by Rosie Clarke
‘Your father wouldn’t help you to get on your feet again?’
‘Throw good money after bad? Why should he? He thought it was a stupid idea at the start, and Mary agreed with him. Besides, he hasn’t got much in reserve even if he wanted to help. Without Mary the estate would have gone under before this.’
Jessie wasn’t so sure that his father wouldn’t help if he could, but she wasn’t in a position to know if the money was available.
‘You’ll find a way.’
‘Shall I?’ He looked down at her and she sensed his despair, sensed the black well inside him, the hopelessness. ‘What’s the point? I’ve lost all chance of getting free. I can’t have you and…’
Jessie touched her fingers to his lips. She had no idea what made her say what she did, except that her heart ached for him. He was in such need, such pain, and she loved him so very much.
‘I love you,’ she said. ‘Come to bed with me, Harry. Lie with me, be my love, love me as if I were your own true wife. Just for tonight. In the morning things will seem better.’
She stood up and in the faint light penetrating the window, he saw that she was wearing a thin nightgown, the rosy peaks of her breasts clearly visible through the material. It clung to her lovingly, caressing the curves of her breasts and hips, and the slenderness of her waist. For a moment he sat staring at her like a man who thinks he has seen an oasis in the desert but can’t be sure it isn’t a mirage.
‘You don’t mean that…’
‘Yes, I do,’ Jessie said. ‘I know nothing has changed for us, but sometimes we have to take our chances, we have to seize what is offered lest it never comes again. We may never have more than this night, but we deserve some happiness.’
‘Jessie…’ He was on his feet, drawing her into his arms, holding her, kissing her with an urgency and a desperation that swept them both away on a reckless tide. ‘You don’t know how much this means to me.’
Jessie kissed him lingeringly on the mouth, the depth of her love reaching out to him, wanting to heal his grief and hurt, her hands stroking the back of his neck. She felt the force of his need in the shudder that went through him, and she took him by the hand, leading him into her own room. Then she let go of his hand for a moment as she reached up to pull her nightgown over her head, standing naked before him. Harry’s eyes feasted on the soft swell of her breasts and the creamy silk of her skin.
‘You’re so beautiful, Jessie. So very lovely…’
Jessie smiled invitingly as she lay down on the bed. Harry was stripping off his clothes, revealing the lean, muscled contours of his own body, his skin a darker tone than hers and sprinkled here and there with blond hair. Then he was beside her on the bed, holding her close, stroking her back as she turned instinctively to him, moulding her buttocks, his lips against the arch of her throat. She could feel the burn of his flesh, the strength of his arousal as he kissed and caressed her, making her tremble with desire. She had never suspected that she could feel this way, never realised what loving actually meant before.
Their first coupling was intense because of their heightened emotions, the stress of the past few hours; a fierce, strange, sweet loving that was over quickly and left them both wanting more.
Afterwards, Jessie lay in his arms as he whispered words of love against her throat, telling her that she was his now and for always.
‘I’ll find a way,’ he vowed. ‘It won’t be easy but I’ll find a way to build up the workshops again. We’ll be together, my darling, with the children. I promise you won’t be hurt. I shall never forget what you’ve given me, your sweetness, your love.’
Jessie hushed him with a kiss. He began to make love to her again, slowly this time, letting the desire build between them. Jessie’s nails raked his shoulders as he brought her to a wonderful, shuddering climax, his body jerking as he delivered his seed inside her.
‘I love you,’ he whispered as he laid his face against her breast. ‘I always shall.’
Jessie realised after a few minutes that he had fallen asleep. She kissed the top of his head, knowing that sleep was what he needed, what his body craved after the agony of the previous hours. Her own mind was too busy for sleep. She knew that she was happy, happier than she had ever been in her life, but she also knew that what she had done could lose her everything she most loved and valued.
