Secrets and Lies (29 page)

‘Oh, no . . . not at once. You can finish your coffee first.’

His mouth twitched at the corner, and his eyes filled with such amusement that her blush deepened. He began to laugh, then roared with laughter before choking out, ‘I had no idea you were churning with lust for me?’

‘I am not churning with lust. I don’t even know what lust feels like, never mind churning it. I don’t like you any more, Leo Thornton . . . you’ve embarrassed me and I’ll never forgive you.’

Her wail of frustration was muffled inside his mouth when he kissed her and said tenderly, ‘Yes you will. I adore you, Esmé. I take it all back. You neither churn nor lust.’

The touch of his lips had a weakening effect on her and she caressed his face. ‘I lied. I churn like a dairymaid and lust like crazy, and I meant what I said . . . it wasn’t a joke. I just don’t know how to flirt and be suggestive.’

‘You don’t need to with that direct approach. I got the message completely.’ The laughter left him. ‘Thank goodness for small mercies. I would suggest we go to bed
before
drinking our coffee, since coffee has a sobering effect.’

The breath inched from her lungs as his fingers walked up from her waist, undoing each button on her blouse. When he reached her breasts his palms gently caressed her, and then he bent his head and kissed each one. His hand slid under her buttocks and he lifted her and carried her into the bedroom, her legs wound about his body.

They had both seen naked people before, but this was different. His body was beautiful, long, lean and muscular, and she was ready for every caress from his fingers and tongue.

The bedroom was lit by a lamp in the image of a nearly naked woman draped in a cloth, and holding aloft a flame of opaque glass. It emitted a soft glow. Esmé was suddenly overtaken by shyness. ‘Are you going to leave the light on?’

He laughed. ‘If we’re going to be wicked let’s be brazen about it. I want to see your face.’

She soon learned what lust was, and triumphed in the way he responded to her tentative exploration of his warm body. Something gradually changed between them so the play became more intense, and Leo more commanding. His breath came in short bursts, and for a moment he reached into the bedside cabinet and removed a small packet with
Silver Text
written on the side and ripped the top off.

A condom! She’d demonstrated the function and purpose of such devices to expectant mothers at birth control lectures, to embarrassed giggles and ribald remarks. She’d never put one on living flesh. ‘Let me, Leo.’ Taking it from his trembling hands she rolled it down over his rigid penis, her palms gently caressing his skin as she went. It felt soft and silky against her fingertips. He made a strangled noise in his throat and rolled over on top of her.

She opened to accommodate him, and his hands lifted her. He impaled her with one movement, and the little jolt of shock she experienced was soon absorbed into a slow dance of advance and retreat.

‘My darling Es,’ he murmured against her ear, and shuddered when she gently bit the curve of his jaw in response.

She slid her hands over his backside, which was taut and powerful in its rise and fall, and he murmured something deep in his throat and the pace increased.

Now it was her turn to murmur. But there was a build up of raw excitement running through her that made her want to scream with the pleasure of him. Every nerve in her body was concentrated in that one place, and she felt reckless with her need.

His mouth explored hers, his tongue stroking in and out of her mouth. She was being made love to in more ways than one, consumed. It was sublime. Soon she became lost in a tumbling turbulence of thrusts and his breath began to pant from his mouth.

The excitement of the moment brought a sudden upward thrust of her pelvis that she hadn’t expected, and he growled with her when she cried out. There was the sudden flood of heat inside her, and he relaxed.

She lay there, cuddled against his body, feeling his heart beat against hers. She traced her finger over the angles of his face, his eyelids and the curving mouth that had left a warm imprint on hers, and she whispered, ‘I love you.’

His lashes fluttered and his eyes opened. He gazed at her, then lifted a strand of her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, smiling. ‘And I’m crazy about you. Now we’ve got the awkward bit over with, how do you feel?’

‘Perfectly wicked,’ she said.

The time passed quickly, and soon it was Esmé’s wedding day. Ma had made a good job of her wedding gown, and it looked lovely. Minnie wore a pink dress, and acted as her bridesmaid. Both of them carried a spray of pink silk roses to match the ones pinned to the lace on their hats.

Leo was waiting for her at the altar, elegant in a light grey lounge suit with double-breasted waistcoat. His eyes caught hers as she was escorted down the aisle on his father’s arm. Esmé couldn’t help but wish it were Denton Elliot giving her away.

