Seven

In the house there was nowhere to talk. Nowhere, that is, with sufficient privacy. Tisha was helping in the kitchen and would soon be going to bed. There, the upper walls were too thin to allow much more than a hushed whisper. By the window’s fading light Robin was writing a log of photographs taken that afternoon, and, slumped on the sofa with an oil-lamp already lit, Liam was absorbed by a book. He looked set to stay up all night. Irritated by that calm family scene and unable to find distraction, Edward waited with gnawing impatience for Louisa to finish clearing away.

Able to stand his thoughts no longer, he went outside to pace the length of the garden until she should join him. Against a low band of pink, the trees seemed no more than black paper cut-outs, with a random pattern of holes here and there. A pretty illusion, he thought, life imitating art, masking its three-dimensional reality. He looked back at the cottage, all quaint angles and lack of symmetry, and knew it rested on insecure foundations; yet in the last rosy glow from the west, it presented a delightful picture of rural peace. He wondered whether the years of happiness beneath its roof had been a similar illusion, resting on equally insecure foundations, maintained with ease only while Robert Duncannon stayed away.

It was a bitter thought, and an alarming one. Loving Louisa as he did, for him the years of their marriage had been the happiest of his life. Not usually given to jealousy, where Robert Duncannon was concerned, Edward found it difficult to be rational.

She came at last, pausing to remove her apron and reaching up to hang it on a peg behind the door. He stood beneath the trees in the orchard, watching her maddeningly slow progress along the path, loving her beyond everything. The pauses she made, her comments on the vegetables and burgeoning raspberry canes – quite audible in the stillness – illustrated her reluctance to air the subject which tormented him.

And she was aware of his torment. Brightly determined at first, her smile became uncertain as she discerned his face, then faded altogether. Choked by the sheer volume of words which begged for release, for a moment Edward could say nothing. In the silence she stiffened, turning her back before uttering the briefest apology.

‘And so you should be sorry,’ he muttered fiercely, taking her arm. ‘Come on – we can’t talk here – every word will carry back to the house.’

Not until they were a good hundred yards down the towpath did he speak again, and in his anger and apprehension the words were staccato, his phrases short and disjointed. Not trusting Robert Duncannon, Edward’s accusations came out badly, making his wife the guilty party, the one to blame for that brazen flirtation in front of the children, the one who encouraged a man who stood to ruin them all. In her turn, Louisa was furious, accusing him of irrational and unreasonable jealousy.

‘It’s not every day we have visitors,’ she declared hotly. ‘Would you have me sit like a spectre at the feast, ignoring him?’

It was an unfortunate analogy, one which prompted bitter sarcasm. Edward had been informed of Charlotte Duncannon’s death only as their guests were leaving.

‘Spectre at the feast,’ he repeated with a harsh laugh, ‘is a curiously apt phrase. The spectre should have been his wife, don’t you think? She’s the one so recently dead! Not that anyone would have suspected it — he was giving an impression of an extremely happy man!’

‘Given those circumstances, Edward,’ she retorted, ‘I should think he is. I doubt you’d be heartbroken, either!’

‘I’d at least try to observe the decencies!’

Biting back a cutting reply, Louisa turned away, gazing through the purple shades of evening towards the river’s far bank. In the distance street-lights twinkled, and beyond the houses flanking Fulford Road stood the Barracks. Even after all these years the place drew her eyes like a magnet. And yet she had been happy with Edward, content and peaceful. Only in the last year or so had they argued at all, and that was mainly over Tisha. Usually Louisa was the one who was hurt and accusatory; it was painful to be on the receiving end of Edward’s resentment.

Wanting to placate him, she said with forced calm: ‘Robert said nothing at all about Charlotte until after we’d eaten – and he explained then that he hadn’t wanted to spoil our day with news of her death.’

But Edward’s anger was not to be diffused so easily. ‘How very thoughtful of him! A pity he didn’t consider how his visit might spoil the rest of our lives.’

‘Oh, Edward,’ she sighed, ‘don’t exaggerate.’

On a deep breath he paused, taking his wife’s arm, making her turn to face him. With an effort he calmed his temper, put stays on the fear and jealousy which threatened more destruction than even Robert Duncannon could accomplish.

‘Louisa, I’m not exaggerating. He hasn’t been near us for years, and suddenly he turns up, out of the blue, all charm and good humour. And you welcomed him like the prodigal returned,’ he said, pausing to let the accusation sink in. ‘What worries me more, is the effect on the children.’

‘He’s Georgina’s father, for goodness’ sake. She visits us – why shouldn’t he?’

