by Rosie Clarke
‘You would be tied to me. You should have a life of your own, Emily.’
‘Do you recall standing looking across the Fens on a clear day when the skies seemed to go on forever … endlessly?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘And then the dark clouds gathered and the mist rolled in across the flat land making it all become one and the loneliness closed in around you so that you could hardly breathe?’ Nicolas nodded. ‘That is how your life is now, lived under lowering skies.’ She moved closer to him. ‘You do not have to stay in this room. We can start by walking in the garden. You can learn to count your steps and use a stick. You don’t have to be a prisoner. With me as your guide it will be easy. We can reach for the endless skies and if we try we shall find them.’
‘And what can I give you? A few clothes …’
‘Hush, my darling.’ She placed her fingers to his lips. ‘You can give me love and that is all I ask. Besides, don’t you think it fair that your son should know his father?’
‘My son …’ Nicolas’s face reflected shock, pain, and then wonder. ‘I have a son? Emily … is it true?’
‘Yes, my dearest one. We have a beautiful son. He was born three weeks ago, a little early. I think perhaps I worked too long. It was only after he was born that I had the courage to come here. Someone persuaded me that your family had a right to know there was a child and I realised they were speaking the truth. I wanted a family for my son. I wanted him to have the things his father would have given him; love and stability and honour and so I came. It has taken me a long time to find the courage to come. Please don’t send me away, Nicolas.’
‘I didn’t know … I didn’t know …’ the tears were streaming down his face as she went into his arms. ‘Where is he? Can I hold him, touch him?’
‘He is meeting his family,’ Emily said. ‘Why don’t you take my arm and we’ll join them downstairs for tea?’
Nicolas hesitated, and then smiled. ‘I don’t have much choice. You have all the cards, Emily. You’ll have to be patient. I haven’t bothered to leave this room. There wasn’t a reason to do so.’
‘Now there is,’ she said. ‘First you must meet little Nicky – and then I feel like a stroll in the garden. I noticed the roses were just beginning to bud. You remember the white climber – it rains roses all down the south wall. They are in tight buds now but when the petals fall they look like white rain falling.’
‘Raining roses?’ Nicolas laughed. ‘What odd things you say, Emily. Yes, I remember what that looks like. The petals fall like rain when the wind ripples through the branches … and it is usually a glorious sight.’
‘It smells glorious too,’ Emily said, ‘clear and fresh. There is so much to see, Nicolas, so much to smell and touch – and I can make it come alive for you. Remember what it was like in Devon? You said that I made you see all the bright things? The world is filled with them and we’ll find them together …’
Afterword
Jonathan looked out of the window. He could see Emily and Nicolas walking near the rose arbour. It was still only spring but the sun was already warm. Emily was talking and laughing, and Nicolas was responding. Behind him, he heard his wife’s laughter as she played with young Nicky. Emily had also brought her young brother Jack to the manor when she moved in, but he’d cried for his friends and after a plea from them was allowed to return to the Greens at their farm in Stuntney, though he would visit now and then.
Since Emily arrived a few days previously, Mabel hadn’t cried once. When Lizzie first offered her the baby she’d held back for a moment, unsure or resentful because she’d lost her own baby, but then she’d taken Nicky in her arms and a look of wonder had come over her face. She’d fallen in love with him instantly, as had most of the family. Perhaps Emily’s child would fill the empty space in her heart; he hoped it might be so.
He turned to look at Mabel. She looked almost pretty as she nursed the child. It was a pity she would have none of her own – if the doctor was right. Jonathan hadn’t told her yet. He didn’t love her but he didn’t want to destroy her. He’d been a fool to rush into a marriage that meant nothing to him. He should have waited and followed his heart, as Nicolas had. His grandmother had meant to leave him the manor all along.
He could divorce Mabel if she failed to produce a child; they could arrange something, but she didn’t deserve that. Jonathan realised that he didn’t want to change anything. Emily had given him all he needed. She’d provided an heir for Priorsfield and in the years to come she would probably produce half a dozen healthy brats, because there was nothing wrong with Nicolas but a few scars and the blurring of his eyesight. Women of her class so often did have a string of healthy brats. He hoped she would. It would fill the house with noise and laughter and that was what the manor needed – it had seemed empty since Lizzie married and moved away, but now they had Emily, her brother and Nicolas’s son. Already, it seemed more alive than it had been since his grandmother died.
No, Jonathan wouldn’t divorce his wife. No doubt Mabel would have objected strongly, even though he didn’t think she was happy with things as they stood. Perhaps she would find a way to fill her empty days; he hoped so. He thought that he would take a mistress when the right opportunity presented itself.
Hearing laughter through the open window he turned to watch Emily as she picked a spray of some scented shrub and held it to Nicolas’s nose. Jonathan hadn’t told his brother yet but he’d sent some of his poetry to a publisher – the dark stuff he’d done in the war. It was the best verse he’d ever written and deserved to be seen by the world at large. Nicolas had started to write a few lines again – at least, he dictated and Emily wrote it down. She was constantly at his side, helping him, persuading him, making him laugh. Often, she and Nicolas sat in the gardens, talking and laughing, little Nicky in his pram nearby. Jonathan joined them whenever he had the time. Watching them together, he felt a pang of envy.
Nicolas was damned lucky despite his injuries.
Amy was still abroad with her lover. She’d written once but said it would be years before she returned to England. Perhaps by then the scandal would have blown over.
The parlour door opened and Lady Barton entered. She came to stand by Jonathan’s side as he watched the couple in the garden.
‘She’s good for him, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, Mother. She’s good for us all.’
‘I suppose she is,’ Helen said. ‘Your father is still sulking but I think he’s beginning to realise that she has worked a little miracle with at least two of our household.’ She glanced at Mabel. ‘Your wife is much happier looking after the baby – and Emily is so good about sharing.’
‘Emily is good at everything,’ Jonathan said and smiled. He called across to his wife, ‘Mabel – why don’t you ring for tea, my dear? Nurse will take Baby if you’re tired.’
‘I feel much better, not at all tired,’ Mabel said. ‘You ring for tea, Mama. I’ll take Nicky up to the nursery and then I’ll join you.’
‘As you wish, my love.’
Mabel smiled and walked out of the room. Jonathan glanced back at the couple in the garden. They were kissing, their bodies pressed together in an embrace of passion and desire. He envied them because they had so much, but he also loved them because of all they gave.
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Emily is good for us all. Ring for tea, Mama. I’ll call them in from the garden …’
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First published in 2014 by Ebury Press,
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Copyright © 2014 Rosie Clarke
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