CAROLINE
She’d seen the brown-uniformed group from various windows, of course, congregating by the lawn, heading in and out of the palace.
Was Angus among them?
Blood throbbed through her head every time she thought of him.
It would crush her if she saw him. She’d have to hold herself together, remember it had been a long time ago.
In any case, what difference would it make?
At best, it could be the end of the anger and hurt that had haunted her.
She could finally discover what had happened at the front that he couldn’t even get in touch, acknowledge their child.
But at its worst, it could plunge her back into the pain, the what ifs. It could defeat her once and for all.
‘Caroline Brimstone?’ Interrupting her thoughts, one of the chief telephonists stopped her. ‘I was just coming to find you.’ The woman indicated that Caroline should follow her. ‘We have a solicitor on the line for you. He says it’s important.’
‘For me?’ Caroline trailed after her into the office.
‘We don’t usually take calls for the staff here, but seeing as you’re the assistant dresser, I’m letting it go.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ she said nervously, wondering what a solicitor could want with her. Had Frank been in some kind of trouble?
Caroline picked up the receiver, hoping to have a little privacy as she said, ‘Hello, this is Caroline Brimstone.’
‘I’m Mr Hancock from Burnley, Hancock & Matthews in York.’ The man’s voice had that familiar burr of the Yorkshire accent, and for a brief moment, it reminded her of her father, of home. ‘You’ll have to excuse me for calling you at work, but we couldn’t find any other contact number for you.’
‘That’s all right,’ she said, wishing he’d get on with it. ‘What’s it concerning?’
‘I’m sorry if you hadn’t already heard, but your uncle, Mr Graham, passed away last month.’
‘Uncle Jeremy?’ It was her father’s brother.
Her heart missed a beat. ‘Was it sudden?’ She felt herself blush, quickly explaining, ‘It’s hard to keep in touch, with a husband and child, a job.
’ The truth was that she’d stopped writing, and she felt guilt trickle down her neck like a cold sweat.
They’d been such a close-knit family, especially with Uncle Jeremy. She should have found time to write.
‘It was his heart in the end, but he’d lived a good long life.
’ Mr Hancock cleared his throat. ‘I’m calling about his will.
As you know, he had no children, which makes you the only heir.
His house is being sold to release money to pay off various arrears, and once that’s cleared, I’ll send the cheque on to you. Could you let me know your address?’
Astonished, she gave him her details. ‘That’s very kind of Uncle Jeremy. Could I ask, how much is it?’ Thoughts of a trip with Annabel came to mind.
‘We won’t know the full sum until everything is cleared, but it’ll be a good amount.’
By the end of the call, she put down the receiver in a daze.
Uncle Jeremy was her last living relative, and now he’d died.
What’s more, she hadn’t even known about it.
There and then she knew that she would use some of that money to go to Yorkshire.
She’d let life with Frank engulf her for too long, and now this money, no matter how small, would be enough to pay for her and Annabel to visit her old home.
How she longed to go to that old familiar countryside, to go and never come back.
Slowly, she walked back up to the wardrobe, burying herself in the ironing, thinking about her family – her life. How the years had vanished. She was always looking to the future, hoping for a time that might be better, happier.
And that’s when the truth cascaded down onto her.
That a time like that may never come.
BY THE AFTERNOON, the inheritance had been pushed to the back of her mind. The queen had been caught in an unexpected downpour, and Caroline had been called upon to bring dry clothing with urgency. A car was already waiting for her at the servants’ door.
And there she was, dashing through the back corridors, her arms clutching the clothes, her face red from running. A formation of footmen filed past, silver salvers of afternoon tea carried aloft, and she stood to the side of them, willing them to hurry.
But there, behind them, she saw the telltale brown uniforms, the Scottish voices laughing as a small group of gardeners descended towards her.
And one of them was Angus.
As he came closer, her eyes focused in on his face, and she felt her knees give way beneath her as she leaned against the wall.
Unmistakable, his form and presence were exactly the same – more so if possible, as if maturity had made him more himself.
Frozen in panic, she almost dropped the clothes before pulling them up to cover her face as she watched them pass.
Her heart pounded.
Was he really here?
It seemed incredible. She wanted to stretch out her hand and touch him, feel his reality. Was it a mirage, a dream?
