by Dilly Court
Cade took her in his arms, answering her with a kiss that robbed her of speech and sent the blood thundering through her veins. ‘My darling, you can have anything you want. Money isn’t a problem; I’m a comparative wealthy man.’
Confused, Belinda gazed up at him. ‘But how? I don’t understand.’
Shrugging off his overcoat, he tugged at a rather tatty bell pull by the fireplace. ‘I’ll get Mrs Porter to bring us some tea, if she bothers to answer the bell, that is. I’m afraid I inherited her with the house but she has a weakness for jigger gin and laudanum, and is probably the worst cook in the world. I’d sack her but the poor soul would end up on the streets, and so I take most of my meals at the home.’
Taking off her bonnet, Belinda sank down on the sofa, avoiding a hole where the horsehair stuffing protruded in a tangled mass. ‘You really do need someone to look after you, and you still haven’t told me how you managed to make your fortune after you left the army.’ She shivered as she watched her breath curl up in a cloud with every spoken word, and she hugged her mantle a little closer around her chilled body. ‘I think my first task will be to find a chimney sweep and to order coal enough to fill the cellar.’
Cade rang the bell again with an exclamation of annoyance. ‘I’ll go below stairs and see what she’s doing,’ he said, making for the door.
‘I’m coming with you.’ Belinda stood up again, glad for an excuse to move away from the hideously uncomfortable sofa. At least walking about would keep her warm, and she was curious to see the rest of the house.
The basement kitchen was in semi-darkness. A desultory fire burned in the range, which had not been cleaned since the turn of the century, or so Belinda thought as she gazed around the room. Considering that it was the place where food was stored and prepared, the kitchen was surprisingly empty and unnaturally tidy. There was not a pot or a pan to be seen and even the mice seemed to have moved out to find a better home. Mrs Porter was sprawled in a chair by the range with her booted feet propped up on a three-legged stool. Her mouth was open and her chins sagged onto her bosom, which rose and fell with each loud snore. On the floor by her side lay an empty stone bottle, which had presumably contained the spirits that had lulled her into the arms of Morpheus. The smell of stale alcohol, sour milk and rancid fat made Belinda cover her mouth and nose with her hand.
Cade stared dispassionately at his housekeeper and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dead to the world,’ he said, lifting the blackened kettle off the hob. ‘Boiled dry,’ he added, shaking his head. ‘I think we’ll forget the tea. The chaps in the home have a constant brew on the go. I made certain that there were two large water boilers when we had the new range installed.’ He strode to the door and held it open. ‘Best leave the old girl to sleep it off.’
Hand in hand they ascended the staircase to the ground floor. ‘This isn’t a good first impression,’ Cade said regretfully. ‘I wanted you to like the house, Belle. But I understand if you think it’s past saving.’
She smiled up at him, knowing that she might regret her decision tomorrow, but she could deny him nothing, and she was ready to take up the challenge. ‘It’s a splendid house, George. It just needs a little love and a lot of hard work. We’ll make it into a wonderful home, but I’d like Cassy to see it before we make any firm decision.’
‘I love you, Belle. Have I told you that recently?’
‘Not for the last five minutes, my darling.’
He swept her into his arms as if to prove a point. ‘Now then, where were we? I know, I was showing you round our new home. I’m afraid the dining room is a bit of a mess, and the morning parlour leaves a lot to be desired. As to the bedrooms, well I’ve only used one and that isn’t a fit sight for a lady’s eyes.’
‘I think I can bear it, George,’ Belinda said stoutly.
He led her into the morning parlour where the wallpaper was hanging off in shreds and the paintwork peeling. The grate was filled with soot and rubble and the windows were fogged with dirt. ‘You see what I mean, Belle? This isn’t a job for the fainthearted.’
‘I’m a soldier’s daughter, George. And you’re a rich man, so you say. Or is that a story you’ve made up to lure an innocent woman into matrimony?’ Angling her head she smiled mischievously. ‘I’d still love you, even if you’d robbed a bank.’
