by Val Wood
‘I’ve brought you some cognac, Joseph,’ Arlette said. ‘Shall we ’ave some with our coffee?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But we’ll take it in the drawing room. The fire has been lit all day so you’ll be warm. I know how you hate the cold.’
‘Am I so difficult, Joseph?’ she asked, when she was seated on the sofa by the fire. ‘Do I disrupt the ’ousehold so much?’
‘Only when you try to change our English habits for French ones,’ he said, but he gave a smile as he said it, and handed her a glass of cognac.
‘I will try ’arder,’ she said, and then, ‘So what did you wish to discuss? You ’ave been under a strain. I can see it in your face.’
He took a sip from his glass and then held it up towards the fire so that he could see the amber liquid glow. ‘This is good,’ he murmured. ‘Thank you.’
‘Ze best,’ she answered, pouting her full lips.
‘I’ve something to tell you, Arlette.’ He didn’t sit down but stood by the fire, his feet apart. ‘I should have told you years ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. It was much too painful.’ He looked down at her; her face was serene, but her brown eyes were wide open and gazing at him intently. ‘But now …’ He hesitated. ‘Now, my actions when I was a young man have come home to haunt me, and affect not only me but others who are dear to me; and I am distraught!’
He put his hand to his forehead, pressing his temples. When he removed it she saw that his eyes were moist with tears. ‘I never meant to hurt anyone,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘But even if I could undo what went before – I wouldn’t. Couldn’t! What happened then I will never be sorry for. Never!’
‘Come ’ere, my darling.’ She reached out a hand to him. ‘Come. Tell Arlette.’
And as he sat by her side and she drew him towards her, he remembered that that was what she had done all those years ago, when he had first met her.
When he had finished telling her his story they sat silently for a moment, both gazing into the flames of the fire. Then Arlette took a deep breath and said, ‘And now you have seen your daughter again, and she accepts you?’ He nodded, and she continued, ‘But she will not allow Edmund to marry her daughter zat ’e loves because she is your granddaughter? What is she like? Is she suitable for Edmund?’
‘It’s irrelevant now, isn’t it?’ he said harshly. ‘But suitable! Young men don’t look for suitability. They look for love! And he fell in love with Laura – is still in love with Laura, and that’s why he isn’t speaking to me. He says I have ruined his life.’
She gave a chuckle. ‘Young people!’ she said throatily. ‘They think they are the only ones to feel passion. But they are not!’
‘Will you speak to him?’ he begged. ‘He always listened to you when he was young. Perhaps he’ll listen now.’
‘You remember when his father and mother died?’ she said softly. ‘You insisted that Edmund and Amy should come and live ’ere with you?’
‘Of course I remember!’ he said in a crabbed tone. ‘I wanted Edmund to learn farming, not play around in France as Austin did.’
‘Ah!’ she said, her expression sad. ‘Austin would never have made a farmer; but his son, Edmund – yes, I wanted that for him.’
He frowned. ‘But you made such a fuss about his coming here.’
‘Only because I knew that if I said no, you would insist.’ She glanced at him, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. ‘And you did. You wanted Edmund to be your heir in place of Austin, and I wanted that too. The twins had made other plans for their lives, and there was no-one else to take over from you.’
‘What are you getting at, Arlette?’ he said tetchily. ‘This has nothing to do with what I’ve told you.’
‘But it has, my darling.’ She took hold of his hand. ‘Now I ’ave something to tell you.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Arlette licked her lips. ‘When I met you that night in Paris, I guessed that you were recovering from a broken love affair. But I soon realized that it was more than that, and that you had lost the love of your life.’ She looked at him with tenderness. ‘I ’ave always known, throughout our life together, that there was a shadow between us. No,’ she said, as he began to speak, ‘I must finish what I ’ave to say. There is so much more. I knew,’ she went on, ‘that I couldn’t ever compete with a ghost.’ She gently touched his arm. ‘I ’ave seen you when you were back with her, when your thoughts ’ave returned to the past.’
Joseph buried his head in his hands. ‘I’m so sorry, Arlette. So very sorry.’
‘Joseph,’ she murmured, and he looked up. He had always been charmed by the way she pronounced his name; the breathy softness which made it sound so endearing. ‘I am ze one who should be sorry. I ’ave lived a lie for all of our life together, and I should ask for your forgiveness.’
