White Water (38 page)

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Authors: Pamela Oldfield

BOOK: White Water
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Allan looked up at last but with no curiosity.

‘I thought you would be sleeping by now,’ he said. ‘You should have accepted Minnie’s offer of a sleeping draught.’

‘I have no need of a draught,’ she told him. ‘I am so weary I shall sleep once I know you are safe.’

‘Safe?’

‘From yourself, Allan.’ He shook his head but she continued. ‘Safe from your horrid thoughts. I’m fearful of what you will do and I cannot allow myself to sleep.’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘You are fearful for
me
? After all I have done to you?’

She knelt in front of him, feeling the warmth from the fire on her back. Gently she took his hands in hers and looked into his handsome face, which was now ugly with unexpressed horror.

‘What
have
you done to me, Allan?’ she asked. ‘Don’t tell me you have killed Martin, for that is not how it was. Oh, I have heard what happened. Was the knife in your hand, Allan? Did you plunge it into his body? Answer me, Allan.’

A shuddering sigh racked him.

‘No,’ she went on. ‘It was an accident, a cruel trick of fate, the purest chance. You have nothing to blame yourself for except your temper and Martin provoked you beyond measure.’

‘My temper,’ he muttered dully. ‘Aye, my damnable, murderous temper.’

‘’Twas not your temper that killed him, Allan. Maybe ’twas your temper that sent him back across the yard, but ’twas fate made him fall upon his own knife the way he did. Listen to me, Allan. If I had thrust that door and he had fallen and was dead would you blame me? Or if it had been Maria, provoked beyond all bearing — would you call it murder?’

‘No. I could not.’

‘Then why deal more harshly with yourself? Can you not see, Allan, the reasoning is false?’

He glanced up and his face, in Felicity’s shadow, was grey and drawn. ‘I see,’ he said, ‘that you are determined to make a saint of a sinner. It cannot be done, but I thank you for trying. But go to your bed, I beseech you, and leave me with my thoughts.’

Felicity shook her head. ‘I will not go, Allan. You must believe that I will not leave this Hall until I am satisfied you will go to bed also. I will kneel here by the hearth all night if needs be! I will not let you drown in your sorrows.’ Again he shook his head and tears glinted in his eyes. ‘Maria also,’ he whispered. ‘It has killed Hugo — the only man she has ever loved.’

‘Hugo is dead but you did
not
kill him!’ Felicity clenched her hands fiercely round his to underline her words. ‘A terrible accident killed Martin and Hugo’s heart could not withstand the shock. Oh fate has been unkind. Most damnably unkind, I confess it. But an unkind fate that brings about two deaths — how are you to blame for an unkind fate? Dear Allan, forgive me if I bother you with my poor arguments. I know you wish only that I go away and leave you to your griefs and yet I cannot. I too am grieving, remember, but my grief began many months ago. I lost Martin when I moved in with Dorothy. I know what grief can do — if you allow it. My life has not been easy, but we have to face griefs and setbacks and overcome them. We have to survive, Allan. Believe me. I do not talk idly. I am not at all brave but I have learned what passes for courage and you must do the same. It takes courage to live when ’tis so much easier to die. You
can
do it, I tell you. You are stronger than you know.’

He pulled her up to sit beside him, saying nothing. Together they stared into the flames which now flickered round the log. The dogs had returned to their dreams and the house was silent.

‘You say I can be strong?’

‘I do, Allan.’

‘What makes you so certain? I have no such faith.’

‘Think on it this way. A year ago in the face of this tragedy you would have blamed it on the Gillis blood. Oh, I know of it. Poor Martin had his faults like the rest of us. He was indiscreet and talked often of matters which were not meant for my ears. But you won’t deny what I say, will you? That today you do not blame the Gillis blood or take refuge in the Gillis curse. You take the blame for the accident upon your own shoulders. Isn’t that a sign of your growing strength?’

