Emilia watched her ride away. Upright in the saddle. In charge. Self-assured. Her apology and bright offer to be friends had not changed Emilia’s opinion of her as being high-handed and domineering. Alec seemed to like her, but he would. Selina Bosweld was the sort of woman who endeared herself to men.
Ben was running down the front path.
‘You’ve missed her. What a pity Jonny arrived home and kept you talking.’
‘Shut up, Emilia.’ He shoved past her and stared up the lane in time to see Selina Bosweld quickly putting distance between herself and the farm, her scarf adding a dash of brilliant colour between the wild daffodil and creamy-yellow primrose encrusted hedges, the heavily golden-flowered gorse bushes and the yellow celandines growing near the ditches.
Emilia followed the enthusiastic journey his eyes took until the bicycle and rider were out of sight. ‘Don’t you think you’re being just a bit pathetic?’
Ben turned round to her. ‘Not in the least.’
‘What does Tris say in his letter?’
‘Ask Jonny.’
‘Don’t be childish, Ben. Are you coming back in for something to eat? For Jonny’s sake.’
‘Got things to do. Why don’t you like Selina Bosweld?’
‘What makes you think I don’t?’
‘I know you. Your eyes are fiery.’ He took all of her in, a habit of his, which he did because it annoyed her and because he enjoyed it in a carnal way. ‘You look your best when you’re fired up.’
‘Ben, you get more like a tomcat every day. Doesn’t Polly Hetherton appeal to you anymore?’ Emilia had never liked his long-time snobbish war-widowed lover and she only made Polly Hetherton welcome in her house so she could see her adopted niece, Louisa, whom she had a special connection with. ‘You’ll get nowhere lusting after Sara, I’ll make sure of that. And you’re probably wasting your time drooling over our new tenant, she’s a career woman.’
Alec appeared in the lane, having come out of the yard entrance. With him were Midge Roach, the cowman, and Jonny, who had changed out of his school uniform into old clothes and boots and gaiters. ‘We’re off to bring in the herd. Shouldn’t you be doing the same, Ben?’
‘I’ve got a large enough workforce to do exactly as I please. But don’t worry, Alec, I don’t intend to loiter about your property. Thanks for the invitation to the party you’re giving for the baby. I’ll come for her sake and because you’ve invited Polly and little Louisa, and, of course, hopefully, Tris will arrive in time.’
Jonny took no notice of the antagonism between the grown-ups. He was used to it. ‘Uncle Ben, Dad’s written to say he’s got some exciting news to tell me when he arrives. Any idea what it is?
‘Sorry, Jonny, not a clue.’ Ben walked up to Alec. ‘When are the Boswelds moving in?’
‘On Saturday.’ Alec raised a chary black brow. ‘Why?’
‘Would you mind if I helped out? I understand the brother’s disabled.’
It was many years since Ben had asked something from Alec. Their estrangement had been caused over Ben’s treachery at exploiting Alec’s literary problem to gain the Tremore property, which Alec had been about to buy. Their uneasy reconciliation had been brought about by the heart-rending circumstances of the birth of Ursula Harvey’s baby, the baby being the Louisa whom Ben had mentioned. All three Harvey brothers and Emilia were involved in a secret of sensitive proportions; Jonny had no idea he had a living half-sister.
Alec too had noticed Ben’s reaction to Selina Bosweld. He knew his brother wasn’t keeping himself exclusively to Polly Hetherton. Well, it was none of his business. ‘Please yourself, but I’ll be bringing Sara and Jim with me to help. I don’t want any trouble.’
‘You have my word there won’t be any from me.’
Ben strutted past Emilia on his way home.
Chapter Three
Emilia paced the front path of Ford House while waiting for the Boswelds to arrive. Her hands were clenched at the sides of her sleeveless, loose and narrow dress, her mind on Jenna. Was it normal for a baby to sleep endlessly? And when awake to hardly be alert? And when it was feeding time to have to be coaxed to take the breast? Will and Tom had been ravenous feeders. All babies cried with wind, but occasionally Jenna became rigid, as if in spasm in every limb, and she would howl as if in deep anguish. It had to be more than colic, the answer to every newly born infant distress. And afterwards when her little body relaxed she’d fall asleep again, such a deep sleep where nothing disturbed her. Not her brothers’ or cousin’s noisy play, the sudden banging of a door, or light being let into the room. Was it natural? Was Jenna all right?
