Into the Blue (19 page)

‘What's in that?' Hester asked, gesturing at the drink.

‘Chamomile tea. Hoskins told me 'tis good for calming you down, so I thought that Mistress might try it.'

Ruby put down the glass, staying at the bedside, watching Emma's drowsy face, and Hester wondered at the idea that had suddenly slipped into her mind. ‘Come outside, Ruby,' she said, ‘there's something I want to ask you.'

The girl hesitated. ‘But Madam—'

‘It will only take a few minutes.' Hester paused. ‘Have you time to sit with her after tea, Ruby? She's quieter when you're there.'

‘Yes, o' course. And, well, Miss, I did wonder... .' Ruby bit her lip, but her expression was sharper than words and Hester wondered if they were sharing the same thought.

Outside the bedroom, on the landing, they looked at each other
with veiled expressions.

‘I suggest you should be Mrs Redding's own maid, Ruby – which would mean we must get someone else for the rest of the work. What do you think?'

Even as she said it, Hester was astounded at herself for offering Ruby a better situation. Was it really such a good idea? But the expression on Ruby's face banished the doubts. ‘It's jest what I been hoping for, Miss. I'm that fond of Madam – and Master, too – and if I could have the time to really look after her ... oh yes, be her companion, well, yes please, Miss!' The high voice was joyous and Hester felt her own sad thoughts flying upwards to share such lightheartedness.

‘Very well. I know you'll care for her as well as you can, Ruby. Being a companion means, of course, that you must be with her at any time that she wants you.'

‘I know. And I'll be there. But, Miss, I don't want to be up in that hot ole attic any more – not now that I've got such a better situation. What about me moving down into the guest room? It'd be more like the room for a companion, don't you think?'

‘Moving down?' Hester found it hard to keep up with this rushing outburst of new ideas.
Yes, she will need to be near Stepmother's bedroom, and we don't often have guests these days
. ‘All right, Ruby. I'll see about it. When the man has finished working on the lift he can come and help rearrange the furniture in the second guest room.'

Ruby's face was flushed, her smile enormous. ‘Oh, and Miss, I can't wear this ole stuff when I'm a companion – I'll need a nice new dress and things. I mean, I've gotta look tidy and smart if I'm to be with Madam and her friends.'

This is getting out of control, thought Hester, but she felt part of Ruby's excitement. Youth demanded this sort of passion, as she knew only too well. She felt it herself, so often. And how wonderful that Stepmother would be looked after, leaving the time usually spent with her to be given to her painting.

‘Very well, Ruby. I'll see to all these things. But I think you should spend one more evening helping Mrs Caunter with the dinner and tomorrow I'll go to the agency in town and engage a new maid.'

They looked at each very directly, and Hester felt something new
had grown between them. In a flash, she wondered if Ruby really was her sister. But commonsense returned. That was all behind them. What mattered now was that Ruby would be more responsible for looking after Stepmother, which meant she would have time to paint. She closed her eyes, blinking away the hot tears of excitement which threatened. And then opened them again. Ruby was staring at her, face full of understanding.

‘Miss,' Ruby whispered, ‘are you all right? You look – well, sort of . . . funny.'

Hester was laughing – so good to laugh – and wiping her eyes, then lifting her hands as if to embrace Ruby, but then stopped and let them drop down. ‘I know – I feel funny! I feel ... oh, I can't describe how I feel, but I know I can get back to painting now, and it's wonderful.'

Ruby's expression brightened. ‘Of course you can. And, Miss, I've got another idea – why don't you have your studio out there, in the summerhouse? Roger, the lift man, he could do some work there, make it nice for you. What d'you think?'

Amazed, Hester drew in a breath. Where did Ruby get all these ideas from? She smiled, laughed again and nodded. ‘I think that would be splendid. I'll talk to him tomorrow. And now – why, it's nearly dinner time. Please ask Mrs Caunter to give my father something tempting tonight; he was seeming so much better earlier this afternoon, and we must feed him up.'

 

Hester was changing her dress prior to having dinner with Stepmother when Ruby knocked at her door. ‘Mr Hugh's here, Miss,' she said. ‘Wants to see you – just for a moment he said. Won't stay... .' The grin on her face made Hester wonder exactly how much Ruby knew about her private life. She said sharply, ‘Thank you. Ask him to wait in the drawing room – I'll be down in a few minutes. Perhaps he would like to share a drink with Mrs Redding – offer him one, please, Ruby.' She turned away quickly, as it struck her uneasily that if the girl was to become Stepmother's companion, then everything in the household would change. Conversations would no longer be private – Ruby would be listening. But did it really matter? asked the wry, small voice of intuition.

