Celia and Archie spent Christmas with Sir Digby and Lady Deverill at Deverill Rising, their sumptuous Georgian home in Wiltshire, which Digby had bought and renovated at vast expense with the first fortune he had made in the South African diamond mines. Originally the house had been called Upton Manor, but that wasn’t nearly grand enough for the brash and newly rich Digby Deverill. Memories of summers at Castle Deverill inspired him to give his home a name which would last through history and give a sense of dynasty and substance. Therefore he swiftly renamed it Deverill Rising, endowing it with the gravitas of his new status and the weight of his historical name. Their son George would have inherited it had his life not been so cruelly cut short in the Great War. This saddened Digby and scoured the gloss from his vision. However, ebullient and always optimistic, Digby endeavoured to look for the positive. He filled it with friends at every opportunity and wondered whether a grandson might one day cherish it as he did.
Joining them for the festivities were Celia’s older twin sisters, Leona and Vivien, who came with their husbands, Bruce and Tarquin, and their small children. Due to the seven-year age gap between them Celia had never been close to her siblings. The twins were both blonde and pretty, with long, aristocratic noses, shallow blue eyes and bland, unremarkable characters. Little could rouse them from passivity. However, ever since Celia had bought the castle and provoked their jealousy, they had shown surprising passion. Neither could believe that flighty Celia, who had shocked London society by bolting from her wedding with the best man, could have snatched the Deverill family seat for herself. It was an outrageous thing to have done and something which infuriated both girls, who lived relatively modestly with their Army husbands. What upset them even more was that their father, in spite of everything Celia had put him through, was inordinately proud of her.
Digby had initially been horrified by Celia’s news, but his daughter’s excitement and Archie’s pride at having made the purchase possible softened his rancour and assuaged Beatrice’s reservations. Archie, intent on impressing his father-in-law, told him of the architect’s adventurous plans, which, Archie emphasized, included many of his own ideas. Digby requested to meet this Mr Leclaire at the earliest convenience, for he wanted to make sure that his erratic daughter wasn’t being overambitious. It was one thing to restore a castle to its former glory, but quite another to build a palace that wasn’t there to begin with. ‘I will come to Ireland with you in the new year,’ he declared, his enthusiasm growing at the thought of involving himself. ‘It’ll be good to see Bertie. Tell me, my dear, how is my cousin?’
Celia, riding on the crest of a wonderful wave, was pink in the face with happiness. ‘Oh Daddy, I’d love you to meet Mr Leclaire. He’s full of ideas. Really, he understands exactly what we want. Everything he suggests I tell him I want it yesterday! It’s hilarious. He thinks I’m marvellous.’
‘You behave as if you have a bottomless pit of money,’ said Leona sourly.
Celia ignored Leona. ‘You’ll adore him, Papa. We all do. He’s a great character!’
‘And Cousin Bertie?’ prompted her mother gently.
Celia sighed. ‘He’s as well as can be expected, I suppose,’ she replied, reluctant to divert the conversation away from herself. ‘Maud has told him that she never wants to return to Ireland and I gather from Harry that she is in the process of buying a house in Chester Square. They will continue to lead separate lives for I doubt Bertie will ever leave the Hunting Lodge. I told him he can stay there for as long as he wants. It’s his home, after all. But he’s thrilled I’m rebuilding the castle. Just thrilled. Isn’t he, Archie?’
‘He’s very interested in our plans,’ Archie agreed.
‘I imagine he’s putting on a brave face,’ said Vivien. ‘I mean how can he possibly enjoy watching someone else rebuilding his home?’
‘Celia is hardly “someone else”,’ said Archie.
‘Of course he’s delighted,’ Digby interjected.
‘I’m so pleased,’ said Beatrice. ‘I was worried it would create a rift within the family.’
‘Oh no, far from it, Mama,’ Celia gushed. ‘Everyone is so happy. Kitty especially! Our children will grow up together playing in all the places we used to play. It’ll be a riot, history repeating itself. We’re going to get into the Irish way of life, aren’t we, Archie? Hunting and racing. Archie’s going to take the dogs out to shoot snipe just like Cousin Hubert used to do. Oh, it’s going to be such fun!’ She clapped her hands together without giving another thought to poor Bertie, sinking sorrowfully into his bottles of whiskey.