He leaned against the mantelshelf, kicking at the burnt remains of a log and sending a shower of ash onto the hearth. ‘I was discharged from the army as being medically unfit, and I’d lost you. I really didn’t care what happened to me. I had some discharge pay and I travelled about India for a while, searching for something although I didn’t know what. My money ran out and I found myself in Bombay, penniless and destitute. I remembered visiting my grandfather’s house when I was a child. My father took me there only once before he sent me to school in England. I was desperate and my fever had returned. I remember very little of the first few weeks after I had been taken in. My grandfather was very old and not a well man, but it turned out that I was his only heir. My uncles had produced daughters who were all married off to wealthy men and had already received generous dowries. During my long convalescence I became close to my grandfather and I was with him when he died. He was a wealthy man and he left me everything.’
‘And yet you chose to return to England?’
‘I had to find you. Even if I couldn’t have you, I wanted to be close to you. I thought if I could see you now and again it would heal the rift in my heart, but on the occasions when I did see you with your husband I found it was too painful to bear. Eventually I gave up, until as I told you I heard of Sir Geoffrey’s death, and then it seemed that I was too late. I had no idea where you’d gone and I thought I’d lost you forever.’
She walked into his arms. ‘But we’re together now, thanks to our daughter. Who would have thought we’d have a happy ending?’
He held her close. ‘Now all we have to do is to convince Cassy.’
‘She’s your flesh and blood, George. Give her time and she’ll come to love you.’ Belinda shivered. ‘But could we go somewhere warmer? I’m freezing.’
Late that afternoon as the carriage stopped outside the house in Pedlar’s Orchard, Belinda left the shelter of Cade’s embrace with the greatest reluctance. She blew him a kiss as she hesitated in the doorway, waving until the barouche turned the corner and was out of sight.
‘So you’ve been with him all day.’ Cassy’s voice was as brittle as the icicles that hung from the area railings.
Her smile faded as she came hurtling back to earth with a bump. ‘Yes, I have. Do you mind very much?’
‘I don’t want to see you get hurt, Ma.’
‘But your father and I love each other, darling. We love you too.’
‘He doesn’t know me,’ Cassy said coldly. ‘And I know very little about him except that he got you with child when you were a girl just like me. What would you say if the positions were reversed, Ma? If I went with a man and had his baby out of wedlock, how would you feel then? Would you trust him to make me happy if he turned up suddenly, many years later?’
‘I-I don’t know,’ Belinda murmured, lost for words and taken aback by the anger smouldering in Cassy’s eyes.
‘I’d say you’re the one who needs to get to know him,’ Cassy went on, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. ‘I’m not going to put my life in his hands. You did it once before when you married Sir Geoffrey and now you’re going to do it again. I say shame on you, Ma. Are you never going to learn?’ Her voice breaking on a sob Cassy turned away and ran up the stairs. The sound of her door slamming made Belinda cover her ears with her hands.
Chapter Twenty-one
Cassy barely slept that night, despite an enjoyable and energetic day spent skating on the frozen lake in Victoria Park and the ensuing snowball fights on its banks. Things had started to go wrong after she had returned home; in fact the pleasurable outing had turned into something of an emotional nightmare. She had been waiting for Ma’s ret
urn, desperate to confide in her and ask her advice. Never had she needed her mother more than at that moment, but the sight of Ma in Cade’s arms had come as a shock. They had been kissing passionately and were totally oblivious to the world around them. Cassy had felt sick with embarrassment. She had liked Cade well enough in the beginning; indeed she had been drawn to him as if by an invisible thread, but to accept him as her father was a different matter entirely. He was not the image she had fondly cherished as a child. When she had thought that Mahdu was her mother, she had imagined her father to be of medium height and slender build with light brown hair that curled a little at the ends, and smiling eyes; a perfect English gentleman. In her mind he had been sensitive and intelligent, more like a poet than a soldier. He had been a cross between William Wordsworth and St Francis of Assisi. Animals, birds and children had flocked to him in their droves, and his love for her mother had been spiritual rather than carnal. Now, faced with the unquestionably virile, dashing and battle-scarred reality of Captain Cade, she was in a state of denial. Her mother had fallen under his spell once again, apparently forgetting that he had taken advantage of her when she was an innocent young girl. And worse still, they were so wrapped up in each other that they had forgotten that it was she, Cassy, who was the real victim of their youthful indiscretions. What would they say if she had given in to passion when Oliver kissed her that same afternoon? Would they even care?
