Dorothy Eden (13 page)

“Yes, light the fire in the downstairs sitting room. I drove all the way down and I’m frozen. I have some letters I want to write.”

“Yes, ma’am. Would you like something hot to drink, ma’am?”

“No, nothing, thank you, Jane. Just light the fire and then go to bed.”

“
Unless you can die when the dream is past …
” The words kept running through her head. “
Never call it loving …
”

She would like to be dying now, she thought. She knew that she would never sleep tonight. Even though Jane had left the fire burning brightly, she piled more coal on, and sat back to wait for the tormented hours to go by. Perhaps by morning she would be convinced again of her good sense. Now she could only think of Charles, cold, tired, roofless, friendless, and that there was no way for her to let him know how intensely she regretted her lack of courage.

He would still love her, she supposed, but not so much. And he would never ask her for anything again …

If only he had given her time to think.

But how did a man in imminent danger of arrest have time to spare for the social niceties?

Of course he had been selfish, unreasonable, audacious, expecting her, English to the core, to be a martyr for his miserable country, if necessary.

But he was worn out, he would no longer be thinking straight, he had come to her instinctively, so certain of a welcome and a refuge …

She got up restlessly, and lighting a candle, went upstairs and tiptoed along the passage to the children’s bedroom. Standing shielding the light from their sleeping faces, she whispered: “I did it for you, my darlings. Do you care? Will it make you happier? Am I a good Mamma?”

By the fire again, she felt so desolate that the tears began to fall down her cheeks. She was crying, with her head in her hands, when the gentle tap came at the window.

Charles! Could it be?

She flew to pull back the curtains an inch. It was so dark, she could only see a hand, a tall form. But it was enough. She was through the conservatory and had the door flung open in seconds. Almost before he had time to tiptoe down the gravelled path and be ready for her welcome.

She drew him inside. His cheek was cold against hers. His arms crushed her.

“Katie, my love, how could I leave you like that?”

“I only refused to help you because of the children.”

“And I would have thought less of you if you hadn’t.”

“But if you knew how I regretted it. You’re cold. Come in by the fire.”

“No, I mustn’t stay. It was only that I couldn’t bear to leave you in the middle of a quarrel.”

“It wasn’t a quarrel. And of course you’re going to stay.” She had drawn him into the sitting room and was taking off his overcoat. “Sit down and get warm. When did you last eat?”

“I don’t remember. Let it be. I’ll eat tomorrow. I’ve decided to go back to Delia in Paris.”

“You’re doing nothing of the kind,” she said serenely. “I have everything planned. You shall have the little room off my bedroom. I’ll keep the door locked in the daytime. Can you sleep by day? I’m afraid you’ll have to, but at night it will be perfectly safe to sit by the fire in my room. I’ve decided to be something of an invalid for two or three weeks. I’ll keep mostly to my room. Aunt Ben can manage without me temporarily. She knows I haven’t had a rest for more than three years. And the children mustn’t be allowed to worry me. It won’t do them any harm either. But it might be as well if you had your meals during the night. No one else uses my bathroom. You can safely bath at night. We’ll simply be turning night into day.”

All he said was, “What an organiser you are. You’ve left me with nothing to say.” But there were those flames burning deep in his eyes again, and suddenly she knew this decision she had made was as momentous in its way as the one she had made that day now nearly a year ago when she had gone to Palace Yard and demanded that he come out to speak to her.

At this moment, she had no fears, no regrets. She was only amazed at how quickly despair could turn to happiness.

“I intend to send you back to Ireland looking a new man.”

“Your regime sounds so pleasant, I may not go at all.”

She laughed happily. “Then let me show you your new quarters. Have you a bag?”

“I left it with the cabbie. He’s waiting at the end of the lane. I wouldn’t let him come too near and wake the house. I had to bribe him to wait to take me back to London.”

“Then bribe him to go away. Quickly.”

It was a game again, exciting, utterly irresistible. But more than a game … Making up the narrow bed in the little sitting room Katharine found her hands trembling. She had to keep active, shaking out lavender-smelling sheets and blankets, putting out towels (she must be careful not to let them hang in the bathroom), arranging a table and chair by the window where Charles could work.

