You Only Love Twice (44 page)

She came farther into the room, but she did not take a chair. Lucas was standing, and she felt that she would be at a disadvantage if she allowed him to tower over her. And to take a chair would put her, at least in her own mind, in the unflattering role of a supplicant. This time, she was asking for no favors. This time, she was telling her son how it would be.

“I see,” he said.

“I hope you do. I did when I saw Matt there, at Rupert’s funeral.” Despite her best efforts, tears sprang to her eyes. “He didn’t look well. He looked old. I wouldn’t have known him. It broke my heart to see him like that.”

“He’s a drunkard, Mother. That’s all it is.”

She said sadly, “I wonder if you can hear the sneer in your voice? Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve called Matt a lot worse than that—villain, adulterer, lecher. To you, he’s always been lower than vermin.”

Lucas flinched as if she had struck him. His mother didn’t notice. She’d found a handkerchief and was dabbing at her eyes.

“I don’t want to quarrel with you, Lucas. I’ve come to say goodbye. You told me that Matt was one person who would never cross the threshold of your house, and you never say anything you don’t mean. According to you, Matt is beneath contempt. Well, so must I be. We both wronged your father. But I will say one thing: I think your father would have been far more forgiving than you.”

She moved closer. “I’ve always been very proud of you, Lucas. And I want you to know that I do love you, even when you’re wrong. And you are wrong in this. To you, everything is simple. How could it be otherwise? You’ve led a charmed life.”

He made a movement with one hand, and she stopped speaking. “Jess said something very similar to me once,” he said.

“And she was right. Some of us are not as fortunate as you. Life isn’t kind to everyone, and yes, sometimes we make wrong choices and have to pay the consequences. But that doesn’t mean we’re beneath contempt. You look at Matt and you see a drunkard and a libertine, but there’s more to people than meets the eye, if only you would …”

All the color had drained out of his face, and she broke off to say, “Oh, my dear, I’m sorry. You were thinking of Rupert, of course. But no one could have possibly known he would take his own life. You can’t blame yourself. His own wife was as shocked as anyone, and if Rupert didn’t confide in Bella, who would he confide in?”

He said nothing to this, and eventually she went on. “Well, I think I’ve said enough. I shall send for my things later if that’s all right with you. And you need not worry about me. In spite of what you think, I know Matt will make me happy. But that’s not the important thing. What matters to me is that he should be happy, and I’m going to do everything in my power to see that he is. Goodbye, my dear. I shall miss you all very much.” And with a teary sob, she turned away.

She was at the door before Lucas had the presence of mind to go after her. “Mother,” he said, “you will always be welcome in any house of mine.”

She shook her head. “How could I be comfortable, knowing that I had to leave Matt at the door because my son thinks he is a rodent or something equally horrid? You must see that I couldn’t do that to him.”

She opened the door.

“Mother!” He crossed to her.

“What is it, Lucas?”

“I don’t think anything of the sort!”

“Don’t you?” She peered up at him. “I’m only repeating what I’ve heard you say.”

“Perhaps I thought that once, but—”

“But what?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know anything anymore,” he said. “You’re right, Mother, and I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

He swallowed. “I’m not saying that Sir Matthew and I can ever be friends, not close friends, that is, but—” He floundered then found his stride. “If you were there to smooth things over, we might get along tolerably well.”

There was a moment of mystified silence, then Rosemary’s face crumpled, and she burst into tears.

Rosemary was not to be put off by the frowns and evasions of a mere manservant. “You must be Breame,” she said warmly. “Sir Matthew has told me so much about you.”

The frown softened. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“And he’s not at home, you say?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Fine. I’ll wait for him in his library.”

Having established her credentials, she sailed past the startled servant and made straight for the only door off that great square entrance hall that was closed. She’d made the right choice as she discovered the moment she opened the door and a cloud of tobacco smoke floated out.

Sir Matthew was sprawled in one of the armchairs that flanked the grate. There was an empty bottle at his feet and a glass of amber liquid in one hand. In the other hand, he held a slim cigar. His neckcloth was askew, his jacket was wrinkled. The lines in his face seemed deeper,
harsher, and his eyes were dull and flat. But it was his pallor that made her heart tighten.

