by Angela Arney
‘Well, I’m not sure about a nanny just yet,’ demurred Lady Margaret. She was enjoying sharing the duties with Meg and Liana as far as baby Eleanora was concerned, a pleasure she had never had with her own children as Nanny, a dragon of a woman selected by her husband, had always been there to take the children away.
‘What is a nanny?’ Liana was ignorant of the custom of the English upper classes of always farming their children out, first on to a nanny and then into boarding school.
Clara tut-tutted in annoyance at such ignorance. ‘Someone who will take that child,’ she indicated Eleanora who was sleeping peacefully in Lady Margaret’s arms, ‘and teach her good manners and all the other essentials needed to turn her into a young lady. Nicholas had a nanny, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas with a wry laugh, ‘and I hated her.’
Eleanora woke up and began to cry. Margaret cuddled her. ‘Hush, hush,’ she crooned, and kissed the top of her head. ‘She’s teething,’ she explained to Clara.
‘Someone,’ said Clara, looking most disapproving, ‘who wouldn’t spoil the child. No nonsense, such as being picked up when she cries. Babies should be left to cry; it’s good for their lungs. A good nanny’, she said, warming to her theme, ‘is far better than any mother. She always knows what is best for the child.’
‘If nannies always know best, why did you hate yours, Nicholas?’ Liana asked. ‘And why did you have her?’
Nicholas shrugged. ‘I didn’t have much say in the matter,’ he confessed, wishing Clara Maltravers would be quiet. ‘It’s always been that way. All the Hamilton-Howards have been raised by nannies.’
‘Why?’ asked Liana.
‘Because, my dear,’ said Clara, ‘it just isn’t the done thing for people of our class to raise their own children.’
‘Well, it will be now,’ said Liana firmly.
‘What?’ Clara stared at her.
‘The done thing.’ Margaret recognized the steely calmness in Liana’s voice and felt elated. ‘My,’ she corrected herself, ‘our child is not going to be raised by some stranger who will never pick her up when she cries. She is going to be with people who know and love her, and she’ll be picked up whenever it is necessary.’
‘But you can’t,’ Clara protested. ‘What will people say?’
‘I can and I will; and what is more I am quite capable of bringing up my daughter to be a lady and furthermore I could not care in the least what people might say.’
‘Nicholas, you must say something,’ Clara appealed to him.
‘Whatever Liana wants, I want,’ said Nicholas, smiling at Liana’s determined expression, glad that she did not want a nanny.
‘And so do I,’ echoed Lady Margaret.
And so it was settled. There would be no nanny. Eleanora was to be brought up within the family circle without outside interference.
‘Really! That whole family is dominated by the new young countess,’ grumbled Clara to friends later. ‘They’ll rue the time, one of these days, that they ever admitted her to that family. Mark my words!
*
Inspired by Liana’s achievements, Nicholas, too, began to take a much more active interest in the management of the estate. Always keen on things mechanical, he took over the management of the rapidly growing business of hiring out farm machinery and also the day-to-day supervision of Elver Forge Industries. Of all the new ventures, the log-burning stoves had proved to be the biggest single money spinner, and Nicholas decided to try and get William involved. This was for everyone’s benefit as well as William’s.
Margaret had kept her promise to Donald, and they had discussed William’s unpredictable and sometimes violent temper with Nicholas, although she refused to even utter the words ‘mental illness’. Difficult, depressed, moody – William, she agreed, was all of those things, but not ill.
It was difficult for Donald. As the family doctor and family friend, he tried to put his point of view as forcibly as possible without causing offence. ‘But it’s hopeless,’ he confessed to Dorothy later. ‘They’re a couple of ostriches burying their heads in the sand when it comes to William.’
Nicholas had agreed with his mother. ‘I know William is difficult and can even be very unpleasant. But we’ve got to give him a chance. He’s had a terrible war – losing a limb, all the pain he’s suffered . . .’ Nicholas sighed, and continued thoughtfully, ‘I suppose he must be full of self-doubt, too, about his ability to function as a man. It’s enough to change anyone.’
