The Downstairs Maid Page 33

  He turned and walked away, leaving Emily staring after him. The pain swathed through her. She wanted to call him back, to say that she would lunch with him at the small hotel, but the words stuck in her throat. If she did that her resolve would crumble – and she couldn’t let Christopher down now. Besides, she didn’t want a dirty little affair.

  She mustn’t even think of Nicolas. The church was booked and Sir Arthur had told them they could have a reception in his annexe. Not that there would be many guests, because Christopher had invited only his family and she had asked just Mrs Hattersley and Miss Lizzie. She hadn’t even considered asking her mother, though she couldn’t help thinking that she would have liked Jack to be at her wedding.

  Every time she visited Ely she thought about her brother and wondered if he was well. It was nearly a year since she’d seen him and he must be walking by now – and talking properly … unless he was still very backward? The thought of her young brother made her throat catch, but she couldn’t go to see him … she couldn’t risk seeing her uncle.

  For a moment she felt so alone. If only her father hadn’t died … if he’d been alive she could have gone home sometimes. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for herself or regret the things she couldn’t have. She must just make the most of her life.

  Holding on to her tears as best she could, Emily walked round to the cattle market. The sale would be starting soon and she’d seen a box with an assortment of glass. If it went cheap she would buy it, because wrapped in tissue right at the bottom was a Georgian glass with a spiral stem. The rest of the things were moulded glass, which she could use in the cottage, but the glass was worth something – and if she persuaded Christopher to open the shop again, it would become a part of their stock.

  ‘Did you have a good morning?’ Christopher asked as she struggled in with all her parcels and the box of glass. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you’d run off.’ He smiled as he spoke and she laughed, liking it that he could tease her sometimes. Theirs was a difficult situation, but just now and then she felt the old friendship, the warmth that had been theirs when he worked for her father.

  ‘I wanted this box from the auction, but they were ages getting to it,’ Emily said. ‘Most of it is just bits and pieces for the house, but there’s a lovely air twist glass.’

  ‘Is it perfect?’

  ‘Yes. I wouldn’t have bought it otherwise.’

  ‘You’ve got more business sense than Joe,’ Christopher said. He looked at her for a moment, then, ‘I’ve been told your pa’s old shop is for rent – ten bob a week. I was wondering …’

  ‘Were you thinking we could run it together?’ Emily asked, her face lighting up. ‘I’ve got the landlord’s telephone number here in my pocket. The Post Office let people use their phone for a small fee. If we dealt in small pretty things that didn’t need repairs you could manage it … couldn’t you?’

  ‘I thought we might have a go,’ Christopher said and looked more animated than she’d seen him since before the war. ‘We could put out some leaflets, Em – and borrow a cart once a week. You’ve got a good eye for stuff and I think I should still be able to sell things – even if this is useless.’ He held up his clawlike hand with a rueful smile.

  Emily felt the relief sweep over her. She’d thought he might never smile again. Moving towards him, she put her arms about his waist, lifted her head and kissed him, softly, on the lips until he put his right arm about her and pulled her in close. Their kiss deepened and when he let her go, she nestled her head against him, just standing there, feeling happy that at last he’d thrown off the mood of depression that had come with him from the hospital.

  ‘You’re feeling better,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad.’

  He looked down at her, an enquiring smile in his eyes. ‘You are happy, aren’t you? No regrets – only if you have, tell me now. My mother was here this morning, on about the wedding and how lucky I am to have you, Emily. If it isn’t what you want say something, because …’

  She reached up to kiss him again. He sighed and touched her face.

  ‘You’re so lovely and I know what I look like. I’ll always need help, even though I managed the stairs while you were gone. It isn’t much of a life for you, Emily.’

  ‘I think I should find it hard living here with nothing else to do, because I’ve always been busy – but if we have the shop to plan for it will give us both something to keep us occupied.’

  If they could have their own small business they could make some sort of a life for themselves. Christopher needed something to occupy his mind, and she would feel better if he were more like his old self.