His eyes flickered over hers, but he didn’t seem to react.
Her heart plunged.
Did she look so old and unkempt that he didn’t even recognize her?
But then something in his bearing changed, and as he turned back to her, she registered the flash in his eyes, a sudden shadow over them, as if the world had shut down around him.
His forehead creased as he pulled back, telling the other men to go ahead without him.
He watched them go, and once they’d headed into the garden, the corridor suddenly empty and silent, he turned to look at her, ten or more feet away.
Her breath caught in her throat. His gaze was so intense, so complete, that she could hardly bear to meet his eyes.
Slowly, he approached her, and she felt herself step back into the wall, afraid.
Unable to look at his face, her eyes went to his hands, large and purposeful, still slightly dirty from garden work. Yet all she could do was remember the feeling of them touching her skin, holding her so close she felt cocooned, protected from everything life could ever throw her way.
Regardless of what he’d done, she couldn’t hold back a rush of reckless, unbridled desire, as fresh and fast as it had been all those years ago. Never had she felt it for anyone else, only ever for this one man who had broken her heart so completely.
As he came closer, she saw that his face was older, too. He was broader and more hardened, his dark-auburn hair pushed back from his forehead. Familiar and yet distant, his piercing green eyes searched her face.
Then he stopped. Instead of taking in her frumpy dress, her badly cropped hair, he only looked into her eyes with a rawness, a fierce recognition of what they’d had between them.
‘Caroline,’ he said, and with the sound of his voice saying her name, all the emotions of his leaving crashed through her, the fear she would never see him again, the anger of his rejection.
As she didn’t respond, he added quietly, ‘I didn’t know you’d be here.’ He reached his hand forward to touch hers, but before he did, he let it fall, taking a step back as if to control himself.
‘I didn’t think you’d come.’ Her voice came out as a whisper, fast and nervous.
‘It was a last-minute decision.’ He spoke quickly, under his breath. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you, your life.’
Keep calm! she kept telling herself.
In her mind, she’d had a speech planned in case she met him, but now, it was all she could do to breathe as the old connection pulled her towards him. She’d forgotten how it had felt, how powerful and intense, like it was ripping her heart straight out of her body.
Angus was watching her evenly, but as he took a step closer, she could see his jaw clench, hear his breath quicken. Instead of the soft suppleness of before, there was a hardened look on his face, an intensity about him that hadn’t been there all those years ago.
‘Are you all right?’ he said softly, his face tilting towards hers, at once so familiar and yet distant, as if it had come from a black-and-white movie she’d once seen, the film running to sepia as the characters vanished into the past.
Unsure how to start, she murmured, ‘Yes, well, mostly,’ which seemed completely wrong when all she wanted was to bellow, Of course not!
It felt strange to be talking in platitudes like strangers.
The people they had been had gone, and she didn’t know him any more than he could know her.
She struggled to find something to say, anything to fill that silent void that was stretching longer and longer between them. ‘Is life good for you, in Balmoral?’
‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ he replied half-heartedly. ‘I like to work on the land, and there’s a good team of men.’ He looked to the door where they’d left to go into the gardens. ‘And I get to ride the horses.’
‘I remember how much you loved horses,’ she said, thinking of the photographs of mares, the foals he’d reared, and the young stallion he’d broken. ‘Do you live there, at Balmoral?’
‘I have a cottage on the estate, close to the town. It’s not too large, but it suits me fine.’
Before she could stop herself, she asked, ‘Do you live on your own?’ She’d always imagined him married, one of those dark-haired Highland beauties, a crop of auburn-haired children – the unknown siblings of Annabel.
But he looked away, avoiding her gaze. ‘Yes. There were a few girls, but I never married. And you? I heard you were married.’
His eyes went to her hand, and she quickly buried it under the clothes. ‘Yes, it was during the war.’ Caroline could feel her heart pounding as blood rushed to her cheeks.
‘Oh.’ His tone was even, flat. ‘Any children?’
It was asked casually. Didn’t he know about Annabel?
Taking a long breath, she said steadily, ‘I have a daughter,’ and waited for the inevitable penny to drop.
And yet it didn’t. He simply asked, ‘How old is she?’ Nothing about his face or his voice indicated anything at all.