Lizzie awoke the next morning to the same burning question her overly active mind had been transfixed on since dinner the previous evening – why was it only when he knew that she could see him, did he make any attempt to withdraw his hand from her limpet like hold? Did he allow her to do so willingly? Did he even initiate it? One thing was for sure, he didn't appear to be beating her off with a stick, far from it…
She ran her hands over her face and up through her hair, letting out an enormous yawn, signifying what little sleep she had managed, before hauling herself up to sit, still underneath her blanket, hugging her knees. From this position, she could see the object of her fury, who now, on Mrs Watson's orders, was occupying Charlotte's old bed. Lizzie thought this quite ironic, the very spawn of Satan himself now laying at rest in a bed once the divan of a child of God.
She asked herself – Just what could he see in her? For the following few moments, she simply took the time to survey what she had come to see, now more than ever, as the opposition. True she was fairly pretty, younger than she was, clearly not afraid to use these few feminine charms she possessed … but there seemed to be very little depth, nothing bellow the surface, nothing beyond her bravado and propensity, if ever this faltered, to steadfastly act like butter wouldn't melt … she was too artificial, too contrived to enable her to secure anyone's most earnest affection, the very little that she seemed to have was through entertaining them with a few wild stories they were already beginning to know word for word.
Well, she has to do something to get people's attention doesn't she? Lizzie resolved, before comforting herself with the fact that she'd felt the weight of Will's stare upon her throughout the meal (which may have been quite unsettling then, but was now quite reassuring), from the moment she caught his eye, a shared look that triggered the hasty retrieval of his hand. From that same moment, she had refused to return his stare, very rarely shooting a fleeting look his way after checking, out of the corner of her eye, that he had taken his eyes off her.
Only the once, the last glance, was she too late in changing her line of vision, he'd caught her. Not for long though, as Hettie's piercing laughter broke their concentration, Will looking away, in the direction of the rather raucous laughter. That was it Lizzie thought, she couldn't sit there any longer, very shortly afterwards addressing her father, begging his pardon to leave the table, of course she didn't tell him why.
Thankfully he didn't ask, by now Adams had learned that it was probably wise not to enquire as to the reason for young ladies having to leave the table abruptly, as it was more often than not down to delicate women's matters that he had no wish to go into, least of all at the dinner table.
She'd willed away the rest of the evening until it was time to retire, gladly accepting any request (well almost) for help in doing anything, as long as it kept her busy, kept her away from the Billiard room where he would, around about then, have been handing out the cigars and brandies, chalking the cues, as his rich and privileged masters had not quite mastered that yet.
Cursing herself for once again letting lying awake, as she'd done many, many a time before, thinking of him, where he was what he was doing, especially now, by all rights, her thoughts and dreams should be focused on another. Wriggling back down the bed, she caught the unmistakeable rustle of paper.
'Oh god, it's still there' she thought, screwing up her face, pulling the cover over her head, curling up into a ball, hoping it would slip down the side of the bed so she could pretend she'd lost it, better still, it never arrived. Damn, that wasn't going to wash, both Grace and Johnny knew she had it, Grace could be trusted not to let on, but as for Johnny… she wouldn't trust him as far as she could…
It wasn't as bad as she'd made out, she loved to hear from him, but all of a sudden, everything was beginning to seem so much more complicated than she could ever have imagined. She'd made her bed, she had to lie in it, she told herself as she slid a tentative hand under her pillow to seize the now quite crumpled envelope. Taking a deep breath, she tore it open and began to read.
My darling Lizzie, Is it really almost two months since you left Lochberne? Aye, I know very well that it is, sometimes it seems so much longer, but others I still expect you to tap on the greenhouse windows, asking is Id like any lemon crush. Its my favourite you know, I miss it, but not a jot as much as I miss you. You'll be glad to hear that Malcolm has finally found a use for himself, he's managed to persuade Douggie Fairbank to give him a second shot with the horses, think he realised that it wasn't his fault he couldn't get the shoes on straight, he's always been nervous of them - as I'm sure you'll remember – and when it started bucking, it was all the poor lad could do was to keep his wits about him long enough to stop it bolting.
Ginny is well on her way now, beginning to show, but I think its going to take her a lot of getting used to, they only got married in April and to have a little one on the way so soon, well, it was more than even they'd expected. I trust that all is well and good with your lady (for we have not heard), please do send her my best when you see her next, its nearly time isn't it? I am so glad that by the time our little Gin is ready you'll be here to help her, what with mum not being here anymore, and she looks up to you so much, I cant tell you. Of course her and Hamish send their love and wish you a safe return home.
Theres another certain lady who asks everytime I see her when that will be. Im going down there tomorrow to take her some shortbread old Mrs Mcteir baked for her, but last week she was much better than we could have hoped for my dear, she is making some progress the doctor told her and I must say, she has some colour back in her cheeks, so much so I mistook her for an older sister of yours, of course she didn't believe me, but it brought a much needed smile back to her face.
You know, none of us are ever happier than when you are here, I wrote to old Tom Partridge, telling him the news, do you know what he said – 'about time too, its only taken you ten years to work that one out!' I wish it hadn't taken me so long, that Id have said something before you left for Taplows. Of course I don't begrudge you going, you found your father, it was so important to you. Now it is very important to me that I meet him, I know I really should have before, but I'll ask him now, I only hope he can forgive me, and give us his blessing. Well, that is just about everything, all that's left to say now is that I cannot wait to see you again Lizzie, I am determined that it will not be long until I do, until we are reunited my love.
Look after yourself and stay safe my sweet, always and forever yours, Arlen.
Lizzie let the letter drop from her grasp, closing her eyes, the last line repeating itself over and over in her head, a tremendous feeling of guilt sweeping over her, he was just so…. What was she doing! She trailed off, clasping her mouth in her hand. Her chain of thought was broken as she heard Grace hiss 'Liz?'
Her head shot up and over to her friend who had her head propped up on her left hand, looking intently back at her, as she continued inquisitively 'Well, what did he say?'
Meanwhile a few corridors across a very different conversation was about to take place.
"Don't take him….Walter don't let them take him…Please give him back it was a mistake I haven't forgotten about him I swear it please….WALTER!" Flora screamed in her sleep, fighting off unknown adversaries whilst her very much awake husband tried his best to rouse her.
"Flora darling wake it…It is only a dream sweetheart, I'm here and no one is taking anybody anywhere I promise…." He trailed off brushing the tears away from her pale trembling cheek as Flora's eyes darted around the room.
"Where are they…What have they done with my baby?" She cried out her mind still locked in the remnants of her nightmare.
"Shush no one has done anything to our child here…" He whispered prising loose one of the hands that clutched at the bedclothes and placing it on her belly. "See safe and sound." He added leaning down and kissing her forehead. "It was just a bad dream."
"No…" Flora gasped shaking her head. "He's not…"
"Shush who's not?"
"He doesn't even have a grave, at least Archie has that much." She babbled burying her head into his shoulder and sobbing.
"Flora stop this you're not making sense." Jarvis snapped. "Our child is fine what on earth has possessed you?"