He did not answer immediately and she almost held her breath, praying that at last she had found the right words. Somehow she had to give him hope — a raft to cling to in those swirling waters of despair. She waited, afraid to say more. Her arguments were all used up and she was longing to go back to bed and close her eyes against the day’s miseries. Then at last she felt a change in him. An imperceptible tightening of the careless muscles, a small but decisive intake of breath. And still she waited. She had said it all and now he must summon his own resources. Slowly he raised his head and straightened his back and drew a deep breath. He stood up and held out his hands to pull her to her feet. Felicity stood up. She was weak with exhaustion. The long journey and the violence of her grief so soon after the birth of the twins had drained her energy. Even as she tried to smile at him she swayed suddenly and almost fell. Allan caught her and lifted her into his arms, cursing his stupidity. Wrapped up in his own distress he had overlooked her obvious frailty. Half fainting, she made no protest as he carried her up to her room and laid her upon the bed. She murmured but he ‘hushed’ her gently as he covered her with the blanket. He watched her for a moment until he was satisfied that she was asleep then he bent to kiss her forehead.

‘My thanks,’ he whispered and, moving softly to the door, left her alone with her dreams.

*

Three days later Felicity returned to Dorothy’s. After greeting her sons and seeing to their welfare, she sought out Lucas and told him all that had befallen.

‘So Hugo is dead too,’ she concluded. ‘’Twas his heart failed him. Melissa says the shock and grief were too much for him.’

Lucas shook his head. ‘There’s no luck in that family, seemingly. ’Tis like a curse — ’

‘Don’t say that!’ she cried.

‘But ’tis one thing after another.’

‘Aye … And Piers and Lorna. They are so young and now they have lost their father.’

‘Mayhap Maria will wed again.’

‘Maria? No, no. She’ll never wed again. Hugo was the only man in the world for her. Poor Maria. She will stay alone. She lived for him.’

‘A death at a funeral, eh? ’Tis a terrible thing, that.’

He watched her closely, hoping that the news would distract her thoughts from her own loss. The death of Martin had thrown her into a deep gloom but she had made strenuous efforts to dispel it, for the sake of the twins.

‘So there were two of us widows in one week,’ said Felicity.

Lucas frowned. ‘
You
was never wed.’

‘Not in the world’s eyes, no. But I told myself we were wed in God’s eyes.’

‘Not in his eyes, neither.’

‘No. ’Twas just a comfort to me. Maria said she will come to Kent as soon as she is recovered from the shock. Romney House is to be sold by auction.’

Lucas tried to hide his satisfaction. He wished no man harm but his feelings towards Martin had not been charitable. He planned to marry Felicity as soon as he could win her affection and he had not relished the idea that Martin Kendal would be living so close, having as he did a father’s claim on the children. Now he had gone and, Lucas thought, a good riddance. A man who could abandon a woman with two small boys was no great loss. And now, if Romney House was sold, all Felicity’s old memories would be swept away and she would settle more easily into her new life. She still had not agreed to wed him but he felt certain it was only a matter of time. These sad, unexpected events might well hasten her decision. But he would not press her for an answer. She must come to him in her own time. Lucas was a patient man.

‘’Twill fetch a good price, a house that size,’ he said.

‘Aye.’

‘Shall you go to the sale?’

‘I don’t rightly know. ’Tis as well the mistress is in her grave, God rest her soul.’

‘And old Harold.’

‘I never knew him but Maria did, of course. Change — always change. How I hate it. I am faint-hearted, I know. Say it, Lucas. ’Tis true enough.’

He laughed. ‘’Tis no crime to be afeared of change,’ he told her. ‘Sometimes ’tis for the better, sometimes worse. There’s no saying.’

‘No — but Romney House!’ she protested. ‘’Twill hurt Maria. She had such plans for Martin. Frank Innly said he would make a good shepherd.’

Lucas did not answer. It did not please him to know that Felicity had talked with Innly about Martin.

One of the babies cried out in his sleep and Felicity rocked the wooden crib with the toe of her shoe.

‘’Tis a fine crib that,’ said Lucas, ‘though I say it as shouldn’t!’

He had made the crib large enough for two babies.

‘The finest,’ Felicity agreed.

‘So,’ said Lucas, ‘they had a double funeral.’

‘They buried him next day — in the same grave. All the mourners stayed on. It was very hurried.’

‘Sad to be hustled into eternity, like that.’

‘’Tis all very sad. There’s only Allan and Piers left now. Only two Kendal sons. I wonder if Allan will wed again? He must, I think. Piers is still only a child.’