When he saw her, he rose unsteadily to his feet. “Rodie?” He spoke as though he’d seen a ghost.

Breame opened his mouth to say something, then checked himself. He looked at the two unmoving figures who were intent only on each other and, with a little smile, he bowed himself out of the room and quietly shut the door.

The sound of the door latch brought Rosemary to life. She walked to the long window and opened it wide. “I thought,” she said, “you came down to Chalford to sell this place? I understood that you were soon to embark on a grand tour?”

When she turned to him, she saw that he had dispensed with the glass and cigar and was making an effort to tidy himself.

“Here, let me do that.” She crossed to him and began to arrange his neckcloth. “Matt,” she said softly, faintly reproving, “you really must take better care of yourself.”

He pushed her hands away and put some distance between them. He was scowling at her. “What the devil are you doing here?”

She wavered a little under the ferocity of his scowl. “I saw you at Rupert’s funeral. I thought you looked unwell.”

“And never said one word to me, or looked at me, or gave any indication that you knew I was there. I might as well have been invisible.”

“Matt—”

“But I suppose that was to be expected. I should be used to it by now. Your son was there and when that paragon of every virtue known to man raises an eyebrow, you run to his heel like a tame dog.” He pressed a hand to his eyes and shook his head. “Forgive me. You’ve caught me at a bad moment. Breame will show you out.”

She ignored the dismissal. “Matt, Anne Rankin told
me that you’ve become a recluse, that you never go anywhere or see anyone. Everyone was surprised to see you at Rupert’s funeral.”

His sneer was pronounced. “And I daresay your son thought it was gall on my part to show my face among decent people. Well, you may run home and tell him how right he is about me. I’m a profligate and a drunkard. That should make him happy.”

“I can’t tell him anything. He’s on his way to London, but—”

“I might have known it. You wouldn’t be here if there was the slightest chance that he would get wind of it. Am I supposed to be flattered?”

Her temper flared. “You’re supposed to be silent and listen to me!”

Her outburst had the desired effect. He folded his arms across his chest and supported himself by leaning against the edge of a library table.

Encouraged by his silence, she began on the little speech she had rehearsed on the way over. “Lucas has changed, Matt. I think, no, I know Rupert’s death has affected him profoundly. It’s shaken his complacency. Well, it’s shaken everyone’s complacency, hasn’t it? Rupert didn’t seem the type to take his own life, and all over a tragic accident. I think it’s made Lucas wonder if he should have been more sensitive, more aware of his friend’s state of mind. It’s softened him, that’s what I wanted to say.”

She smiled as the recollection of her last conversation with Lucas came back to her, and the smile was still in place when she approached Sir Matthew. “The thing is, he has given us his blessing, Matt. We can be married as soon as you like.”

The look he blazed at her was so savage that she recoiled from it.

“He’s given us his blessing! Who asked for it? Not I! Well, it’s not enough. I never wanted you on those terms,
so you can tell Dundas his generous offer has been refused.” Suddenly straightening, he yelled, “Breame!”

The manservant entered the room almost before the echo of his name had died away, and there could be no doubt that he’d been eavesdropping on the other side of the door.

“Breame,” said Sir Matthew, “show Mrs. Wilde out.”

“Yes, sir.” Breame looked at Rosemary mournfully, and his look spoke volumes. “This way, Mrs. Wilde.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she declared. “Breame, kindly fetch a pot of coffee for Sir Matthew, oh yes, and while you’re at it, have Cook make up a tray of sandwiches. That will be all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Breame!” roared Sir Matthew.

“Yes, sir, at once, sir,” said Breame and he whisked himself out of the room.

Sir Matthew glared at the closed door and set his jaw. He turned his head and now glared at Rosemary. “I don’t know what you hope to gain by this.”

Rosemary was at the other window, struggling to open it. “And I don’t know how you can breathe in this fog.” She kept her tone light and chatty. “Are you very fond of those cigars, Matt?”

“Very!” he replied truculently.

The window opened and she inhaled a long breath. “Then I suppose I shall just have to get used to them.”

Her confidence was more show than substance, but when she turned suddenly and caught the look in his eyes, a look he instantly veiled, her nerves steadied.