‘I hope you install some heating. As far as I remember, Castle Deverill was uncomfortable, cold and damp,’ said Leona.
‘Oh yes, it was terribly damp,’ Vivien agreed. ‘I wore a fur coat in bed to keep warm.’
‘It’s going to have the very best of everything,’ said Celia firmly.
‘Shame you can’t spend all that money on improving the weather,’ said Leona with a chuckle.
Vivien laughed with her. ‘Goodness, it rains all the time in Ireland, doesn’t it?’
‘It rains all the time in England too,’ said Celia, giving her sisters a withering look. ‘But I always remember the summers in Ballinakelly as being sunny and warm. You know, Archie and I are going to host the Castle Deverill Summer Ball. It’ll be just like it used to be. The candlelight, the music, the dancing, and everyone will say that no one throws a party quite like Mrs Mayberry. Isn’t that right, Archie darling?’
Archie Mayberry smiled indulgently at his wife. Buying the castle for Celia had made him feel like a man again and restored him in the eyes of his friends and family. After her bolt from the wedding he worried that her parents might blame him for being too dull to keep her. He feared that he might never regain their esteem and it vexed him that he had been humiliated in front of his friends, but nothing makes people forgive and forget a scandal more surely than money. Digby’s bribe, for that is, in essence, what it was, had enabled him not only to pull his family back from the brink of bankruptcy, but to look his own reflection straight in the eye. It was ironic, too, that he had managed to repay his father-in-law’s generosity by purchasing the Deverill family seat. Digby Deverill, genial and urbane as he was, was inscrutable in the way that powerful men often are, but from the look on his face, Archie could tell that he had earned his father-in-law’s acceptance, which had been his intention all along. As for respect, he hoped he would one day earn that too.
Kitty and Robert had spent Christmas at the White House. Kitty’s father, Bertie, had come for Christmas lunch with Elspeth and Peter and the Shrubs. Although Elspeth was seven years older than Kitty the two sisters had grown close ever since Elspeth had married Peter MacCartain and moved into his dank castle a short walk from Castle Deverill, nearly five years before. Little Jack had played with his three cousins and opened his presents with glee. Hazel and Laurel had fussed over the children while Robert and Peter had stood by the fire watching them with amusement. Bertie had put on a good show, not wanting to dampen the festivities, but Kitty could tell that he was deeply depressed. She wondered whether it was the castle he mourned, or his mother Adeline, or perhaps even Grace. She didn’t imagine it was Maud.
But Bertie did miss his wife. It was one of those ironies of age and marriage: the couple who have bored and betrayed each other in their early years often comfort and sustain each other in their later ones. Bertie had betrayed his wife with his long affair with Grace (and before Grace many other discreet dalliances with pretty girls) but that affair was long over and now he found himself thinking of Maud often. It seemed absurd that after the great freeze that had been their marriage there might be a thawing on his part. He didn’t understand it himself. He loved Grace – he would always love Grace – but Grace had ended their affair and now they were just friends. The light of desire that had warmed her soft brown eyes had died away and she looked on him with pity – he hated that he had become a man to be pitied. As much as she tried to disguise it, he saw through her. Maud on the other hand didn’t pity him, she despised him and there was something rather magnificent about the fury in her – wasn’t the opposite of love indifference, after all? Maud was certainly not indifferent. She resented him for his affair, but hadn’t she been the first to leave the marital bed in favour of his old school chum Eddie Rothmeade’s? She thought he didn’t know, but he did. She had barely been able to hide her infatuation. But that was long ago and he was ready to forget it. His wife loathed him for his indiscretion with the maid, but hated him even more for having formally recognized the child born of that union. Now she resented him for having sold the castle even though she was the one who had encouraged him to do so. He was buying her a house in Belgravia with most of the proceeds, but he knew she wouldn’t want him there. Divorce was out of the question for a woman obsessed with society’s good opinion, but he wondered whether her head might be turned by another man, one who could give her more than he had been able to. That thought saddened him greatly. When he thought of cold, beautiful Maud, he wondered whether, had he behaved differently (and with less arrogance, perhaps), he might have made her happy. He wondered why, when he tried to lose his thoughts in whiskey, he only found them becoming more acute. In the alcohol-induced fog in his mind he saw Maud as she had been when he married her, when her elusive smile had turned on him like the warm rays of dawn. But she’d never smile on him again, he was certain of that. Perhaps the finality of it made him nostalgic for their past. Wasn’t that the way of the world? One always wants what one cannot have.
