Tall Poppies (15 page)

Richard had become aware of his father's philandering ways at an early age, when he was a teenager, in fact. He had not been aware that Rosemary Mortimer had been his mistress before his mother's death, and that she had been working here while his mother was still alive. Beamish had ferreted that snippet of information out of Florence, who had an inclination to gossip.

The result was, his father had sunk low in his estimation. He was pleased the woman had left his home.

But surely Livia wouldn't be susceptible to any advances his father might make? He could always question the boy, since Chad had been there before Beamish.

No  . . . Livia would never forgive him if he encouraged Chad to spy on her. She was already as mercurial as the weather this morning.

‘Anything?' he said, when Beamish came back.

‘There's this. Miss Carr threw it on to the ashes. Florence said she was a bit furtive about it, which she thought strange, so she picked it out.' He dropped a pile of dusty paper scraps on to the plate vacated by the biscuits.

Richard's hands began to shake. ‘What is it?'

‘A cheque for ten pounds made out to cash, and signed by the major.'

The blood began to pound in his ears. Surely not  . . . not Livia! But why had she torn it up? It was no use trying to get it out of her. She was as closed as an oyster when the occasion suited  . . . and it suited her now. ‘I'm going to get to the bottom of this, Beamish.'

‘Do you want my advice?'

‘Not in particular, but go ahead.'

‘I can see the way things are going for you with the fair Livia.'

‘Damn it, man, I think  . . .
I know
I'm in love with her.'

Beamish gave a faint smile. ‘Is that wise?'

‘Not in the least, but emotion doesn't often listen to wisdom, my friend. If I have her by my side for the little time I've got left, then I'll die happy.'

‘What's stopping you?'

‘You know what. It's not fair to her.'

‘Let her decide that for herself. Wait until the right opportunity presents itself  . . . you were always good at that. Livia is in a precarious position. She's dependent on your family for the roof over their heads and the food in their stomachs, and she has a sick child on her hands.'

Had his father used that to manipulate her?

The thought of him using Livia for such a purpose was abhorrent to Richard. Something stank, and he intended to find out what it was.

A thought punched into his mind. Would he be prepared to manipulate Livia to his own ends if the opportunity presented?

If it were to her benefit, yes.

‘You're right about her, Beamish. I'll let her decide when the time comes. Do me a favour and keep your eye on the situation, would you?'

‘You expect me to spy on your father? I'm surprised.'

‘So am I. What I'm actually asking is for you to keep him away from Livia if you can. He's bored and he's looking for a diversion, preferably in the form of a woman. It's time he went back to London.'

Nine

Denton picked them up on the dot of nine. The morning was misty. The frost melted into the shafts of weak sunshine that filtered through the tree branches and drifted upwards as wisps of cold smoke.

The children were excited.

Denton aimed a smile Livia's way as he gave the handle a turn to start the engine. He jumped in beside her. ‘The Humber is rather a come down after the Silver Ghost, I imagine.'

‘The Rolls is glamorous, but this is a nice car with a friendly rumble to it. I like the colour. It reminds me of burgundy  . . . and it smells like lavender.'

He chuckled. ‘That's a typical woman's answer. Actually, my mother used to polish the seats with lavender-scented beeswax. Watch out when we go round a corner because I slide down the seat and it's quite likely we'll collide and I'll knock you flying out through the door.'

She laughed. ‘You'd better not.'

He called over his shoulder, ‘You're very quiet in the back. Are you still in there.'

‘I am,' Chad said.

‘What about your sister, we haven't forgotten her, have we? Look out of the window and see if she's running after us, trying to catch us up.'

Esmé giggled. ‘Of course I'm not, Doctor Denton. I'm here, being good, like Livia told me to be.'

‘Good for you, Poppet. That deserves a reward.' He drew a paper bag from his pocket and handed it to Livia. ‘There's some humbugs and barley sugar in the bag. Have one yourself if you like.'

‘Not for me, thanks, how about you?'

‘I'll have a humbug.'

