Moments of Time

by Moments of Time (Moments In Time) (retail) (epub)

  ‘It sounds serious,’ she said, electing to stay lying still, keeping far enough away not to be touching him.

  Tristan took a deep breath. ‘It is. Because of that child’s existence I agreed to something I’ve always regretted. There’s much that happened in the past you don’t know about, Winnie. You see, the girl is Ursula’s child, her lover’s child.’

  Winifred forgot her modesty and sat up beside him. ‘But the baby was stillborn!’

  ‘She wasn’t, though that was what Jonny was going to be told anyway. It was always meant that Ursula’s child would be secretly adopted, to make it easier for the new start we were supposed to have, until Bruce Ashley turned up again. Emilia was there at the delivery. Ben was also in the house. They promised Ursula her dying wish, that if it was possible they would always look after her baby. While I sat alone with Ursula and watched her die, Alec noticed the child had a birthmark on her face and the district nurse said the intended adoptive parents wouldn’t take her because of it. The next option was an orphanage, but Alec’s always hated the thought of anyone being rejected, and…’ Tristan expelled a heavy sigh and put a hand over his face. ‘Dear God, this is awful.’

  Winifred reached for his other hand – close cousins again.

  He hung on to her warmth. ‘When I came downstairs, Alec, Emilia and Ben were actually arguing whether she should go to Ford Farm or Tremore. They made my head spin, Winnie. It was unfair. I, as Ursula’s husband, was responsible for the decision over what happened to the baby. Ben’s young friend, Julian Andrews, was also there. He suggested he and his sister adopt the baby. As you know, he’s got a weak heart and isn’t expected to live many more years, and Polly, apparently, had been told she could never conceive. They had always longed for what neither could have.

  ‘I agreed, Winnie, and Andrews took the baby away. But if I had been asked about it the next day, I would have refused. Now I have to live in fear that one day Jonny will find out that Louisa is his half-sister and that I lied to him. He might forgive the others for keeping the truth from him but not me, I’m his father.’

  ‘I can see why you’ve never wanted to step inside Ford House again after all that happened there.’ Winifred pulled away from him. ‘Well, you’ve succeeded in getting Jonny away mostly from the farm, which is visited by Julian Andrews and Polly Hetherton, and away from Truro where they live. He’s not as likely to be exposed to Louisa now.’

  Tristan touched her shoulder. She went rigid. ‘Winnie, what is it? Are you disgusted by the whole affair? Do you think me heartless for wishing the girl had gone to an orphanage?’

  ‘I know we’ve got a marriage of convenience, Tristan, but I didn’t expect to be used.’ She was shedding tears of humiliation. ‘You’ve made me feel undervalued.’

  ‘What are you saying, Winnie? Turn round to me. Please, my dear. I don’t understand how I’ve upset you.’

  She refused to budge, even when he put his arms around her from behind and rubbed the side of his face against her cheek. ‘If it wasn’t for Jonny you’d have sent me some money to help see me through and stayed in the army until you’d retired, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Oh, Winnie, please don’t think that. Don’t cry.’ He sought to wipe away her tears. ‘It isn’t that at all. I promise you I resigned because I wanted to come home. I wanted family life again. I was lonely. I longed for a woman’s company, all that she could give me. I had it in mind to ask you to marry me before I managed to wring it out of you that you had money worries. Yes, I won’t deny that I feel better to have Jonny further away from that little girl, but I wouldn’t have settled in or near to Truro anyway. Ursula’s family live there. Jonny coped well when he learned his mother died bearing her lover’s child – that couldn’t have been kept from him, of course – but it hurts him being shunned by his grandparents. They’re unforgiving, and I fear they’d throw Ursula’s downfall in his face. I’m sorry, Winnie. I was a fool not to have told you all this before but there was a lot to do leading up till today. Say you forgive me, Winnie. Please.’

  She let herself fall back against his body, wrapping her arms over his. ‘I’m such a silly, Tris. I forgot what Emilia reminded me of earlier today.’

  He kissed her wet hot cheek. ‘What was that?’

  ‘That you’re the most sensitive of men. I’m sorry for making a fuss.’

  ‘Understandable. You’ll have to pull me up sometimes, you know. I’m too used to being on my own.’ He kissed her cheek again.