The day after Christmas Kitty heard the news that Liam O’Leary, Jack’s father, had died on Christmas Eve. The maid who reported it wasn’t sure how he had died, only that the funeral was to take place the following day in the Catholic church of All Saints in Ballinakelly. Kitty wanted to ride over to console Jack, but was fearful that her presence there would arouse suspicion. He was sure to be with his mother and the rest of his family, and there were a good many O’Learys in Ballinakelly, she knew. Instead, she sent the stable boy with a letter of condolence. She was sure that Jack would read between the lines and get word to her as soon as she was able to visit.
The day of the funeral Kitty stood at her bedroom window, gazing out over the sea and biting the dry skin around her thumb with anxiety. She hadn’t heard anything from Jack. She wondered whether their plans to depart for America would be delayed – or even cancelled. Could he leave his mother so soon after her husband’s death? She knew Jack had other siblings and his mother certainly had a sister, because she had heard him speak of her, but she had no idea where they lived, or indeed how intimate they were. Mrs O’Leary doted on Jack, of that she was sure.
How she would have loved to attend the funeral. But it was impossible. Robert would consider it very strange and the locals would find it odd, too, even though, as the local vet, Jack had been coming to Castle Deverill for years to look after the animals. So, she waited. What else could she do?
Grace had arranged their departure for the first weekend in February. She wasn’t planning on being in London until then and she told Kitty, quite unreservedly, that she hoped the month before leaving would give Kitty time to reconsider. But Kitty was certain that this was what she wanted. Her past had been marred by self-sacrifice. Now was her time and she was determined to take it.
The week before Christmas she had suffered horribly with her menstruation. She had lain in bed with severe abdominal pain and Robert had tactfully slept in his dressing room. But now there was no reason for her to banish her husband to another room, and, surprisingly, she didn’t want to. She was about to leave him for the other side of the world. She was on the point of separating him from Little Jack, possibly forever. She hated herself for allowing her passion to make her selfish; after all, Robert had only ever been kind to her. He had only ever loved the two of them. Her sense of guilt was immense and her anticipation of loss drove her deep into his arms. She was like a sea creature clinging to the rock that was her home, while the current swept by to drag her away. As she let him make love to her, she realized, in the light of her imminent departure, that it was possible to love two men at once, in entirely different ways.
At last she received a letter from Jack, asking her to come to his cottage as soon as she was able. Anxious that he was about to postpone their departure she saddled her horse and galloped as fast as the animal could carry her over the hills to his house, which was situated in lonely isolation, overlooking the ocean. She could see a ribbon of smoke floating up from the chimney long before she reached it. A golden glow twinkled in the waning light from one of the downstairs windows. Fog was creeping in off the water and the horizon, usually so clear, was a grey mist in which fishing boats could easily lose themselves. There would be no moon to illuminate the path home, but she was sure she’d find it somehow.
She slipped from her saddle and tied the horse to a fence behind the cottage. She didn’t bother to knock, but went straight inside. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into a half-drunk tankard of stout. When he saw her, he stood up and gathered her into his arms, embracing her fiercely. Her heart buckled at the sight of his grief-stained face and she squeezed him as hard as her arms would allow. Jack cried then. He sobbed into her neck like a little boy and Kitty was reminded of her beloved grandparents and her heart went out to him.
When his pain had passed through him, he returned to his chair and drained his tankard. Kitty put the kettle on the stove and made a pot of tea. He told her that his father had died peacefully in his sleep, but his mother had suffered a very great shock on finding him lying cold and stiff beside her in the morning. ‘He was a good man,’ he said quietly. ‘If it hadn’t been for the war, he would have lived a longer life, I’m sure of it. The war was never ours in the first place. He should have done as I did and kept his feet firmly on Irish soil. But we didn’t share the same politics. We quarrelled over our views and I know he disapproved of my decision not to fight. If he’d only known the half of what I’d got up to during those years he’d have given me more than a clip about the ear. As it was he knew nothing. When he returned from the war something had been extinguished inside him. He never spoke of what he had seen and done but I know it was terrible. It robbed him of his joy. I hope he finds it again, wherever he is.’
