Stella had spent the rest of the day in her room, deliberately staying invisible to the family while it adjusted to Rafe’s unexpected series of decisions. She distracted herself by knuckling down to craft a long letter to her aunt and uncle. She enclosed an affectionate letter for Carys as well with a flower she had pressed from the Harp’s End garden, which she knew her sister would likely keep under her pillow until it crumbled. For beloved Rory she sketched a picture of her walking over the Weald in Kent. She drew it as a day with a beaming sun in the top right corner but with a rainbow on the opposite side simply because Rory liked rainbows; she also depicted a large house of many windows at the bottom of the tall hill – he’d guess this was symbolic of where she was living. There was no perspective but it wouldn’t matter to her young brother. She could imagine him putting it up on his wall immediately. She drew lots of kisses in a bubble from the girl on a crest of the hill who bore the best likeness to herself that she could achieve, with a ponytail of black hair, arms outstretched. She was just about to fold up the picture when she heard a soft tap at the door.
Stella realised she hadn’t stretched in a couple of hours and her right leg that had been tucked up under her was now sparkling with sensation at blood flowing normally again. She hobbled, wincing, to the door and opened it expecting to see Grace or Hilly. Instead she was met by the grin of Rafe Ainsworth.
‘Sorry, you look startled,’ he said, and then his grin faded. ‘What’s wrong?’
She grimaced. ‘Ouch! Pins and needles, I’m afraid. I’ve been writing long letters to home.’
‘Ah, best to walk those out or you won’t know whether to laugh or cry in a moment,’ he offered in a dry tone. Rafe glanced at the drawing she held and without asking permission he reached for it. She didn’t resist as he took it.
‘It’s for my brother,’ she qualified, embarrassed that he was studying something so intimate. ‘He prefers pictures to letters.’
He nodded, pondering silently. Finally he looked up, his head tipped to one side. ‘You look as though you are running and singing and blowing him kisses all at once on a sunny/rainy day. It’s really rather clever and I love its naïveté. It’s the innocence of childhood and thus it’s perfect for your little brother.’
‘Mmm, yes, Rory will understand it.’
‘He’ll love it. I would, if someone drew something like that for me that oozes so much fondness.’
Stella felt the heat treacherously climb to her cheeks. ‘I miss them all.’
‘I’m sure you do. And by your being here you are doing the very best you can for your family at this time.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you, I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining at all – you’ve been kind.’ She turned away to walk out the discomfort in her leg but she wasn’t sure if by that gesture of stepping back into her room it was an invitation or not. This was dangerous new territory for her. ‘I’m sorry about today. I feel like I’m a walking catastrophe around your family.’
Either he hadn’t read her move as an invitation or he was being especially discreet because he hadn’t shifted from the doorway when she turned to face him again, although she looked anywhere but at him. Everything about his presence, filling the entrance to her bedroom with his handsome frame and that reticent yet slightly mocking manner of his was unnerving. And even as she thought this she realised that his sardonic way with her was gentle, employed merely to tease.‘Grace wouldn’t agree with that; neither would I. So that means fifty per cent of us are very happy with your being here.’
‘It’s the other half that’s more vocal, though.’
‘The other half is gone.’
She met his gaze. ‘Already?’
He nodded. ‘It’s nearing four-thirty, Stella.’
She blinked and looked at her watch. ‘Surely not. No wonder I have pins and needles.’
‘Anyway, Grace and I would like it if you joined us for dinner this evening.’
‘Perhaps that’s not such a wise idea, Mr Ainsworth,’ she said carefully.
‘I don’t see why not. Last night’s dinner was perfectly acceptable for everyone. I’m simply rescheduling.’
She watched him, saying nothing.
‘Grace was banished to her room today, I understand?’
She sighed. ‘My fault again.’
‘I doubt that. Her mother can be vicious.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
‘Listen, Stella, you’ve been cooped up here for hours. You need to stretch and I was heading out for a walk. Would you care to join me?’