If she were to have a child… but she wouldn’t. It didn’t happen the first time for most women. As for the rest, she was willing to take the risk. Harry might think she was fast for offering herself to him, but she had given him the most precious gift she had to give because he was so close to despair and if he loved her he would know that.
But they couldn’t do this again. Not if she wanted to stay here as his children’s nurse. She would make him see that. Once he was over the first terrible shock of the fire, she would tell him that it couldn’t happen again.
Chapter Eleven
Jessie hardly saw Harry for the next few days, merely catching sight of him in his car as she was out with the children a couple of times, but he had told her he would be busy. She knew from Carter that he had been at the workshops trying to see if anything could be saved, though very little had survived. The fire had been too fierce, too swift. The police were now certain that it had been deliberately set and there was some worry that the insurance might not pay out.
‘But that’s wicked!’ Cook exclaimed when Carter told her what he’d heard. ‘Captain Kendle has a right to be paid for what he’s lost.’
‘They say it was arson and until they’re satisfied that he didn’t get someone to do it, they won’t pay out.’
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ Jessie said feeling angry. ‘Of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t do a thing like that. Why should he? He was expecting to make a lot of money from finished orders and now that has all gone.’
Carter gave her a long hard look and Jessie realised that her indignation had led her to betray herself. She blushed and looked away, knowing that he already suspected her of carrying on with Harry Kendle and her outburst would convince him he was right.
‘It’s a wicked shame, that’s what I call it,’ Cook said. ‘And that poor man – what was his name, him what got burned?’
‘Bates.’ Carter transferred his attention to Cook. ‘He died last night, poor soul. It was hopeless from the start. Captain Kendle went to see the widow. He’s offered the family a cottage on the estate. Pamela, that’s her name. She’s to have a small pension and a job in the house, so I’m told.’
‘Who told you that?’ Cook stared at him.
‘Mrs Pearson. She says Lady Kendle informed her this morning. Mrs Bates is to start in the kitchen and Maggie’s to be made up to second parlourmaid.’
‘Well, I never!’ Cook said. ‘And without a word to me. After I’ve got Maggie trained to my ways.’
‘Apparently Mrs Bates was in service before she was married.’
‘As well she may be, but I’ve got my own way of doing things.’
It was obvious that Cook was put out and a little annoyed at losing Maggie, though it would be a step up for her, of course. Jessie listened to their conversation with half an ear. She was naturally distressed to hear that Mrs Bates had lost her husband because of the fire, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
Harry hadn’t come to the nursery since that night. Jessie had half expected, half hoped he would. Yet she knew he was being careful, trying to protect her. She had to be careful too. She mustn’t let things he told her privately slip or everyone would guess their secret. Carter had been watching her speculatively for some while now but she ignored him. He could think what he liked but he didn’t know anything for sure.
Jessie was thoughtful as she took the children out later that morning. She knew she had been lucky the first time. Her monthly flow had come as usual. They had got away with it this time, but it mustn’t happen again.
Jack wanted to go to the farm that morning to see his pony. He was wearing his riding breech
es, he hardly left them off these days, though he had been told that he wasn’t allowed to ride unless his father or Mr Goodjohn had time to be with him.
‘I can stroke Wellington, can’t I?’ he asked Jessie. ‘And give him the carrot Cook saved for me?’
‘Yes, of course you can.’
Jessie knew how much he longed to ride Wellington and how frustrating it must be that his father was too busy to give him the necessary lessons. Jack could actually ride quite well, but the pony was new to him and his father was cautious about letting him ride alone just yet.
Neither of the children had taken any harm from paddling in the sea. Jack had had a few snuffles for a day or so but they had cleared up and Catherine seemed very well. She was still clinging to her elephant but Jessie had taught her how to use some of her puzzles and she was making good progress.
Nanny was sure she had grown.
‘There was a time when I thought she never would,’ she told Jessie. ‘I feel bad now about not giving her more attention before but she never seemed to want to do more than sleep.’
‘It’s not your fault. Everyone thought she would never learn anything.’