Hugh was chatting to Emma in the drawing room, and rose as
Hester entered. ‘I called in for just a moment, Hester, to give you a message. Mrs Wellington is having a party at Court Hill House next week to celebrate Fanny's eighteenth birthday, and asked me to pass on an invitation from her. Of course you'll get a proper note, but I said I was calling and would mention it to you. It's to be next Tuesday, in a marquee on the lawn. You'll come, won't you? I can take you there and bring you home afterwards.' He took her hand and looked into her eyes. ‘You could do with a bit of fun in your life, you know. All work and no play. We'll have a good time, Hester, plenty of people we know, champagne, no doubt, and we'll dance the night away.' He was smiling, eyes warm and inviting. ‘You'll come, of course, won't you?'

She resisted but only for a second. Did she want to be seen publicly in Hugh's company? Would he ask her again to marry him? And if he did, what would be her answer now? With a chill, she knew that things had changed, but then Emma Redding's weak voice broke in on her thoughts.

‘It will do you good, Hester, to have some fun. You've spent too much time lately nursing us. And Hugh will look after you. I do hope you'll accept the invitation.'

An evening out. Dressing up, meeting friends. Dancing ...
having fun
.

Hester's sudden smile was radiant. ‘Yes, I'd love to go. I'll write a note of acceptance to Fanny's mother tomorrow. And now, Hugh, will you have another glass of sherry before you leave?'

He nodded and she felt his eyes following her as she went to the table holding the decanter. He was clearly admiring her. She turned, returned his smile and suddenly realized that he loved her.

Wasn't that what she longed for? Someone to love her? It couldn't be Nicholas, she knew, but perhaps it might be Hugh. And yet it was to Nicholas she had given her heart. She banished these difficult thoughts while Hugh drank his sherry, chatting to him in the usual friendly way, and then had a quiet dinner with Stepmother. But as the evening ended, those doubts returned and she faced them with a new realizm and maturity.

Yes, she thought she loved Nicholas, but was it possibly just a passing attraction? She imagined that all young girls thought they had
lost their hearts, and perhaps, like her, to unsuitable men, a sort of rite of passage, really. So forget. Enjoy the moment. Go to the birthday party with Hugh and – what had he said? ‘Dance the night away.'

What would she wear? The blue, off-the-shoulder silk with those beautiful puffed sleeves? Or the white muslin with the high neck and golden sash? Quite an important decision to make.

It had to be the pale blue silk with the puffed sleeves and small train. Mother's pearls looked wonderful around her neck, echoing the tiny seed pearls decorating the bodice and the wide sash. When Hugh arrived to collect her, Hester felt at her best and determined to enjoy the evening.

It promised to be a joyful celebration. Champagne flowed, the setting sun shone on the colourful gardens of Court Hill House, and Hester decided that Fanny's birthday party was really splendid. As she and Hugh met friends, chattered and laughed, Hester felt her frustrations and shattered dreams vanish into the warm, scented air. Recently, in the anxious ambience of Oak House, she had missed this easy, youthful friendship, with its banter and shared laughter.

In the marquee a buffet supper of vol au vents, cold meats, pies, salads, potatoes in various guises, salmon and game tarts, followed by raspberries and clotted cream, jellies, fruits of all kinds, thick custard and ice cream, was eaten with relish, washed down with fruit cordials and chilled white wine.

When later the orchestra, half hidden behind potted palms in the upstairs ballroom of the house, began to play, Hester drifted around the floor in Hugh's arms feeling slightly up in the air – too much champagne, perhaps – but happy. The air was vibrant with the warmth of dancing bodies releasing perfume from floral corsages, and the atmosphere had become free and increasingly sensuous. Eyes met
in intimate glances and entwining limbs became closer in the passion of the dance. She was enjoying it, and now, waltzing, with Hugh's gloved hand warm on her back, she was glad she had accepted the invitation.

But there had been an awkward moment on arrival, when Fanny, looking like a coloured fruit sweet wrapped in pale pink muslin decorated with a striped sash of pale green and with a magenta pink rose in her fair hair, had said, ‘Thank you for your present, Hester – well, it's from Hugh too, isn't it? Now that you're engaged... .'

Sharply Hester said, ‘No, we're not, Fanny. That's untrue. Why do you say that?'

Fanny coloured, put a hand to her mouth and whispered contritely, ‘But people are talking. I heard it in the coffee shop in town – that you and Hugh... .'

‘Well, just forget what you heard. Hugh and I are definitely not engaged.'

‘
Yet
... .' Hugh sounded amiable, but when Hester looked at him, she saw the determined gleam in his eyes, and was annoyed.

Taking his arm, she led him towards the garden. ‘I think we should allow Fanny to greet her other guests – shall we go and look at the long borders?'

As they wandered, pausing at the end beneath a pergola covered in pale roses with a subtle scent, she said slowly, ‘We must stop this silly talk, Hugh. Perhaps we should part company until the gossip dies down. What do you think?' It was a foolish question and she knew it, even as the words came out.