The vows were exchanged and photographs were taken with Leo’s camera, so they could get the film developed on the ship.

Ma had done her proud and she hugged the woman. ‘Thank you for everything, Ma.’

‘Don’t forget to come back. Good luck, my love. Doc has got himself a treasure.’

On the stroke of eight, Alex and Minnie brought the car around. There was another round of goodbyes.

Leo’s mother gave her a tearful hug. ‘Look after my boy, and make sure he wears a vest in the winter. I don’t trust the cold weather in the old country.’

His father kissed her. ‘Welcome to the family, my dear.’ His eyes briefly speculated on Minnie. ‘I hope Alex does as well. It needs someone practical to be a farmer’s wife.’

Alex drove them to the ship in Leo’s car.

Tears in her eyes, Esmé hugged her friend. It would be a long time before she saw her again, ‘I’m going to miss you, Min. You won’t forget to write, will you?’

Minnie blinked back her tears. ‘
Bon voyage
, Es. I’ll see you in a couple of years. The time will fly pass, you’ll see.’

The brothers shook hands and they exchanged hugs all over again.

Gruffly from Alex, who’d shuffled his feet and cleared his throat now and again. ‘Look after her, Leo.’

‘Go on then, while you’ve got your best suit on,’ Leo said, elbowing his brother in the ribs.

‘What . . . you mean, now?’

‘Of course I mean now. The ship sails in a couple of hours, and if you want to come on board and share a glass of champagne with us, you’d better get it over with.’

Alex cleared his throat, then glanced round at them. He gave a resigned shrug and mumbled, ‘I reckon I’ll be getting married myself soon . . . that’s if she’ll have me.’ His embarrassed glance settled on Minnie. ‘Will you, Min?’

Minnie smiled. ‘I was beginning to think you’d never ask.’

The day was cold, but sunny. Rimed with frost, the grass sparkled. Steam puffed from Meggie’s mouth as she pedalled her bicycle along the lane.

It was nearly Christmas, and she was looking forward to it. The only sad thing was that her Aunt Esmé wouldn’t be there to share it with them.

Major Henry seemed to be out of breath when he let her in. Shuffling back to his chair, he seated himself and tried to draw in a steady breath. It ended with a cough.

‘Are you all right, grandfather?’ she said with some concern.

He pressed his hand against his chest. ‘I’ve been hurrying, and the pressure in my chest is being stubborn today. Pass me that bottle of pills, I’d better take one,’ he said.

Meggie snatched up the bottle and tipped one into his palm. ‘Do you need the doctor to call on you?’

‘No . . . he’ll look in on me later on his rounds. Don’t fuss over me, Meggie.’

The cottage was cold, the ashes in the grate told their own story. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’

‘I’m not hungry. I could do with a cup of tea, though. And perhaps you could light the fire. How are you, my dear? I haven’t seen you for a while.’

She tucked a colourful crocheted blanket around his knees. ‘I’ve been studying for my end of year exams, and my stepfather has asked me to help my mother around the house more often. I think he suspects I’m seeing you.’

‘Your visits have made an old man very happy.’

She fished in her bag, taking out a pencil sketch that she’d mounted in a photo frame. ‘I’ve drawn this for you. It’s a copy of the photograph of my father on the piano at Foxglove House. It’s your Christmas gift and I hope you like it.’

She left it in his lap and went to the kitchen. There was gas for cooking, but the kitchen range was usually lit to provide warmth as well as hot water. It was barely warm, and hadn’t been built up since the night before. She fetched coal and kindling from the bunker and built up the fire.

When she carried the scuttle into the sitting room he was still gazing at the sketch, his eyes blurred with tears. ‘It’s a good likeness. Richard was strong then, and had just finished his law degree. You have a good eye, Meggie. I had such high hopes for my boy. I never thought he’d go off to fight when he could have spent the war in a desk job.’

‘It was brave of him. Everyone says he was a hero.’

‘He was frail when he came back . . . his health ruined by the gas in the trenches. His nerves were shot, of course. He cringed every time he heard an unexpected noise. Your mother and his man, Beamish I think his name was, looked after him. I had no idea Richard had fallen in love with your mother, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it. I don’t know what came over me. She was such a lovely little thing, and she tried to push me away. But Rosie was being a nuisance, and I’d been drinking, and I needed to hurt someone.’