‘But can’t you see?’ Donald persisted. ‘William hasn’t changed. He’s just got worse. He’s ill, just as your father was ill.’ It was a mistake to say it. As soon as he had uttered the words Donald knew it.
Both Nicholas’s and Margaret’s mouths tightened. He could almost see them visibly drawing together, closing ranks, shutting out the truth, reinforcing the ingrained pride which made discussing the possibility of William’s being ill an act of treachery. The long history of the Hamilton-Howards was littered with bitter pride. Nothing had changed over the years. Margaret and Nicholas were the same as their ancestors. True they worried, but the same obstinate irrationality persisted when it came to actually taking some positive action. There were some things they would not countenance discussing with anyone. Wearily Donald realized that he was fighting a losing battle and gave up.
However, in spite of defending his brother to Donald Ramsay, Nicholas had quickly sensed the hostility between William and Liana on his return to Broadacres. Although Liana had never mentioned it, it bothered him. He wanted no ill-feeling between them but could understand how Liana must be thinking. She worked as many hours as was humanly possible, whereas William did nothing except sit alone and brood over the unfairness of life. Maybe William’s state of mind would improve if he were occupied, and it would certainly increase the family harmony.
‘I need a hand at the Elver Forge today. I wondered if you could help me?’ Unable to think of a more tactful way of approaching William regarding work, Nicholas decided to plunge straight to the point. He was very careful, however, to phrase it as an invitation rather than an order.
‘Why?’
‘I told you. I need a hand and there’s no-one else I can ask.’
‘I’m not cut out for physical work.’ William was dismissive of the friendly overture. ‘I’m a cripple or has that fact escaped your notice?’
A cripple in more ways than one, thought Nicholas angrily, noting the half-empty whisky bottle at William’s elbow. ‘It’s not physical work I have in mind,’ he said equably, keeping his temper with difficulty. No wonder there was an atmosphere between William and Liana. His brother was antagonistic to everything and everyone. For a moment, a brief moment, he considered again Donald Ramsay’s words, seek further medical advice, but then almost immediately rejected them. What could doctors do? What did they know? No well-meaning stranger could change William’s unpleasant character. He was their problem, a problem only the family could cope with. ‘It’s supervising the men moving some of the cutting machinery into another shed,’ he finished.
‘Sorry, not interested,’ answered William sullenly, flipping through the pages of his book.
‘Only interested in this, I suppose!’ Exasperated, Nicholas picked up the whisky bottle.
William snatched it back. ‘None of your fucking business. I bought this from my own allowance, not from your precious money.’
‘And who will pay for the next bottle? Us, I suppose. Liana has shown me the bills the estate pays on your behalf. You never live within your allowance.’
‘And for a bloody good reason. Your sodding wife set the allowance too fucking low. It’s not enough.’
‘Liana said it’s what the bank manager recommended as reasonable.’
‘Liana said, Liana said,’ mimicked William. ‘You sound like a bloody parrot. Why don’t you take charge of the estate and finances, big brother? Then you can ask me to help you.’
Nicholas clenched his fists in ange
r. William’s sneering tone was hard to take, especially when he was speaking of Liana. But he managed to keep his voice calm and quiet. ‘You know perfectly well that we run the estate as a team,’ he said. ‘All of us are involved. Even mother helps and has her own responsibilities. But Liana has the financial flair, something the rest of us lack.’
‘So you say.’ William poured himself another whisky. He raised his glass. ‘Fuck off, big brother. I don’t need you or your wop of a wife telling me what to do. And I certainly have no intention of working for you.’ Involuntarily Nicholas stepped towards him. ‘Go on, hit me,’ William jeered. ‘Hit your poor crippled brother!’
Not trusting himself to speak, Nicholas turned and walked from the room. William could drown in whisky. The sooner the better.