Dolly said she should be grateful to have a passive baby. She comforted herself with the thought that her mother knew best.
An arm was slipped around her waist, bringing her to a halt in front of a recently weeded border of azaleas, heathers and lavender. Alec looked up under her small-brimmed hat. ‘They’re not late, darling. Miss Bosweld sent word that they’d be here at eleven o’clock.’
‘I know, but it’s going to be a busy day. I want to get back and help Tilda prepare for the party.’ She positioned her hand over his, feeling the need to snuggle in against his body, making her aware just how worried she was about Jenna. This was silly. She must think of other things. ‘Wonder why Tris hasn’t let on what time his train is due in. The boys were hoping for the opportunity to do some trainspotting.’
‘Obviously he didn’t know exactly when he could get away,’ Ben said, from where he was perched on the outer side of the drystone perimeter wall, his boots resting in the grassy verge. He was in work clothes, his shirt made of the usual stout, striped cotton and trousers of corduroy, but they were new. His boots were polished. His coal-black hair had been treated to a lick of oil and was neat and shiny. He smelled of a robust aftershave. His long tough fingers drew out a cigar from its wrappings and he looked at it with pleasure. It was the best that Havana could provide and cost a mint, but he could afford it. He had two more in his breast pocket, and although Alec and Jim smoked he would not ask either to join him.
Woman-bait. Done up as woman-bait, Emilia thought drily, as she watched him light the cigar in the manner of a movie star. He was gifted at narrowing his eyes to look sultry, lordly, central to the scene, while producing an instant flame from his single-diamond-studded gold lighter, and drawing in, snapping the lighter shut and returning it to his breast pocket. All in an applaudable unbroken performance, done with the arrogance of a firstborn son, which annoyed Emilia all the more. He thought himself a member of the county’s elite, but the swanky clique he mixed with was too vulgar to be seriously considered as such. A business associate of his was a dubious character, Emilia suspected.
If Ben succeeded with the keen-tongued Selina Bosweld it would make an interesting pairing. He could be in for a shock. As beguiling as the woman was, there was also something predatory, intolerant and wilful about her, and while he thought himself stylish, sophisticated and discerning he still had a lot of immature youth in him. He thought himself superior to Alec in every way but he didn’t even begin to make a match. Alec was more of an everyday man, home loving, content to visit the village pub on a Friday night, but he was the greater of the two brothers. He measured far above Ben in integrity and kindness, and although he did not have Ben’s sort of classic good looks, his face showed a noble strength and he possessed a potent, enticing sensuality.
It had not passed Emilia by that after a brief hello to Sara, Ben was ignoring her. He never spoke to Jim – currently whirling a penknife between work-grimed forefinger and thumb, a cigarette dangling from his plentiful lips – unless with an insult or a warning. Thank goodness, Ben had never showed his interest in Sara in front of Jim or there would have been another of their clashes; in the past, one had even involved a public fist fight.
Ben chanced a glance at Sara but only to see where her concentration was focused. Sweet and extraordinarily lovely, naive and pure, she had so far spurned all t
he avid male interest shown in her as if unsettled by it. She had a rolled-up apron in her hands and was periodically staring round the garden – and at Alec. Ben couldn’t resist a private smirk. Alec aspired to nothing more than he already had and with his habit of daydreaming he would never realize the girl was besotted with him, and if he were told, he probably wouldn’t believe it. Yes, Alec had everything, wealth, position, respect in the county, children, and a happy second marriage to Emilia. Not everyone realized how subtle and cunning Alec could be. Six years ago he had watched, wanting Emilia for himself, hoping for the chance to make a play for her, then taking advantage of her broken engagement with audacious speed.