‘What?’ he said. ‘For what?’
‘When I met you, it was as if fate ’ad sent you to me. I was desperate too, just as you were.’
‘Desperate?’ he said. ‘No! You were so spirited, so vivacious. That is what attracted me to you. You were so alive, and I was living with death.’
She shook her head. ‘No, my darling, I was not. I too was trapped by love. The man I loved was married to somebody else. I am sorry to tell you this, Joseph, but that is why I ’ave spent so much time in France over the years.’
‘You still see him!’ He was astounded. He had thought that perhaps she had had love affairs when she was young, but now – after so long!
She gesticulated with her hands several times, indicating that it was finished. ‘Not now. It ees over. The reason I ’ave been away so long this time is because Marcel was dying. At first I visited him, but then ’is wife, she banned me from seeing him.’ Her voice broke. ‘She ’as always known about me, but finally she refused to allow me to visit. I wrote to her begging to see ’im one last time. I waited outside his door, but she would not open it to me. I was not allowed to say goodbye or attend his funeral.’ A slow tear trickled down her cheek. ‘It was so very cruel.’
Joseph was silent. How could two people be married for so long and know so little about each other? He put his arm round her and drew her close. ‘I’m sorry, Arlette. We have both known unhappiness.’
‘Yes.’ She swallowed, and sniffled, and wiped her face with a handkerchief. ‘But there is one thing more that I must tell you, and then we will know if we can spend ze last years of our life together.’
We can, he thought. We must. Perhaps we can both find some comfort.
‘When I said I was desperate,’ she said, ‘it was true. I didn’t know which way to turn.’ She lifted brimming brown eyes to his. ‘Then you came into the ’otel, just as I was contemplating ending my life. You looked lonely. As lonely as I was.’ She gave a watery smile. ‘And you were ’andsome, though morose, and I was always attracted to ’andsome men! And you were tall and fair as Marcel was.’
He nodded. He remembered their meeting well. ‘He wouldn’t leave his wife? Was that it? You wanted to be married and he was already married to someone else?’
She put her head on one side and looked at him, her face troubled. ‘Do you not understand me, Joseph? I was expecting a child. His child. And he could not marry me.’
He stared at her, comprehension dawning. He drew back and watched her as she bit her lip and turned away from him. ‘What are you saying?’ His words were almost a whisper.
Her face creased as she squeezed her eyes closed but tears still trickled through her lashes. ‘I am saying, Joseph …’ She opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘I am saying that Austin was not your child. He was Marcel’s.’
Joseph got up and went to the table and with shaking hands poured them both another cognac. He swallowed his down in one gulp and poured another.
Arlette tutted. ‘Such a waste of good cognac,’ she murmured, and sipped at hers. ‘I am sorry, Joseph. I never thought that you would ever need to know.’ She gave a wistful smile. ‘After Austin died
, I thought …’ She shook her head. ‘There seemed no point in telling you. And you adored Edmund and Amy, I knew that.’
‘But that’s why you took Austin with you to France so often? When he was a child? To see his father!’ His voice was bitter.
‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘And for ’is father to see ’im. Marcel had no other sons. But Austin never knew,’ she added hastily. ‘He only knew that Marcel was a friend.’
‘And the twins?’ he questioned harshly. ‘Philip and Matthew? Whom do they belong to?’
‘Please, Joseph!’ she implored. ‘Do not be angry wiz me. They are your sons. Of course they are. I was expecting Marcel’s child before I met you. As you ’ad a daughter before you met me,’ she reminded him. ‘We each had a life before.’ She put out her hand to him. ‘When Austin died, I wanted so much for Edmund and Amy to come and live wiz you. To make up for Austin’s loss. I bore my grief alone. I couldn’t tell you what it meant to me, to lose my son.’
He came to her, holding her close as she cried, and wept with her. ‘As I couldn’t tell you of my daughter.’
They sat close together, not speaking for some time. Presently Joseph gave a little grunt in his throat. ‘So Edmund can marry his lady after all, if she will have him,’ he said softly.
Arlette looked at him. Her eyes were red with weeping. ‘You will not disown him, Joseph? Because he is not your blood?’