The memory of that moment brought a blush to her cheeks. Bailey and Freddie had volunteered to see Lottie home after Cassy had started to shiver, complaining that her boots leaked and that she had lost the feeling in her toes. She and Ollie had come on ahead, hand in hand and giggling like schoolchildren as they entered the house and made for the warmth of the parlour. It was dark outside and the flickering firelight had created shifting shadows on the walls. She had been about to light the candles but Ollie had said it was cosier like this. He had made her sit on the sofa and had knelt before her, unlacing her boots. His hands had been warm and gentle as they chafed her cold feet. He had teased her about the hole in her stocking where her big toe peeped through, and she had slapped his wrist, tucking her feet out of sight beneath the sofa. She remembered how his smile had faded and his eyes had darkened as they held hers in an almost hypnotic gaze, and then to her surprise he had seized her hands in his and clasped them to his chest. He had said that his feelings for her were anything but brotherly, and he had risen from his knees to enfold her in his arms. His kiss had been tender and yet demanding, thrilling and a little frightening. Being held in a warm embrace and being kissed with undoubted expertise was a new experience. It had been shocking and at the same time exciting.
Cassy pulled the coverlet up to her chin as she lay staring at the ceiling. Today she would be waving goodbye to Ollie, sending him off to war with nothing but a kiss and a smile to remember her by. He would be facing dangers on the battlefield, and she might never see him again. He had been too much of a gentleman to press his suit, but the thing that shocked her most was the fact that she had wanted him to make love to her. She was hazy as to the mechanics of the whole thing. It had been the topic of many whispered conversations in the dormitory at school, and no one really knew what went on in the privacy of the marital bedchamber, but there had been a lot of supposition accompanied by even more giggling. Now, as night faded into morning, Cassy was lost in guilt as she remembered the lover-like words that Ollie had whispered in her ear. She could still feel the caress of his hands on her breasts as he helped her take off the damp woollen mantle, and how the touch of his fingers on her nipples had caused them to harden and sent shivers of delight down her spine. His mouth had sought hers again and her lips had parted with a sigh of pleasure. It had gone no further as Ollie released her suddenly, shame-faced and with an apology, but it had left her wanting more. Had it been the same for Ma when she was just a girl and had given herself to Cade?
‘I love you, Cassy.’ Oliver’s parting words still rang in her ears.
‘And I love you too.’ The reply had tripped off her tongue. Oliver’s embrace had awakened strange and potent desires. The remnants of childhood had been torn away by feelings that were intense and thrilling. It must be love.
In the cold light of day she was not so sure. Cassy swung her legs over the side of the bed, grimacing as her bare feet touched the cold linoleum. Having had to break the ice before pouring water from the ewer into the washbowl, her ablutions were brief. She dried herself on a piece of coarse towelling and with her teeth chattering she dressed as quickly as her numbed fingers would allow. She was searching through the chest of drawers for a pair of stockings that were not too much darned when her gaze fell upon the portrait of herself that Jack had given her. She had intended to give it to Ollie as a keepsake, but then she remembered with a pang of remorse that Bailey was also leaving today. Her much loved friend was returning to the battlefield, and until this moment she had barely given him a second thought. Guilt, shame and the need to make reparation, even though he had no knowledge of her slide from grace, made it imperative that she give him something to remember her by. She slipped the portrait into her pocket, put on her stockings and boots and went downstairs, bracing herself to face Ollie at breakfast. If what she felt for him was love, it was a complete jumble of emotions and very disturbing.
She looked round anxiously as she entered the kitchen and was relieved to find that he was not there. Mrs Wilkins was stirring a pan on the range and Freddie and Bailey were sitting at the table eating their breakfast.
Bailey gave her a searching look. ‘You look pale. Are you feeling all right this morning, Cass?’
Avoiding his intense gaze she busied herself pouring tea. ‘I’m fine. Where’s Ollie? Is he still in bed?’
‘He was up hours ago,’ Mrs Wilkins volunteered as she ladled porridge into a bowl and set it on the table in front of Cassy. ‘Had his breakfast and went out to look for a cab about five minutes ago.’
‘You’d gone to bed by the time Freddie and I got home,’ Bailey said, frowning. ‘I thought you must have caught a chill or something.’