Now she genuinely hesitated in fear and he could read her thoughts.
‘It’s just a walk. Up the hill. Get some fresh air into your lungs. Learn to master those wellington boots. You could practise your pirouetting.’
She grinned helplessly at his charm that came effortlessly when he was Rafe.
‘Is Grace coming?’ she asked hopefully.
‘I’ve checked but Mrs Boyd can be extremely bossy and has decided that Miss Hailsham is to give Grace a bath and apparently when it involves washing her hair it seems to take on an epic scale . . . industrial-size soap and all that.’
Stella chuckled. ‘Poor Grace.’
‘I would save her if I could but Mrs Boyd needs to wield her power somewhere and it’s Grace who suffers because she can’t wield it over me . . . or you.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. She makes me feel privileged to even be past the threshold of Harp’s End yet as the same time as unimportant within its walls as she possibly can.’
‘Yes, but that was when you essentially worked for my wife, who gives Mrs Boyd reigning supremacy over the household and its staff, but now you work for me and you come under my pro-tection.’
She smiled wider. ‘All right, then.’
‘Is that a yes?’
She nodded.
‘Grab a jacket, it’s cooling rapidly. Actually, I’ll find a jacket for you. I’ll meet you in the walled garden where you played hopscotch with Grace.’
He left her wondering how he knew where she had played with Grace but within minutes she was scurrying across the gravel with a sense of excitement she tried desperately to banish but couldn’t.
He was waiting for her. ‘Ah, there you are. Here,’ he said, holding out a brown, waxy cape.
It looked new. ‘This isn’t Hilly’s.’
‘No, it was quicker to take my wife’s riding cape.’
Stella held it midair, unhappy about even holding it. ‘Oh, I couldn’t.’
‘Put it on, Stella. It’s brand new. I gave it to Beatrice years ago and she has never had cause to wear it. Not once, I promise. It’s yours now. You need some sort of waxy coat for here. My wife would likely thank you for relieving her of the guilt of having it gone from her wardrobe where it has hung uselessly for years.’
Reluctantly she took the long cape, loving it instantly, but she forced herself to refuse ownership. ‘I shall borrow it and then return it to you. I do not wish to keep your wife’s coat.’
‘You see it as charity?’ he laughed gently, taking it from her again and holding it out so he could put it over her shoulders. She eased her arms through the conveniently flapped holes. He spun her around like a child and did up the buttons quickly and she obediently stood still, privately relishing his attention.
‘Not charity. Just not appropriate.’
‘Shall we go?’
She nodded. ‘Where?’
‘I want to show you something.’ He led her out of the side gate.
She fell in step and they walked silently down a track edged by tall hedgerow. They were instantly swallowed up by vegetation and the track began to ascend the hill. Stella felt immediately comfortable in their quiet and it was only when the way became steep that she made a sound.
‘Phew! This is harder going,’ she admitted.
He grinned. ‘Worth it, though. Trust me.’ He reached out his hand and without questioning herself or his motives again, she placed herself in his grip and he gently hauled her up. He beamed her a look of pleasure. His help made the going easier and although she was puffing by the time they reached the crest, and her body was warmed through from the effort, it had been far less of a struggle with his strong hand to hold.
‘Now, look back,’ he said.
Stella turned and was rewarded by a glorious view over the patchwork of Kent’s fertile farmland. She could see the steeples of several churches and hamlets surrounded by the verdant pastures.
‘Oh, Rafe, it’s beautiful.’
‘I’m glad you think so. This was my favourite walk as a boy whenever I got home from boarding school. I used to kiss my mother, hug the staff and nearly rip off my school uniform for civvies so I could run up here.’
‘Run?’
He laughed, sounding boyish and carefree. ‘I could in those days. Me and Pirate.’
‘I’m presuming Pirate was a dog – the black-and-white one?’
‘Yes, how on earth do you know that?’ he asked, sounding impressed.
‘I saw photos in the nursery today.’