By the time he had come quietly upstairs the room was ready, and she had built up the fire in her own room so that they could sit there until they grew sleepy. For complete safety, she would turn the lock in her bedroom door. Presently she would make toast over the fire, and boil a kettle.

He came into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He stood looking round, and then asked to be forgiven, but he had never seen her room before and he had often imagined what it would be like.

He studied the photographs of her father, and of her children, Gerard, Norah and Carmen, on her bedside table. Then he looked at her nightgown and fleecy dressing gown laid across the bed. He picked up the dressing gown.

“Put this on, Katie.”

In his quiet voice he made it seem such a reasonable request. Her heart began to race. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

He crossed over to her, and began to take the pins out of her hair.

“I’ve waited too long to see this down.”

The loosened locks fell on her shoulders.

“And this.”

His hand was on her breast, and suddenly she thought she would faint, her heart was racing so madly, and her breasts seemed to be starting out of their covering.

Amazingly, he was not trembling. His fingers, as he unbuttoned her bodice, were capable and sure. He was not going to fumble. He was going to undress her quickly and skilfully. She was not even going to feel naked, but perfectly right and natural.

“You must begin with my waistcoat buttons, Katie. I think they are possible for a woman to undo—though I have never proved that fact—until now.” In between phrases his lips were on her hair, her forehead, her throat. He lifted the heavy mass of her hair and kissed the back of her neck. “This is one place—I have always wanted to kiss. And this.” The hollow between her breasts was especially vulnerable. She again felt as if she must swoon, and whispered, “Let me lie down, Charles.”

He almost carried her to the bed. When she lay in it he covered her and stood looking down at her, her spread hair, her face on the pillow.

“The light?” he said at last.

“Put it out. Just the firelight—and lock the door.”

Her voice was slurred, as if she were a little drunk, or half-asleep. The firelight made shadows dance on the ceiling. The flames whispering, and the faint rustle of his clothes falling to the floor were merged. She closed her eyes, letting the tremors that ran up and down her body take complete possession of her. So this was adultery, she was thinking dizzily. No, this extraordinarily sweet waiting and anticipation was not that ugly word, it was love. Her adultery had taken place long ago with Willie, with a body she didn’t love.

He had slid in beside her, and she was instantly intolerably aware of his body beside her.

“What are you thinking, Kate? Katie? My love, my dearest, my only one?”

“Only that—” Her voice trembled too much, and it didn’t matter for his mouth was on hers, dismissing her unnecessary words. Anyway, there were no words for what was happening. It could be pleasure for a woman, after all, she was thinking incredulously. Sweet, shattering, cataclysmic … She thought she was going to die of it …

S
HE WAS RELUCTANT TO
disturb the dark head on the pillow beside her. He had slept so soundly, without stirring, as if this were his first deep sleep for weeks.

But there were movements downstairs and the grey light of a February dawn was showing in cracks behind the drawn curtains.

“Charles!”

At her first whisper he was awake. There was startled recognition in his eyes, then an instant alertness.

“I must go.”

“Just into the next room. The bed’s ready. Can you sleep again?”

He kissed her lingeringly.

“I want to stay awake and look at you. But if I must.”

“You must. I’ll have to unlock the door. The children may come up.”

“Kate—”

She laid a finger on his lips. “Don’t talk now. Tonight. I’ll bring you some food shortly. Part of my invalid’s breakfast.”

She felt extraordinarily light-hearted. She had never felt less ill, but illness was not difficult to simulate, for her completely sleepless night had left her eyes shadowed and her face drawn. She was over thirty, and not so resilient about late nights. When she rang, and Jane came it was easy to pretend tiredness and headache.

“I haven’t been feeling well lately, Jane. I’ve decided to keep to my room for a week or two.”

“Oh, ma’am! Shall the doctor be sent for?”

“Certainly not. I said I was only tired. But I want a message taken to my aunt. I’ll write it presently. And ask Ellen to bring up my breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am. What would you be wanting, ma’am? Something light?”