She sighed heavily.

‘You’ve nowt to fret about,’ he said. ‘If there was not a single Kendal left you’d be cared for. You know that. You know I’ll care for you and the boys. You’ll never lack a roof over your head and food for your belly while I’m caring for you. If they was all to die tomorrow — ’

‘Don’t say such a thing!’ She crossed her fingers hastily. ‘I mean,
if
they was,’ he persisted, ‘you and the boys would still be safe. I swear to you I’ll love them like my own. I do already.’

‘I know, Lucas. I — ’

‘And we’ll have a couple of girls to go with them. How does that sound? You’d like daughters, wouldn’t you? And then I’ll give you a couple more sons. Strapping lads like their father! Eh? We’d be a nice little family and go to church on Sundays. We’d take up half the church! Oh, Felicity, I’ll make you happy, I swear I will. Cut my throat and hope to die — Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — ’

‘’Tis of no matter, Lucas. I know you mean well but — you did say you’d give me a bit of time.’

‘I did. Aye, I did. And I will. We’ll speak of it no more. I’d best chop a few more logs. Ma will be home soon and we’ll both get a scolding! There’s nowt you can do about other folks’ grief so put it out of your head.’

Felicity nodded. What he said was very sensible but it was easier said than done.

*

Romney House was almost deserted. Only Jem remained to keep an eye on the property in case vagrants moved in to take up occupation. There were always plenty of homeless people and an empty house, fully furnished, was a great temptation. Maria found Jem in the empty stable — he had sold the horses on her instructions. He was lolling against a bale of hay with a flagon of ale beside him but scrambled quickly to his feet and grinned sheepishly.

‘Good morning, ma’am.’

‘Good morning, Jem. I’d like a fire in the kitchen hearth, please. Matt is with me but I have sent him to tell Felicity of our arrival. We shall stay for a day or two while I make arrangements for the sale. I’ve written to James Moore on your behalf and will see him while I’m here. I hope he will find work for you. I have spoken well of you and have said you are industrious. If you go to him I trust you will live up to my recommendation.’

‘I will indeed, ma’am, and thank you kindly, ma’am. Er, ’tis a sad business, ma’am — the young master going like that and his father with him. I could scarce believe it when Felicity told me. I’m that sorry, ma’am.’

‘Thank you, Jem.’ For a moment her lips trembled but she made a supreme effort to control her feelings. There was so much to do. She had plunged into it all with desperate eagerness as a way of forgetting. Nearly a month had passed and she felt Hugo’s loss as keenly as ever. When she felt her grief overwhelming her she thought of Felicity who had lost Martin after so brief and turbulent a love. At least Maria had had Hugo as husband and lover for many years. Now she straightened her back with an unconscious gesture and smiled faintly.

‘’Tis God’s will and we must abide by it.’

‘Aye, ma’am, but — ’

‘When did you last see Felicity?’ Maria interrupted him hastily.

‘A fortnight or more, ma’am. When you wrote to her. She came over and read the letter to me so I should know what to do with the horses and such like. I’ve the money safe by.’

‘I’ll take it later, Jem. Now I want to go through the house and decide what is and is not to be sold. ’Twill most likely take an hour or so and I shall hope to find a comfortable blaze in the kitchen and some mulled ale.’

‘You shall, ma’am. I’ll see to it. The house is ready unlocked.’

He stoppered the flagon and stuffed it behind the straw before setting off at a quick pace for the kitchen. Maria watched him go then made her way towards the front of the house. She stood well back along the overgrown drive and saw the house exactly as she had seen it when she first arrived as a young bride-to-be so many years ago. Then Hugo had been Hannah’s husband and she had despaired of ever sharing his life. Looking across the lawn, she saw the tree under which Harold had enjoyed the sunshine. Too weak to walk, they had tucked him up warmly and he had taught Matt to write. She smiled at the memory of Matt as he sat on the grass, bent over his slate with his face screwed up in furious concentration. And Ruth, calling him Matthew instead of Matt. Poor Ruth, thought Maria. How she must have resented Harold’s new bride-to-be — a mere slip of a girl to be mistress of Romney House where she had reigned for so long.

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