  ‘Show me that glass …’ Christopher looked eager as she went to take it from the box, unwrapping it carefully to show him. The tall slender glass had a tiny fluted bowl at the top and a stem with a white spiral running all through. Christopher turned it over and looked at the rough pontil mark on the bottom. ‘That’s where they break it off when they’ve finished blowing it … it’s old, Emily, and perfect, just as you said.’ He set it down on the table carefully and she carried it to the dresser, putting it at the back of the shelf so that it would be safe. ‘I’ve got a box of bits in the attic at home. Nothing as good as this, but pretty things I was saving for you. I reckon we could have the shop open by September, don’t you?’

  ‘After the wedding,’ Emily agreed. ‘It will be fun, Christopher. We’ll share the workload and in time – when we have a family – you’ll be strong enough to look after it yourself.’

  His smile dimmed. ‘I’m not sure we’ll have a family, Emily …’

  Emily felt the disappointment hit her, though she struggled not to show it. She’d always hoped to have at least three children of her own, but she couldn’t let Christopher see her distress.

  ‘Well, we’ll make a go of the shop then,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I can find enough to keep me busy …’

  As she unpacked the rest of her shopping she was fighting the selfish tears. Christopher had lost so much. She mustn’t weep just because another of her dreams had crashed in flames.

  ‘I’ll be out in the garden if you need me, love.’

  Emily nodded but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. The empty years seemed to stretch ahead of her. She’d hoped children would provide a direction and purpose to her life, but if Christopher couldn’t give her children … just what kind of a marriage would it be?

  Yet she had to make the best of it. She wasn’t going to give in to regret or disappointment. Somehow she would make a good life for them both.

  ‘I hope you will be very happy, Emily,’ Miss Lizzie said and kissed her cheek. ‘I hope you didn’t mind my bringing Nicolas? He wanted to come and you said you hadn’t got many guests of your own.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Emily said, putting on a smile despite the way her heart lurched at the sight of Nicolas in his uniform. His eyes seemed to dwell on her and he wasn’t smiling. She felt he was angry with her – angry because she’d chosen duty above love. Yet he must know that she couldn’t have married him even if she hadn’t felt Christopher needed her. ‘It is just a buffet and Mrs Johnson has provided far more than we shall need.’

  ‘We hope you will like our present,’ Miss Lizzie said. ‘It’s a set of Coalport china – tea and coffee service. I wasn’t sure but Nicolas thought you would like it.’

  ‘It is perfect but far too expensive. I shall keep it for best,’ Emily said. ‘You look well – and happy?’

  ‘I’m enjoying my job at the convalescent home.’

  Miss Lizzie’s eyes were full of secrets. Emily wondered what else was making her smile but didn’t ask.

  ‘How is Miss Amy?’

  ‘Oh, she’s working with the fire service in London. She hasn’t written for weeks. Mama is cross with her, but she’s probably too busy to think about us.’

  ‘Would you rather be in London with her?’

  ‘Not now.’ Miss Lizzie’s smile was confident and content.

/>   Emily turned away to greet someone else. She was aware of Nicolas watching her all the time they were making speeches, toasting the bride and groom and cutting the cake. Emily saw the smouldering anger in his eyes and fought her tears. He probably hated her for choosing Christopher and perhaps that was best. She was Mrs Christopher Johnson now. The die was cast and there was no going back.

  ‘Alone at last,’ Christopher said as he closed the door behind him. ‘You won’t have to leave me tonight, Emily.’ He reached out to pick some confetti from her hair. ‘Have I told you how beautiful you are?’

  ‘Not for ten minutes,’ she said. ‘I’m feeling quite deprived …’ She gave a gurgle of laughter as he reached out to draw her close, his mouth eager as he kissed her deeply. Emily opened to him and leaned into his body, wanting it to be right. If they were going to make a success of their marriage she must never draw back, never allow Christopher to know that she longed for another man’s arms.

  ‘I love you, Mrs Johnson.’