In fact it was shameful that no one had cared enough to try. Nanny had had enough to do with keeping the children clean and fed, but she’d been unwell and too old to realise the neglect Catherine had suffered. Harry Kendle was a very busy man and his mother was an invalid. The blame lay squarely at Mary Kendle’s door.
She had been told about the fire at her husband’s workshops and must know what a devastating blow it was to him, but she’d made no attempt to come home. Jessie was glad she’d chosen to stay away, because the house was happier without her, but she couldn’t help thinking how selfish she was, caring only for her own pleasure.
She was an unnatural mother and an uncaring wife – and she deserved to lose her husband’s love.
Jessie had felt a little guilty over what she’d done at first. It couldn’t be right to lie with another woman’s husband and yet Mary didn’t care. If she had she would have come home to comfort Harry instead of going off to the South of France with her friends.
She wouldn’t let herself feel guilty, Jessie decided. She would treasure her memories and keep them sacred in her heart, though of course she mustn’t give way to her desires like that again. Once, for Harry’s sake, was forgivable, but she ought not to let it happen again.
It was when they were returning from their trip to the farm that a man approached Jessie. For a moment she didn’t realise who he was, but then he took off his cap, seeming awkward as he shuffled his feet.
‘Beg your pardon, miss, but I’m Jethro Wylie.’
‘You’re Jed’s father,’ Jessie said and smiled at him as she held on to Catherine’s hand. Harry Kendle had just driven into the back courtyard and Jack had darted off to meet his father, but she wouldn’t let Catherine go after him. ‘How is he? Carter said something about him coming home soon.’
‘He came home yesterday. I’ve been wanting to see you, miss – to thank you for what you done for him. I didn’t properly understand until he told me what the captain said to him, how it were you what saved him.’
‘I did very little,’ Jessie said. ‘How does he feel now?’
‘Very low, miss. His arm be useless now. They had to take it off just above the elbow but it were that or him dyin’ of blood poisoning so they told us. He says he might as well be dead but he’ll get over it.’
‘I’m very sorry. I was afraid the nerves were too badly damaged. If they hadn’t had to take his arm off it’s unlikely he could have used it much.’
‘His Ma’s glad to have him back, arm or no arm, and so am I. We’ll pull him round, miss. Don’t know what he’ll do for a living but we’ll find him something.’
‘Yes, I am sure you will. He might be a night watchman at a factory or something. As time goes on he’ll find it easier to accept what has happened to him, but a lot of men feel the way he does at first. There were hundreds of men who lost their limbs in the war. I nursed some of them and those who survived were the lucky ones. You tell Jed that I knew a lot of men who found a way to go on living without both their legs and often with dreadful scars.’
‘I’ll tell him that, miss. I doubt he’ll listen yet, but it might make him think. He was always a bright lad. Could have done well at school if he’d tried.’
‘I wish him well,’ Jessie said.
He nodded, put his cap on and walked off, tipping it to Harry as he passed.
Jack was bringing his father towards her. Jessie’s heart missed a beat as she saw his smile of welcome.
‘You’ve been talking to Jed’s father.’
‘Yes. Jed is very upset at the moment. His father says he feels useless.’
‘We must find a way to make him feel needed. I could have given him a job at the workshops. He’s a bright lad, good with figures, I understand. He should have stayed on at school but he wanted to work, and of course his family encouraged him to leave. They saw him working on the estate for his lifetime as his father has done.’
‘Perhaps he could study with the vicar? He might learn to be a clerk.’
‘I’ll talk to Jethro again. I’m sure we can come up with something.’ Harry’s eyes lingered on her face. She felt the heat of his gaze enfold her and knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking it too. ‘I’ve been busy but things are easing now. I’ve told Jack I’ll take him riding tomorrow.’ He glanced down at his son. ‘Go and ask Cook for a bun, Jack. Jessie will be in soon.’
