Mayfair Rebel

by Mayfair Rebel (retail) (epub)

  The two other occupants of the compartment looked at May askance, then returned to their magazines. They both got off at Chelmsford, where May summoned a porter and sent him with a telegram notifying Allingham of her arrival at Ipswich later that evening. Then, in the solitude of the compartment she finally gave way to her feelings, and let the tears stream unchecked down her cheeks.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  The gardens of Allingham Place looked particularly beautiful in the bright summer sun: the green of the lawns, the glowing colours in the massed beds, and the scent of the roses wafting in through the open windows, all were conducive to calm and tranquillity. May sat with her step-mother in the morning room and wept inwardly.

  She had arrived late on Saturday, tired and wretched. Sunday had dragged interminably, yet her parents had been so kind and thoughtful, so anxious that she should do just as she pleased after her long hot summer working in the East End. In return she had smiled and talked, and forced herself to look interested in the small daily affairs of Allingham and its neighbourhood. But all the time she had longed to be alone – to crawl into a corner and give way to childish tears. She did not, because she had spent three long years now learning to be calm, controlled and sensible. So she told herself she was being irrational and silly, and at times she almost convinced herself. But on Sunday, as they sat in the high, vaulted church, with the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams as they slanted to the warm grey flags, she remembered, with piercing clarity, Walter Lisle’s pride as he had shown her and Archie round his raw, new church, set amid endless slum terraces and noisy pubs. And she gripped her prayer book tightly, and deliberately bit her lower lip until the pain of it brought her back to some kind of sense.

  Again and again she recalled the force of his hands as he’d pushed her away on the beach, then let her go, suddenly, as if he could not bear to touch her – and the look on his face: it had been so stern, so forbidding. But of course, if what she had heard on the train coming back was true, then no wonder he had thrust her to one side. In May’s mind his gesture became more and more forceful, until, though knowing it had not really been like that, she saw herself rejected contemptuously, and burned anew with the shame of it.

  Monday had dawned clear and cloudless. For the first time in her life May could not eat her breakfast – even the small piece of toast which she made herself chew under the anxious eyes of her father seemed to stick in her throat. Now she sat with her step-mother, mechanically sewing a dainty jacket for Emily’s daughter, thankful that Lady Clarence’s sense of restraint was so inbred that it would never allow her to enquire, even obliquely, as to the cause of May’s despondency. Instead Lady Clarence looked up and suggested that they both take a little stroll in the garden; May listlessly agreed. She was about to put away her work when the door opened and Haines himself stood in the doorway, his usual composure very slightly ruffled.

  ‘M’lady, a gentleman has called. I informed him his Lordship was out, and that you were not at home to visitors, but he insisted on seeing you.’

  Lady Clarence raised her eyebrows. ‘He is a gentleman… ?’ Her voice was inquiring.

  ‘Oh yes, Your Ladyship, he is a gentleman – though rather emphatic.’ Haines looked down his nose. ‘He gave his name as Mr Walter Lisle.’

  May gasped, and her hand flew to her throat. Her step-mother glanced briefly in her direction, then spoke calmly to the butler.

  ‘Show Mr Lisle in, please, Haines.’

  May felt her heart thudding like a drum-beat in her ears. She stared down at her needlework, meaning to keep her eyes fixed on it, but as the door opened again she glanced up, involuntarily. Walter looked hot, and his thick dark hair was tousled.

  He was not wearing his dog collar, and without it he looked somehow younger and more vulnerable. He flicked a glance in May’s direction, then advanced firmly on Lady Clarence.

  ‘Please excuse this intrusion at such an early hour, Lady Clarence, but I have only just arrived from London.’ He came to a sudden halt.

  Lady Clarence, totally composed, murmured a greeting.

  Walter seemed to be at a loss as to how to go on, so May, hot and embarrassed, said, ‘Mr Lisle is a friend of Archie’s, Step-mamma – they were up at Oxford together. He has a parish in the East End.’ Then she in her turn stopped. She drew another breath and added desperately, ‘Mr Lisle is the son of Lord Pennington.’ Her inspiration was exhausted; she fell as silent as Walter.