He shook his head. ‘He is my own, as Amy is. Nothing will change that. They are our grandchildren. Yours and mine. But they must be told about their father. I’ve confessed about Mary-Ellen and Susannah, and now they must know the truth about Austin. It won’t be easy for you, Arlette. They’ve always idolized you.’
She nodded and said ruefully, ‘And now they will discover that their grandmother has ’uman frailties just as everyone else.’ She shrugged and then chuckled. ‘They will say it ees because I am French. The French – zey are so decadent!’
He kissed the top of her head and saw the silver strands in her hair. ‘We’ll tell them in the morning,’ he said softly. ‘Then we can all begin again.’
‘Can we, Joseph?’ she beseeched. ‘I would like that very much.’
He kissed her again. ‘So would I.’
Amy looked troubled. Her eyes flickered from her grandfather to her grandmother, to Edmund and Aunt Julia who had also been asked to come down to the morning room. ‘Does it mean that we have to go and live in France, as we are French after all? Because,’ she said in a sudden rush, ‘though I love you dearly, Grandmama, I don’t want to. I want to stay here.’ Her lips began to tremble. ‘This is my home. Though I’m not saying that I won’t come to see you.’ She looked at Joseph. ‘We can stay, can’t we?’
‘You pudding! Of course you can.’ He beamed at her, absurdly relieved that she wasn’t shocked at this fresh revelation, but only anxious that life would continue as it always had. ‘We perhaps wouldn’t have told you but for Edmund.’
‘And I didn’t say that I was going back to France,’ Arlette said softly, and smiled at Joseph and then at Julia. ‘I will probably stay ’ere and annoy Aunt Julia!’
Joseph smiled back at her. She had shared his bed last night and when he had woken early, as he always did, he had looked down at her as she lay still sleeping. She had seemed fragile and vulnerable, not spirited and strong as she usually did. She had opened her eyes and gazed at him and he had bent to kiss her.
Edmund sat still as stone, as he absorbed the latest news. ‘You’re saying …’ He cleared his throat. ‘You’re saying that I’m not an Ellis after all, but some other name?’
‘No!’ Joseph barked. ‘We’re not saying that. You were baptized and registered as Edmund Ellis, just as your father was baptized and registered as Austin Ellis, but – your grandmother has just explained! What’s the matter with you, man?’ he bellowed suddenly. ‘Can’t you work it out? You’re a farmer. You should know about reproduction, for heaven’s sake! You’re making your sister and Aunt Julia blush!’
Julia gave a little smile and shook her head. ‘Not me,’ she murmured. ‘I am aware of more than any of you might think.’
Edmund’s chair crashed back as he stood up. ‘It means – it means that I can ask Laura! Oh!’ He put his head back and banged the heel of his hand against his forehead. ‘Will she have me?’ He looked wildly about him, then planted a kiss on his grandmother’s cheek, and came to shake hands with Joseph.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I know I said some awful things to you. Blaming you. I—’ He suddenly put his hand to his mouth. ‘It doesn’t change anything, does it? I mean, I’m still your grandson? Because I—’ His voice was choked and he swallowed hard. ‘Because I wouldn’t want to be anybody else’s.’
Joseph hugged him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Nothing changes, except that now you may pay your addresses to Laura.’ He gave a sudden grin. ‘Of course, you’ll have to ask her father first.’
‘Mama.’ Laura and her mother sat alone in the sitting room. They had finished their supper, though lately their appetites had been poor. ‘I’d like to go away for a while.’
Her mother looked up from the book she was reading. ‘Away? Where and with whom?’
‘I don’t know yet, but somewhere; and I’ll easily find someone to go with me. It’s so unfair,’ she burst out. ‘I’m making you unhappy by my moods, and this should be a happy time for you preparing for your marriage. I think,’ she went on, ‘that you and Uncle Freddie should start making arrangements now. I know that you have waited because of me, but there’s no need. I’m perfectly all right. All I need is a change of scenery and some different company.’
‘But Freddie and I want you at our wedding, Laura. We couldn’t think of it otherwise.’
‘But you said that Mr Ellis – your father – wishes to give you away. Would you also invite his wife and – and his grandchildren?’
‘His wife, of course, if she’s in England. But I don’t think there is any need to invite his grandchildren. It will be a quiet wedding. There will only be a few guests.’