Jack ran off obediently. Catherine was sucking her thumb and holding tight to her elephant, her eyes wide with wonder.
‘I’ve missed you,’ Harry said in a low, urgent whisper. ‘Can I see you, Jessie – tonight?’
Jessie’s heart went wild. She knew she ought to refuse. They were playing with fire but she had missed him too, so much. A surge of rebellion went through her. Why shouldn’t they snatch happiness where they could? Life was so short, so precarious. It could have been Harry in that fire. If he had been visiting the workshops that evening instead of having tea with her and the children he might have been the one to die.
Their love was so sweet and true. Surely it couldn’t be so very wrong?
‘Yes,’ she answered smiling into his eyes. ‘You know I’ve missed you, Harry.’
‘I love you.’
‘I had better go in now before someone notices us talking.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I’ve got something to tell you tonight.’
Jessie nodded and left him. She sensed that he remained where he was, staring after her until she went inside the house.
Jack was sitting at the kitchen table eating one of Cook’s rock buns, and the whole kitchen smelled deliciously of baking. Cook was pouring a glass of lemon barley for him and she offered one to Jessie and Catherine too.
‘Would Miss Catherine like a drink and a cake?’
‘Yes, I am sure she would.’ Jessie gave the child a little push and she went forward uncertainly, wriggling her bottom on to a stool as she took the cake with both hands. She ate it with evident enjoyment.
‘There’s a little love,’ Cook said and beamed at her. ‘That Pam Bates came to see me while you were out, Jessie. She’s a pleasant enough woman, though still in a bit of a state over losing her husband. That’s natural, of course. She’s got a boy of eight but she had a miscarriage last year. I suppose you could say that’s a blessing in disguise now. She says her son is mad about horses and is looking forward to living near the farm. He’ll be going to school for a few years yet, of course, but she thinks he’ll be suited on the farm when he’s older. And she’s worked in a kitchen before so that’s all right. We’ll get used to each other, and it’s only right Maggie should have a chance to move up.’
‘I suppose a job was the best way of helping her.’
‘She’s luckier than most from what I hear. Captain Kendle can’t find jobs for all the men can he?’
‘N
ot unless he can set up the business again.’
Jessie took the children upstairs when they had finished their cakes. Neither of them were very hungry when their lunch arrived an hour or so later, but it didn’t matter for once. They could make up for it at tea.
They played happily together for a while, Jack showing his sister how to play various games. Then Catherine had a sleep while Jack did sums from a book his father had bought him. Jessie ironed their clean clothes and watched over them with a feeling of content.
Sometimes when she was alone with them like this she could almost believe they were hers. She knew it was a foolish dream, but it might come true one day. Harry had promised her he would find a way for them to be together and perhaps he would.
In her heart Jessie knew that it would cause too much trouble, that the heartbreak and scandal would be too heavy a price to pay. Yet she could not quite dismiss her dreams.
*
It was later that same evening that Mrs Pearson told them Lady Kendle’s daughter was coming on a visit to her mother quite soon.
‘That’s nice,’ Cook said. ‘It’s a long time since Miss Priscilla came to visit – Mrs Barrington, that is, of course.’
‘She’s too busy to get down often,’ Mrs Pearson said. ‘But she worries about her mother. She was telling me on the telephone earlier – and she’s upset over this latest bother with the fire.’
Jessie listened as they talked, saying nothing. She didn’t know Priscilla Barrington and so she could not add to the general conversation.
Alice came after her as she went upstairs.
‘I shall have to be careful with Miss Priscilla around,’ Alice said. ‘She’s a rare one for secrets. Seems to know exactly what’s going on five minutes after she arrives.’
‘She won’t know yours if you don’t tell her, Alice. You don’t show yet.’
‘No, but I’ve been sick several times. Mrs Pearson told me I was looking peaky this morning, and Lady Kendle gave me an odd look when I was doing her room later. I shall have to leave soon, whether I want to or not. I’d rather leave than be asked to go.’