‘He will,’ said Kitty. ‘He’s home now.’
‘I love you for your certainty, Kitty.’ He grinned and watched her bring the pot over to the table and pour two mugs of tea. She sat down opposite and he reached for her hands across the narrow wooden table. ‘You’re either as mad as a March hare or privy to the greatest of all life’s mysteries. Whichever it is, I love you all the same.’
‘And I love you, Jack, in spite of your little faith,’ she replied with a grin.
‘We’re going to build a new life in America, you and I and Little Jack. I have dreamed of walking hand in hand with you for all the world to see.’
Kitty squeezed his hands hard. ‘So have I. Life hasn’t been kind to us, has it?’
‘This time we’ll board that boat, whatever life throws at us.’
‘It’ll be exciting for Little Jack. He’s never been on a boat.’
Jack noticed the disquiet behind her cheerfulness. ‘I know you worry for him, my darling. But he’s a lad. It’ll be an adventure.’ He gazed at her tenderly. ‘We’ll give him brothers and sisters. A big family. He won’t have time to remember Ballinakelly.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘He loves you, Kitty, more than anyone in the world. And he’ll grow to love me. I promise you he will. Indeed, I’ll be a good father to him.’
Kitty’s eyes began to sting with tears. ‘I know you will, Jack. But I’m afraid. I want to do what’s best for him, but I have to do what’s best for me too. I feel I’m being torn in two. Robert . . .’
Jack’s face hardened. ‘Don’t think of Robert, Kitty!’ he snapped. ‘He has no claim on you. You and I are like plants whose roots run very deep and intertwine. We’ve got a long history together. Shared memories and adventures Robert can never hope to create. He stole you from me. If you hadn’t married him you’d have been free to marry me. No, don’t argue. You know it’s true. If it wasn’t for him we’d be together.’ She nodded and released his hands. Taking up her mug she sipped her tea. ‘I know you’re torn and I appreciate what you’re giving up, coming away with me. Don’t think I don’t understand. But we deserve this, Kitty. There’s no other way for us. It’s this or nothing. If you can’t come with me, I’ll go anyway, because a future here without you is impossible.’
‘I’m coming with you. I promise,’ she reassured him softly.
He glanced at the window. The fog had gathered round the cottage and darkness had come early. ‘You’d better ride home now, Kitty, or you’ll get lost in the fog.’
‘I’d know these hills blindfolded,’ she said, getting up.
‘I’ll ride with you,’ he said suddenly, pushing his chair out with a loud scrape.
‘You mustn’t. If we’re seen together we’ll ruin everything. I’ll be fine. I’ve ridden these hills all my life.’
He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her ardently. ‘To think there’ll soon be a day when I can kiss you from dawn till dusk without interruption.’
‘Oh Jack, I can’t wait. I want you to kiss me now without interruption.’ She slid her hand between the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped her.
‘You have to ride home now, Kitty,’ he insisted. ‘If you leave it another moment it’ll be totally dark. Please, my darling, you have to go, now.’
Reluctantly she slipped into her coat and gloves and pulled her hat down low over her head. She swung herself into the saddle and waved at Jack, who stood forlornly in the doorway. ‘I long for the day when my home is your home,’ he said and Kitty blew him a kiss before gently digging her heels into the horse’s sides and trotting off along the path that led to the hills.
Robert was getting anxious. It was dark and Kitty was still out with her horse. He didn’t understand her need to ride all the time. If she had wanted to go into Ballinakelly she could much more easily have taken the car. He stood at the drawing-room window and stared out into the foggy night. All he could see was his own pale face staring anxiously back at him. He rubbed his chin. No one seemed to know where she had gone. Even the groom hadn’t a clue. He had simply shaken his head and told Robert that Mrs Trench had saddled the mare herself and set off without a word. She had probably just gone for a hack over the hills. But Robert was worried. She would have seen the fog closing in when she set off. Why on earth would she choose a misty afternoon in early January to go hacking over the hills?