*
Eleanora grew from a small helpless baby into an attractive, dark-haired little girl. As she grew older, where Liana always saw Raul – for a likeness to Raul it most certainly was – Nicholas and Lady Margaret exclaimed over likenesses to distant relatives. They both worshipped Eleanora, and she adored them, basking in their love and returning it in overflowing measure. An open, happy, uncomplicated relationship flourished between the three of them. William ignored the child’s existence, but as he was uninterested in everything except his own secretive world, no-one worried. By tacit agreement, although for entirely different reasons, William’s presence was almost ignored by the three of them, although the monthly presentation of extravagant bills still continued to irritate Liana.
Her own relationship with the growing Eleanora, however, was different. It was not lack of love which prevented Liana from being as demonstrative as Nicholas or Lady Margaret, rather an excess of it. The powerful emotions which surged through her whenever she even looked at Eleanora were so awesome they frightened her. But alongside love was always fear, the fear of giving herself away. Because Raul shared the space occupied in her heart by Eleanora, Eleanora made her cautious. So she held her emotions in check, always afraid to lower her guard, afraid to show too much love.
Nicholas noticed the restraint and it puzzled and saddened him. Could it be that Liana did not love their daughter as much as he? Sometimes, when she was unaware that he was watching, he would catch a strange mixture of emotions on her face – love and a deep sadness as if she were mourning something. Once he did attempt to find the reason. She had been particularly quiet and withdrawn one day, and he felt he had to confront her, try somehow to coax her worries out into the open.
‘What is it, Liana?’ he asked gently, not wanting to hurt or frighten her into withdrawing even more.
Immediately her dark eyes grew wary. ‘What is what?’
‘This unhappiness. Sometimes you are unhappy. Don’t deny it, because I know you are. Can’t you tell me?’
But Liana was not to be drawn into lowering her guard. She scoffed ‘Unhappy? Me? What nonsense you do talk, Nicholas. I’m the happiest woman in the world. And why shouldn’t I be?’ Smiling broadly she slipped her hand in his. ‘Silly man,’ she added affectionately.
But Nicholas noticed the smile on her lips did not reach her eyes and he persevered. ‘I don’t know why. That’s why I asked. Can’t you tell me?’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Liana interrupted quickly, laughing and kissing him at the same time. ‘Oh, Nicholas, you have too much imagination.’
‘You’re sure? There is nothing?’
‘Absolutely positive.’ Liana was very firm.
The subject was closed, and Nicholas was left knowing that he still had not the faintest idea of what Liana was really thinking. Behind her beautiful dark eyes, her soul lay barred and shuttered to all but herself. Apart from William, it was the only cloud on Nicholas’s otherwise perfect life. But he continued to worry because, small girl though she was, Nicholas was sure that Eleanora sensed her mother’s restraint when they were together.
‘Liana’s too intense, that’s all it is,’ said his mother defensively when he had mentioned his misgivings to her. ‘How can you doubt her love for Eleanora? Look how determined she was not to have a nanny. She wanted to bring her up herself.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m not saying she doesn’t love her. I know she does. But there is some sort of barrier between them. I know it when I look at her face. I’m sure of it.’
‘Don’t waste time worrying about it,’ advised his mother. ‘Liana will be all right in time. She’s had a lot of adjusting to do. I think she needs another child to make her feel more secure.’
In spite of himself Nicholas grinned at his mother’s very feminine logic. Another child: the panacea to a young woman’s problems! ‘We’ll have another child when Liana conceives, not before,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders philosophically, unwilling to admit to his mother that he was also worrying about that. A confused mixture of emotions churned within him whenever he thought about more children, half of him desperately wanting more, preferably a son, and the other half telling himself to be sensible and to be content with the lovely daughter he already had. ‘Anyway,’ he added, ‘Liana has no reason to feel insecure.’
‘You don’t know much about Liana’s life before you met her, do you?’ Margaret was not a very worldly woman, but her deep love for Liana provided an almost spiritual insight into the complex character of her daughter-in-law. She, too, was sure that the girl was troubled in some way and only wished she could help.
‘I know what she has told me.’