“Matt, sit down,” she said. “I have something I wish to say to you.”

“I won’t have you on anyone’s sufferance, Rodie,” he said savagely, then less savagely, “I won’t have you on anyone’s sufferance.”

She was silent and unsmiling. Sighing, he took an upright
chair beside the library table. She took the chair next to his.

“Matt, you didn’t give me a chance to answer your question. It wasn’t a question, though, was it? It was a reproof. I didn’t speak to you at Rupert’s funeral because my heart was breaking, and I knew that if I said anything I would burst into tears. You looked so wretched, so … neglected, and I could not bear it.”

His eyes were fixed on the floor. She sat looking at her clasped hands.

She went on. “Duty has always been, well, my guiding principle, I suppose you could say.”

His tone was gruff. “As I discovered to my cost.”

“Sometimes I failed in my duty, but I always knew it was something to aim for.”

“Rodie, where is all this leading?”

She smiled. “Patience, Matt. When I saw you today, I realized, for the first time, that there was no one in the whole world with a greater claim on me than you. And I had failed you.”

He looked up with a question in his eyes.

“I had not understood it till that moment. I’d always felt guilty, I suppose, for the past, and that guilt made me blind to what I owed you. All my life, I’ve tried to be dutiful, and it was hard. With you, it wouldn’t be hard. With you, it would be easy, and I think that’s why I distrusted my feelings. But I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t fail you again. Am I making sense?”

“No,” he said.

“Well, perhaps this is something you can understand. I told my son today that I would never enter his house if you were not welcome there. I told him that my place was with you, and that if he could not accept that, then we should say goodbye. And he said that he thought you and he might manage to get along tolerably well. And that’s where it stands, Matt.”

He said hoarsely, “You chose me over him?”

“Yes, my darling. I chose you. And if you still want me, I’ll marry you as soon as you like. Where you go, I shall go. And I promise to be a loving, dutiful wife.”

“Rodie.” His voice cracked. “Oh Rodie.” And he reached for her.

Breame entered at that moment bearing a tray with cups and saucers. He stood immobile for a moment or two, staring at the couple who were locked in a passionate embrace. Then he did a little pirouette and slipped away unseen with a big smile on his face.

Ten days later, Jessica was in the morning: room, curled up on a window seat, when Ellie walked in. She folded the letter she’d received that morning from Lucas and looked curiously at the parcel Ellie carried under one arm.

Ellie set the parcel on the table. “I passed the lovebirds on my way up from Hawkshill,” she said. “Jessica, don’t you think it’s strange that people that old can be in love? They were holding hands as they walked along the bridle path.”

“Sir Matthew and Rosemary aren’t
that
old,” said Jessica. “And people can fall in love at any age. As for holding hands, I think it’s charming.”

“I’ve never seen you and Lucas holding hands. Is that a letter from him?”

“Yes. It came this morning.”

“What does he say?”

“He says that he doesn’t think Bella will ever come back to Chalford.”

“Well, that’s no loss, if you want my opinion.”

“Ellie,” said Jessica, not wishing to pursue this topic of conversation, “what’s in the parcel?”

Ellie flashed her an impish grin, but her eyes were shy. “It’s for you, Jessica. I … hope you like it. Lucas said you would.”

“Lucas?”

“Before he went away.” Ellie went to the sideboard,
opened a drawer and returned with a pair of scissors. “Cut the string,” she said.

Jessica took the scissors from Ellie and obediently cut the string. Then she carefully unwrapped the paper. Inside was her wedding dress.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Ellie shook the dress out and held it up to the light. “Well, what do you think?”

Jessica’s hands traced the front of the gown. There wasn’t a mark or stain on it, nothing to show that a glass of strawberry cordial had been spilled over it. “It’s perfect. How did you get the stain out?”

“The stain wouldn’t come out. We had to replace the front panel. It was Lucas’s idea. He got a matching piece of material from your dressmaker and Aunt Rosemary showed me how to make a pattern and cut it out. I’ve been at it for ages, but when we heard that Father Howie was back in London, I worked twice as hard. I don’t want you to think I did it all by myself. The nuns helped me. You can wear it next week, you know, when Father Howie comes out to perform the service.”