Marrying the Mistress (23 page)

But when I realised I was not likely to produce an
heir, I decided to share my concerns with Burl and, once
again, beg him to help me. I need not tell you how much
he fought against my suggestion, knowing how it would
immediately wreck the relationships we had put in
place, how distraught you would be by the second inexplicable
withdrawal of his affection, how bitter you
would have every right to be when you began to realise
the purpose of it, and how worried you would be about
the initial deception to myself, the one who had
provided for you. So I brought to bear all the ammunition
to the argument, how I'd already used up two
-
thirds of my predicted time and how, if you became
pregnant by him in the near future, I would have only
a few months in which to see my son. Could he deny me
that? I asked. Could he also deny himself, and you, one
night of bliss as a foretaste of what was to come? Would
the damage outweigh the benefits, did he think? Were
you likely to allow him access to your bed?

No, he said, you most certainly would not. You had
pride, and who did I think I was talking about…a whore
who shares her body with anyone she fancies? He could
have one of those any day of the week, he said. He was
astonished I could even ask. Yes, he was very angry
.

I begged him, Helene. Yes, it was my doing, not his.
I promised him I would not lay an ounce of blame on
you or him, but take any offspring as my own, male or
female, even though it would look like a miracle. I
would love it as my own too. I told him I would not want
the details, the how, or when, or where. I would leave
it to him, and then to you to break the good news,
having not the slightest doubt about the success. It was
not, however, the kind of request I could expect to be
answered there and then, and indeed he never did
answer it in words, only in the deed. And even as I
write, I am not in a position to guess how, or even if,
he explained himself to you. Needless to say, the very
thought of sharing you even briefly with my brother was
like a knife wound in my soul
.

Oh, dear Linas, I begin to wonder if you had a soul and, if so, where you hid it. How could anyone use a woman so, without a word to her?

But although my joy at Jamie's birth was boundless,
dearest Helene, I saw how shame, humiliation and
sadness showed through your lovely dark eyes, and
how Burl's coolness towards you was unchanged, and
there has not been a day since then when I have not
tried hard to justify the impositions I placed on you both
for my sake. Yes, to save my face, you lied to everyone
for me about our Jamie's parentage. You swallowed
your pride and hid your pain from everyone but Burl
and me, yet I suffered not one word of reproach from
either of you. I could give you no comfort, my Helene,
because that would have been to admit my treachery,
and ruin with distrust what were to have been my last
few months. As it turned out, the wonders of fatherhood
gave me an extended lease of life that I have always
accepted as a precious gift from you, Burl and little
Jamie. It has been more than I deserve. And now we
have worked out the complicated plot and my story is
at an end, at last
.

Forgive me, dearest beloved. I have thought too much
of my own desires and not enough of yours. When I am
gone, you may find it in your heart to understand the kind
of love I have for you that asks far more than love is
allowed to ask. Or give. Burl has burned for you through
all these years in a way I never believed was possible
and, if I had not already done enough damage to last one
lifetime, I would beg you to listen to him, and believe, if
ever he tells you so. His suffering was for my sake, too
.

God Bless you, dearest Helene, and our beloved son.
Linas Monkton
.

Yelping, gasping with grief, I put the book down, for it was trembling too much for me to read and my sobs shook my arms uncontrollably. Blinding hot tears crumpled my body into a heap, slamming the book shut between my knees and dropping it to the floor. His writing was so eloquent, yet he had never once hinted at his feelings in spoken words, never remembered special days, never voiced what his heart felt or what he knew death was about to take from him. But worse than that
was the way he had abused his brother's love. I had accused Burl of using me; now I saw how he too had been manipulated, his emotions bribed into submission by Linas's demands. Knowing his brother's generosity, Linas had wrung him like a sponge to get what he wanted for his last three years and, although this had caused the birth of our darling Jamie, to do so in such a self-serving fashion at the expense of our happiness was unforgivable. He had asked for understanding, but my wretchedness could not find even the smallest crumb of it.

The clock struck nine and, as if obeying some kind of signal, I tried to slow my roaring into my handkerchief and clear my mind.

The tears began again. Stopped again.

The servants must not hear. They already had.

There was a tap on the door and Mrs Goode slipped into the room through a haze of my tears. Saying nothing, she came to hold me in her arms, bringing me back to earth with the smoothing and patting of her hands. ‘It's the funeral isn't it?' she said. ‘It's brought it all back to you. Shall I make you a cup of hot chocolate? I'll tell Debbie to go and warm your bed. You've had a busy day.' She bent to pick up the book and restore it to the pile, perhaps suspecting something in the handwritten pages.

‘No, Goody. Bring me the woollen cloak. I'm going to Stonegate.'

She took me by the elbows. ‘Can it not wait?' she whispered.

I shook my head, hoping she would not ask why.

‘Shall I come with you?'

‘No, you stay with Jamie. I just want…to…' Tears flowed again.

‘Shh, it's all right, I know. But you ought not to go out alone.'

‘It's not far. I won't be long.'

She brought my cloak and changed my shoes for me, frowning the perplexed footman into silence as I left the house. I clung to the railing beside the ice-covered steps, staggering like a drunk along the slippery pavement that twinkled with new frost under the lamps, passing the dark frontages of Blake Street, most of them shuttered for the night. Linas's house on Stonegate, now his brother's, was in darkness except for the brazier stuck into the metal holder beside the door.

Mr Treddle answered my knock, admirably concealing his surprise at my tear-stained face, extending a kindly hand to help me up the last step, drawing me like a father into the darkened hall as if he needed no explanation for my presence there. ‘My dear lady,' he said. ‘Come inside.' It was familiar, I know, but familiarity was what I had come for.

