient, as if he were coaxing something out of a child.

  I wonder why I’m not surprised by this approach? Juliet thought as she looked back at him, her pale blue eyes scrutinizing his lined and ruddy face.

  ‘Doesn’t everyone have secrets in their lives?’ she parried airily.

  ‘But what could be secret about Cameron’s life? I can assure you he’s like an open book, my dear. This is a big estate you know. He works tremendously hard to keep everything going, in a financial climate that is not kind to land owners. Especially at this time.’

  ‘I’m aware of that.’ She paused. ‘You know that old stone house, that overlooks Loch Glascamoch?’

  Hector paused, frowning, as if searching his memory.

  ‘There’s a long narrow drive that leads to it,’ Juliet continued impatiently.

  His brow cleared. He smiled thinly. ‘That would be his office, my dear.’

  ‘That’s not what he told me when I asked him,’ she challenged. ‘Cameron told me it belonged to one of his tenants.’

  Hector shook his head. ‘That must be another house you’re referring to. There are nineteen houses on the estate. And the Menzies, who own the adjoining land, have several properties by the loch, too.’

  Juliet arched her thin eyebrows and smiled, like a cat that’s succeeded in cornering a mouse.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said languidly, as if she were bored with the subject. Hector had obviously been prompted by the old witch to find out if she knew anything, and now he’d made her really suspicious. What did Cameron do all day, in that bleak stone house by the water’s edge?

  * * *

  ‘A happy New Year!’ Cameron said a week later, as he toasted his mother, Juliet and Hector. The grandfather clock in the hall was striking midnight in croaky, weary tones, as if its days of chiming were also drawing to a close. ‘Let’s hope 1940 is better than 1939.’

  Juliet raised her glass. ‘Happy New Year,’ she murmured tight-lipped, wishing she’d insisted on giving a party. The presence of other people would have diluted this gruesome little group, who hung together as if bonded by something dark and ugly; but she knew not what.

  At Hartley it would be all gaiety and laughter, as her family gathered in the drawing room, as they did every New Year’s Eve, kissing and hugging, and toasting each other over and over again with champagne.

  Lady Anne would be misty-eyed with emotion, and Charlotte, who was being allowed to stay up for the first time this year, would probably be over-excited and slightly out of control by now.

  In the kitchen, Mrs Dobbs, Warwick, Spence and Nanny would be having their own celebration, and talking over the good old days when Parsons, Mrs Fowler, Ruby and all the other servants would have been there, too.

  ‘Here’s to the coming arrival!’ Hector declared, drunkenly waving his glass in the direction of Juliet’s stomach.

  Juliet instinctively placed her hand across her front, as if protecting Daniel’s child.

  ‘To the new arrival!’ Cameron and his mother chorused, looking gleeful.

  ‘I must telephone my family,’ Juliet said, rising and leaving the room before her vulnerability showed. Was it pregnancy that was making her so tearful these days?

  Her hand hesitated for a moment as she picked up the receiver before dialling the Hartley number. Should she ring the little house in Bywater Street, just in case Daniel was there? The temptation was strong. If he answered it would mean she’d hear his deeply thrilling voices once more. Maybe he would want to see her again? Impulsively her finger started dialling CHE for Chelsea, and then 1475.

  An icy rush of anticipation flowed through her veins as the number started ringing. Her heart was thundering in her ears. Would he answer?

  But the phone rang and rang with the hollowness of a house she knew was empty. Stupid to try, really, she thought dispiritedly. She might have known he’d be at home or at a party on a night like this.

  * * *

  The snow thawed slowly at first, breaking up into watery crystals on the re-emerging heather and ferns. Then it melted very quickly and was suddenly gone overnight, without trace, leaving the ground soft and springy and the banks of Loch Glascamoch brimming.

  By March, spring had arrived but Juliet had been confined to the castle with a heavy cold and cough for several weeks, agreeing to stay in bed, but refusing to let Cameron call the local doctor, who would realize her pregnancy was less advanced than it was supposed to be.