‘I stayed up later than you, Cassy,’ Freddie said with a mischievous grin. ‘I’m a big boy now.’
Cassy leaned across the table to ruffle his hair. ‘Yes, you are. Now put your coat on and I’ll take you to school.’
Bailey jumped to his feet. ‘No, you won’t. It’s still freezing outside. We’ll drop him off on the way to the docks.’
She nodded, sipping her tea. ‘He’ll miss you terribly.’
‘Will you miss me, Cass?’
‘Of course I will. I always do, silly.’
He raised her to her feet. ‘Give me a hug, Cass. And then I think you ought to go and sit by the fire in the parlour. You look done in.’
‘I’m coming to see you off at the docks.’
‘No, I won’t hear of it. There’s no point you catching your death of cold, and I want to remember you at home, safe and warm. That’s the picture of you I’ll carry with me always.’
Suddenly the war in that far-off country seemed to invade the kitchen. Cassy shivered as a sudden chill made her heart contract with fear. She wrapped her arms around him. ‘You will come back to me, Bailey. Promise me you will.’
He held her for a moment and then gently disengaged her hands from around his neck. ‘I have to go now, but I’ll do my best to stay alive, girl.’ His words were cheerful but the expression in his eyes was bleak.
‘Bailey,’ she said, slipping her hand in her pocket and pulling out the framed portrait. ‘I’ve got something I’d like you to have.’
‘What’s that, Cass?’
She pressed the picture into his hand. ‘Something to remember me by when you’re far away.’
He stared at it for a moment and she could see his mouth working as if he was at a loss for words. He brushed his hand across his eyes. ‘I don’t need anything to remind me of your face, girl.’ Clutching the picture, he held it to his heart. ‘You’re here, C
assy. Everywhere I go, I take you with me.’ He sniffed and his lips twisted into a smile. ‘You’re part of me, Cass. Nothing can ever come between us.’ His voice broke and he turned to Freddie, holding out his hand. ‘Come on, Freddie. You’re travelling to school in style today, old chap.’
Mrs Wilkins bustled over to throw her arms around Bailey. ‘Take care of yourself, boy. Let’s hope this blooming war don’t go on for much longer.’ She gave him a hug and then released him. She bent down to retrieve a pair of coarse woollen socks from her chair, thrusting them into Bailey’s hands. ‘Here, I knitted these for you. Keep your tootsies warm in them cold Afghan nights.’
He tucked them into his pocket, bending down to kiss her cheek. ‘Ta, Mrs Wilkins. I’ll think of you and your boiled mutton and caper sauce every time I put my socks on.’
She slapped him on the arm. ‘Get on with you. Best hurry or Master Oliver will put you on a charge.’
The mere mention of his name made Cassy tremble. How would she face him today? Would he have forgotten the moments they had shared in the parlour yesterday? She watched Mrs Wilkins fussing round Freddie as Bailey helped him into his coat, and although she would have liked to remain hiding away in the kitchen, Cassy knew she had to see Ollie alone. The last thing she wanted was to send him off to war thinking that she did not care, even though her own emotions were in a desperate muddle. Leaving the room with a murmured apology, she hurried up the back stairs. Oliver was in the hallway standing by the open front door while the cabby loaded their luggage into the waiting cab. His face lit up at the sight of her. ‘There you are, Cassy. I thought you’d overslept and I’d have to come up to get you.’
She raised her eyes to his face and her heart skipped a beat at the warmth of his smile. ‘I wanted to come to the docks to see you off, but Bailey doesn’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘I should think not. We’d be selfish brutes if we expected you to freeze on the dockside just to wave us off.’ He swept her up in his arms, kissing her thoroughly until her lips parted with a sigh, and she slid her arms around his neck. She was dizzy with desire as he set her back on her feet. He held her for a moment, gazing deeply into her eyes. ‘When I come back home I’m going to ask you to marry me, Cassy. You’ve plenty of time to think it over while I’m gone.’ He glanced over her shoulder as Freddie came clattering up the stairs, followed by Bailey. ‘Come along, Corporal Moon. We’ll be in trouble if we miss the boat.’ He patted Freddie on the head. ‘Hop in the cab, boy. We’ve no time to lose.’