‘But if I went away for a time you could visit your father in Skeffling and not feel guilty about me.’
‘I have no plans to visit Skeffling at present,’ Susannah said calmly. ‘And neither do I feel guilty about you. I’m sorry that you’ve received such a blow, Laura.’ She folded her hands over her book. ‘Life is often unfair, I’m afraid. I remember thinking that myself when I thought I’d lost Freddie.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘But you will survive.’ She looked at Laura’s lowered eyes and tense expression. ‘You’ll learn that life has to go on no matter how you are hurting. But perhaps it would do you good to go away for a while. We’ll consider it, and perhaps talk it over with Freddie.’
‘Yes,’ Laura murmured. ‘He’s always so wise.’ She gave her mother a quivering smile. ‘I’m so pleased for you and Uncle Freddie, Mama, and I think – I think that one day I’ll be able to call him Papa.’
‘He’d like that, Laura,’ her mother said gently. ‘It’s what he’s always wanted.’
They were interrupted by a loud peal of the front door bell. They looked at each other. ‘Who can that be at this time?’ Susannah wondered. ‘Not Freddie; he said he was working late at the office and then going straight home.’
‘And not James, as he’s staying in Hull and going to the theatre.’
Mrs Smith tapped on the door. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Page. Mr Ellis apologizes for the lateness of the hour, but asks if he might see you.’
Susannah mouthed a round ‘oh’. She couldn’t yet think of Joseph Ellis as her father, and wondered what it was he needed to see her about. Perhaps he had told his wife about her. Maybe she didn’t want him to have any further contact with her. ‘Please ask him to come in,’ she said.
‘Shall I leave you, Mama?’ Laura rose from her chair. ‘Will it be something private do you think?’
‘I doubt it. No, please stay, Laura.’
But it wasn’t Joseph Ellis. It was Edmund. And
he was all done up in a formal tailcoat and narrow trousers and a white shirt with a high collar. He held a top hat in his hand and his hair was neatly trimmed. He looked so personable and dashing that Laura wanted to weep.
He bowed. ‘Forgive me for calling so late, Mrs Page. Good evening, Miss Page.’
Laura, her lips clenched, barely acknowledged him as her mother bade the visitor be seated.
‘Is all well at home, Mr Ellis?’ Susannah asked. ‘Is your grandfather in good health?’
‘Indeed yes,’ he enthused. ‘As is my grandmother, who has just returned from France.’
‘And your great-aunt and sister?’ she asked after a suitable pause.
‘Yes.’ He beamed. ‘We are all in excellent health!’
‘I’m very pleased to hear it,’ she replied politely, and waited.
Laura felt herself growing angry. Why had he come? How dare he come! A flush of red touched her cheeks. He has no sensitivity! Did his previous apparent anguish mean nothing after all? In a moment, she thought, I’ll get up and walk out of the room, manners or not!
Edmund cleared his throat. ‘I – erm.’ He coughed again. ‘I travelled into Hull for an express purpose; and with the advice I’ve been given I came immediately to see you, Mrs Page – and you also, Miss Page.’
‘Advice?’ Susannah said. ‘Whose advice?’
‘An eminent lawyer’s, ma’am.’ His eyes began to sparkle. ‘I called on him to ask his permission to address his daughter.’
‘Mr Cannon?’ Susannah asked on a breath.
‘How dare you!’ Laura said in a tight, furious voice. ‘How could you?’
‘That’s what Mr Cannon said you would say.’ Edmund turned to Laura. ‘He said that you’d make up your own mind as to whether or not I might address you.’
‘Not that!’ she said angrily. ‘How dare you suggest it when you know that Mama won’t – why would Freddie—’ She stopped. Why would Freddie concur with such a proposal? He wouldn’t, she realized. He had been so anxious about her; so protective.
‘You’re beautiful when you’re angry, Laura,’ Edmund murmured, gazing at her. Then he turned to Susannah. ‘I’ve done this all wrong, Mrs Page. My grandfather said I had to conduct myself in a proper manner and not behave like a country oaf, as I did before, and that’s why I went to see Mr Cannon first; but when he said it was all right and that he had no objections I couldn’t help rushing straight here.’