  She moved her head so she could kiss him in the same way. She felt the slight roughness of stubble on his chin and her lips burned. She had forgotten how exciting the hardy qualities of a man felt. How a man smelled, somehow raw and unrefined. How, in the dark, a man’s strength and dominance could take her to a place she could never admit to knowing. A place she missed.

  Tristan was aware of her softness, the full, supple contours of her body. The feel of her hair against his chest sent ripples of pleasure swirling down to his loins. ‘Winnie, darling…’

  She was too shy to respond in the way she wished to. As he kissed the back of her neck, nuzzling in that zone of exquisite sensitivity, she was too shy to let out moans of delight and anticipation and arousal. She simply closed her eyes and let him run his fingertips up and down her arms, making her tingle wonderfully under the lace-encrusted satin, pleased now not to have opted for a nightdress she would have felt sheltered in. She gave way to the pleasures as he took them to sink down on the bed.

  The first taste of his lips on hers was fleeting. She caressed his face, his gentle, pale thin face. She felt safe with Tristan. Her lips were ready when he brought his back again. He didn’t progress in what she thought of as the usual way of a man. Hands on her breasts then a fast demanding journey to the lower regions. Instead he brought her hands up and kissed them, taking her fingertips inside his mouth one at a time. He made lingering feather-light voyages with the backs of his fingers, the sides of his hands, the curved flats of his hands all over her except where she was foremost a woman. He did the same with his mouth. It was like a form of worship. A gift. An honouring. And so it went on. Gaining in commitment and passion. Experiences new and exquisite and divine to her.

  It seemed half the night had passed before he finally joined their bodies together. By this time her nightdress was heaped on top of his pyjamas on the floor and he had made her a pioneer in his quest.

  * * *

  Long after midnight, Alec lay watching Emilia. She was lingering over the cot brought into the room for Jenna, touching her, keeping a vigil by lantern light. Emilia had been in no mood to share kisses and loving embraces with him in the summer house after his furious interchange with Ben and she had stayed subdued all evening. Damn Ben! He had spoiled their special place. Ben was always in the background of their love. He had been her first lover and Emilia would probably be married to him now if not for that fateful rescue of his grandmother. But it was the first time Ben had tainted his and Emilia’s passion and delight in each other. He wished his brother far away.

  ‘Darling,’ he whispered through the muggy gloom. ‘Are you worried about Jenna? Or are you angry with me?’

  Her attention stayed over the cot. ‘Alec, there’s something wrong with her.’ Her voice was thick with tears, heavy with fright.

  He rushed out of bed to Emilia’s side. ‘How do you know? She appears to be sleeping soundly. She took her last feed, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, but… oh, I don’t know, Alec, there’s something, I know there is. I’m her mother, I feel it.’

  He felt Jenna’s brow, it was warm and a little moist. ‘She’s not burning hot. Her breathing’s not ragged or anything. Bring her into bed with us, hold her all night if it’ll make you feel better, darling.’

  ‘No, she’s peaceful. It would be a shame to disturb her. I’m just being silly.’ Even as the last words left her lips she knew she didn’t believe them. As soon as she got home she would take Jenna to the doctor, just to be sure…


  ‘Then come to bed, you’ll wear yourself out. Do you want me to take a peek at Will and Tom?’

  ‘No. Sorry, darling, I’m making you worry too.’

  Jenna suddenly opened her eyes. ‘Hello, sweetheart, did naughty Mummy and Daddy wake you?’ Emilia crooned, caressing her soft downy cheek.

  Alec put his finger in her tiny fist. She didn’t grip it, but next instant her whole body went into spasm and she was crying in pain, first shrilly, then a loud pitiful wail.

  Emilia picked her up and cradled her to her breast and rubbed her back. ‘She must have wind. Shush, shush, sweetheart, Mummy will make it go away.’ Usually when babies had wind they drew up their knees and bawled. Jenna was suddenly limp in her arms.

  ‘Never heard her make a noise like that before. Or Will or Tom.’ Alec held his hands out helplessly. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘I’ll walk about with her for a bit. That might do it.’ Emilia paced once up and down, then up again on the Wilton carpet. As suddenly as it had started Jenna’s crying ceased. ‘There, that’s better. Let’s get into bed with Daddy and we’ll all snuggle up together.’