Rafe shrugged. ‘He was my very best friend. I called him Pirate because of that black fur around one side of his face.’
‘Suited him. He looked like he was grinning out from the photos.’
‘That was Pirate’s permanent expression. He was a great and loyal fellow, lived until he was fourteen and when he could no longer climb this hill he’d sit down there by the gate, waiting for my return.’
‘Don’t, you’ll make me cry,’ she warned with a gentle smile.
‘He loved us all but he was my dog. I miss him still.’
‘Why don’t you have a dog now?’
‘Beatrice doesn’t care for animals,’ he said, his tone instantly losing the soft warmth that had laced it just seconds previously.
‘May I ask you something personal?’
‘I’m sure I can guess what it is.’
‘Is that a yes?’
Rafe cut her a brief smile. ‘The answer is I had no choice, Stella.’
‘We all have choices. Why did you choose Beatrice when you both seem so . . .’ She didn’t want to say it.
‘Poorly matched?’
Stella nodded, her expression sympathetic.
Rafe sighed. ‘Well, there’s a long version but the shorter one is that she became pregnant.’
‘Ah, Georgina.’
‘Yes,’ he said, sitting down as though just saying her name punched the wind out of him. ‘A mistake, I was told.’
‘I was a mistake but no one regretted me. You sound regretful.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, eyes narrowing and glancing sideways at her.
She lifted a shoulder. ‘You didn’t have to sleep with her. You didn’t have to ignore the obvious precautions . . .’
He said nothing for a few heartbeats and Stella was sure she had overstepped her mark.
‘H-here I go again, apologising,’ she stammered.
‘I was trapped by someone who wanted something so badly she was prepared to go to some lengths to achieve it.’
Stella waited, but Rafe didn’t elaborate. A flash of anger sparked in his gaze and it was then that Stella felt the truth of her vague suspicion settling into place. Caught by surprise by the sudden realisation that she’d hit on what was likely a family secret, Stella wasn’t quick enough to stop the words that came: ‘Georgina is not your child.’ It wasn’t a question but the naked statement prompted him to look away into the distance.
‘Is it so obvious to you?’
Now it felt shocking to have her suspicion confirmed but this time she wrestled back control and buried her dismay beneath a deliberately schooled, even expression. ‘I told you, I’ve developed a knack for assessing people. I couldn’t match up Georgina with Grace in any way and yet I can match Georgina’s personality to her mother and I can match Grace with you easily enough . . . well, with Rafe, anyway, not so much with Dougie.’
She smiled but he didn’t, just nodded and stared out in contemplative silence. Stella felt obliged to continue. ‘Grace echoes her mother’s beautiful eyes. Georgina doesn’t especially look like any of the three of you, certainly reveals none of your manner, but it was an impression I had; I haven’t reached this decision because I notice you treat Georgina any differently to Grace. In fact, if pressed, I would say you are amazingly tolerant of Georgina’s barbs.’
He turned away from the breathtaking vista to face her properly. ‘That’s because I have allowed myself to feel sorry for her. Her upbringing is not her fault, nor is who her true father is. You can understand that better than most, I suspect.’
‘Yes, I can. I think I admire you then in the same way I have admired the man who raised me as his daughter.’
‘Thank you. As to Georgina, she hates me but she doesn’t know why. I can’t even tell yet whether she knows just how much she loathes me but maybe at some level she senses we are not family. I agree it’s obvious Grace is from Beatrice and myself and perhaps it’s this understanding in the dark corner of her mind that Georgina rebels against.’
She nodded. It was subtle but made sense to her. ‘Why all the pretence? Monty, Douglas, Rafe? You’ve told me about your names but I don’t understand the different personalities.’
‘Yes, you do Stella, because you understand me.’ He was staring at her in a way that made her feel highly aware of their physical nearness and how all it would take was for one of them to step forward to —
She swallowed. ‘Do I? I find you incredibly complex, to be honest.’
He smiled. ‘No, you don’t. What you find complicated is how I fit in here, but you get me, Stella. It’s why we’re friends.’