  At last she was better now, and thankful to get out in the fresh air. Wrapped up warmly, she went for a walk with the dogs. They were the only living creatures at Glenmally that she liked, and in return they showed their devotion by following her around, to Iona’s jealous fury.

  Today there was a purpose in the route she took. She wanted to take a closer look at the house that Hector had maintained was Cameron’s office.

  Planning to knock politely on the front door when she arrived, she walked down the side of the house past a window that was partly curtained. A central light hanging from the ceiling illuminated the interior.

  Juliet glanced casually into the room and then froze, transfixed. What she saw was so shocking, so horrifying, she stood as if paralysed. Then she started to tremble violently.

  At that moment she understood everything about her marriage.

  * * *

  Afterwards, Juliet could only vaguely remember stumbling away from the house, half blinded by tears, wanting to be sick, wanting to get back to the castle, wanting to return to London, wanting to get away from this damned place at all costs.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Iona asked, as Juliet hurried into the hall, throwing off her coat and hat.

  ‘What do you think I’m doing?’ Juliet retorted furiously. ‘I’m leaving and I’m not coming back.’ She turned and charged up the wide staircase, one hand holding her stomach.

  Iona blanched, her eyes wide and scared looking. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Now I know why you’re so happy with the way Cameron is,’ Juliet shot back, over her shoulder. She paused, gripping the bannister. ‘This way you get to keep your precious son for ever, don’t you? This way you don’t have to fear that another woman will ever take him away from you because it’s only men he wants to sleep with.’

  The old Duchess had managed to gather herself into a bundle of plaid fury. ‘How dare you talk to me like that?’

  ‘You’re as perverted as he is,’ Juliet shouted down from the landing. ‘Now I understand why he can’t join the armed forces. He’s a bloody pansy, isn’t he?’ She slammed the door to her suite of rooms with a resounding slam.

  In the hall below, surrounded by antlers and family portraits, Iona Kincardine leaned heavily against the table, and, picking up the receiver, dialled the number of Cameron’s private abode, where Skelly, a crofter’s son, lived in great comfort, awaiting the daily visits of his lover.

  ‘Come back at once,
’ she urged frantically when Cameron answered.

  ‘I can’t.’ He sounded desperate.

  ‘You’ve got to. She’s having your child for God’s sake. That’s what this is all about. This is why she’s here! She’s upstairs. Threatening to leave. You’ve got to stop her, at least until the baby’s born.’

  ‘I can’t face her, Mother. Not just yet…’

  ‘Cameron, I’m warning you…!’

  ‘It will still be my son, even if she does leave.’

  ‘She might prevent you having anything to do with him.’

  ‘Hector wouldn’t allow that to happen.’

  ‘You’ve got to face her sooner or later, Cameron.’

  ‘Oh God…!’ he groaned.

  ‘I told you to be discreet; then this would never have happened.’

  ‘I have been discreet. I don’t know why she came here. It was just wretched bad luck.’

  Iona felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps she shouldn’t have repeated Juliet’s remark about Cameron having secrets to Hector? Perhaps Juliet hadn’t meant anything by that remark. Perhaps she was just bored and frustrated because Cameron was out every day, leaving her on her own.

  ‘If you come back now, Cameron,’ Iona continued nervously, ‘I’m sure you can persuade her that nothing untoward was going on.’

  ‘Nothing untoward…!’ he yelped. ‘She caught us, Mother. Red handed. Poor Skelly is petrified.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s “poor Skelly” you should be thinking about. Poor Skelly, as you call him, is unbalanced for a start. He shot you. Have you forgotten that? He could have killed you, Cameron, because he was jealous of you seeing that young boatman, down by the loch. I’m telling you, if Juliet leaves now you’ll never see your child. And after all the trouble we’ve been to, to find you a suitable wife.’