  Lady Clarence, however, had found her bearings now. ‘Why, I remember your mother well, she and I were presented at the same Drawing Room – but I believe she does not go into Society much today?’

  ‘No, no – she prefers to stay in the country.’ Walter spoke abruptly, then lapsed into silence again. Lady Clarence showed no signs of flagging in this conversational impasse. She smiled and offered Walter his cue.

  ‘I expect you are visiting in the neighbourhood, and so decided to look up my nephew’s relatives.’

  Walter blurted out, ‘No – no, I came down to see May – Miss Winton.’

  May bowed her head, her cheeks on fire. She could sense Walter’s eyes fixed on her – pleadingly? – but she felt as though her tongue were attached to a lead weight. There was another pause, then Lady Clarence spoke with decision.

  ‘May, my dear, go and put on your hat. I think Mr Lisle would like you to show him the grounds.’

  May rose obediently, putting down her work with hands which trembled. ‘Shall I call Fenton for you, Step-mamma?’

  ‘No thank you, my dear, I shall not be accompanying you. The weather is a little hot for me today.’ May stared at her step-mother.

  ‘Hurry along, May. Mr Lisle is waiting.’

  May felt very odd, like an actress in a play, as she walked through the door which Walter had sprung to open for her. Exit heroine, Stage Right – but she did wish someone would tell her what the next Act was about.

  Walter Lisle was waiting in the hall as she came down. As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs he seized her firmly by the elbow and steered her out of the open garden door. He walked so quickly across the terrace that May had to run to keep up with him, and he suddenly realised and slowed down, but soon speeded up again and May managed to lengthen her pace to match his.

  As they strode over the lawn May asked, breathlessly, ‘Where are we going?’

  He pointed to a cluster of trees beyond the small lake. ‘We’ll go over there – I want to look at those trees.’

  May could think of no reply to this. At last she ventured, ‘Was it very hot in London, when you left?’

  ‘It was yesterday, but I left very early this morning, on the five-ten; it was still cool then.’ He fell silent again and May gave up her attempts at polite conversation, though she was longing to ask why ever he had left so early, and what had he been doing since? The train must have arrived soon after seven.

  As if in answer to her thoughts he said, ‘I walked from Ipswich – I thought your step-mother might be annoyed if I arrived too early.’

  May was more and more bewildered. In that case, why had he not caught a later train? And why, oh why, had he come at all? Had he come to break the news of his engagement to Edith Parkes? Did he think, after her behaviour at Southend, that…? May cringed at the thought and concentrated on keeping up with her silent companion.

  They marched on in the morning sun oblivious to their surroundings: they might have been pounding the streets of Poplar for all the notice Walter took of the grounds May was supposed to be showing him. When they reached the small copse he plunged in between the tree trunks; May followed, until they arrived at the landscaped glade in the centre, with its ornately fashioned iron seat. Here Walter suddenly stopped, and turned and faced her. By now his hair was on end and his face glistened with sweat; he looked very hot.

  May said, ‘Why don’t you take your jacket ofI?’

  ‘Good idea.’ He smiled for a moment, and May felt her heart jump. He shrugged his jacket off, fol
ded it neatly and then looked round for somewhere to put it. May, with three years of service behind her, instinctively took it from him, then, looking around her, realised she was in a wood, and simply held it in her arms.

  Walter took a deep breath and said, ‘Why did you run away like that?’

  May gaped at him. ‘I didn’t run away – it’s my annual holiday, it started on Saturday.’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me you were leaving London?’

  May felt herself flushing – then she remembered the beach at Southend and hardened her heart. ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested.’

  ‘Of course I was interested!’ He was almost shouting. With an obvious effort he regained his self-control and lowered his voice. ‘That wretched hospital – I went round to ask to see you on Saturday evening, and some woman with a face like a hatchet said you’d gone away! I thought you’d left for good, May – then she condescended to inform me you were on holiday, so I asked her where you’d gone and she looked at me as though…,’ he paused, then cried indignantly, ‘And I had my clerical collar on!’