‘Are we friends?’
He leaned forward and she did not lean back. Although she’d hesitantly imagined it somewhere in that primal part of her brain, when the kiss came it was more tender than she could possibly have dreamed it. His lips caressed hers rather than pressed against them and in the fleeting seconds that it lasted Stella wondered dizzily if she was imagining the tip of his tongue tracing her mouth as though sketching his own outline and leaving his personal mark. And the touch was so soft it was as though the wings of the butterflies he studied were at work.
When he pulled back with a gentle smile Stella felt as though she’d climbed the hill again for the sense of breathlessness and how urgently her heart was hammering.
‘Yes, we are friends,’ he answered, and in that very private space where she was close enough to make out the flecks of bronze in what she had thought were deep brown irises, she saw a fire that shone back at her.
Stella sat back, watching him, barely realising she had placed her fingers against her lips. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to lose the moment, or the sensation of his mouth against hers. She needed to slow her heartbeat, needed to understand the implications of what had just occurred.
‘I can’t apologise for that. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the night I first saw you glowering at everyone in the dance hall.’
Her eyes watered and she wasn’t sure why. It was connected with what a romantic yet lonely figure he cut; the fact that she’d glimpsed his childhood, the less-than-happy adult life and indeed the double life he seemed to be leading. And the worst of it was that she wanted him to hold her again.
‘Which of you just kissed me?’ she said, airing a thought aloud although it was only just above a murmur.
‘All of me,’ he replied with a hint of a wry grin. ‘I thought you’d be angry.’
‘But you took the chance anyway.’
‘I’m a risk taker.’
‘If that’s true, then it wasn’t Monty who kissed me. And Douglas is a family man, so he wouldn’t risk his family name. No, it was the secretive Rafe . . . and only Rafe who took that risk.’
He grinned sadly as if disappointed in himself. ‘I suppose so. You’re not upset?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘What is appalling is not that you are committing adultery with me but because I welcome it and I’m glad you kissed me. I should hate myself . . .’
She turned away but he moved quickly to grab her shoulder and spin her around. ‘Please don’t hate yourself.’
Stella sighed. ‘That’s my point, I should but I don’t. I get no sense of a love existing between you and Beatrice. I feel no guilt. If anything, I am angry that I am so easily fond of you and I barely know you and yet you have both known each other for seventeen years at least and she barely knows you.’
‘Again, that is my fault, not Bee’s.’
‘Then why, Rafe? Why?’ she pleaded. ‘What are you keeping secret from her? Why does she have such a hold on you? Is it Grace?’
He looked momentarily lost, then glanced at his watch. ‘Let’s walk. We shall have to be back shortly.’
She nodded unhappily but allowed him to help her back to her feet.
‘Do you think anyone saw?’
‘No,’ he gusted. ‘I can assure you that as open as this all feels, we are hidden from the house.’
‘Speaking from experience, no doubt.’
‘I’ve never brought anyone up here. Not even Grace. And I sometimes think that Grace is my best friend.’
‘It shows. You are lovely together.’
Rafe sighed. ‘I’m a terrible father and as a husband I think I fail on all counts.’
She said nothing for a few moments as they began a slow descent.
‘Why does being Doug help?’
‘I can hide behind him. Beatrice controls him. He amuses Grace and he doesn’t threaten Georgina.’
‘Why must you hide?’
‘Oh, Stella,’ he shook his head. ‘That’s the hardest question to answer.’
‘Why?’
‘And that’s the next one,’ he laughed.
‘What have you to hide from me?’
‘Nothing, I hope. You are with the real me and it feels exhilarating.’ He began to lead her down the steepest part of the hill and she noticed they were following a similar path back.
‘Rafe?’
He paused to look at her.
‘Are we still hidden?’
‘From the house, you mean?’
She nodded.
‘Yes, the view is obscured by those trees.’