There was no point in going over that again, Ben decided. A new, more exciting woman was about to come his way. Sometimes, though, he wished Emilia had moved out of his life completely. He hated to be reminded of a failure and he hated to see her subsequent happiness. She had never been punished for blinding him, for neglecting his grandmother for such a length of time that she had wandered outside and fallen in the garden in terrible weather, and had, in her fright, smashed an earthy fist into his face. That night, when he had asked Emilia to wash the grit out of his eyes she had done so without due care. His sight could have been saved, so the consultant whom he had seen later had stressed, if the particle stabbing into the left eye had been removed skilfully. Sometimes he wished something as terrible would happen to her so she would understand how he felt.
His eyes descended on Emilia and she sucked in her breath at the bitterness in their tremendous grey depths. So, he was going over old scores again. Forgetting that it wasn’t her fault the front door had been left unlocked and dear old Lottie Harvey had wandered out of the house. He never took into consideration how understaffed the farm had been with the war raging, how she had been trying to cope alone with all the household, the dairy and yard work, as well as caring for his grandmother. He didn’t care about how much she had loved Lottie, how devastated she had felt at discovering her dead in her bed last autumn. She would never have done a thing to hurt Lottie and she had not deliberately hurt him and caused his blindness.
‘Did I mention to you, Ben, that I’ve recently had a letter from Honor? She, Archie and their son are in all good form.’ The lift of her mocking curved eyebrow was deceptive. Fire sparked in her; she was equal to any attack.
‘No, and I’m not interested.’ He hurled the cigar to the dusty ground; like all public thoroughfares through and around Hennaford it had recently been rough-paved, mainly by ex-servicemen, paid by the government to give the unemployed useful work. He hated to be reminded how after gallantly offering marriage to Honor, now Honor Rothwell, to save her from poverty, she had been snatched away from him by another man. He chose to forget that he had started his affair with Polly Hetherton before Honor had forsaken him. He swore that no woman would ever make a fool of him again. He hated to be taunted over the fact that he had been engaged twice, at the ridiculously young age of eighteen.
Emilia and Alec watched the cigar roll down the hill until it disappeared in the ditch. They shared a secret smile.
Ben’s eyes blazed in their direction. Damn you both for laughing at me. I hope something happens to rock your cosy little world, and soon.
The sound of horses and then a slowly moving motor-van brought every eye to gaze expectantly down the hill. Emilia and Alec moved outside the gate. Ben straightened up and smoothed at his hair. A trap drawn by a stocky pair of ponies rounded the bend and Selina Bosweld was waving to them. Her brother, presumably, was driving. Wearing a jazzy hat, he was waving too, and before they got up close it could be seen that here was the male equivalent of Sara in looks, a creature of unblemished beauty, although his colouring was not of the snow but the night. His smile was gorgeous, friendly, captivating.
‘What do we have here?’ Alec blew out through his lips. He had expected someone frail-looking, perhaps a little bent and crushed, perhaps hard and bitter because he was disabled and no longer able to practise his skill, but Perry Bosweld glowed with vigour and his upper body was as generously muscled as Alec’s own. The trap was pulled up and only then did he notice a third person, a wafer-thin old woman wearing black and a high-crowned cloche hat on the seat behind.
‘Should make a bob or two out of him for our trouble here today, I’m thinking,’ Jim whispered to Sara, whipping his hands out of the pockets of his leather jerkin. A resourceful youth, he had suggested a ramp be made for each outside door to help the cripple pass in and out of the house. Mr Perry Bosweld looked as if he might be a grateful sort of bloke.
‘What?’ With the attention fixed on the newcomers, Sara had taken the opportunity to familiarize herself with Alec’s body. She liked the way he moved, like some great splendid animal. His face was in profile, and she had studied its every approach and angle, so often she had it emblazoned on her heart. If Jim had not nudged her she would have become giddy with excitement. As it was, her palms were hot and sticky, her legs weak and quivery.
‘I think he’ll be a generous tipper,’ Jim explained, then was off to help the gentleman in question to alight. He did not care what the conceited snob, Ben Harvey, did today – as long as he stayed out of his way and kept his stupid mouth shut.