"At least Rebecca has that…I never even got to hold him, they just took him away and threw him away like garbage and I couldn't stop them but it was my baby….Walter please if anything happens this time don't take it away before I get to say goodbye please…." Flora choked wrapping her arms around her husband and squeezing him so tight he thought she might cut off his circulation.
"Nothing is going to happen! What on earth has gotten into you, it's that bloody funeral isn't it? Flora sweetheart nothing is going to happen to our baby do you hear me? Our little Walter is going to be strong and healthy…"
"Don't!" Flora sobbed. "Don't call it that, that is not my baby's name it could never be this baby's name…"
"But we agreed ages ago.."
"No our other child was called Walter…Did you even see him? Grace didn't tell me till a week or so afterwards but she held him briefly he was so very small he could lay in the palm of her hand but then the Dr told her to wrap him up….He said it would have been too distressing and that the less I knew the better but when I asked she told me it was a little boy…Our little boy and I couldn't protect him, what if I loose this child too as punishment?"
"Dear god." Was all Jarvis could mutter pulling the sobbing woman into his arms. "I had no idea…Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Cause I wanted to forget, and I did, and now I feel like I'm being punished because I chose to forget about him…Ever since I found about this little one its been at the back of my mind, all the way through I haven't been able to forget and I've been wondering if it would have been the same with little Walter…"
"Flora don't please don't." Walter whispered unable to stop the tears from brimming in his own eyes.
"But we shouldn't have just forgotten about him Walter!" Flora snapped. "We could have had a bouncing six month old by now, hell I could even be pregnant again with our second…"
"Flora stop I'm begging you!" Walter choked running his hand down the side of her face. "He's dead and there is nothing any of us can do about it…We just have to move on and make the most of what we have and…" He trailed off rubbing his hand gently across her belly, "We have so very much to be thankful for."
"I know its just I don't have anything to remember him by, I was such a fool at the time I thought it was the right thing but I burnt every last thing I made for him and now there is nothing left…I don't even have a grave I can visit!"
"We don't need any of that!" Walter whispered soothingly. "We know in our hearts how much he was wanted, how much we would have adored him, and just cause you've chosen to move on does not mean you've forgotten about him."
"I know I just wish…"
"If wishes were horses?" Jarvis cut in cryptically pulling her close and brushing the hair from her face. "Now please try and sleep, tomorrow we'll try and think of someway to honour his memory but for now you and the little one need to rest."
"You'll stay with me?" Flora whispered nuzzling her head into his shoulder.
Smiling Walter planted a lingering kiss on her forehead. "It'll take more than a few nightmares and tears to get rid of me."
"You won't ever get bored of me will you Walter?" Flora mumbled softly allowing the gently thump of his heartbeat to lull her to sleep and so missing his whispered. "Not in a thousand years my love."
The next morning had been an early breakfast call for the household. Lord Hamilton-Hussey was to travel to Bristol for a day's business and to pick up some other 'nick-nacks', as he said most mysteriously to a vaguely interested and extremely hung-over Lord Julian, while the Earl was to take an early-morning ride in the haze sunshine before it became 'so bloody hot' one could 'fry an egg' on His Lordship's forehead. Lady Mary had been up half the night wandering, including an unfortunate detour into Lord Farquarson's bedchamber and attempting to climb into bed with him, so Mrs Diggins decided it best to take her Lady straight to the morning room at a slightly later hour so she could eat separately from the rest of the house for fear of inducing a fatal acute myocardial infarction in poor old Cecil. Lady Rebecca made it down for breakfast for the first time since her delivery, one again donning her mourning dress, and ate only the smallest morsels of toast and fruit. She shot the odd sad glance at a worried under-butler who fussed around her so much he might have given the game away if Lord Farquarson hadn't been too busy coughing and complaining to care to notice.
However, it was not long after breakfast was over for the less batty aristocrats that Adams found himself in Jarvis' pantry, awaiting a dressing down for his carelessness with the port and the usual Jarvis pull-yourself-together chat which he had become accustomed to from him over the past year or so. It amazed him how time had flown so fast, it hardly seemed a few months since he first arrived, a smug look on his face as he told George and Will they were to lose pay for a month for fighting. He remembered the sheer horror on Will's face when he realised he had been usurped in his quest for promotion and even now Adams couldn't help a wry smile. Even in middle age Adams found he still had had a lot to learn when he first arrived, he had no idea about Lizzie and the joys fatherhood could bring, he thought it was over for him and Rebecca and she was bound to find someone rich and handsome and well, certainly not of the 'other persuasion', but although he felt his prospects for butler were dwindling with his age her obvious love for him gave him the confidence and peace of mind no job could ever give him.
"Ah, there you are Andrew." Jarvis smiled as he marched into his pantry, closing the door behind him. It took Adams by complete surprise to see the butler so - jovial. As far as Adams could tell it wasn't his usual nature, especially when he was building up to giving someone a good telling-off, but Jarvis continued to sport a genuine smile as he placed his book of figures on his desk and fixed his glasses behind his ears.
"Sir?" Adams asked, slightly confused.
"I've just seen your sister." Jarvis beamed, opening the book at the correct page and fishing around in a drawer for his quill. "She's a lovely lady isn't she? Always willing to help. I was wrong about her, and for that I apologise. She is most professional and she certainly seems to have a way with the gentlemen."
"Well...thank you, sir." Adams nodded in mild unease, not quite sure what his superior meant but not really wanting to delve much further. "You seem very, well, full of the joys of summer sir."
"Indeed I am, Andrew, indeed I am." Jarvis glanced over the rims of his spectacles and placed his quill in the spine of his book. "That new lad, Charlie, he's already beginning to prove himself, he's got an excellent command of English, his grammar is always impeccable and understands, unlike some, when to appropriately use 'were' and 'was' in a sentence. Mrs Diggins finds him most charming, she's even let him serve Lady Mary her breakfast, and I have just observed him helping my wife folding blankets in his morning break. Yes he is most astute and has promised to bring Flora cups of tea in between his duties."
"Yes he seems most competent, sir." Adams offered, aware that Jarvis hadn't actually asked him his opinion but stating it none-the-less. "It's good to have a hard worker around here for a change."
Jarvis cocked an eyebrow at Adams and pursed his lips, considering him for a moment before breathing "Indeed. I expect he will make an excellent under-butler one day."
"Let him get to first footman first, sir!" Adams added a little too readily, causing the butler to prickle and his to eyes cloud over.
"We shall see, although Mr Forest is hardly ready to be under-butler. He still has all the maturity of in, Mr Matkin!" Jarvis frowned as he spotted Fred loitering outside his office having pushed the door open a crack. Fred peered round and gave an apologetic nod.
"Sorry to interrupt Mr Jarvis but could I have a quick word? Out here?" He asked in a cautious whisper, thumbing an envelope and looking slightly nervous.
Jarvis sighed, muttering 'very well' under his breath and following Fred out of the door to Adams could see them through the window but not hear a word. He saw Fred talking in a highly serious manner to the butler, handing him the letter and glancing through the glass at Adams as he spoke. Adams tried to lip-read but it was no good, but the look on Jarvis' face as the good humour fell away from it told him it had to be bad news. With a final word to Fred the butler carried the still unopened letter into his pantry and shut the door as Adams watched him in alarm. Jarvis didn't speak, he didn't even acknowledge Adams was still standing there, instead he pulled his letter opener out of his draw and sliced into the envelope as if it had offended him and unfolded the letter inside. It felt an age to Adams as Jarvis scanned the neatly handwritten lines carefully, the only tell-tale sign that he was reading something distasteful were his furrowed eyebrows and the thin, straight line of his tightly pressed lips. He flipped the page over, lowering the letter and slowly removing his spectacles in deep thought.