  Emilia kissed her daughter’s forehead. ‘Jenna? Jenna? Oh, my God, she’s stopped breathing. Alec! Alec! Do something!’

  He raced across the room. He was trembling. ‘Breathe into her mouth like you did the day she was born.’

  In her panic Emilia couldn’t function. She thrust the baby into Alec’s hands. He laid the little inert body over his arm and while supporting her head on the palm of his other hand he breathed into her.

  Emilia didn’t realize she was crying for help, dancing a dance of fear on the spot. When others rushed into the room, bringing more light with them and making outlandish noises, she fought against the strong hands that were trying to give her comfort. ‘My baby, my baby! Save her.’

  To add to the living nightmare, Tom wrapped his arms around her legs and Jonny tried to pull him away, but Tom clung on and screamed that he wouldn’t let go. Emilia saw Will standing back ashen-faced, and then Winifred got in the way of her view of what Alec was doing to Jenna. ‘What’s happening? Let me see!’

  Tristan grabbed her and this time he held on tight. ‘Stop it, Em. Listen, Jenna’s crying. She’s going to be all right.’

  Winifred stepped away. With tears streaming down his gaunt, terrified face, Alec was holding Jenna with the side of her face against his neck and Jenna was crying loudly, lustily. Tom finally allowed Jonny to draw him back. Emilia felt herself collapse with relief and Tristan had to support her. ‘Thank God, thank God,’ she sobbed over and over.

  ‘Let’s get everyone up on the bed,’ Tristan said. ‘We’ll send the maid for Winnie’s doctor to take a look at Jenna.’

  When Emilia was sitting beside Alec, he gave Jenna to her then gathered his whole family in to him. ‘Dear God, Alec, I didn’t know what to do this time.’

  Jonny was standing close to Alec and wound his arm round his neck. ‘Uncle Alec always knows what to do. He’s the bravest man in all the world.’

  Tristan and Winnie exchanged rueful looks.

  Ben appeared in the doorway. He had got drunk again and only the maid clumping down the stairs to fetch the doctor had woken him. He leaned stupidly against the doorjamb. ‘Something going on, is there?’

  Alec eased himself away from the bed then shot across the room. ‘Get out! This is all your doing. You ill-wished us earlier tonight and brought us near to tragedy. You’ve gone too far this time. I’ll never forgive you and I no longer consider you my brother. If you ever step on my land again, and that includes Ford House, I’ll take a gun and hunt you down like a dog.’

  Chapter Seven

  It was market day. Two of the farmhands had taken the calves by cart into Truro at daybreak, but Alec had decided not to follow on after breakfast to observe the auction or conduct his other business there. Instead he lined up more of his farm vehicles in the outer yard.

  ‘Jim! Jim!’ Taking an impatient puff on a cigarette, he peered about for the youth who should have been on his way to him with paint, axle grease and tools. ‘Jim! Where the bloody hell are you?’

  ‘Time you had another word with he, Alec.’ Edwin Rowse was about to leave for town, deputizing for his son-in-law. ‘Lazy young bugger’s slipping off all the time, he’s getting tired to the bone and as cantankerous as Pip was. No one can say a right word to him.’

  ‘Do you think he’s sickening for something?’ Alec snatched at the opportunity to consider someone else in his household might be ailing rather than his beloved daughter.

  Edwin guffawed and grinned. ‘Aye, spring fever! Got himself a maid, he has. Haven’t you seen the silly look on his face when he goes out? Or gotten the smell of him when he finally gets back?’ The farm manager tapped his weather-raddled neck. ‘Got marks here he have and that’s not the only place.’

  ‘Don’t tell me he’s actually gone that far?’

  ‘Bound to happen one day. He’s always been one for casting his eye round.’

  ‘Sounds like he’s seeing someone experienced, so it can’t be Elena Rawley.’ Alec sighed, rumbling like a steam engine. ‘I’ll speak to him, before we get some outraged father turning up with a shotgun.’

  ‘He’s always gone a long time so whomever ’tis must live yonder. Put the ruddy bull to shame, he will.’ Edwin hoped a spot of wicked humour would lessen Alec’s moroseness. He was another one who looked as if he needed a good night’s sleep.