Taking one from the bag, she held it to his mouth and his tongue curled round it and drew it inside. A bulge appeared in the cheek nearest to her.

She handed the children the barley sugar and said, ‘Chad, tuck that blanket round Esmé so she keeps nice and warm.'

‘I want to look out of the window so I can see everything.'

Denton removed his humbug and said firmly, ‘You may look out of the window on the way back, my dear. I want you rested when you see the specialist, that's why I made you up a little bed in the car.'

A defeated sigh issued from behind her mask. ‘Yes, Doctor Denton.'

He took the sweet back into his mouth. Soon, the sound of contented sucking filled the car. Her eyes met Denton's and he crunched his confection up and swallowed it. ‘Rude of me to suck a humbug, but I can't resist them.'

‘They're quite noisy humbugs.'

They grinned at each other.

‘Have you had the car long?' she asked.

‘I had it on order before the war started, and I took delivery of it just before I joined up. It cost me sixty-three pounds, and my father found room for it in his garage for the duration.'

‘So it's practically new.'

‘Yes.'

‘Was it bad? The war, I mean.'

‘It wasn't too bad for me. I was in a field hospital, and though I saw the result of the conflict, I wasn't really in the thick of the fighting and was able to detach myself from it a little. I wouldn't have been able to do my job otherwise. As it was, I learned my practical surgery the hard way, taking a hands-on approach.'

After a reflective silence, he said, ‘You saw what Richard was like when he arrived home, though at least his condition was stable. My father is pleased by his progress.'

‘Is there any chance that—'

‘None whatsoever, I'm afraid. A cold winter could finish it for him. But I shouldn't be discussing Richard's condition with you, especially since he's my father's patient.'

‘Sorry  . . . I like him  . . . a lot. He treats me as though I'm a friend, rather than an employee.' She shrugged. ‘I worry about him.'

His hand covered hers for a moment or two and he said evenly, ‘I'm sure he considers you to be a friend, but he wouldn't want you to worry about him. The best that can be done for Richard is to keep him warm and happy, and allow him to live as normal a life as his condition will allow.'

Then she could never confide in him about his father's attack on her. Not that she wanted to, of course. It would be too embarrassing.

‘I'll do my best.'

‘With you and Beamish looking after him I see no problem about that. I just don't want you to have any false hope.'

‘I'm worried. I will need to take time off to look after Esmé if she's ill. I don't know how I will manage.'

‘Richard and my father will sort something out between them.' His profile set into a firm line. ‘Let's not talk about the war or illness. I like to think there's a better future ahead of us.'

‘May I just say that I'm glad you came home in one piece.'

‘I'll let you into a little secret  . . . so am I. Luckily I had my pheasant's feather to protect me, and the thought of a lovely young lady waiting for me at home. I never forgot you, you know.'

‘Now who's having delusions, Denton Elliot. That pheasant's feather had nothing to do with it  . . . and I wasn't waiting for you to come home.'

‘My father said you asked after me often.'

‘Once or twice, actually. I was being polite, that's all.' She slanted a look in his direction. ‘Did you really think of me? You looked so important standing there on the station, talking to that officer. As soon as you turned your back I imagined you'd never think of me again.'

‘Then you'd be wrong, Livia, since I thought of you every day. Having a girl to come home to gives a man something to look forward to.'

‘I would imagine you looked forward to coming home to any number of young women.'

A smile played around his mouth, and she suddenly remembered the kiss he'd given her – such a fleeting touch, like a butterfly alighting. How tender it had been. He was a tall man, decisive in his ways and sure of himself. A void opened inside her as her heart seemed to slow down, then it gave a thud. She blushed. ‘You're still a flirt. Stop it at once.'

He seemed not to hear her. ‘I can remember what you were wearing the day we met  . . . a suit as grey as the day itself, and a hat that looked like an upside-down bucket.'

‘A bucket!'

‘Well  . . . a flower pot then, complete with drooping pheasant feathers.'

‘The day was cold, but lovely, and my hat had a turned-up brim. It was you who broke the feather and made it droop.'