"I think you'd better read this." He said sternly, handing Adams the letter which he accepted in trepidation. After he had read the letter once he read it again, then again, his face contorted in such a manner that Will might have said he looked as if his tart had died of syphilis.
"This is madness." Adams finally spoke, his throat suddenly dry. Jarvis didn't reply. "This is….what does he mean! 'Mr Adams has been sniffing around my daughter's bedchamber in such a manner I cannot contemplate leaving her alone'! 'If you, Mr Jarvis, are not prepared to take serious consideration of your under-butler's position if he continues to act in an unbecoming manner then I must consider a course of action which may not be to your liking'!" Adams pulled his eyes away from the letter and stared in horror at the butler who had snatched up his jacket from his chair and paced over to the window. For a long moment neither man spoke, Adams waiting for some sort of helpful response which could sort out this whole sorry mess, but when Jarvis turned to look at him his gaze was distant and hard. He knew what he had to say.
"Mr Adams, Lord Farquarson has lodged a formal complaint against you." Jarvis began slowly. "He says that he's not spoken to His Lordship about this matter, but I'm surprised it's taken him this long to notice something wasn't quite…right. You do realise what this means, don't you?"
"But sir!" Adams pleaded, his voice quiet yet desperate and his fearful eyes wide. "We're being as careful as we can, it's not been easy lately, what with little Hugo and Archie…."
"Mr Adams." Jarvis interrupted firmly, cutting him off as if he knew exactly how he was about to plead his case. "I will consider this more after I have spoken to Lord Farquarson, but you know what I'm going to say don't you? You have to stop seeing her. It's over. There's not even a choice, it's not her or your job, it's a case of your job or nothing."
"But sir, I can't….."
"Don't make me have to dismiss you, Mr Adams!"
"He has no right to do this!" Adams growled, prowling up and down the office as his fists clenched. "She is a grown woman, why can't he accept that!"
"He has every right to do this, he thinks he is protecting his daughter." Jarvis tried to reason firmly as he stepped towards the door and reached out to the handle.
"Pah! Protecting her, he's protecting himself more like, and his bloody reputation!" Adams fumed, but the butler let go of the handle and stormed up to him so close that a mere whisper could be heard.
"Watch what you say, Andrew." He warned with a heavy tone. "You must remember your place!"
"But my son…."
Jarvis' expression turned more severe, but Adams was sure he could detect a hidden sympathy. Still the butler's words were harsh and cut through him like one of Felix's meat cleavers. "You must stop referring to him as your son, he is Lord Hugo, heir to the Lochberne estate and the legitimate son of the deceased Laird. It's for his own good as well as yours, you wouldn't wish anybody to know the truth would you? Anyone who could renounce his title!"
Adams stood helplessly as Jarvis opened the door a crack, turning back to his subordinate.
"Mr Jarvis sir, I love him. I love Rebecca." Adams confessed, his eyes brimming with tears just as they had done when he thought Rebecca might die. "They are my family, I can't live without them. How would you feel if someone stopped you from seeing Flora and your child! If social protocol prevented it! Please don't make me do this!"
Jarvis paused, as if considering his point, but his fierce expression didn't soften. "I've been tolerant of your liaison up to now and I don't wish to loose you, you're a good under-butler and after a few hiccups at first I think you fit in well here. Don't ruin your career. End it, Mr Adams. Now I'd better go and see Lord Farquarson to put his mind at rest."
Adams opened his mouth to speak but Jarvis was already out of the office and marching down the corridor, his good mood well and truly spoiled as he shouted at any servant who dared to cross his path, leaving them reeling in his wake. In his fury at the hopelessness of the situation Adams kicked the wall hard, but only succeeded in stubbing his toe on the unforgiving brickwork. He yelped in pain, his ears ringing so loudly with anger he barely heard the shouting and crashing coming from the kitchen as he hopped out of the pantry in the hopes of finding some poor wretch on whom he could take it all out on.
In the kitchen, all hell was about to break loose at the hands of Chef as he loomed over a helpless kitchen maid who was shaking as she clutched a tray of untouched poached eggs and toast. Felix was eyeing the tray furiously, his complexion reddening as she began to positively cower under the weight of his stare, and the rest of the staff had stopped busying themselves and were whispering amongst themselves, Felix far to preoccupied to notice.
"Betty, Betty, Betty," He began calmly, the maid blinking in panic, but his reassuring tone quickly turned to an all-out yell. "WHY ARE YOU BRINGING ME BACK A FULL TRAY! AGAIN!"
"She...Lady Mary...she didn't want it Chef, she rang down for it to be collected..."
"But this is just how she likes it, she's ALWAYS had it this way! Why does she make such a fool out of Felix Kraus!" Felix ranted, scooping up the plate of eggs and throwing it across the kitchen so it clattered into one of his finest copper pans and caused poor Betty to yelp in fright. Egg splattered up the walls but not one member of the kitchen staff moved a muscle as the chef prowled around the table.
"Time and time again I wonder what I did to deserve such ungrateful masters, I am wasted at this intolerable place, WASTED! I put up with insolence with a smile on my face and why do I do it! WHY! Am I not the greatest Chef in Europe! AM I NOT!"
"Yes, chef." Came the monotonous reply from his staff, some of whom rolled their eyes. They had seen – and heard - it all many times before.
Betty stepped timidly forward, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke in a mouse-like whisper "Lady Mary says she wants s...scrambled eggs, Chef. W...with pepper in them. And she wants Mr Simpkins to take them in person...she thinks her food is b...being p...poisoned, Chef."
Felix swung round dramatically and took large, threatening strides towards Betty, his eyes popping wildly. He snatched a ladle off its hook and brought it down firmly and soundly on the nearest surface, the deafening crash reverberating around the entire servants quarters.
"She is crazy! Poisoned! By whom, may I ask, the Ghoul of Christmas Past!"
"Ghost, Chef. It's the Ghost of Christmas Past." Came a lone, small voice from by the stove. Everyone parted and stared at the young girl as if she had corrected the Earl himself, but Betty looked relieved as Felix turned his attention away from her and towards her regretful colleague.
"Ghoul, ghost, spook, I do not give a damn, Miss Walker, I was making a point! And who told you you could read books! If you did less reading and more cooking then maybe you would be worth your pittance of a wage!"
The maid's eyes brimmed with tears and she turned away to busy herself with a carrot, muttering a timid "Yes, Chef".
"Well!" Felix screeched in Betty's face as she placed the tray on the table and took a tentative step backwards. He smacked the ladle repeatedly into the palm of his hand as if ready to swing it at the next outspoken subordinate.
"Who the hell does she think is poisoning her! Does she not know in her madness that it is I who oversees everything that goes up to that ungrateful bunch!"