But if he had asked me why I had come, what I needed, what I would see, I could only have told him that I needed to be where Linas and I had been together, to try to make some sense out of those years, to chronicle the events and try to justify the pain he had inflicted on his over-generous brother. I pointed to the beautiful winding wrought-iron staircase. ‘Up,' I whispered.

‘Allow me to light your way, ma'am.' Picking up the hall lamp, he went very slowly ahead of me, waiting on the top landing for me to indicate the room I had once called my own. Passing through the doorway, now painted a fresh pale grey with gold beading, I saw that nothing inside had been changed, not even by a
detail, same bed-curtains, same rather threadbare carpet, same towels and soap on the wash-stand, so dowdy compared to the rest of the house, newly decorated. ‘Would you like me to draw the curtains, ma'am?' Mr Treddle said. ‘And I can have a fire lit in no time, if you wish?'

‘I only want to sit a while, Mr Treddle, thank you.'

‘Very good, ma'am. I'm downstairs if you need anything.'

‘I'll ring,' I said. The room smelled musty, damp and unloved.

Like a wraith he disappeared, and I sank down upon the velvet-cushioned window-seat that overlooked Stonegate's frosty cobbles, just as I had done countless times before to gather my thoughts together from the jumble of parts that intertwined like the figures in a dance. I had believed myself to be the one most wronged, the one most hurt by hopeless love, the one who had sacrificed most for Linas. Now I saw that it was not so. Burl had loved and wanted me and I had never known it, thinking that I was no more or less than a woman to be caught, and bedded, and then discarded once she had fulfilled her purpose. Now, all his coldness could be explained by Linas's dying wish that he should leave me well alone.

Mine. You belong to me, Helene Follet. Me alone. I
have you at last
.

Those words, fiercely spoken against my cheek, had haunted me for days, for they were words of possession, not love, though I had been right in my hunch that comfort was what he most needed then. It was what he'd needed for years, though he'd hidden it much better than me. How he must have suffered.

Sighing, I went to lie on my bed still, with my cloak wrapped round me, my mind unwinding the ravelled story that was too full of alternatives, assumptions and speculations to offer me any reason at all for forgiveness. The only mitigating factor I could dredge up from my charity was that Linas had been very ill, and desperate, and probably very afraid, and that in such an atmosphere, his resentment of Burl's success with women finally drove him to play God, before it was too late.

Downstairs, the muffled slam of a heavy door broke into my tangled reverie, hurting my head, but I thought no more of it until my bedroom door opened to let in another light and another figure, and then the cold icy scent of the night. Horses, leather, larches after rain.

‘Burl!' I croaked. ‘Oh Burl…dearest man…dearest beloved.'

Shadows lurched and skidded across the bed-curtains, and then I was being pulled up into his arms and held close with my wet face warmly nudged by his. Our lips met and breathed soft words into each other's mouths, words of wanting and the pain of loving too much.

‘I didn't know, Burl. I didn't know until now,' I sobbed. ‘I had no idea that's how it was for you. And I love you…love you…have always loved you…and you should not have allowed him to do this to us. It was so very cruel, my darling. Your pain, Burl, when…'

‘Hush, my love. Sweetheart,' he whispered deep, low, velvety words that warmed me like fur, ‘my only love, my darling Helene. You must not weep for me, lass. Come now, no more tears. It's done. Past. How long have you been here weeping?'

‘Since I read it…oh, Burl. I'm so sorry.'

‘For what, dear heart?'

‘For my accusations. I've been so unfair and selfish. You did it for love of Linas, as you told me, but I thought it was some cold-hearted scheme you'd both devised to get Linas a son.'

‘It was not cold-hearted on my part, my love. Anything but that. I had strong objections, but he made it too difficult for me to refuse him. I ought to have done, I know, but that day at Abbots Mere the chance arose and I took it. You were so unhappy, and I thought that just for one night I could show you how it could be. It was wrong, I admit it, but I had wanted you for so long and I felt that you wanted me too. Darling, it was never my desire to hurt you so much. Can you forgive me?'

‘I didn't know you loved me, Burl. You kept it hidden.'

‘I dared not let a word pass between us. That was part of the bargain. He pleaded with me to let him have first chance, thinking it would be for only three years, but then he took three more. How could any of us have known that would happen? It was almost unbearable. I didn't
want
his death, sweetheart, but I wanted you so desperately.'

‘I think I might have left him, Burl, but for you. It was you who kept me here, that and the thought that I might lose Jamie. He was my comfort, my part of you that I never expected to have. If I'd known you loved me, I could have borne it all with patience, but he told you to leave me alone.'

‘I couldn't let you suspect it. You would not have
been able to conceal your feelings. You've never been good at that, have you, sweetheart? But how did you discover all this? Has he left you a letter?'

‘Yes, I found it this evening. Perhaps I ought to let you read it.'

‘Poor Linas. So he explained his reasons?'

‘Yes, and now that he's gone, Burl, I ought not to criticise him to you. He was your twin and my lover, and I suppose he
gave
us more than he demanded from us. At least he kept us together, didn't he? Like it or not.'

‘I would have found a way, sweetheart, never fear. There's never been a woman, not one, that I would have waited six years for. Until you.' His arms tightened around me and, in his kiss, I felt all the longing and desolation of those six years, the ache of desire and the release of love that had been so long denied by us both. ‘I knew I'd have to work hard to get you back,' he murmured, stroking the hair off my damp temples, ‘but I didn't realise how useful your family would be, and the snow and ice, then the floods. And all that nonsense talk of rewards and prices, my darling, was only a device to trap you into accepting me. I had to do something to make your mind up. Think no more of it. For you, I would do whatever it takes, family or no family. So don't think too harshly of Linas if that's what he did too. They were his last years and his only chance to be the proud lover of Miss Helene Follet and, who knows, if I'd been in the same boat, I might have done the same.'