Moving purely on instinct, she didn’t allow herself a moment to consider. Stella reached for him and he responded unguardedly, as though it was the most natural response, holding her tightly as she buried her face into his chest and reached around his back.
‘Why do I feel so safe in the circle of your arms?’ she murmured, sounding mournful.
He stroked her hair and she closed her eyes, revelling in the sensations that his touch brought. ‘Perhaps because you’ve been coping with a lot of grief and pressure; it’s always reassuring to be held.’
‘No, this is a different sort of safety. I’m in control of my emotions – or at least I thought I was, until now. You’re not playing with my heart, are you, Rafe?’
He kissed her head.
‘Playing? No,’ he said, in a broken tone. ‘This wasn’t meant to happen. I thought I was strong enough.’
She looked up, torn by the inclination not to be owned by anyone, warring with an equally strong inclination to belong only to him. ‘I’m like one of your butterflies, aren’t I? You’ve collected me, you keep me close, you want to look at me and admire me, but you want to put me away again.’ She searched his sad expression. ‘But, Rafe, I’m not dead and pinned to a board. I’m real. I have feelings.’
‘I know, I know. I should never have brought you here. It was selfish and yet I believed I could help your situation to change quickly. I wanted to make that happen.’ He leaned back so he could cup her face. ‘I thought I could keep you at arm’s length.’
‘Yet here I am in your arms.’
He bent his head towards her and kissed her again. This time his lips were more insistent and she opened up to his desire and returned it. No one had kissed her this deeply before. Stella sensed in this moment that Rafe may well have had many lovers – may indeed still have women beyond his family life . . . but none were permitted this glimpse into his depths, to feel his emotion pouring into her, buffeting against her heart. She held him harder, felt his arousal and trembled against it, wishing with every ounce of herself that their lives were not as complicated as they were.
It was Stella who pulled away, blushing, lips swollen. ‘That’s a frightening feeling.’
‘Well, I’ve been accused of a lot in my time but never frightening.’ He waited, amusement shining in his gaze.
‘Is it just me?’
A shadow passed over his expression. ‘I’ve thought of no one else since I danced with you that evening. There’s something about you, Stella, which haunts me. I thought if I went away, I could forget you quickly. I didn’t, your image only etched itself more strongly in my thoughts. I came home and tried to immerse myself in family but you’ve seen the results of that. Finding a way to bring you here felt as inevitable as the sun coming up each morning.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I had no idea, of course, of how you felt. But you’re right. I’ve treated you like a butterfly. But you’re a beautiful, desirable one, Stella, and if anyone’s pinned down, it’s me. I’m the one trapped. I’m trapped by family and duty and now I’ve ensnared myself deeper by opening us both up to pain.’
‘Where do you expect this might go?’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t expect anything from you.’
‘Except a kiss?’
He gave a smile of hopelessness. ‘Not even that.’
Stella looked back down the hill. ‘We’d better get back.’
‘I wish we could run away together.’
She smiled sadly. ‘Do you?’
‘I do. But Grace and dinner are waiting.’
‘And we both agree that Mrs Boyd is scary.’
They shared a sympathetic, sorrowful smile and continued walking.
He surprised her by halting to show his exasperation. ‘Her manner is strange and controlling but Bee loves me, Stella.’
‘Is the feeling mutual?’
‘No. It never has been. I was tricked into marrying her because she told me that Georgina was my child.’
‘And then along came Grace, of course.’
‘My wife and her family managed to convince me that a second child – entirely our own – would patch up a relationship that we all knew was broken from the start.’
‘You don’t have to explain. You and Beatrice met and were together when I was Grace’s age, after all.’
‘I need you to know this, though.’
‘Why? It doesn’t change anything for us.’
He shrugged heavily. ‘I have a desire to start being truthful with someone as if I’m not careful my entire adult life will be based on lies.’ Rafe frowned as if surprised by his own admission. ‘Until you danced with me, it didn’t seem to matter that I have been moving through the years as if trying to get them behind me as fast as I can.’
‘Oh, Rafe, that’s an awful thing to say . . .’
