Chapter Sixteen
They sat on small folding stools Phillip had set up on flat ground opposite the waterfall. Water cascaded down stepped brown rocks to a river at the bottom. Green branches from trees marched up the hillock, mist from the water dampening their leaves.
Willa felt the mist on her face when the breeze came their way; a refreshing wetness that took away fatigue.
‘It is very beautiful. Do you come here often?’
‘I did when I was younger. It was a retreat.’
‘From home?’
‘From life, I think. From decisions and anxiety.’ He hesitated before adding, ‘From my mother. She was a difficult woman. A woman who had long periods of anger and melancholy.’
She saw him take in a breath and hold it, as if to calm himself before he went on.
‘She tried to kill me and Oliver twice. The second time was on the lake one late afternoon when she deliberately tipped us out of the boat in the deepest part. She had a knife and she used it when we tried to get back on the upturned hull.’
‘The scars on your arm and back?’
He nodded. ‘At other times she could be kind and almost gentle, though when she did hug us it always hurt, because she squeezed too hard.’
‘Perhaps she was trying, through her sickness, to show you she cared. I read a book once about a man who said his illness was like a fog with only small glimpses of reality showing through. I imagine in those times your mother would have been desperate to make her love known to you, like a balancing act that she could never win, because she was a prisoner in her mind and with no way out.’
His smile was beautiful as he looked at her. ‘And a sickness is not a choice?’ There was a sort of relief in his words.
‘It isn’t, and we have to be grateful that we don’t have such an affliction.’
‘I used to think that I might be just like her because I was often sad.’
‘I have yet to meet a person who wasn’t sad sometimes, Phillip.
It’s simply part of life. I spent years at Belton Park trying my hardest to smile just so that I remembered the feeling, but places form you, don’t they, and in ways that you never realise until you are gone from them?
Belton Park made me more melancholy than I wanted to be and much more guarded.
When I came to London I was lonely until I met you. ’
His glance came up at the words and for a second she felt dizzy. He was there as he had been before, a burning awareness that was enthralling, a new beginning as the disconnection between them loosened.
He had promised her courtship and he was trying to deliver it. The distance between them was getting smaller and every truth they gave to each other held the power to heal. She listened as he kept talking.
‘I learned the art of being reserved from Gretel and it was a mistake we both regretted in the end. The Perfect Match. The Union of the Season. Two people who were only meant for each other. That’s what people said all the time and we tried to believe it ourselves until…
all that was left were regrets. Hers and mine.
She was beautiful but she was also difficult, and when she died I felt guilty about not being able to make her different and about not loving her enough.
She said that in the end we didn’t love each other enough. ’
‘Only those in a marriage know what happens there. It’s what put me off the possibility of there ever being another one, though I doubt Lionel and I gave the impression of a perfect match. I sometimes wish I could do it all over again and get it right.’
‘With Lionel?’
‘No, certainly not.’ Her laughter filled the small glade, tinkling like the water, the sound like music to his ears.
Every day she was recovering a little more.
He could see it in the tone of her skin and in the humour in her eyes.
She was sleeping less lately, too, and conversations such as these took him back to the time before.
They had always been able to talk well together and laugh.
‘In the winter this waterfall is much louder and the river spills over its banks onto the farmland below, forming a marsh that is filled with insect life.’
‘I would like to see that.’
It was the first time she had allowed the hint of a future between them.
‘I hope that you will. But now I think we should eat, for I have lunch in this basket.’
‘You have been more than kind to me, Phillip.’
‘And why should I not be, Willa?’
‘Because I did not trust you enough to help me and I should have.’
‘It was not all your fault. I had my part in it, too.’
The corners of her lips turned up.
That evening he came and sat with her by her bed. She had slept for an hour or so on their return from the waterfall but now that she was awake she looked excited about something.
‘I feel so much better than I did, which is a huge relief.’
‘I’m glad.’
She put out her hand to him and he placed his on top.
‘Could you stay with me in bed tonight for a while? Not to…’ She hesitated and did not finish. ‘Just to sleep?’