"T…that's just it, Chef," Betty gulped, her wide eyes darting from Felix to her startled colleagues and back again. "She thinks you are trying to poison her, I heard her saying to Mrs Diggins that she thinks you murdered her deceased husband by pouring laudanum into his leek and potato soup, it was his last meal she said….."
With a sudden roar or fury Felix picked up an unfortunately placed jelly mould, the contents of which were about to be placed in the Pastry to set, and hurled it in the same direction the eggs had flown in moments earlier, followed by a bag of cabbages which caught poor Miss Walker square on her apron and caused her to cry on the spot.
"Mr Kraus!" A strong, female voice came from by the door as Felix brought his ladle down square in the middle of a trifle, the cream and custard splattering out from the bowl with such propulsion it sprayed the surrounding area and any kitchen maid it came across.
"MR KRAUS!" The housekeeper raised her voice even further, bravely stepping into the fray and scooping the trifle off the table before he could do any more damage to the defenceless desert. "Can't you have a bad day without wantonly destroying your own hard work!"
"Lovely Lady Bourne has decided I am trying to kill her, Mrs Corey!" Kraus announced, throwing his arms into the air in dramatic gesture. "She has accused me - me ! - of killing her husband, EVEN THOUGH I was not even employed here at the time of his death! Now she wishes Mr Simpkins to cook for her, no I am no longer good enough, in fact I am even dangerous ! It is ludicrous that Felix Kraus should subject himself to such – such idiocy!"
Flora opened her mouth, floundering for the right words until all she could mutter, aware of staff eyes and ears,
"But Lady Bourne doesn't understand what she is saying most of the time, Felix, she has not been herself for quite some time. You could still cook, she wouldn't know the difference, she'll have forgotten by dinner time she even said such a thing….."
"Well if she wishes Mr Simpkins to cook for her, then she is welcome to him!" Felix shouted, drowning Flora out so her mouth snapped shut instantly as Mr Simpkins' round frame appeared from the Pastry. "And you think, Mrs Corey, nobody could tell the difference between myself and Mr Simpkins!"
"Well, no, I er meant you could……"
"If you think that she cannot tell the difference then watch me make scrambled egg a la Mr Simpkins!" Felix barged past an incredibly startled and slightly dizzy housekeeper, snatching two eggs from a plate on the table and throwing them into an empty bowl so they fragmented instantly, yolk and egg white mixing with broken shell. The kitchen staff, including the red-faced cook, looked on in utter shock as the chef built himself up into a raging frenzy as he sloshed far too much milk into the bowl with the eggs then added so much pepper it wasn't just the shell that made the mixture inedible.
"Well what should we add now, Mrs Corey!" Felix asked a trembling Flora, but when no answer was forthcoming, apart from an alarmed squeak, the chef gathered anything he could come across, including preserves and onion skins and started to add random ingredients to the revolting-looking mishmash of foods. "I know, Mr Simpkins is partial to jam, so we'll add some of that – you'd probably like this, Flora, considering the cravings you've been having lately – now what should I add! Oh I know, how about some beetroot and a cauliflower!"
"Mr Kraus, you're wasting food again, please stop!" Flora begged him, grabbing onto his arm, but the chef shook her off furiously so she stumbled backwards and jabbed her lower back against one of the wooden work surfaces.
To her shock he didn't even seem to notice he had done it, or that she was in pain, he was far too preoccupied yelling at poor Betty to fetch him a whisk. Flora's eyes brimmed with tears as she rubbed her back – she would normally have been able to deal with Felix, calm him when he got into one of his terribly foreign rages, but this time it wasn't working and he hardly seemed to care he was upsetting her in front of his entire staff. She had hoped Walter would have come running on hearing Felix, there was no way he could not have been partial to some of the ranting, but she knew he always liked to stay well away from him when he was like this and she couldn't really blame him.
Flora felt herself being overcome with emotion all of a sudden, it quickly built up in her like a torrent and overflowed into a silent sob, shocking her with its intensity. The tears flowed readily down her cheeks, but as she turned to leave Charlie Lewis appeared in the doorway, his blue eyes narrow as they watched Felix thoughtfully. He wasn't used to such uncontrolled emotions in a man, it made the chef look foolish and unprofessional in front of the very people he was supposed to be setting an example to and this made Charlie snort with displeasure. His calculated gaze shifted to a very relieved-looking housekeeper and he smiled warmly.
"Ah, Mrs Corey, I was on my way to fetch you some tea and cake before door duty, Mr Jarvis gave me strict instructions to make sure you are resting regularly." Charlie said reassuringly as Felix swung round to glare, whisk in hand and jam, flour, egg and goodness knows what else glued to his white coat and face.
"Mrs Corey I apologise, but what in God's name is a footman doing in my kitchen! Lady Bourne has already sent back one dish you took her, now get out – OUT!" Felix jabbed the dripping whisk accusingly at Charlie, but the new footman stepped valiantly in front of Flora as if she needed protecting from the crazed madman the Earl employed to cook his meals.
"I have come for tea and cake for Mrs Corey, Mr Kraus, so will you allow me to carry out the duty Mr Jarvis instructed me with or shall I fetch him so he can confirm it?" Charlie asked, a cocky edge to his tone but one which was masked with an air of professionalism.
Felix sighed, his teeth gritted as he eyed the handsome young man stood before him, Flora peering from around his shoulder. "Very well." He muttered, his anger quite obviously subsiding as he dropped the whisk into the bowl and stepped back. His staff knew well enough to get on with their work once their boss had got to a state where there was no calming him, heads just glancing over shoulders in the long wait for him to get whatever it was out of his system, but nevertheless Mr Simpkins remained watchful from a distance as Charlie collected the cake and tea and lead a weary housekeeper from the kitchen back to her room.
Cut to the Footman's dressing room where its that time of day again, the powdering of the girlie, itchy and thoroughly pointless white prissy wigs that were, if you can believe it, even more irritating in the July heat. It was a rather depleted gathering at the moment with only two of the Earl's four footmen present, however that was before an unusually late Joe nipped in the door, closing it behind him straight away.
'And what time dya call this?' Will asked in his authoritative, first footman tone.
'Shhhh!' Jo scolded as he pressed his ear up against the wall.
'Don't tell me to bloody sush!' Will started
'Ah never mind him Will, he's just been calming himself down after dreaming of his lady love again!' Fred chirped up with a self-satisfied smile creeping across his face.
'No I bloody haven't, just be quite will you?'
'Oooooh, sorry mate.' Fred began apologetically. Before turning to his partner in crime and muttering 'touched a nerve there methinks!'
'What are you doing?' Will questioned rising from his seat, walking towards the door which Jo was straining to listen at.
'Shhh!' he repeated, silently gesturing to Will to join him. On doing so, they could hear footsteps outside the door. They were very different, one the unmistakable click of the housekeepers heels, the sound they had over the years learned to take as a warning, the other was more cushioned, more subtle but still just about audible as they passed directly outside the door.
Knowing both the identities, having seen them on the way in, Jo thought allowed 'Whats his game?'
'Who's game?' the two others hissed in unison.
'That Charlie!'
'Whats the little brown noser up to now?' Will grumbled
'Making a good impression on Mrs Corey but the sounds of it' Fred replied after the sound of the Housekeepers giggle floated up the corridor and in through the keyhole.