  ‘Oh dear.’ May started to giggle, weakly.

  He went on, ‘Then that Matron!’

  May stopped giggling at once. ‘You didn’t go and see Matron?’ Her voice was shocked.

  ‘Of course I did – Hatchet Face said I might care to do that.’

  ‘I don’t think she really meant you to, Walter.’

  ‘Well, I did. And the Matron said: “I am not at liberty to disclose the whereabouts of my nurses to casual enquirers!”’ He mimicked Matron’s precise tones. ‘I told her I wasn’t a casual enquirer, but she still said no.’

  ‘So what did you do then?’ May was entranced at the thought of Walter storming this bastion of female power where neither his Byronic good looks nor his dog collar would open the magic door.

  He looked rather shamefaced. ‘I bribed the porter – that small shrivelled man at the gate.’

  ‘Typical of a man to give me away! But he didn’t know where I was going!’

  ‘No, but he told me to ask for Nurse Farrar, and she’d know. So I did, and I waited hours in that courtyard – they wouldn’t let me inside again – and when she came she said how did she know you wanted me to tell her where you were?’ His voice was exasperated.

  May was soothing. ‘Well, Ada’s a suffragette, you see.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it? I’ve always supported women’s suffrage – you know that, May.’

  ‘Perhaps you didn’t make your views clear.’

  ‘I couldn’t have cared less about the suffrage question on Saturday evening: I just wanted to find out where you’d gone.’ He moved a step towards her.

  May retreated a pace and he stopped. She asked, ‘Did Ada tell you in the end?’

  ‘No, another friend of yours turned up – the girl you were with in Chrisp Street market – she didn’t even ask me what I wanted, she just came up to me and said: “May’s at her parents’ house, Mr Lisle, in Suffolk. I’ll write the address down for you.” And she did, straight away – she even offered to look up the times of the trains for me, but I told her I had a Bradshaw.’

  ‘So you came.’

  ‘So I came. But May,’ his voice was suddenly young and pleading, ‘I couldn’t come yesterday, you do realise that – I wanted to, but I had to take the services and the schools. I’m sorry.’

  May, who had not expected him at all, murmured sedately that she quite understood.

  He regained his confidence. ‘But there wouldn’t have been all this bother if you hadn’t run off on Saturday like that, without telling me where you were going. Why did you do that, May?’ He was determined, yet anxious, and May knew she had to reply, however difficult it was.

  She fixed her gaze on a small birch tree beyond his left shoulder and said, ‘You pushed me away, on the beach – it was my fault, I know – I threw myself at you – but you pushed me away.’ She could not stop the break in her voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, May.’ He spoke very gently. ‘I hoped you hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘Of course I noticed – and so did Edith Parkes,’ she added with a touch of bitterness.

  He sounded quite blank. ‘What on earth has Miss Parkes got to do with us?’

  May felt her heart give a little leap, then it settled down again. She gazed straight at him. ‘Why did you push me away, Walter?’

  She watched, fascinated, as the crimson rose in his throat and covered his face.

  ‘We were in a public place.’

  May spoke with difficulty. ‘So you did think I behaved immodestly – I’m sorry. I understand.’

  ‘No you don’t!’ Walter’s voice was raised, he was almost shouting again. Then, more quietly, ‘I’ll have to try and explain.’ May suddenly realised that he was acutely embarrassed. She watched him square his shoulders and begin to speak with an obvious effort. ‘People think that because I’m a clergyman, that I shouldn’t – well – that I should feel differently, but I don’t.’ May knew her bewilderment was showing on her face. He looked at her for a long moment, then said, ‘Oh, May – when you leant against me, when I felt the softness of your body against mine – May, I wanted to take hold of you, and kiss you, and… Don’t you see, I had to push you away, otherwise I couldn’t have controlled myself at all – and it was a Sunday School outing!’ As his voice rose in this last cry of frustration May felt the schoolgirl giggles welling up inside her – she fought them down, then he caught her eye, and she realised he saw the humour of his last outburst too, and they both began to laugh and laugh, leaning against the trunks of their respective trees. The tension of the last half-hour ebbed away, and left them weak and relaxed.