“No, Jane, there’s nothing wrong with my appetite,” Katharine said a little sharply. “I told you I was only tired. Completely fatigued. I don’t want to see anybody. I intend to rest.”

“What about Miss Norah and Miss Carmen, ma’am?”

“Not even them, Jane,” Katharine sighed realistically, passing a weary hand over her brow. “Tell them Mamma is a little poorly. But she’ll be better in a few days.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jane bobbed, her simple face completely convinced. “I’m ever so sorry you’re poorly. Shall I take the message to the Lodge?”

“Yes. After breakfast. And try to do the fire without bumping and banging. My head won’t stand noise.”

Ellen, bless her, believed in feeding an illness. The breakfast tray arrived laden with toast, honey, two boiled eggs, a plate of freshly baked muffins, and a large pot of tea.

Katharine enjoyed the sparkling fire, the wintry scene outside, the warmth of the bed, and above all the knowledge of who lay not ten feet away from her.

Immediately Jane had left the tray she got silently out of bed, locked her door, and then carried half the food and a steaming cup of tea into the next room.

“Drink it quickly, Charles. I must put the cup back on the tray.”

She watched him drink it thirstily, and eat a slice of buttered toast.

“Can you manage now until this evening? I promise you a good meal then.”

“I can manage. I’ll sleep.”

“So shall I.”

Their eyes met in their new intimacy.

“How am I going to look ill?” she whispered. “I feel—”

“How do you feel, my darling?”

She put her finger to her lips. “I’ll tell you tonight.”

After all, the day went quickly, for she, too, slept. She woke as it was growing dusk to find Miss Glennister at her bedside.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. O’Shea, but the children are upset. They think you’re really ill.”

“I’ve explained that I’m not ill. Only tired.” Katharine peered at the thin permanently suspicious face of the governess. “Don’t stand there in the dark, Miss Glennister. Light the gas. And the children must understand that their Mamma can’t always be at their beck and call no matter how much she loves them. Surely you’re capable of making them realise that? I need a complete rest from everybody.”

“I understand, Mrs. O’Shea. I thought you were doing too much, with so many late nights.”

“That’s none of your business, Miss Glennister. Just attend to the children.”

And now I’ve offended her, and she has eyes like a hawk, Katharine thought, and surprisingly was not in the least worried. No worry was going to touch her in this blissful state of suspended time.

She rang for Jane and asked that the fire be replenished, and plenty of coal brought up as the weather was so cold, she would want to burn it all night. Also, Jane might bring up a kettle, and milk and sugar and tea, as this state of exhaustion left her feeling in constant need of nourishment. She might like to make tea during the night. No one was to be alarmed if they heard her walking about.

Jane, looking pop-eyed, enquired again if the doctor shouldn’t be sent for. Old Mrs. Wood had asked the same question, and wanted to send her doctor.

“No, I’ve told you I don’t need a doctor,” Katharine said sharply. “All I need is solitude and quiet. My aunt will understand that.”

“Oh, yes, she does, ma’am. She says you’re not to hurry back. It was just cook and me wondering—”

“Then cook and you must stop wondering,” Katharine said. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but just do as I say.”

Jane still lingered. “We was wondering should the master be told.”

“Certainly not. On no account. Anyway, by the time a letter reached him in Madrid I will be fully recovered. I won’t have this fussing, Jane. I’m not in a state to tolerate it. Just obey your orders and tell Ellen to do the same.”

It took a great deal of patience to wait until eleven o’clock when it was safe for them to move about. And until midnight before she dared go down to the larder, and load a tray with food.

Fortunately she had never scolded Ellen for keeping a lavish table. One could always depend on finding cold cuts, remains of pies and puddings, fruit and the bread that was baked fresh each day.

They sat like children in front of the fire having a midnight feast. Even after only twenty-four hours he looked amazingly rested, his cheeks smooth, his eyes bright.

“You told me you would send me back to Ireland a new man, Kate.”

“If I let you go at all.”

“And if I will be able to tear myself away.”