‘It’s honest, though, and I’m not used to confronting my own truth. At the start of this year if I’d been told I was dying of some hideous disease, I really don’t believe I’d have been as upset as the next man.’
‘So what do you want to tell me?’
‘That I had a fling with Beatrice Templeton on leave from the war; my mind was utterly scrambled and I defy anyone to be thinking rationally in such a short space of time away from the Front; it felt like paradise should. I’d been mildly injured and hospitalised briefly and she was one of the women volunteering in the ward where I was being treated.’ He began to pace in a short line, turning his back on her to take a few angry steps before swinging around to pace back. ‘I convalesced at home for barely more than a fortnight and she visited regularly, undeterred that I had not invited her to my home or into my life. Beatrice seemed determined to offer her help to nurse me back to the best of health. I turned down her offer to live in. I asked her not to visit but she seemed incapable of accepting that I just wanted to be alone. She is an attractive woman, even more striking now, I might add, than she was then but not used to men unaffected by her presence.’ He stopped walking, and instead raked a hand of exasperation through his hair.
‘You didn’t turn down the opportunity to sleep with her, though,’ Stella said pointedly and at his glower, she sighed. ‘I’m sorry, it was a long time ago and I shouldn’t judge.’
‘I slept with Bee on the night before I returned to France in 1916. I want to say she made me do it but that sounds pathetic. I realise of course I had a choice but she did have a way of making me feel guilty. She still uses that stick against me.’ He reached for her arm. ‘Listen, Stella, everyone took their solace where they could back then. You were only little when war broke out – I’m not sure you understand how it was. There was no certainty anywhere and I didn’t believe – not for a moment – that I would return whole, let alone survive the war.’
‘Well, my father went to war and he didn’t take his solace anywhere but in his wife’s bed.’
‘Frankly, you wouldn’t know if he had slept with every farm girl from Dover to Paris.’
She glared at him.
‘Now I’m sorry.’ He grinned. ‘Life was uncertain but at least your father had a wife, a woman he loved. I wasn’t even twenty-one in 1916 and Bee was older.’
Stella could not have guessed that about them.
‘And far more conniving that I could imagine a woman to be.’
‘Because she was already pregnant, you mean?’
‘Yes. And if that had been all it was, I believe I could have ruthlessly walked away from her by the time Georgina was seven and already showing the signs of the indulged, selfish adult she would become. But Beatrice had fallen in love with me – there’s no ruse there, I’m sure of it. Beatrice’s love is so committed it’s almost sinister.’ Rafe looked even deeper into Stella’s face to reinforce his claim. ‘She has told me on various occasions that she will kill herself if I ever leave her. Can you begin to imagine what a burden that is?’
Stella felt a thrill of shock at his confession but it made her thoughts flee to her parents, almost relieved to discover they were not the only people in the world who loved to distraction. ‘Yes, I think I can. I suspect my mother felt the same way about my father.’
He looked at her with such remorse that she reached for and squeezed his hand. ‘Go on, tell me so I understand your situation properly.’
They began to walk again, slowly.
‘She wouldn’t hear of me leaving. I offered her everything. Stella, I can’t tell you how ugly it became. She even threatened to kill Grace in her sleep if I walked out on our marriage.’
Stella gasped.
‘That’s what I’m up against. I admit to loving Grace from the day I first held her tiny hand and gazed into her chubby face. She reminded me of my sister and I wanted to be Grace’s protector; needed to be there for her. I didn’t want her mother to have such influence that Grace might turn out like Georgina. And so I stayed and I played my part, mainly to be around my daughter but also to hang onto Harp’s End.’ He swept the lock of dark hair that had blown across his parting and flopped forward.
They’d nearly reached the side gate into the walled garden. ‘What does that mean? Why was Harp’s End part of the bargain?’