  Then May, wiping her eyes, looked up at the flickering green mantle. ‘Why did you want to look at these trees in particular, Walter?’

  He smiled at her. ‘Well, I thought this would be the opposite of a public beach.’

  ‘Did you?’ May’s heart beat faster.

  Walter’s lips twitched; he spoke in a tone of assumed smugness. ‘Yes, Miss Winton, I thought that as you had already thrown yourself into my arms three times, in public, it might be as well if we went somewhere more secluded so that when you did it for the fourth time I would be in a position to respond.’

  May caught her breath, but her tone was light. ‘You clergymen are so careful of your reputations, aren’t you, Mr Lisle?’

  ‘Yes indeed, we have to be, Miss Winton.’ Then his voice changed. ‘Come along May, what are you waiting for?’ He moved a step towards her.

  Still May hesitated. ‘You seem very confident.’ Her voice was uncertain.

  He spoke softly. ‘Yes, I am – your face is quite transparent, you know. Come to me, sweetheart.’

  May looked into his loving eyes and all her scruples melted. She flung his jacket to the ground and launched herself into his waiting arms. He swept her off her feet and swung her round triumphantly, then when she was laughing and breathless he set her down and held her tightly, gazing into her face. She smiled, and raised her mouth to his, and their lips met in a long, satisfying kiss.

  It was the stable clock striking midday which brought May back to reality. She sprang up from Walter’s lap.

  ‘The time – whatever will Step-mamma be thinking!’

  Walter laughed. ‘I think your step-mother is very shrewd, May – she’s already asked me to lunch, you know, while you were fetching your hat. Where is your hat, by the way?’ May looked round vaguely. Walter retrieved it from the grass and squashed it firmly on her head. ‘There, you look quite respectable again now. Come along.’

  May pulled him back, her other hand at the collar of her blouse. ‘Walter, I can’t go in like this – you undid these buttons, you can just do them up again!’

  Obediently, with a frown of concentration, he struggled to fasten the tiny pearl buttons. May, standing still as he tugged clumsily at the little loops, suddenly remembered the long-ago scene in Harry Cussons’ carriage, and
the deft skill with which he had fastened her glove. She smiled up into Walter’s serious face.

  ‘You’ll never make a lady’s maid, my love.’

  His reply was confident. ‘Oh, I’ll soon get the knack, May – practise makes perfect, you know.’ He grinned, and May raised her hand in a make-believe slap, but found she could not hurt him, even in play; he laughed, and kissed the palm of her hand and held it. Then they were in each other’s arms again, and it was only the thought of her step-mother which eventually made May pull herself reluctantly away. She stroked his hair with the tips of her fingers.

  ‘We’ll have to go in, sweetheart – or we’ll be late for lunch.’

  Walter smiled. ‘And that would never do – I know how much you enjoy your food. Come on then.’ He clasped her hand and they almost ran towards the house.

  Lunch passed in a daze. May ate, but did not know what she was eating. Lady Clarence conversed, and Walter replied, but his mind was obviously elsewhere, and his eyes almost always on May. Lord Clarence’s puzzled expression gradually began to clear, and, encouraged by his wife, he took over the main burden of the conversation from his guest.

  As soon as the dessert had been served Walter, apparently oblivious of the fact that his host was reaching for an orange said, ‘Lord Clarence, may I have a word with you, in your study?’

  Lord Clarence cast a regretful look at the fruit bowl and stood up.

  ‘Why, certainly, young man.’ With a knowing look in his wife’s direction he ushered Walter out.

  May sat on with her step-mother, her cheeks glowing. Lady Clarence leant across the table and put her hand over May’s.

  ‘My dear – I am so pleased. He seems such an upright young man. Have you discussed how soon you will give up nursing?’ May looked at her blankly. ‘In order to prepare for your marriage, May.’