Her attempt at a nonchalant shrug irritated Edward further. ‘And she’s another one!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh, I know she’s a delightful girl, and you’re very fond of her – but in her own way, Louisa, she’s as dangerous as he is. Can’t you see that?’

‘What?’ she demanded. ‘See what?’

‘She’s young and beautiful and exceptionally charming – to all of us. We’re all very fond of her, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘But one of us is more than just fond of the girl. One of us is quite besotted by Robert’s daughter, or hadn’t you noticed?’

Louisa’s breath caught in her throat. For several seconds she absorbed the grimness of her husband’s expression, the angry glitter of his eyes in the half-light. ‘Who?’

With chilling abruptness he turned, seemed about to leave her standing there, but then he paused, and on a sharp release of breath shook his head. Suddenly, all that uncharacteristic fury was gone, and in its place was sadness and perplexity, and a deep, loving compassion which in that moment was as unwelcome as his jealousy.

‘So you haven’t noticed,’ he said softly, ‘I didn’t think you had. I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, trying to find the right words.’

‘Which of them?’ But there was no real need to ask. With his wide range of interests and string of friends, Robin hardly had time to eat these days, much less to fall in love. Anyway, she thought, he was far too young. But so was Liam. Perhaps he did admire Georgina – she was, after all, an admirable young woman – but it was no more than that. Could not be more than that.

‘I suppose you mean Liam?’ she said derisively.

‘I do indeed.’ Before she could interrupt, he went on quickly, ‘Calf-love it may be, I don’t dispute that. I’m not suggesting Georgina’s encouraged him, but she is drawn to him, Louisa – and he’s flattered by that. What young man wouldn’t be? So, he imagines himself in love. Spends his time daydreaming about her, instead of getting on with his work. He never was the most diligent apprentice,’ Edward added with bitter humour, ‘but recently his concentration has been nonexistent.’

A tight band seemed to be squeezing Louisa’s heart. Liam, in love at eighteen? The idea was ludicrous. And with Robert’s daughter? It was unthinkable. ‘What nonsense!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve never heard anything so silly in my life.’

‘There’s nothing silly about it. Tragic, yes – especially if he should try to show how he feels.’

That was too much. ‘He wouldn’t!’

‘But he’s young, Louisa – he might.’

‘She wouldn’t – ’

‘No, I’m sure she wouldn’t. But,’ he added heavily, ‘the situation mustn’t be allowed to get that far.’

In the gathering darkness Louisa paced up and down, six paces along the path, six paces back, arms folded and hugged into her body as though holding a grievous hurt. ‘You’re making something out of nothing,’ she accused, her voice harsh with pain, ‘finding reasons to stop Georgina from seeing us. Liam isn’t in love with her at all – he’s just unhappy in the business. He’s not cut out for that kind of work – have you considered that?’

‘He was happy enough in the beginning,’ Edward said defensively. ‘I gave him every opportunity to choose what he would do.’

‘He didn’t know what he wanted to do – you talked him into it.’

Desperately hurt by that, Edward was nevertheless aware that she was steering him away from the heart of the problem. Having comfortably avoided the subject for years, now, when danger threatened, she was ill-prepared to face it. In many ways, Edward reflected, he was just as much to blame; but with Robert Duncannon apparently content to leave them be, it had been difficult to press Louisa into action. The time had never seemed right. Now, however, some kind of action was essential. And if she could not be persuaded that truth was the only armour, then he would have to defend his family with the only weapons at his disposal.

‘I think you must explain to Georgina that her frequent visits are not desirable. And you must tell her why. She knows the situation – she wouldn’t wish to hurt us further.’

‘Edward, I can’t!’

‘And as for her father,’ he stated grimly, ‘I’ll not have him over my doorstep. You’re my wife, Louisa, and the cottage is my home – I won’t countenance his presence again.’

Burning beneath that implied mistrust, she asked scathingly: ‘After all these years, do you trust me so little?’

Angrily, he turned on her. ‘I don’t trust him. But even if I did, I still wouldn’t want him in my house. Not now – not after all this time. His presence gives rise to too much speculation – and people have long memories. Do you want the gossip to start again?’

She did not reply to that, but he could see resentment in her stance, in the outward thrust of her chin. She did not want to believe him, did not want to accept that what he said might be true. Searching for something to convince her, he recalled a painful moment from the turmoil of impressions which had attacked that afternoon. Watching young Robin with Robert Duncannon, their heads together over that borrowed camera, Edward had been stricken by a marked similarity of height and posture and colouring, and the almost mirror image of their profiles. Georgina, he was sure, had also noticed the resemblance. How long before someone else remarked on it?