He considered going to look for her. What if she had fallen off her horse? What if she had hurt herself? What if she was lying injured in the mud? She’d die of cold out there in the night. His heart was seized with panic. He took a deep breath and tried to think rationally. He’d never find her for a start. Besides, she could be anywhere. He couldn’t go walking across the fields on account of his stiff leg, or take the car because those tracks were slippery with mud and he was sure to get stuck, or worse, crash. He felt utterly useless. He could do nothing but wait.
Perhaps she was with her father, he conceded. She had been worrying about him a great deal lately. Bertie was taciturn and melancholy and only Little Jack and his rousing ebullience seemed able to distract him from his woes. But Kitty wouldn’t have ridden over the hills if that were the case. She would have cut through the woods and fields, for the Hunting Lodge was only the other side of the estate and she’d surely be home by now. She might have gone to visit Grace. The two of them were as thick as thieves. They seemed closer than sisters even, most notably in the way they spoke to each other, sometimes with impatience, sometimes with affection, but without the reserve that prevailed in most non-familial relationships. Indeed, their friendship seemed embedded in depths he would never know. But Grace had a house full of family and no formal invitation had been forthcoming. No, Kitty had not gone to visit Grace, he was sure of that.
When at last the front door opened and Kitty strode in, her face red from the cold and her Titian hair wild and knotted down her back, Robert was at first overcome with relief, then furious that she had caused him such concern. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ he demanded, meeting her in the hall.
Kitty laughed. ‘You weren’t worrying about me in the fog, were you?’
‘Of course I was, you silly girl!’
Kitty was affronted by his patronizing tone. ‘I know those hills better than most shepherds,’ she retorted crisply. ‘There was no need for you to worry.’
‘Where were you?’
She shrugged and pulled off her gloves. ‘Out riding.’
‘Where?’
‘Why all these questions, Robert? Are you accusing me of having a lover tucked away up there in the hills?’
Robert was stunned. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘That idea hadn’t occurred to me. Should it?’
She flushed beneath her weathered complexion. ‘You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill. I was simply out riding, as I always do. I wasn’t alarmed by the fog.’
‘I forbid you to ride out like that again. It’s dangerous.’
Kitty sighed impatiently. ‘Oh really, Robert. You’re sounding like my tutor again!’
‘When I was your tutor you were not obliged to obey me. Now I’m your husband, you are.’
‘I won’t be told,’ she snapped, making for the stairs.
‘Yes, you will. You have a little boy who depends on you,’ he reminded her. ‘And you have me, for better or for worse. I will not have you rampaging around the countryside in the dark. You have the entire day at your disposal. Please do me the favour of riding during daylight hours. Surely, I’m not asking too much.’
Kitty, furious that he was telling her what to do and fired up with guilt about where she had been, was all too quick to inflame the argument. If she was angry with Robert it would make it all the more easy to leave him. She marched up the stairs without looking back. Robert remained in the hall until she had disappeared, then he turned and limped into his study, slamming the door behind him.
Kitty read Little Jack a story and tucked him up in bed. She planted a kiss on his soft forehead and savoured for as long as possible the feel of his small arms around her neck, holding her close. Her heart mollified at the sight of him and, when Robert came in to say goodnight, she found it hard to maintain her sulk. However, she managed to eat her supper in silence. He attempted conversation but she thwarted it with monosyllabic answers until he gave up and only the clinking of cutlery on their plates interrupted the heavily charged silence.
Kitty went to bed alone and turned off the light. Her thoughts shifted to leaving home again and she felt the familiar sense of despair. But just as she closed her eyes she heard the door open and the sound of her husband’s shuffling walk as he limped into the bedroom. She wished he would see that she was asleep and leave, but he didn’t. He climbed in beside her and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against him. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, darling,’ he whispered. ‘I love you.’
His gentle voice lured her out of her brooding and her despair was at once laid aside. She rolled over and kissed him. She kissed him tenderly, and as she did so a tear squeezed through her lashes, for, even as she knew she was betraying Jack, she knew also that she was being guided by a deeper longing. She didn’t try to understand it, nor attempt to justify it. But as she undid the buttons of his pyjamas and glided her hand over his chest, she knew she was sealing her fate, whichever way it would go; it was in God’s hands now.