‘Certainly not. I shall keep courting you until you say yes. Damn the gossip, that's what I think.' His voice was sharp, his arm abruptly drawing her closer to his side, and his expression very decisive.

Taken aback,Hester changed the subject but now, dancing among the other couples, she felt differently. Hugh held her too closely, his breath was warm on her face as they circled the floor, and her mind floated in a happier world than usual. When, at the end of the waltz, he led her onto one of the balconies overlooking the twilit garden, she realized that she was in no mood for any more arguments.

She lifted her hand, brushing her cheeks. ‘It's so hot. Shall we go
outside for a breather?' Instinctively, she knew it was a mistake. But this evening nothing seemed very serious, nothing could go wrong. She and Hugh were enjoying themselves – let it go on, she thought dreamily.

The darkening garden was lit by small lamps hanging on tree branches and among shrubs. A full moon shone down, highlighting white flowers and turning them into gleaming, eye-catching delights. Standing within the pergola, Hester fingered a bloom that drifted down her shoulder; soft, warm petals, the shape enticingly persuasive. A perfect flower to paint. Yes, when her studio had been moved into the summerhouse at home, she would choose a rose for her next subject. The images slowly took shape. Perhaps Father, very slowly recovering, might even sit at his window and see her working below. Their love for each other would reach through the garden and if –
if
– she became engaged to Hugh, she knew that Father would be glad and perhaps feel all the better. She would be the daughter he longed for, the wife of a good man, a busy, social housewife who occasionally found time to indulge her hobby of painting.

And then the dream broke. She turned to Hugh, sober and free of the foolish hopes and ideas that had filled her mind as they danced.

‘I can't possibly marry you.' She felt his hand tighten beneath her arm. ‘Don't ask me again. Let's go back to the house. We can't stay here – it's getting dark and people will talk even more.'

He drew her close. ‘Stop talking rubbish, dear Hester.' She tried to step away, but his hold was too powerful. His voice lowered. ‘You shouldn't have worn that revealing dress if you didn't want me to admire it.' His fingers ran down her shoulders, and she shivered. ‘You know as well as I do that we must marry,' he said tersely. ‘Your father expects it, so do my parents. I've found a splendid house and you'll have time to paint – although I want a family. A boy first, and then perhaps a couple of girls.'

Again she tried to pull away but he held her. Opening her mouth to argue, she found his lips coming down on hers. They were hard and tasted of wine and cigars. Into her mind flew the memory of Nicholas's kiss, which had been so different, which had sent waves of pleasure through her whole body, which had made it almost
impossible to pull away.

But this was different; no pleasure in this embrace, just a panicky feeling that she must escape. Until slowly, guiltily, she began to enjoy both his kiss and the closeness of his body. Fear and resistance vanished. This was what she longed for, a man's love, and if she couldn't share that love with Nicholas, then Hugh would be the next best thing.

They parted breathlessly, and she said, unsteadily, but knowing what she was saying, ‘I'm fond of you, Hugh, but before I decide to marry you, please let me have a little more time.' She eased herself away, laughing nervously. ‘I think the champagne has gone to my head – I must be quite sober before I say yes.'

His arms dropped and he said nothing. And then he nodded. ‘Well, I suppose that's something. All right, I'll wait – but don't keep me waiting too long.' He reached out, stroked her cheek. ‘I want you, Hester. Very badly.'

Her mouth was dry, her cheeks too hot. She needed to go home before he kissed her again. With enormous relief and a feeling of escape, she left him, running back to the house to say good night to her hostess and to collect her cloak.

By the time the trap appeared at the front entrance, and Hugh had also said his farewell to Mrs Wellington and Fanny, Hester had recovered and was in control of herself.

She knew she had been foolish, giving way to the emotional impact of Hugh's love-making, but her mind was clear now. She had half promised herself to him, but there was still a hope of escape. Surely a few days could go on indefinitely?

 

During the next week she painted in the newly established summerhouse studio. Thoughts of Hugh's proposal and of that intimate embrace were still in her mind, but the creative passion had returned, more demanding than ever, and perhaps because Nicholas's presence lived on in the small, warm room, they were happy hours in that good light, fingers returning to brushes, eyes constantly focused, watching the pictures grow. One afternoon, as teatime neared, she was working on the gentian picture, hoping to finish it before the light failed, when Ruby ran down the path.

‘Miss Redding—' Ruby, now Stepmother's companion, spoke with less dialect and paid more attention to manners.

Hester paused, reluctant to stop working, but hearing in her spoken name something disturbing. When the girl came to a halt just inside the doorway, she saw fear in the wide green eyes.

‘What is it?' Her voice rose.

‘The Master. He – he—' Ruby's face was distraught. ‘I don't know . . . you'd better come... .'