Louisa’s anger and frustration burned for most of the following day, taking her through a vicious attack on the kitchen range and an assault on weeds in the vegetable plot. By late afternoon her fury was spent, and although she wept a few tears over an old photograph kept with her private things, she was sensible enough to admit that Edward was right. Washed and changed into a clean cotton dress, she felt better, more able to think. Seeing the dangers clearly, it seemed sensible to point them out to Robert; and she must do it, not Edward. That was the easiest part. She had learned to live without Robert long ago, and despite the excitement of seeing him yesterday, she was well aware of the trouble another visit could cause.

Having made that decision, and forgiven Edward for his jealousy, her doubts and heart-searchings were largely reserved for his other suspicions. She could not believe that Liam entertained anything more than a brotherly affection for Georgina; and until she was convinced of it, would do nothing to hurt the girl. That she would be hurt by such action as Edward proposed, Louisa had no doubt. In seeking to protect his own, Edward’s loyalties were clearly marked, while hers were often confused, particularly with regard to Robert and his family. Guilt came into it as well as love.

The three years she had spent in Dublin before her marriage cast long shadows. She had loved Robert’s daughter from the first, and could not forget the pain of parting. That Robert had also abandoned her shortly afterwards was hard to forgive: with his regiment safe in Ireland, there had been no need for him to volunteer for the Sudan. Even now, she could not view that war as anything more than an excuse for his leaving.

Although she had seen the girl rarely over the succeeding years, Louisa felt she knew Georgina better than her father did. She treasured this new, adult friendship, finding a sympathy and understanding which was sadly lacking in her relationship with Tisha. Her own daughter, Louisa reflected unhappily, was a chip off another block, reminding her of her sister Blanche, and her mother’s sister, Elizabeth. How odd it was, she thought, that Edward should love Tisha so blindly, seeing few of the shortcomings which in those other women had grieved him so much.

That bias never failed to be baffling. Georgina’s choice of vocation, however, was not. Unlike Letty and Robert, she understood why the girl had decided to become a nurse, and why she had chosen the most difficult aspect, the nursing of the mentally ill. That passionate concern for life’s unfortunates had been instilled by Letty, and from there it was no more than a step to Charlotte Duncannon, who had been strange when Robert married her, and beyond redemption after Georgina’s birth. The girl was no stranger to madness, nor its various treatments. It seemed logical to Louisa that being the person she was, Georgina Duncannon should feel the need to care for those who shared her mother’s afflictions.

Nor did it surprise her that the daughter of a woman so irredeemably insane, should have made a vow never to marry. That had come out during one long and very serious conversation, and she had asked Louisa not to repeat it. She was, she said, afraid of developing the same brand of insanity: too little was known about heredity, and she would not wish to pass a similar affliction onto her children. Although Louisa admired the sentiments involved, she did wonder whether that decision would hold if Georgina ever fell in love. From her own experience, Louisa knew how hard it was to stick to principle where passion was involved.

If the girl had gone to Dublin for the funeral, they would not see her again for a while. In the meantime she would drop a few questions and watch Liam’s reaction. The real test, however, would be to see them together. Armed with those warnings of Edward’s, then she would know the truth of the situation.

With the heightened perception of those who hold a secret passion, Liam was alerted by his mother’s enquiries, to the extent that he dare phrase no direct questions with regard to Georgina’s continued absence. It also seemed to him that the tension at home was connected to his father’s tetchiness at work, and from pure instinct attributed it to his unsuitable and unrequited love for Colonel Duncannon’s daughter.

Unhappy, missing Georgina to distraction, Liam did try to submerge his anxieties in the work at hand, but his heart and mind were elsewhere. His forgetfulness brought constant recriminations. At the end of ten days, convinced that something was wrong, he took to cycling past the Retreat each evening in the hopes of seeing her. By the third occasion, desperation had fuelled enough courage for him to write a note in which he said he must see her, would wait for an hour in case she might be free, and again the following evening.

It was one thing to write the note, quite another to persuade the porter to pass it on. It was more than his job was worth, the man said, to pass billy-doos to the nurses. Liam’s offer of a tip would persuade him only to leave the note on the board by the nurses’ quarters, where Miss Duncannon might find it in the morning; he would do no more.

Liam had to be content with that. Disconsolate, he went home, but when he returned just before seven the following evening, Georgina was already watching from a high point overlooking the road. He caught the movement of something white beneath the overhanging trees, looked up and realized Georgina was signalling to him. A moment later she came out of the drive on a bicycle, and with barely a glance in his direction, started pedalling away towards the village of Heslington. Bemused for a moment, he simply stood with his bike by the roadside, but as she disappeared beyond the crest of the hill, he re-mounted and went after her through golden light and lengthening shadows. Not too quickly, however. He had sense enough to keep some distance between them until they were clear of the village.