  ‘Me too,’ she said because it was too hard to say ‘I love you’.

  ‘Sir Arthur sent this over for us.’ Christopher showed her the bottle of wine on the table. He’d set it on a tray with two pretty glasses that had been a part of the gift. The corkscrew was lying there waiting. He picked it up, then frowned and handed it to Emily. She accepted it from him, drove the metal spiral into the cork and then pulled. It came out with a little pop, making them both laugh. Emily poured the wine and gave Christopher his glass. He drank all the wine and then poured himself another. ‘Why don’t you go up now, Emily?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll come in a while.’

  ‘Yes, it won’t take me long to get ready.’

  Emily felt warmed by his consideration. He was giving her time to get undressed and into bed.

  She walked up the stairs and took off her pretty dress, hanging it up before standing in front of the chest and her dressing mirror. She slipped off her petticoat and pulled on a nightgown, then started to brush her hair. Dabbing a little rose perfume behind her ears, she got into bed and sat up against the pillows waiting.

  Time passed and Christopher did not come. Emily started to feel sleepy but was determined to keep awake. At last she heard the sound of Christopher’s halting steps on the stairs and took a deep breath. She looked towards the door with a smile, which was wiped away as she saw the way he lurched across to the bed. He must have been drinking all this time.

  Christopher turned the oil lamp down low, and then pulled his shirt up over his head. It was a way he’d developed of getting out of it without asking for help, though he still couldn’t do the buttons up himself. When he turned back the covers and got in beside Emily, she braced herself. Christopher had clearly needed the wine to give him courage, and she was feeling in need of some herself, but when he turned to her, reaching out for her, she moved closer, pushing herself against him as he started to kiss her.

  ‘You’re so lovely, Emily,’ he said, his voice a little slurred. His right hand moved to caress first one breast and then the other. He kissed the little hollow at her throat and then down to her navel. Lifting her nightgown, his hand moved between her legs. He stroked and touched her for a few minutes, his breathing heavy. ‘I love you so much …’

  Emily responded when he kissed her. She lay still and let Christopher stroke her as he would, feeling the moisture between her thighs. She wasn’t quite sure what ought to happen next, though being a farm girl she had a good idea of how mating in animals took place and her intelligence told her what to expect. Yet although she felt pleasure from her husband’s kisses and the touch of his hand, after a while he gave a little moan and moved away.

  ‘It isn’t going to happen,’ he said. ‘I thought … hoped it might because I want it to so much. I’m sorry, Emily. I can’t make love to you.’

  ‘You have made me feel nice …’

  ‘You know what I mean. I can’t do it … I can’t have sex. I can’t make babies with you.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s just too soon.’

  ‘I was told it might be like this … that I might never be able to make love. I’m sorry, Em. I shouldn’t have married you.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said softly. ‘Perhaps you had too much wine.’

  Christopher didn’t answer. She thought he might have fallen asleep. Pity and sadness for his disappointment swelled through her, but she wouldn’t let it overwhelm her. She wouldn’t give way to self-pity. Even if they never became lovers and never had children, she was determined to make something of this marriage. She would give her husband all the love she had inside her and pray it was enough …

  Chapter 38

  Amy hurried through the gloom of a wet afternoon. The London streets were greasy and dirty beneath her feet and the noise of the traffic seemed worse than usual, a tram clanging its bell in the next street. She’d been given time off that afternoon and she wanted to purchase some new underwear, because some of her things had been ruined by the service wash. They charged the earth for their special service and returned expensive silk petticoats looking like pieces of rag. Emily had always kept them perfectly, and Amy had thrown most of what she considered to be ruined away.

  Amy supposed she was spoiled. She’d always been used to luxury and these past few months in London working as a volunteer for the fire service had been a revelation. Janet had left her in the lurch three weeks after they arrived, saying she didn’t like being in London. Amy had had to engage another maid and she expected twice what Emily had earned, and wasn’t worth half. If only Emily hadn’t been so ridiculous and gone off to marry that soldier!