‘Exactly. But what hasn’t she told you? That girl has suffered far more than you or I could probably even begin to imagine. I know suffering when I see it and I can often see it in Liana’s face. Oh, I’ll admit she keeps it very well hidden, but it is there none the less.’
‘You may be right.’ Nicholas was reluctant to admit that he sometimes came to the same conclusion; but he was sure it had nothing to do with Eleanora, so why should she reject her? ‘But even so I still don’t understand why, so often, Liana keeps her own daughter at arm’s length, it doesn’t make sense. Sometimes I think she is afraid to touch her. Perhaps I should talk to her again. Perhaps I should ask . . .’
‘Never,’ snapped Margaret emphatically, her voice surprisingly harsh. ‘Some things are best left unsaid. You of all people should know that.’ Then she smiled, taking the edge off her sharp words. ‘Give her another child, my dear, and let her come to terms with her own private grief when the time is right.’
Nicholas sighed. Give her another child. That was proving easier said than done, for Liana showed no signs of conceiving. And although he never ceased to thank God for Eleanora, he knew deep in his heart that more than anything he longed for a son.
Donald Ramsay was confident now that any future children would be as healthy and happy as Eleanora. ‘You are a good combination,’ he said, ‘you and Liana. You’ve only got to look at Eleanora to see that.’
Nicholas agreed but as much as he loved Eleanora the yearning for a son grew greater, a son to carry on the name, a son to inherit Broadacres, a brother for Eleanora. ‘I’ll do my best,’ he said now to his mother, ‘but founding a dynasty isn’t as easy as you make it sound!’ Then he added with a smile, ‘You like Liana a lot, don’t you?’
He was glad of that. His mother now had two more people to love, and was loved by them in return. In middle age she had found a new lease of life and was blossoming before his very eyes. Untidy and as scatterbrained as ever, she had lost her permanently worried expression. Her angular face was softened now by love.
‘Like!’ she snorted. ‘You men are such unimaginative creatures. Like is an understatement. I love her. I love Liana for all sorts of reasons and not least because she has changed my life.’ She wagged her finger at Nicholas. ‘And I’m looking forward to my next grandchild.’ She did not need Donald Ramsay to convince her that any future children of Nicholas’s and Liana’s would be as perfect as Eleanora; she had already made up her own mind on that score. They would all be lovely, there was no doubt about that.
But there was no sign of another child in spite of their passionate love-making. Nicholas wondered if Liana thought it strange, but it seemed not, for she never mentioned it nor seemed the slightest bit perturbed. In the end Nicholas broached the subject himself, for although he continually told himself that he should be content and that his life was perfect, the longing for another child, a son, was becoming something of an obsession. One evening he could hold his tongue no longer. He waited until they were in bed and Liana was warm and relaxed in his arms.
‘I wonder when we’ll have another baby,’ he said casually. There was no answer, but he immediately felt her go tense, an almost imperceptible movement but just enough for him to notice.
‘When nature decides it is the right time, I suppose,’ she said, after a long pause.
‘You do want more children, don’t you?’
‘Darling, of course I do.’ The unexpectedness of his first question had thrown Liana off balance for a moment but now she was in full command of her senses again. Nicholas was never to know it was the very last thing on earth that she wanted. Not now, not ever. One child was enough, Raul’s child. Oh, Raul, Raul. Her heart ached with pain when she thought of him, a pain as fresh and raw as it had been on the day he had disappeared.
A coldly detached portion of her mind knew she must divert Nicholas’s thoughts away from the desire for more children and yet at the same time reassure him. Another deception. But by now Liana was adept at suppressing the pinpricks of her conscience. She bent her head, kissing him on the lips then, moving down his body, kissed her way to his penis. As soon as he was hard enough, Liana lowered the softness of her body to enclose the rigid shaft. ‘Maybe we’ll be lucky this time,’ she whispered as Nicholas rose to meet her. He lifted her up and turned so that she was beneath him. Her words passed unheeded. Nicholas was now beyond thinking of another child. He was only conscious of his own rising need to take Liana and make her part of himself.