For a second they stared at each other. Hester's heart jumped and her mouth dried. ‘Yes.' She dropped the brush, got up, pushing past Ruby, running rapidly back into the house.

He had gone by the time they reached the bedroom, lying seemingly at peace in the white bed. Hester took one look at the grey face and the open, sightless eyes. She knelt by the bed. ‘Send Hoskins for Dr Winters. Quickly, Ruby... .'

‘Starvation, of course, the usual end.' Dr Winters closed Arthur Redding's eyes and ushered Hester from the bedroom. ‘Seizures generally end like this, I fear. Of course you and your cook did your best, offering him nutritious food but that restricted breathing, the tensing of the swallowing process, and so on, caused effort, which brought on a second seizure. Were you with him?'

‘No.' Hester's voice was cracked. She couldn't believe that Father had been smiling at her only half an hour ago, when she had told him she would be in the summerhouse, painting, and at teatime she would be with him again. And now – gone.

Dr Winters put an arm around her shoulders and shut the door behind him. ‘We must go and tell Mrs Redding, Miss Hester. I need you to be there. I have some sedatives with me, just in case.'

Through her shock and all the disturbed thoughts churning up her mind, she became aware of Ruby, following them downstairs. The once over-familiar and chatty housemaid was a silent figure, offering unexpected strength and help. It was Ruby who comforted Stepmother when the news of Father's death was broken; Ruby who, after Dr Winters had left, said quietly, in a sure voice, ‘Leave Mrs Redding to me, Miss Redding. I'll be with her while you see to everything else. And I'll send Hoskins with a message to Mr Hugh. He'll need to know – to help you with the arrangements.'

Hester looked into calm eyes, and after a pause, muttered unsteadily, ‘Yes. Thank you, Ruby. Thank you.'

Ruby put out a hand, very gently touching Hester's shoulder. ‘He might have been my father, too.' She sighed. ‘I know that lawyer said he wasn't, but I shall always wonder.'

Hester nodded and wiped the last tears from her eyes. ‘No,' she said chokingly. ‘We shall never really know.'

 

The funeral was well attended and Aunt Jacks and Hugh were the twin rocks of support that Hester gratefully accepted. Her father's death had been a great shock, but there were joyful moments of recalling how their love had freed itself and she was thankful for it. She was glad of Hugh's help in taking upon himself so many of the necessary arrangements and slowly felt her strength returning.

After the interment in St Mary's church in Newton Abbot, the mourners – family, friends and colleagues – returned to Oak House. Somehow Hester kept smiling while kindly wishes were given until eventually the last carriage and trap rolled out of the drive, leaving the house sadly empty and almost unnaturally quiet.

At her side, Hugh put his arm around her. ‘You've done well, Hester. Your father would be proud of you. You've been strong, but I do feel you need to rest now.'

Suddenly she felt the truth of his words. Her body ached, her mind was weary and she longed for the peace of her bedroom where sleep could work wonders. She smiled, seeing the concern on his face, and nodded. ‘Yes, I'll rest now. I can't thank you enough for your help, Hugh, for being with me in this difficult time.'

His arms tightened, but his voice was gently undemanding. ‘I'll call again tomorrow and perhaps by then you'll feel able to talk about our future. But don't even think about it now – go and rest.' He turned her towards the staircase and stood in the hall, watching as she dragged herself up, finally smiling down at him before going into her room and collapsing on the bed.

She slept, dreams forgotten when she awoke several hours later, feeling an insurge of new strength, of more vital thoughts, of fresh physical lightness and the ability to get up, change, and then go downstairs to sit with Stepmother.

After dinner, when Ruby had taken Emma upstairs at bedtime, Hester wandered in the garden, finding the solitude and beauty wonderfully comforting. As she sat in the summerhouse, looking at her painting equipment spread on the table in front of her, she became newly aware of a growth of unexpected commonsense, which helped revitalise her even further. It built on the fact of her father's passing; of Ruby caring so well for Stepmother. And of her own need for love growing ever more urgent as day followed day.

Walking back to the house, she knew now that she would accept Hugh's proposal of marriage. What a steadfast friend he had proved himself, offering help and affection. She smiled then, wondering at this new vision of life. Without doubt he would be a good husband. She and Hugh, in that new house, living their new lives. Yes, when he called again, she would take him into the quietness of the garden, and say, ‘Dear Hugh, I would like to marry you. And as soon as you like.'

But next morning that comforting world crashed. Nicholas's letter came as a disturbing breakdown of her sensible plans of the previous evening. She took the letter upstairs to her bedroom, opening it with trembling hands.

‘
Dear Miss Redding
.'

For a second she was distraught; what had she expected? Not this formal, cold address. Confusion raced through her mind: she was going to marry Hugh so why should she feel like this because Nicholas had written what was most certainly just a note of condolence, and nothing more?

Trying unsuccessfully to quieten her mind, she read on.