'The little…!' Will trailed off, straining even further now their mumbles were getting fainter and fainter.
A few seconds later, with all three footmen now pressed up against the solid oak door, Jo gently pressed on the handle, though a little warning wouldn't have gone a miss as he couldn't support their weight, the door swinging forcibly open, the other two ending up sprawled on the cold slate floor.
'Nice one mate!' Will hissed heaving muscle man Fred off of him as he looked down the corridor to see Mrs Corey pointing out where they kept the boot polish, the new boy standing most enthusiastically next to her, holding what appeared to be a tea tray.
'What the hell did you do that for?' the other scolded as he got to his feet, brushing himself down, before offering his hand to Will.
Despite the fact that both had tried to keep their voices down, it was too late, they'd been overheard, a fact they discovered as they attempted - as subtly any of the three of the could – to pile back into the room without being seen, but Jo wasn't quick enough closing the door behind them, leaving himself a sitting duck.
'Mr James!' the shrill of Mrs Corey's voice rang out, reverberating against the narrow corridor walls, echoing between their ears.
'Yes Mrs Corey' he answered tentatively, wincing slightly as he shot a worried look at his accomplices who were retreating further into the room. He wished he could have joined them, but at the moment, it was if his hand was super glued to the handle, he found himself unable to move, as the housekeeper left her companion to stalk back down the passageway, her eagle-eyed stare boring into the back of his head - she was so much more intimidating than her husband when she got going.
'Would you be so kind as to let me in on whatever it is you fine gentlemen …' she rose her voice before pausing, folding her arms, raising her eyebrows, glancing to her right and nodding at the wall separating the corridor from the room in which Fred and Will were hiding, 'think your getting up to?'
'We were just … just…' he babbled into her most intrigued face.
'Oh I think I know what you were…' she retorted mockingly.
'Just checking for woodworm Mrs Corey!' Will cut her off, darting out into the corridor, passed Jo to inspect the door, running his hand down its side, tapping it here and there before hissing 'Werent we?' at Jo who was still going a great turn as an impressionist's dummy.
'That's right!' Fred chimed in, putting his arm round Jo's shoulder, roughing up his head with his fist as he continued 'This one reckons he heard them gnawing at the door' he lied, turning Jo's head roughly to face him 'Didn't you?'
'Uh-hu' a thoroughly dazed Jo finally admitted.
'Don't tell anyone, but we think he's scared, he's always had a thing with creepy crawlies our Jo' Fred joked, raising a small and totally unconvinced smile from the housekeeper, who scanned their three rather agitated expressions.
'Yes well' she started
'Indeed ma'm, no fears, theres nothing untoward here, I think he must of imagined it!' Will said confidently.
'I guess he must have'. She replied, her tone dripping with cynicism.
'Its what sleep deprivation can do to a guy' Fred continued, letting out a rather exaggerated and wholly contrived yawn.
'Really?' she retorted full of concern, before stepping brazenly toward them, carrying on in the same commanding tone, totally unawares as to how this was going to be received 'Well, if you boys are feeling a little weary, I can think of a few things to keep you up'
For a second there was a deathly silence, Will and Fred shooting each other a 'no way did she just say what we think she just said' glance, whilst Jo chose to stare at the floor. Flora stared into space before closing her eyes, desperately wanting to shut the world out. She had realised what she'd said the moment the words left her lips, which were – inadvertently – moving, trebling as she blinked hard and fast, her mind racing as to what she could do next, in the meantime saying the first thing she could think of, correcting herself 'Keep you busy!'
However, when this alteration made the situation no better in the slightest and no other no bright ideas or recovery quips were forthcoming, she steeled herself to look up, attempting to retain as much dignity as she could, though deep down wanting the floor to open up and swallow her.
On surveying their reaction right to left, not one met her eye. Fred was stood up straight, though half leaning against the door for support as he stared at the ceiling, hands clasped behind his back, blinking furiously as his eyes brimmed with tears, she could hear is teeth grinding together before his top set emerged to bite down firmly on his bottom lip. Jo's head still hung downward, though notably he had now – finally – let go of the door, but only to place one hand on his knee, almost doubling over in hysterics, the other clenched in a fist, and despite biting on it so hard he actually drew blood, he had so far failed to subdue his sniggers. As for Mr Forrest, his head was totally obscured by the door, which he now desperately clung to, but she could still see the tell-tale trembling of his shoulders and the bending and extending his firmly together legs, gently bouncing on the spot, as though he were in desperate need of the lavatory, his breathing nearing hyperventilation.
Behind her, totally hidden from view, Master Lewis could hardly contain his own glee, using every drop of his will power to prevent himself from rolling in the aisle with them, flipping back to his holier-than-thou countenance when eventually, holding her head up high, Flora Corey turned on her heels and marched back down the corridor, a torrent of hilarity erupting behind her.
At this she increased her pace, not before she'd heard the door slam, followed by an even greater roar of laughter after one cried 'I bet she does!… lucky Jarvis!' and another mention a 'half naked heathen'. Ignoring him when he started 'How childish…', she almost knocked Charles off his feet as she rounded the corner, feeling thoroughly humiliated, cursing herself for making yet another highly embarrassing slip of the tongue.
However if Flora had thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse then a little after lunch things some how managed to. They had only just been tucking into Felix's delicious but somewhat worse for wear trifle that couldn't have been served to their lordships when the summons came to be the Earls study in a matter of minutes; Walter had tried to persuade Flora to remain behind and let Molly accompany him but for reasons unknown to him his wife had been almost curt in her refusal. So it was half an hour later the flustered pair re-emerged, Flora shuffling a whole stack of papers over the now huge bulge of her belly still desperately trying to scribble down any last minute instructions.
"CAN YOU BELIEVE HIM?" Flora screeched as soon as they were safely back in the servants quarters.
"I know.."
"I MEAN ONE WEEK, ONE BLOODY WEEK!"
"I know Flora dea…"
"HOW THE HELL ARE WE…"
"FLORA!" Jarvis snapped, pulling his wife round to face him and knocking her fist full of papers to the floor. "I KNOW!"
"I'm sorry…But a week to plan a party on this scale, what has possessed him?"
"We will cope!" Walter replied bending down and scooping up her notes from the floor. "Now lets just calm down and think about this rationally." He added sliding his arm supportively round her back and escorting her into his office.
"Fine, rationally, first we need to sort out the setting, Indian…Well come on Walter you were there after all."
Laughing softly Jarvis guided his wife to the fireside chair. "Indeed I was! I would have suggested a silken tent on the lawn but you know how changeable the weather has been, and the last thing we need is a thunderstorm which then soaks the guests, so we'll have to decorate the ballroom, drapes from the ceiling to make it look exotic, bright colours…Then the footmen will need to be in costume…Something simple a sash perhaps, maybe even a sword at their belts…"
"I should thank our lucky stars he doesn't want exotic dancers!" Flora scoffed, adding to her already scribbled notes.
"Indeed but he does want Mrs Stanwick as the centrepiece!"
part
"What?" Flora stuttered glancing up suddenly from her notes.