She cycled with confidence, quickly gaining speed, so he had no difficulty in following at what was, for him, a natural pace. With the last house behind him, he pressed a little harder, intending to overtake; but as the gap between them shortened, Liam found himself fascinated by the shape of her back, her narrow waist and flaring, womanly hips. In a simple straw hat and white blouse, she sat forward in the saddle, navy skirt pulled tight under a neat, provocative bottom, while her thighs moved rhythmically with the pedals. He was unable to tear his eyes away.

A moment later, his thoughts were shaming him; with an effort he forced himself to overtake. It was none too soon. Rounding the next bend she slowed, stopping as he drew level. Flushed with exercise and agitation, he thought she looked more beautiful than ever; but her words were sharp and concise.

‘Liam, this won’t do! You must not pester the porter with notes – you’ll get me into serious trouble!’

Crushed by the tone of that reproof, stunned by its unexpectedness, for a moment Liam stared in disbelief. Sharply, he turned his bicycle. He would have ridden off but she grasped his arm.

‘I’m sorry – you didn’t know. It must be something vital, of course it must, but we’re not supposed to meet young men outside the hospital gates.’

Ashamed of his thoughtlessness, Liam hung his head. She tugged gently at his sleeve. ‘Come on – we’ll park the bikes out of sight and walk a little way. I’ve got an hour or so before I go on duty.’

There was a dry, rutted cart-track just a few yards up the road, leading between fields of ripening wheat. Dog-rose and honeysuckle threaded the hedge, while tall spikes of fox-glove pierced the shadows beneath. Along the border of the field a few early poppies reared silken scarlet heads. The air was full of mingling scents of earth and grass and flowers, and in the low evening sunlight all was somnolent and still. As they walked, Liam’s tension began to ease, but his first words to her came out badly.

‘Where have you been? It’s been so long since your last visit, I thought there must be something wrong.’

It was clear she was surprised by his vehemence. ‘Didn’t your mother tell you I was going to Dublin? She knew, I’m sure she did.’

‘Nobody tells me anything,’ he said bitterly. ‘But why Dublin? I think you might have said, since you knew you were going!’ Georgina stopped at that, her frown deepening, and Liam realized the mistake in showing his anguish. ‘I thought we were friends,’ he finished lamely.

‘We are friends,’ she said quietly. ‘And I’m sorry I didn’t say. I thought it would have been explained later, after we’d gone.’

For a while they walked on in silence. When she began to speak, in short, wrung-out sentences, he was at first incredulous, and then ashamed. He could only imagine her loss in terms of losing his own mother, and that she should have set aside her grief to the extent she had, was astounding. That he had taken her to the fair that day, with no idea of the news her father had come to impart, was also rather hurtful. He wished she could have confided in him, and said so.

On an indrawn breath, she said, ‘I would have, but to be truthful, Liam, I heard the music and just longed to do something silly. It was my suggestion, so don’t blame yourself. And afterwards – well, there wasn’t time.’

It was hard to understand, but he was touched by her confession. Six years his senior, Georgina had always seemed mature and somehow invulnerable. He had talked to her, trusted her with his difficulties and listened to her advice, but for the first time he was seeing her as a suffering human being with problems far greater than his own. Forced to place himself in the role of comforter, it was new to him and awkward.

Imagining his own mother incarcerated for fifteen years in a mental hospital, Liam winced. That Georgina had never known Charlotte Duncannon as a mother in the true sense was harder to grasp, yet he felt the tragedy of never knowing warmth and comfort as a child. He declared, with some feeling, that it must have been worse than being an orphan.

‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I suppose it was. Of course, we visited, my aunt and I, over the years... but I doubt she knew me.’

‘But that’s terrible...’

‘It certainly wasn’t easy.’ Locked into her own thoughts, memories of a past which did not include him, Georgina stared unseeing over the still, golden fields; while he ached for her, wishing he could know her feelings, experience her emotions. The gap of inches which separated them as they walked, might well have been miles. Liam was painfully conscious of all that divided them: age and gender, circumstance and experience. He had long been convinced that to kiss her would be to transform everything, that joined in a passionate yet tender embrace, he would absorb all that she was, just as she would know him, feel as he felt, love as he loved.

The sheer impossibility of it made him sigh.

Georgina turned to him and smiled, and with a touch that was all too brief, pressed his hand. ‘Oh, Liam! I didn’t mean to make you sad, too. Let’s change this awful subject, and talk about you instead. What have you been doing while I’ve been away?’