‘Like I said in the first place; a bucket.' He chuckled. ‘You also had a hole in the sole of your boot.'

‘How did you know that?'

‘I noticed it when you fell backwards on to the seat with my kit bag on top of you. It's not often I get to literally bowl a girl over the first moment we meet.'

She began to laugh. ‘You noticed too much. A gentleman wouldn't have pointed that out.'

‘It's your turn now. What did you notice about me?'

‘That you were the only other person in the carriage.'

‘Ouch  . . . can't you do better than that?'

‘I suppose I could. Let me see  . . . you were in uniform and your eyes were sort of devil-may-care, and were the greenish-brown colour of pine trees.'

He flapped his eyelashes at her. ‘Tell me more.'

‘There was a moment, just a small one it was, when I mentioned that Richard was in France. The laughter in your eyes was replaced by intense sadness. It was a poignant moment, one that said you cared, and for that alone, I'll never forget you.'

‘My dear, Livia, you are almost reducing me to tears. Of course I cared. The trick is learning not to care too much, lest you end up like Richard. He always took things to heart.'

‘You know, you're very much like your father, Denton.'

‘Really  . . . in what way?'

‘You tease a lot, but underneath is a confidence that's disconcerting. You're aware of who you are, what you are and where you're going. Your own sensitivity is tempered by good sense.'

‘Then perhaps this is a good time to ask. Would you wait for me?'

She hadn't expected that, and fell silent. It was not possible now, and she couldn't tell him why  . . . that she was no longer worthy of him – of any decent man.

‘I  . . . I really don't know what to say, except I feel  . . . ‘How did she feel? Different to what she felt for Richard. She was attracted to Denton in a less protective manner, and totally aware of him as a man despite her negative experience. Her reactions towards him were so positive she almost felt like part of him.

‘It's too soon, huh?'

She grabbed at the straw he offered. ‘There's that  . . . Also, I have the children to consider, especially Esmé.'

‘If my father proves to be right – and he's an excellent diagnostician – Esmé is suffering from bronchial pneumonia, which has been left untreated. As a result, she's now prone to a cough that's become a habit. She might well grow out of it.'

‘I do hope so.'

‘Then will you at least think about me now and again. In another year I hope to be working locally, and I'll be back again in about six months.'

She nodded. ‘I'll probably think of you a lot more than now and again.'

‘Thank you for that. If I wasn't driving, I'd kiss you.'

‘Kissing is rude,' Esmé observed from behind them.

‘Only if somebody doesn't want to be kissed  . . . and I'm sure your sister does  . . . don't you, Livia?'

She felt the colour seep under her skin. ‘I'm disinclined to answer that question.' Of course she wanted to be kissed. The awareness pulsed back and forth between them like a spark of lightning, and he knew it.

‘Mrs Starling said kisses have got germs hiding in them,' Esmé persisted.

‘Not mine. I'm a doctor, and I haven't got any germs. Besides, I've just eaten a humbug.'

Chad began to laugh. ‘That's bum hug backwards.'

Esmé giggled.

‘Ah  . . . the minds of juvenile males,' Denton said. ‘Actually, humbug backwards isn't bum hug, it's gubmuh, which sounds rather oriental and grand. Using your cruder method of translation, Chad, it would come out as bug hum.'

Livia snorted. ‘Actually, it's muh gub backwards. Can we put an end to this ridiculous conversation?'

With great seriousness, Esmé said, ‘I know the name of a hum that bugs. It's called a bumble bee.'

Livia and Denton shared a glance and dissolved into laughter.

Beamish made himself scarce when the major arrived.

‘Hello, son.' Richard's father went to stand at the window, hands in pockets and jiggling on his heels. He was a handsome man settled into late middle age. He observed rather vaguely, ‘A nice day, isn't it?'

‘Is it, Father?'

With a sudden shock, Richard recognized that he didn't really know this man who was his father. He'd gone to boarding school at an early age, and spent most of the holidays with his mother, here at Foxglove House. Then it had been a law degree, something he'd earned comfortably, though never practised before the war had claimed his attention.