"The Peacock!" Jarvis chuckled. "Stuffed and served as a delicacy as part of the banquet, tail feathers and all…"
"That's a shame." Flora retorted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she bent over her notes trying desperately to stifle her grin.
"Indeed, his lordship will be attired as the Maharaja, fortunately he already has his outfit!"
"Care to explain?" Flora cut in, her interest piqued.
"Not at the present time." Walter retorted with a shake of his head. "There will be fifty guests with assorted servants, and twenty of whom are travelling up from London and so will need accommodation…I'm sure the East wing can be aired for the occasion, although at this time of year it will be devilly hot but then that's not our bloody problem now is it…"
"Not yours perhaps but it will be for my poor girls having to take up ice water all the time and opening and shutting the windows at their every whim."
"I am sure they will survive it."
"Yes but I am not sure this guest chef will in Felix's kitchen!" Flora retorted. "You know what he has been like since you got back and he's going to be furious when he learns he won't even be catering this party but then the Earl has forgotten the last time Felix tried to do exotic…And poisoned all the guests!" Flora added.
"That was bloody Prothero!" Walter snapped.
"Oh talking of the Devil I don't suppose you noticed who is on the guest list…" Flora trailed off.
"You are joking!" The butler gasped, tugging the list out of the housekeeper's hands and scanning it furiously before coming back up confused. "I can't see…" He began only stopping when he saw Flora's mischievous expression. "That was not a nice trick to play Flora!"
Laughing out loud the housekeeper suddenly moved a hand to rub her belly as she positively shook with laughter. "It was just too perfect I couldn't resist…Shush baby mama's just happy…"
"See even our child is reprimanding you…such a cruel trick to play on it's father….You know how much I despise that man!"
Part
"I do indeed." She added smothering her giggles as she once more returned to her list, scanning her eyes down the bizarre list of dishes the Earl had specifically requested. "That however is not as important as working out what I am supposed to order to make all of these…What on earth is a Samosa…And what would we need to make Sag Aloo?"
"Ummm well one is this pastry thing with vegetables in and the other is a potato dish…. You'd better ask Felix." Walter added finally. "That's his department."
"Oh yes and he is going to be so helpful!" Flora retorted rubbing her creased forehead in an effort to sooth the now pounding headache. "You saw what he was like at lunch all moody and testy and well if you had seen him in the kitchen this morning I don't think…I mean if Charles Lewis hadn't turned up when he did I swear I might have run out of there in tears."
"What, why didn't you say anything?" Walter asked quickly moving round the desk to pull his wife into his arms rubbing his hands up and down her back soothingly. "No one has the right to upset you!"
"Well wouldn't you have put it down to my condition and me being overly sensitive?" Flora snapped shrugging his embrace off. "It's just I'd rather not have to be in the firing line over this, we both know how he will react and I'm not sure I have the patience or the energy to try and calm him down."
"Well let Molly do it then!" Walter retorted. "You go and get a nice lye down, you'd feel the better for it."
"Trust Molly with a party?" Flora scoffed shaking her head in amusement. "You have to be kidding the most she has ever organised has been a ladies luncheon."
"Why not you've trained her?" Walter replied moving to rub the tension from her neck and shoulders. "You could supervise, just let her deal with the irritating bits like dealing with Felix and ordering the necessary supplies whilst you manage the decoration of the ballroom, all the visual elements that need to be perfect."
Part
"Well I suppose…" Flora whispered closing her eyes and relaxing against his hands. "It couldn't hurt to give her a chance to prove herself, it would keep her out of trouble and Emily could help me with the decorating…"
"See all sorted so why don't you head upstairs and try and sleep off that headache…Yes I know you have one and it's not good for the baby."
"I don't need to sleep…" Flora mumbled softly unable to stifle the yawn, which caused her husband to chuckle softly. "Fine maybe I do…It's just those nightmares well they are so real and…"
"You don't want another one?" Walter finished stroking her hair softly before pulling away and drawing his desk key from his waistcoat pocket he unlocked the top drawer, smiling briefly when his gaze fell upon a certain book that was still cluttering up his drawers.
"I don't think that would help? Unless you think I need a stimulating read before trying to get to sleep!" Flora jibed. "I can't believe Rebecca…I really should go up and see her pass on my personal thanks its just such an effort to climb all those stairs, I make it up five or so then I need to stop for a rest…Walter what's that?" Flora suddenly asked her beautiful face creased in bewilderment as her husband solemnly handed her a smooth and polished piece of pine some rough but intricate carving on the middle but it wasn't until she ran her figures across it she realised in the middle were a set of initials, WRC. At that moment her breath caught in her throat. "What…How.."
"It's from the crib…I was making one in secret the only thing I never got round to finishing was carving in the initials and then this morning when you said about the baby and how you wished you had something to remember him by well I asked one of the junior carpenters to go out to the wood shed and cut out a piece, I added the initials myself I hope you don't mind but I always thought Robert would have been a good middle name to go with Walter, after my brother…"
part
"That's what I had picked." Flora whispered, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
"What?"
"Walter Robert Corey…When you said I could pick the middle name I always knew it would be Robert, and we could have nicknamed him Robby when he was little…" She suddenly broke off unable to continue.
"Thank you." She added her voice throaty with emotion as she levered herself out of the chair clutching the small piece of wood to her breast, leaning forward and kissing her husband gently on the cheek. "Would you please take those through to Molly I think I might go have that lye down now." And with that she turned and glided out the room leaving her husband to surreptitiously wipe away the single tear that trickled down his cheek as she had kissed him.
Taking a deep breath Walter Corey gathered himself, mentally bringing down those barriers on his tumultuous emotions, that was now all in the past and he had to concentrate on the future, his future with Flora and their other child. Gathering her many papers he shuffled them into some semblance of order his eyes scanning across the many notes whilst his real thoughts returned to Dr Evans and his words of warning. This was just what they didn't need, a party to organise and more stress for Flora, meaning she'll be running around like a headless chicken interfering in everything despite her initial agreement to hand things over to Molly. He knew he had to do something, and do it quickly, but he would need help, he would need Molly Watson's help more to the point. Huffing in annoyance he stuffed the papers into his jacket pocket and stormed down the corridor pausing for a moment outside his wife's office then without even bothering to knock he pushed open the door watching as her deputy jumped up almost guiltily from her place dozing by the fireplace.
"Wakey Wakey Mrs Watson, you're going to have to be on your toes if you're going to be housekeeper here!"
"What?" Molly blurted out rubbing her eyes in confusion, she had only dropped off for a moment it was typical of that man to catch her with her guard down. "Housekeeper?"
"You heard me!" Mr Jarvis retorted closing the door firmly behind him before turning back to the frowning deputy housekeeper. "We have a party to organise, and you have a new test of your abilities…How to stay one step of your superior."
It had taken Adams all afternoon to build up the strength for the awful task ahead. How could he tell her? How could he cause her even more pain, if that were possible, than she had already been suffering? His conversation with Jarvis had been the unthinkable and although Adams had known, deep down, that his relationship with Rebecca had reached crisis point he knew that the love and devotion they had for each other would keep them strong. It had all been such a whirlwind since he arrived back from India, he had barely been able to say two words to her before she had gone into labour – both an inconvenience and perfect timing, he thought with a wry smile. But little Archie's death had been such a shock to both of them and now she would barely talk about him, nobody not even Lizzie could even breathe his name in her company and that was just how she seemed to like it.