Meggie looked up from her task, wondering if she’d overheard what he’d said. ‘I don’t understand, grandfather. Who did you hurt?’

‘Poor little Livia.’

‘You hurt my mother?’ No wonder she wouldn’t have anything to do with the major, Meggie thought, bewildered by this odd confession. Was his mind wandering? ‘How did you hurt her?’

‘Nothing you’re old enough to know about, my dear.’

‘I’m sixteen.’

‘Yes, I know, you’re still a child in that way. You should ask your uncle . . . he saw . . . though he was just a lad.’ His smile was far away. ‘I used to watch Livia as she worked. She was such an innocent young woman, and kind. Margaret . . . my first wife, adored her. I couldn’t stop myself, you know. After that, she never spoke, or smiled at me again. Not even at Richard’s funeral.’

Meggie wasn’t so young that she didn’t understand what he was telling her, and the blood rushed to her ears. Surely her mother wouldn’t have let him do that to her. Although she didn’t want to hear such dreadful things said about her, she couldn’t stop herself from listening.

‘I had an argument with Richard when he discovered what I’d done, but by then I think it was too late . . . he told me to get out, and it was the last time I saw him. I bitterly regret what I did. But he didn’t have to marry the girl because of what I’d done.’ A tear fell on to the glass and he wiped it away with a swollen, arthritic finger. ‘I miss my son, but I’m sick of living with this secret. I have you as compensation for my sin . . . my sweet daughter. You’ve filled my life with happiness, but I don’t deserve you.’

He meant she was his
granddaughter
, of course, Meggie determined, as she put a match to the kindling. Unease set in as she remembered her early birth. That was followed by a shock of realization that slammed her in the midriff, leaving her breathless as his words sank in.

She leaped to her feet, denying what he was suggesting. She had to deny it; else it would be too sordid to bear. ‘Surely not. You’re lying. Richard Sangster is my father. It says so on my birth certificate. He married my mother because he loved her and she loved him. My stepfather told me that, and he’d never lie to me. He was your son’s best friend. Stop blackening my mother’s name . . . stop it at once! You’re being hateful.’

It was as if she’d never spoken. ‘The medical report said he couldn’t father a child, you know. Dashed silly to pretend he could. It doesn’t make him more of a man.’

‘You must have read it wrong.’ She remembered the major could be odd at times and tried to pacify him. ‘I think your mind might be wandering. I’m your granddaughter. My mother told me you might make mischief, that’s why she doesn’t want me to see you. I won’t come any more if you’re going to get upset.’

‘I’m surprised she allowed me to live in this cottage, then. She must have known I’d see you. Perhaps she was taunting me, daring me to let the truth out.’

She pulled in a breath and counted to ten. ‘You’re very lively today. Have you taken your other medication . . . the stuff they give you for bad nerves?’

He pressed a hand against his chest and his smile had a sly edge to it. ‘I’ve stopped taking it. It made me feel drowsy, as though I was only half alive. I couldn’t have needed it because I’m still ticking. I can hear it beating through my body. It’s so strong that I could keep you here and tell everyone that my daughter was in her rightful place. That would wipe the smile off the housemaid’s face.’

For the first time since Meggie had got to know him, she experienced a moment of irrational fear. But the major’s body was old and feeble and the man couldn’t run, despite his feeling of strength, she reasoned. ‘I’ll go and make your tea, then I must go.’ She wouldn’t come here again. Not ever.

Remembering the letter she’d picked up from the mat at home, she handed it to him.

‘It’s from America, your wife I expect. I removed the stamps for the boys. I didn’t think you’d mind, since you never read them.’ Indeed, there were several letters from various people in the drawer that he hadn’t read. Curiosity burned in her as to the contents of the letters, but she’d never been brave enough to summon up enough nerve to ask him. ‘Shall I put it in the drawer with the others?’

‘You can read it to me if you like.’

She stared at him, half believing.

‘The letter isn’t from Rosie. I haven’t heard from her for some time.’

Meggie read the return address. ‘It’s from Maxwell Henderson and Sons, Attorneys-at-Law,’
she said.