  ‘Well, he’d better not spend any more time with this girl when he’s supposed to be working. Market cart’s hitched up for you, Edwin. The pig is on board for the butcher. We’ll put away one for ourselves in a fortnight; Emilia says the pig meat’s getting low. Did you pick up the money I left on the desk for your lunch? Take my usual table at the Red Lion.’

  ‘Dolly’s made me a pasty and I’m taking a flask, never catch me in a posh hotel.’ Edwin did not take his elevated state all that seriously. The cowman here before his daughter married his boss, he was ordinary, small in build, middle-aged but looked much older. He took simple enjoyment from his and Dolly’s extra comforts since leaving their tied cottage five years ago, and quiet delight in the close proximity of his three grandchildren. Shortly before this, he had been showing Will and Tom how to make sailing boats from corks, twigs and triangles of canvas. When he got back, they were to float them together on the pond.

  ‘At least have a pint somewhere.’

  ‘I might.’ Edwin took out his tobacco tin and started a slow, deliberate filling up of his ancient charred pipe. ‘What’s the matter? Why’re you finding so much work close to the house? The carts are usually only cleaned up one at a time, and anyway none of ’em needs nothing urgent done. Why’re you so unsettled today then? I know you don’t like change. Cap’n Tristan getting married and Jonny leaving here’s disturbed you, and you always do say that change and change about’s usually followed by some disaster.’

  Alec lit another smoke from the butt between his lips. ‘I’m afraid, Edwin.’

  Edwin lifted his flat cap and scratched his donkey-grey hair. ‘Afraid’s a strong word. Can’t see what you got to be afraid about.’

  ‘I can’t get this feeling out of my mind that something terrible is about to happen.’

  ‘Sometimes I think you’re a mite too superstitious. Never seen the old folk sniff the wind as often as you do, or buy so many trinkets from the gypsies. What’s on your mind this time?’

  Alec watched Edwin’s stubby, leathery forefinger work the tobacco into the pipe bowl in precise circular and prodding movements. He had a lot of respect for Edwin’s unruffled nature and common sense, but nothing could shift the unease icing up his guts. He didn’t want to feel this way. Have this insistent foreboding. This touch of insight, foresight, whatever it was. On these occasions he had been proved right or wrong in equal numbers, which pointed to it all being coincidence. But he was a deep thinker – it was a long-standing habit of his. It was useful at tim
es, a retreat. Or like now, a curse.

  ‘I’m afraid because Emilia’s afraid for Jenna. She hasn’t left her for a second since she stopped breathing at Roskerne and she sat up with her again all last night.’

  ‘She’s her mother. She’s bound to be worried after a terrible fright like that. Women usually fuss more over their children than us men. The little maid’s all right. The new Mrs Harvey’s doctor said so, didn’t he? He said she’s a bit of a weakling but should thrive, given time.’

  ‘He wasn’t there when it happened. The man’s a goddamned, incompetent fool!’ Alec shuddered as he relived the biting fear of losing Jenna. He shook in anger as he recalled the humiliation of being dressed down by Winifred’s condescending, ageing doctor, who had accused him of foolishness, of being likely to have done Jenna more harm than good with his actions. ‘He was wrong, Edwin. Emilia did not panic for no good reason and cause me to panic too. Emilia’s too strong, too sensible for that, and I’d never, ever do anything to risk the welfare of one of my children. I’ve delivered enough animal young to know when one of them needed assistance to start breathing. That Newquay quack was furious at being hauled out of his warm bed. He might have been satisfied with Jenna’s breathing and heartbeat, her colour and even the way she cried while he manhandled her, but he didn’t explain why for a few revolting seconds she was dead. She was, Edwin, I swear she was.’

  Edwin had never seen Alec so intense, so anxious, consumed by fear. He was worried himself now. Jenna had been taken to Hennaford’s Dr Holloway the day after the return from Roskerne. He had agreed with the Newquay doctor’s diagnosis, but Dr Holloway was becoming increasingly absent-minded and dithery, had even been known to contradict himself during a consultation. Few locals had faith in him anymore. ‘What’re you going to do?’