All Adams wanted to do was scoop her into his arms and hold her, his entire world revolved around her and although he was involving himself in his work far more than he had ever done before even the mere thought of Rebecca still made him shiver with delight. Hugo was perfect, he could already tell the wee lad had his mother's determination and he was sure in time he would be just as strong-willed as her, but he couldn't bear the thought of another man bringing him up. And bloody Rufus Gannon of all people. No, Rebecca would never marry such a cad, her father couldn't force her either.
With a heavy sigh, Adams glanced at his favourite pocket watch. It always reminded him of Rebecca and he felt close to her when he held its gold casing in his palm. Quarter past ten. He approached Rebecca's room cautiously as he had done many times before and knocked lightly, a tray holding the obligatory glass of water in one hand. It was late and he wondered whether she may have fallen asleep, it wouldn't have surprised him considering how emotionally drained and exhausted she had looked at dinner, but a faint voice called out and he pushed the door open a crack and peered round.
"Rebecca, you're awake." He whispered, squinting into the dimly lit room and over to the dresser were Rebecca was sat staring into the mirror. Her freshly washed hair was down and draped neatly over her shoulders and she was dressed in a loose fitting cream nightgown, her dainty face pale and a little hollow-looking around the eyes. She looked even more fatigued than ever.
She turned and smiled softly, a genuine spark of happiness briefly lighting up her features. "Andrew, my darling." She cooed, watching as he hurriedly stepped beyond the door and quietly shut it. "I've just given Hugo his feed and now Elizabeth is with him in the nursery rocking him to sleep, she has been as good as gold helping me with him. I have hardly seen you all day, has Mr Jarvis been keeping you so very busy?"
"Oh, well yes he has, what with this wretched party next week." Adams nodded, stepping towards her. "Your usual water, m'Lady."
"For once I actually need this drink." Rebecca said gratefully, taking a sip of the cooling liquid and placing it on the dresser. Adams simply smiled, partly through pity and party through a desperate need to please her, even if that could only be under the circumstances something so simple as a basic glass of water. Rebecca visibly relaxed her shoulders as her lover began to rub them gently for her, kneading her tense muscles with his thumbs. It was the first time in over six months he had been able to stare at her for the simple pleasure of enjoying her beauty, but as he untied the top of her night gown so he could let his hands massage the bare skin of her shoulders and upper back an all too familiar feeling was quickly replaced by guilt.
"Rebecca….." Adams began, quickly pulling his hands away in an effort to control his urges.
"Kiss me." Rebecca interrupted as she stared up at him, her eyes now wide and alive, her pupils dilated through the candle light. "I know we can't do anything else, I mean I wouldn't be able to, it's still so sore. Everyone thinks I won't be having intimacies again until if I decided to remarry so I've had no advice on how long I need to wait, I shall have to see what advice Dr Evans gives Mrs Corey, if any, but I am sure it can't be for a while. Oh look I'm babbling on….but I'm still attractive to you, aren't I? Do you still want to kiss me as if we were new lovers?"
Adams simply gaped at her, blinking in surprise. How could she ever think she wasn't attractive to him?
"Rebecca," He began softly, crouching next to her, "You are without doubt the most beautiful woman in the world to me, you may look tired but at this moment in time I've never seen you look more stunning. The only reason I've not been near you, in the way you suggest, is because I didn't want to rush you into showing me any affection. Are you sure you want me to kiss you?"
A verbal reply wasn't necessary as Rebecca reached out to where he was knelt beside her and cupped his chin, leaning forward and softly capturing his lips with hers. It was such an intense moment as the lingering kiss turned into a more passionate clinch that it cast Adams right back to their first idyllic encounter in the Scottish hills, the gentle warm breeze brushing against their faces and the long grass whistling quietly around their rapidly entwining legs. They were both so consumed with their kiss that they failed to hear Lizzie enter the bedroom, flush beetroot with embarrassment then hurry out.
"Oh Andrew, I feel so…I don't know what is going to happen." Rebecca sniffed once their lips had broken apart. She brushed a rogue tear from her cheek and rested her head on Adams' shoulder as he supported her. If she had seen the look on his face, the terrible angst which flickered across it, it may have told her that all seemed lost, but instead she closed her eyes as the warmth from his body soothed her. "Please tell me everything will be alright, that we will one day be together."
Adams said nothing for a moment, he simply didn't know how to answer her. She seemed so fragile, so emotionally drained, how could he tell her that her father suspected something improper between them? That Jarvis was on the warpath and he would lose his job if he didn't end their relationship? "Shush now, my darling." Was all he could say, his voice faltering slightly. Rebecca suddenly raised her head and stared at him, her eyes pleading and sparkling with tears.
"Why won't you say it?" She demanded, but her voice was soft and vulnerable. "Andrew please, tell me we will be together, that Hugo won't be brought up without a father, or worse by a man who isn't his father?"
Adams opened his mouth, which suddenly felt dry, as he contemplated his words. No, it was no good. He couldn't say it, tell her the awful truth, he couldn't even bring himself to warn her that Lord Farquarson wanted to make a love match between her and the infamous wealthy entrepreneur Rufus Gannon. He smiled, although somehow he could tell Rebecca wasn't convinced of its reassurance. "Of course we'll be together, one day." Adams whispered quietly. He felt if he tried to speak too loudly the emotion would crack his voice and she would know for sure he was giving her false hope. Reaching up he ran his fingers through her long locks then traced the outline of her face, over her nose and across her lips. "I love you so much, my sweet, sweet Lady Rebecca. I will do anything, anything , for you and for our son, I promise you I will not give you up without a fight. Never."
Rebecca's concerned expression softened as her lips spread into a broad smile and she blinked away her tears. "Come with me." She cooed, taking his hand in hers and standing. "Come with me to the nursery, come and see our son, watch him sleep. He is so adorable, and when he sleeps he is even more adorable." She chuckled softly, as she lead him towards the door. It was then Adams realised he had to fight for her and for Hugo, he didn't care what Jarvis or even Farquarson did to him, without them his life would be over anyway, and Lizzie would have to leave with them leaving him only with his sister. He cursed himself for even considering telling Rebecca he was abandoning her, and he cursed Jarvis for his cruel ultimatum. Well, the butler would never have to know a thing, he had kept it secret from him once before, he was sure he could do it again even if a baby was now involved. Couldn't he?
A few hours later, in another part of the house….
Lying back on her bed, Molly breathed out deeply and shut her eyes, a pink flush of satisfaction across her cheeks. "That was amazing." She sighed, smiling blissfully and slipping a single cotton sheet up over her partially naked form in the warm summer evening heat of her room. She raised her head from her pillow and leant it on Monty's panting chest, running her hand across his toned stomach as he kissed her hairline and let his fingers trail across her bare shoulder.
"It is such an awful shame that we don't have much opportunity for this." Monty replied, eliciting a deep, smouldering chuckle. Molly nodded, hugging him tightly against her and breathing in his scent. It had been the third consecutive night she and her secret lover had been able to be together, and Molly was afraid she would become too accustomed to the nightly excitement she had been enjoying.