His voice dropped even lower. ‘I was persuaded – mostly blackmailed – that I should “do the right thing” by Bee. You see, Stella, Bee’s family is loaded and she came to our marriage with such an enormous endowment that it meant I could keep Harp’s End at a time when it looked as though estate taxes from death duties would make it impossible for me to do anything but carve up the family home and sell it off in chunks, maybe hang onto just the house or a few of the cottages. I simply couldn’t hack it up but by the same token I also couldn’t face selling it as a whole to some opportunist; give up my birthright . . . I could have just walked away, I suppose, but I did have a child and my wife was cluey enough to dangle the fact that her money could retain Harp’s End. That juicy carrot and her spicy threats wore me down. As I say, her so-called love is twisted. She is, dare I say, obsessed with us being together. She has been ever since she met me in the hospital as “Captain Montgomery Douglas Ainsworth” as I was known in the military. She liked my middle name and from that young age I’ve been Dougie to her, and I’ve allowed that bumbling persona that began when I was injured to simply grow up around our marriage to the point where no one in London knows Doug Ainsworth. I encourage most to call me Monty. It’s just easier.’
‘More to hide behind, you mean. And she likes Dougie – why? It doesn’t make sense as she’s so strong.’
‘No, but that’s the point. Dougie still seems a bit helpless; she gets to control him, boss him around.’
‘And even fewer know Rafe.’
‘Only one person alive really knows him. There’s one other who knows the real me but we are so rarely together . . .’ His words tailed off.
‘And what would you have me do with this secret?’
‘Keep it. Let it remain something precious only we share.’
‘Is that all we shall share?’ She hated herself for sounding needy.
Suddenly, they heard someone calling ‘Mr Ainsworth!’ repeatedly.
‘That’s Potter.’ Rafe frowned. ‘Over here! The side gate!’
‘Mr Ainsworth?’ Potter burst through the gate faster than they’d imagined he could. They parted as if burning embers had just landed on their hands. ‘Sir?’
‘Mr Potter? Is everything all right?’
‘Miss Stella,’ Potter said, lifting his cap. The poor man looked terrified.
‘It’s your daughter, Sir.’
‘Grace?’ They said it together and immediately Rafe began to run.
His stride lengthened as Potter yelled after him. ‘She’s had a fall, Sir.’
Stella grabbed Potter’s arm and they both trotted after Rafe, who had begun to put distance between him and them as he dodged around the gravel paths of the walled garden. ‘What’s happened?’ Stella asked.
‘I don’t know, to be honest. Mrs Boyd sent me to fetch Mr Ainsworth. We knew you were out walking on the Weald.’
‘Right, I’m going to hurry ahead. I suspect I’ll be needed.’
‘You go on,’ he wheezed.
Stella ran into the house and didn’t bother with salutations, hurrying past the parlour and up the back stairs into the main part of the house. She overtook Hilly on the carpeted flight, leaping up the stairs two at a time until she was on the landing of the nursery and dashing down the hallway. She could hear voices, which led her to Grace’s room. She burst through the doorway to find the adults – Mrs Boyd, Miss Hailsham and Rafe – bent over the bed.
Mrs Boyd was shaking a prone, seemingly unconscious Grace.
‘Come on now, Miss Grace,’ she was saying.
‘Stop that please!’ Stella ordered, her training from the department store kicking in. ‘Everyone step back.’
Stella shoved herself past a grey-faced Rafe. She glanced at the other woman, young and terrified. ‘Miss Hailsham?’
‘Yes? What should I do?’
‘I want you to call the hospital immediately. How close is it?’ Everyone was looking at the unconscious child, lost in their collective shock. ‘Mr Ainsworth! How far away is the hospital?’
He looked stung by Stella’s tone. ‘Three miles.’
‘Right, get the car started. It’s quicker for us to take her. Please – go now. I’ll stay with her, I promise.’ She glanced around. ‘Miss Hailsham, what the hell are you waiting for?’ The woman leaped away from the bed and fled, following Rafe out of the room. ‘Mrs Boyd?’
‘Yes?’ the housekeeper looked up, sounding tame for the first time since Stella had met her.