Ben had gone round to the other side of the trap. Selina Bosweld accepted his hand down. She was wearing her yellow scarf and pulled it off and shook out her thick, tawny hair. ‘Hello, Ben. Thanks for being here, and you, Alec and Emilia. For convenience of direction, we’ve led the motor-van since leaving the main road. I think we caused quite a stir in the part of the village we passed through. This is my brother, Perry.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Perry,’ Alec said, taking up the use of first names. ‘Welcome to Ford House. I hope you’ll find everything to your needs. Emilia and I will be glad to invite you and Selina to dinner once you’re settled in. I hope you’ll excuse us both for we’ll soon have to leave. We have much to do at the farm. We’ve brought along Jim and Sara Killigrew, two of our staff, to help you move in.’
‘We greatly appreciate that, Alec,’ Selina smiled, tilting her head just a little at him. ‘I see you’ve also brought us a box of vegetables and dairy produce. How kind. Thank you.’
‘And Ben is your brother, so I understand,’ Perry said in his cheerful, pleasant voice. He shook Ben’s elevated hand, and then looked down on the patiently waiting Jim. ‘I can shuffle myself to the ground. Could you lift my crutches down, dear chap? That would be splendid. And then my wheeled chair? I’ll need it for convenience later. It’s folded up next to Mirelle.’ He thumbed behind him and the woman lifted her head and smiled toothlessly, vacantly, anciently. Perry addressed the whole company. ‘She’s our maid, by the way. She’s French. Selina brought her back with her from Paris-Plage in 1919. Afraid there’s not much point in trying to communicate with her, apart from a smile or two. The poor old girl was too near an exploding shell while fleeing from her village and lost her hearing. She’s a positive gem; we’re lucky to have her, eh, Selina?’
‘Absolutely true,’ Selina answered in similar bright tones. ‘Don’t any of you trouble yourselves with anything in the kitchen, she’s terribly territorial in that respect.’
Emilia took to Perry Bosweld’s jollity. She watched, somehow fascinated, as he leaned against the trap while inserting the crutches in under his armpits before moving off effortlessly. The trouser leg on the right was pinned up from the knee. His sister pushed the wheeled chair, which had a central steering handle at the front, up to the front door. ‘Have you arranged for your daughter to be brought along later, Perry?’
‘Oh, she’s in the cab of the van.’ Perry’s smile sparkled and shone. ‘Simply begged to be allowed to travel in it. The two chaps said they didn’t mind. I’m afraid I spoil her, Emilia. You probably wouldn’t approve but when you’ve lost so much, when you’ve seen so many fields of suffering, well, loving those you care about is all that seems important. Ah, here she comes now. Libby, darling, come and m
eet our new friends.’
Elizabeth Bosweld was a disappointingly plain child after witnessing the excellence of her father and her aunt’s alluring appeal – an appeal that was winning her frequent admiring looks from Ben and Jim, and, Emilia noticed, no defection into contemplation from Alec.
Emilia looked for the striking violet hue of Selina’s eyes in Perry and Elizabeth, but only Selina boasted that particular gift from nature. Father and daughter had eyes of deep blue, a helpful compensation to Elizabeth, as was her beribboned curly hair – which was the same shade as her aunt’s – and her lace-trimmed clothes and patent leather shoes. She giggled as she skipped over every inch of ground until she reached her father and flung her arms round his good leg.
Perry leaned down and kissed her. ‘Libby, say hello to Mr and Mrs Harvey. This fellow here you must call Mr Ben, and we mustn’t forget Jim and Sara. Perhaps Sara will unpack your things when Aunt Selina has chosen your room. Eh, Sara?’
‘I’d be pleased to, sir.’ Sara grew flushed and self-conscious for Selina Bosweld had turned what seemed a critical eye on her.
With a little cheerful ceremony the front door was unlocked, the keys handed over to Perry, then Alec and Emilia took the trap round the back to stable the ponies.
‘Pleasant family,’ he remarked. ‘Seem to feel at home already. Hope they get involved in village life. Perry could brighten things up round here.’
‘He has already. Libby seems a dear little thing.’
‘You don’t like Selina, do you?’
Emilia looked over the neck of the pony she was unharnessing. ‘Why shouldn’t I? I hardly know her.’
Alec came to her and wrapped his arms round her from behind. ‘You might think I’m a bit of a wool-gatherer, angel, but I know when you don’t like someone. What’s she done that you object to?’
Moments of Time Page 3