  Of course Amy could return home and marry Arthur. He’d written to her, telling her that he had cleared his name of all blame in the scandal over the mine. It was something to do with government leases and a misunderstanding. Amy wasn’t bothered. Arthur had suggested coming up to London to see her and she suspected that he wanted to ask her to marry him once more.

  She hadn’t replied to his letter yet, because she didn’t know if she still wanted to be his wife. He’d made her angry when he’d walked away. For a while she’d been distressed, crying into her pillows at night, but then she’d put him out of her mind and made herself a new life here in London. Her job was interesting and well within her capabilities, but she’d begun to find it a little boring. In time she would want to marry but as yet she hadn’t found a man who made her pulse race.

  Lost in her thoughts, Amy didn’t see the man in a dark overcoat emerge from a doorway just ahead of her and they collided. She dropped one of her parcels and the man picked it up, giving it back to her with a smile as their eyes met.

  ‘How odd,’ Belvane said in that soft, seductive voice of his. ‘I was thinking of calling on you this evening. Your sister gave me your address when I enquired for you at the manor some days ago.’

  ‘Belvane … I thought you were in Russia or Paris? Didn’t you tell me that’s where you were going last year?’ Amy felt the shock run through her, her breathing quickening. After they’d parted the previous year, she’d thought about him a few times, but hadn’t expected they would meet again.

  ‘I was in both places for a time – but I decided my services would be of more use here. I’ve joined the RFC. Your brother is one of our ace pilots. He was rather odd about something when we spoke. Did you tell him I was married – what I said to you?’

  ‘Yes. Nicolas threatened to thrash you for what you said – but I doubt if he could. Please do not allow him to quarrel with you. It was foolish of me to tell him.’

  ‘Did I insult you, Amy? I assure you my intention was never to harm you. I simply find you fascinating.’

  ‘I did feel angry at first, but then I stopped.’

  ‘Ah …’ He smiled. ‘It is very wet out here for conversation. Shall we have tea somewhere – or would you allow me to take you to dinner this evening?’

  ‘Dinner would be nice. I have something to do this afternoon. Will you call for me at seven?’


  ‘I should be delighted, my dear.’ He took her gloved hand and held it, air kissing the back. ‘I will delay you no longer – and look forward to what I am sure will be a charming evening.’

  ‘Take me somewhere expensive,’ Amy said, arching her fine brows. ‘I shall dress for it. Until this evening …’

  She walked on, knowing that he had turned to watch her. She was smiling, feeling that she’d held her own, and yet her heart was racing. Amy hadn’t expected him to return. He’d spoken of fighting in Russia the last time she’d heard from him. His letter some weeks after her return from London had seemed to put an end to any relationship between them, but now he was back – and she found him as fascinating as ever.

  Amy knew that she was playing with fire by accepting his invitation. He would naturally take it as a sign that she was willing to consider his proposal to become his mistress – and the terrible thing was that he would be right.

  Arthur would probably ask her to marry him if she agreed to see him, and he would give her all the things she’d hoped to have – the money, social standing and solid marriage she was entitled to expect as Lord Barton’s daughter. Yet it felt like a prison sentence. Amy wanted excitement and danger … she wanted to taste love, the kind of love she would find in the arms of a man like Belvane.

  He wouldn’t marry her because he was already married, but she could become his mistress. If she gave him what he wanted, she would make certain of the settlement he’d promised and costly jewels. What would happen when their affair ended she had no idea, though perhaps she could go abroad and live, as Great Aunt Samantha Barton had. If she were fortunate, that would be several years down the line. It would be better to live her life to the full as the mistress of the marquis than to marry a man she no longer cared for.

  Amy had enjoyed the freedom living and working in London had given her but she would also enjoy the luxuries of the high life that being Belvane’s mistress could bring. In England she would be seen as fast and a fallen woman, but in America and the European resorts patronised by the rich and famous she would be one of many who had chosen to dispense with formality.