"You know I love you, don't you?" Monty asked quietly. Molly looked up and saw such an intense affection in his eyes she thought she might shed a tear, but instead she replied with a soft "of course, you don't need to say it. I love you too, I always will, no matter what happens."
Running his fingertips across her jaw line, the softness of his brown eyes hardening determinedly, Monty rolled onto his side and pulled Molly underneath him. "Listen," He whispered gently. "I'll leave her, I'll divorce her, I'll take the children…."
"Don't!" Molly protested, placing a finger on his lips. "Don't say it, when you know you can't leave her, I wouldn't expect you to, it's your duty to stay with her, she's your wife and part of your status."
Monty frowned. "I should never have married her, I don't even know why I ever did. Convenience, I suppose, her domineering father, but I've never loved her. I don't even like her. But you, my darling Molly, you are everything to me. Everything." He clasped her hand and raised her knuckles to his lips, kissing them one by one. "I should be able to take you away from all of this, to just whisk you away to somewhere, anywhere, just so we can be together without all of this secrecy. I love my country but sometimes I wonder what freedom do we all really have?"
"But you can't just whisk me away." Molly said sadly through a sorrowful smile, smoothening down Monty's ruffled locks. "I have to earn a living here while praying to the Lord that my supposedly dead husband doesn't catch up with me, God only knows what he would do to me…."
"Shhh." Monty soothed, gently kissing the tip of her nose. "I wouldn't let him come within one mile of you, I promise you. If he tried anything, I'd do everything I needed to do in order to protect you."
Molly allowed her hands to wander over Monty's broad shoulders and down his arms. "I know, but you aren't always here are you? Once you've gone back to Scotland…" On seeing the turmoil on Monty's dashing features, Molly forced a reassuring tone to her voice. "Anyway Andrew's here, he knows what Henry's like, he'd make sure he was turned away at the door with more than just a flea in his ear."
"I will be returning to Scotland." Monty sighed, resting his head on his arm and trailing his fingers down the curve of Molly's waist. "But not for very long, and I will only be returning once every few months after that."
"What do you mean?" Molly asked in confusion, noticing a small smile ripple across Monty's lips.
Monty pulled her in tightly and nuzzled the nape of her neck. "I have some news. My business in Bristol, it was to confirm my Liberal candidature for the seat of Northavon, a constituency which includes Taplows and Tappleton in its boundaries."
Molly covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide in surprise. "So you're going to finally be a Member of Parliament? And down here, too?" She gasped excitedly.
"Well, yes." Monty replied sheepishly. "That's if I'm elected. As well as staying here in order to see you, my darling, I have been courting Algie's favour, sounding him out a little on his politics. He doesn't know yet, I haven't told him, but I'm hoping to count on his support as he will carry a lot of weight. I've been after a seat for so long, and now this by-election has come up I couldn't help but try my luck."
Molly winked and raised an eyebrow quizzically. "It doesn't help that you know the Prime Minister, of course." She chuckled.
"Different parties, my dear." Monty smiled, leaning back on his hands. "Although yes he is a fellow Scot and an acquaintance, can't hurt to know your enemies. It's John Russell I want to help, I'm all for reform where it's needed."
Molly nuzzled against Monty's arm and sighed. She had a niggling feeling that he may be leading up to something else, but it wouldn't surprise her if he let her down gently, with more presents and flowers, before finally telling her what she knew to be inevitable. "When is the election?"
"It hasn't been decided yet, probably in a few weeks." Monty replied, matter-of-fact.
Molly raised her head, her eyes wide in obvious disappointment. "So soon?" She asked, her voice high.
"Well, yes." Monty muttered, sliding on top of the beautiful woman by his side. He kissed down her neck and Molly sighed as she lightly grazed her nails across his back.
Coming to her senses, Molly shook her head. "But Monty it hardly gives us any time, I mean I knew you wouldn't be here forever, but it seems too final, I…."
"Molly Watson what on earth are you talking about?" Monty laughed, kissing her lips to silence her, but his expression turned serious when he saw the look of fear in her eyes.
"You know what I'm talking about." Molly said uneasily. "Once you're elected, you know it has to end between us, you'll need Francesca by your side, you won't want me getting in the way of your ambition. And before you say it, I know just how ambitious you are, and I want you to go far. I will understand, I really will."
Shaking his head Monty sat up, the cotton sheet draping down across his waist and only just hiding his modesty. "What? No, you're talking nonsense, it hadn't even crossed my mind that we should end it."
"Really?" Molly raised her eyebrows and looked unconvinced. "You can't say you hadn't thought of it, what if you were found out to have a mistress?"
Monty smiled knowingly at her naivety, taking Molly's hands and studying her concerned expression. "Look, it's not…uncommon for a man in the political public gaze to have a mistress. These things can be, well, overlooked. A blind eye can be turned."
"And you think Francesca will just turn a blind eye if the whispers start?" Molly's voice was becoming a little highly-strung, so sensing her growing stress Monty drew her into a hug and held her tightly.
"My dear Molly, you worry far too much. I will not give you up, I don't care if Francesca turns a blind eye or not, she won't say anything, it's her reputation at stake too." Monty sighed, pulling away and stroking her fingers. He gazed at her slightly raw, chapped knuckles and turned her hands over to see some small grazes in her palms and on her fingers. "I hadn't noticed these, you have been working far too hard. Your poor, beautiful hands look cut to ribbons."
Molly blushed. "Oh, it's nothing, I've just had an awful lot to do, what with Mrs Corey being indisposed."
"I hope Mr Jarvis isn't overworking you." Monty said sincerely, lightly kissing her superficial wounds. For all his well-meaning words, Molly knew he could never understand what she did in a day, how much she had to deal with, and now with Mr Jarvis' current bout of over-protectiveness towards Flora she wondered how much she could stand before the job of housekeeper overwhelmed her.
Monty lay back on the narrow, plain bed and smiled as he studied Molly's body. "One day you won't have to do this, live in these conditions and work for others." He drew her down next to him and nuzzled her shoulder. "I will take you away from all of this. You are my shining light, my food and water, my manna from heaven."
Molly closed her eyes and let his soothing words and gentle fingers envelop her. She was a realist, she knew they couldn't go on like this forever, sooner or later the rumours would start and he would have had to do the unthinkable. Before she fled from Scotland and brutal Henry, Monty had offered her money to keep her near to him, enough to set her up with a small house near the Hamilton-Hussey estate and keep her content for the rest of her life. He had told her that they could see each other regularly, and she wouldn't have to light another fire or change another bed ever again, except for her own. She had, of course, refused. She knew she would still have hardly seen him, Francesca would have made sure of it.
Besides, Molly Watson had been a kept woman before and had hated it then. For all her current exhaustion she enjoyed working for a living, giving her day structure and surrounding herself with colleagues and friends, not sitting alone with only needlework to do all day while wondering if that night she and her Lord would lie together or not. The lack of children had given her a freedom she might not have had otherwise, although the sadness of never having conceived was crushing if she began to ponder it. But, for once, Molly didn't question Monty, content in the knowledge that he meant every word and allowing herself – just for tonight – to believe that one day his heartfelt promises of a life they would share would come true.