With a short laugh, Liam shook his head. ‘Nothing much. In more trouble than ever with my father, I’m afraid.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. What’s wrong this time?’

‘Hard to say. It’s just how he is.’ Trying to be dismissive, he laughed again. ‘I can’t seem to do anything right, and yet when I try to tackle him about the accounts and keeping them up to date – which he’s terrible at, he leaves things outstanding for months – he tells me not to be clever, and to mind my own business!’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘I don’t know why, Georgina, but I can’t talk to him anymore. We used to get on so well, but now all he does is bite. To hear him talk, I’m no good at the job, I’m mean to Tisha, I don’t help in the garden, and I go out too much. But if I stay in,’ Liam added bitterly, ‘he accuses me of reading too much and going to bed too late. But Robin comes and goes as he pleases, and never a word to him. And as for Tisha – well, she might not get away with much when Mother’s there, but she winds Dad round her little finger. She can do no wrong, while I can do no right!’

‘And it’s not fair,’ Georgina chided with gentle humour.

He grimaced at that. ‘No, it isn’t, and it makes me mad. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’m not as good at the job as I should be – but I find it tedious. I didn’t think I would, but I do. And I must admit I hate being inside all the time. That’s why I go out in the evenings – I need the fresh air.’

‘Have you tried talking to him — outside work, I mean?’

‘No, but I don’t think I could at the moment.’

She suggested enlisting Louisa’s help, but he explained that his mother had also been strange with him recently and the atmosphere at home was taut in the extreme. ‘I mean, she didn’t even see fit to tell me that your mother had died!’

After that, they were both silent for a while, each considering possible motives. A grassy bank by a gap in the hedge looked too inviting to ignore. Liam flopped down dejectedly, chewing on a piece of grass, while Georgina stood looking down at him, deep in contemplation. Youth was so terribly painful, she thought, remembering her own; and harder still when things were never explained, when you had to struggle alone in the dark.

A wave of love and compassion swept over her, and she wished he was still a little boy to be fussed and petted and coaxed back to smiles. Instead he was tall and broad-shouldered and self-consciously tragic, sprawled there on the grass: handsome enough to break a young girl’s heart. How easy he would be to fall in love with, she thought, envying the girls he might choose. With his straightness and honesty, he would never betray, never abandon the ones he loved.

Thinking of the honesty he deserved, she longed to tell him why things were as they were at home, but the secret was not hers to divulge, and the pain of keeping silent was bitter indeed.

‘So,’ she said firmly, sitting down beside him, ‘what would you do, given a totally free rein?’

He glanced up, startled by the abrupt change of subject. A smile began to play at the corner of his mouth. After a moment, discarding that chewed piece of grass, he said: ‘A totally free rein? No ties, no apprenticeship?’

‘No ties,’ she stressed, wondering why it was so important, and why she should wait with bated breath for his reply.

‘If I had money, I’d travel the world,’ he said softly, aware that with this confession he was trusting her with his most cherished dreams. ‘Travel until I got tired and found a place to settle. And then I’d write about it.’ He glanced at her again, half afraid she might be laughing; but she was gazing intently into his face, willing him to go on. Suddenly, smiling, he said: ‘But if I hadn’t any money – which I haven’t – I’d simply go abroad to work. Canada, Australia, America – somewhere new and untouched. Farming probably, but it wouldn’t really matter.’

‘And then you’d write?’

‘Eventually. When I’d lived a little, had something to write about.’

Stunned by the simplicity of it, by its very obviousness, Georgina wondered why no one had thought to ask him before. He was a young man who loved the outdoors, not the sort to welcome being cooped up in a small, airless space, making books for other people to read, ledgers for other people to enter columns of tiny figures. Writing books, yes, she could see that, eventually. Writing about adventures and foreign lands he might have had a hand in conquering.

With all the undercurrents at home, especially now her father was taking such belated interest, Liam would be better away from it. ‘Why don’t you?’ she asked with breathless intensity, but even as the words left her lips, she thought how much she would miss him.

‘How can I?’ Liam whispered, aware that he could never leave without knowing her fully, never say goodbye until she knew him too.

‘But you can!’

He looked away. ‘I have my apprenticeship to finish,’ he said abruptly, gathering himself together. ‘Perhaps after that...’

He stood up. Georgina saw at once that she had failed him somehow, but did not know what to say. With a sudden shiver, she realized it was time for her to go. Pursued by night clouds, the sun had dipped below the horizon: the golden light was gone, the land a uniform shade of grey.