‘I’d like that.’ He leant down to undo his shoes and took off his socks and jacket. Then he slipped across to lie on top of the coverlet, putting his arm out so that she snuggled up beside him, her head pressed in.
‘You smell different. There are no gardenias.’
‘I left my perfume in London and I miss it.’
‘You smell…clean.’
She giggled. ‘It’s the soap that your housekeeper plies me with.’
Her breath was warm against his neck as she spoke.
‘It feels safe here at Elmsworth. I can see why you like the manor because it is strong and beautiful and constant. I have never lived in a place that has felt this way before.’
‘Steeped in history,’ he returned. ‘Oliver and Esther sent word today that they would like to come and visit the day after tomorrow. Would you feel up to that?’
‘Yes, I would like to see them, but I wonder how they feel about me after what has happened?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry. They have had their own battles with Society and survived. Perhaps it would be good for you to hear how they did it and then we could do the same.’
‘We?’
‘I’m here with you, Willa. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.’
‘Thank you.’
He leant down and kissed the top of her head gently. Outside the stars were bright in an inky sky.
‘You must show me which is your star one day.’
‘In truth I can’t remember where it is. Lionel’s gesture was always only an empty one after all and I did not set much store by it.’
‘Then let’s choose another star and name it as our own.’
Her nod heartened him. ‘We could do that and wish on it for good fortune. Do you know, without you I think I might have given up on life altogether?’
He shook his head. ‘Given up? You? My brave warrior woman who can handle any situation with aplomb? I doubt it.’
She turned and kissed him then, on the lips with care and shyness, and his eyebrows rose.
‘Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night, in the dining room?’
‘A formal occasion? Just us?’
‘I promised you a courtship, Wilhelmina. I will not rush you into anything else.’
Not even another kiss? she wanted to say, but she stayed silent. The joy at feeling better was building inside her and for the first time in weeks and weeks she wasn’t bilious. Even the tiredness was diminishing and in its place came hope and excitement.
Phillip’s warmth beside her was welcomed and the way he ran his fingers over her bare arm in a caress was wonderful.
Together. Here at Elmsworth Manor. She never wanted to leave. She wanted to stay here forever with him, away from others, away from censure.
Yet to live well they would have to take risks and confront those who were critical of them.
But not right now, she thought next as she snuggled into him.
Now they would lie here in the quiet darkness and simply be.
She liked the way he had said he was not going anywhere, the protection of his family home and land all around them, and their little one growing inside her each day.
Willa dressed with care for dinner the next evening, in a simple gown that she had found in the Hastings marketplace before she had gone to Winchelsea.
She styled her hair herself, rolling it softly into a loose bun and securing it with very few pins.
When the clock in the corner beat out the time of half-past seven she took the flowered cotton frock from its hanger and pulled it over her head, securing the many small buttons and straightening the neckline.
Stretching the fabric of the skirt back against her stomach, she enjoyed the slight roundness before she let the fabric go.
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked bright, the sick, wan woman gone and replaced by one who was blooming and radiant and happy.
She would tell Phillip about the baby this very evening but she would do it properly. She would tell him that she loved him first and had done so since the first moment of meeting him. She would hide nothing. He had always stressed the importance of honesty and so she would give that to him.
A quarter of an hour later there was a knock on the door, and when she opened it Phillip Moreland stood there.
He wore cream breeches and a burgundy jacket under which he had donned a white shirt and neck cloth. His hair was slightly wet, slicked back into its unusual length, unbound today and inclined to curl.
He was beautiful. And unfamiliar. A suitor whom she would never have expected to have, a man who was incomparable, the weight of Society and tradition gathered in his footsteps.
‘You look impossibly like an earl of the realm, my lord.’
He laughed at that and took her hand. ‘And you look breathtakingly enchanting.’ He reached into one of his pockets and brought out a small decorated bottle.
‘This is for you.’
‘Perfume with gardenias.’ She clapped her hands.
‘I had one of my men ride across to Winchester today and source it for you because you said that you missed the fragrance.’
‘It is a perfect gift,’ she said as she unstoppered the bottle to dab the oil on her wrists and neck, holding out her arm for him to smell.