‘I need smelling salts immediately.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Hilly arrived. ‘Hilly, go and fetch the sal volatile. It’s quicker if you go into Mrs Ainsworth’s room. It’s in the top right-hand drawer of her dressing table,’ Mrs Boyd instructed.
‘Run, Hilly!’ Stella commanded.
She was now alone with Mrs Boyd. ‘What happened?’
‘Slipped on the bathroom tiles, hit her head.’
Stella raised the girl’s legs off the bed and held them above the mattress. ‘Do this for me, Mrs Boyd, please.’
The housekeeper immediately obliged as Stella moved to take Grace’s tiny wrist.
‘She’s got a strong pulse and she’s breathing so her air passages aren’t restricted but let’s turn her on her side to be sure. I presume she’s in a dressing-gown because she’d just got out of the bath?’ she said, smoothing back the child’s slightly damp hair.
Mrs Boyd nodded. She too had turned ashen. ‘What shall I tell her mother?’
‘It was an accident. Grace will be fine – just reassure Mrs Ainsworth so she doesn’t panic like everyone else around here. Over here, Hilly, please,’ she said to the maid who hurried back into the room. ‘You can put her feet down now, Mrs Boyd. Best you go make the phone call.’
Grace was shifted onto her side.
Stella took the tiny crystal bottle with its silver stopper from Hilly; even in her hurry she had time to think that Beatrice managed to make even smelling salts appear elegant. She opened it and gave a gentle sniff from a distance. In spite of her caution the ammonia made her head snap back. ‘Hmm, very fresh.’ She held the small bottle well beneath Grace’s nostrils and soon enough the little girl coughed and spluttered back to life, pushing at Stella’s hand.
‘There you are, dear Grace,’ she murmured gently.
Grace’s eyelids batted open but only a slit and she looked frightened. ‘What happened, Stella?’ she lisped.
Stella smiled for her, grateful that her student’s wits were intact. ‘I think you slipped over, darling. Does anything hurt?’
Grace nodded. ‘My arm. My head.’
‘Which arm, this one?’
Grace nodded. ‘A lot.’
Its alignment looked odd and swelling had begun. Stella suspected a break but didn’t want to add more alarm. ‘I won’t touch it, I promise. Your head. Is it hurting because it feels like you bumped it, or is it feeling blurry?’
‘Both,’ Grace replied and her eyes watered.
‘Grace, I think we should go to the hospital and have a doctor just check you over.’ As she said this, Rafe returned.
‘Gracie,’ he breathed and was suddenly kneeling down beside her. He took her uninjured hand and kissed it. ‘Oh, Skipper, you worried me.’
Stella could smell his fear; even though it was a cool afternoon, he was perspiring and it was the scent of things woody as though his exertions had warmed up his shaving cologne. She suddenly wanted to kiss him again as she watched him stroke his child’s head with his long fingers and whisper something that made the little girl grin shyly in spite of the pain.
‘The car’s ready. Come on, Skip, I’m going to carry you down the stairs.’
‘Be careful,’ Stella whispered for his hearing. ‘I think her arm is broken and she may have concussion.’
He gave her a soft look of despair. ‘Can you come with us?’
She nodded.
‘Mrs Boyd?’
‘Yes, Sir?’
‘Phone my wife immediately. She should probably come home.’
‘Miss Myles told me to do that and I’ve already phoned, Sir. Shall I ask Mr Potter to leave now for London?’
‘No, the train is probably quicker. Have him pick them up from Tunbridge Wells Station.’
She nodded and stood like a guard at the door as they moved carefully with Grace. Mrs Boyd followed them down the stairs and again acted as sentinel until she saw them seated in the back of the car.
‘Oh, Miss Myles, you’re going too?’
‘Yes, I’ve asked her to accompany me. Grace won’t be parted from Stella,’ Rafe lied, to throw the curious housekeeper off. ‘Now, drive on, Potter – Pembury, I’m presuming. Close the window, please.’