Hugh smiled. 'We in the lower middle classes can't afford to drink spirits. Cocoa is fine.'
Cups and a jug stood on a tray, but neither of them moved to it. They stood in the middle of the room looking at each other. Maisie said: 'I read about the shooting in the afternoon paper, and came here to see if you were all right. I found the children on their own, and gave them supper. Then we waited for you.' She smiled a resigned, accepting smile that said it was up to Hugh what happened next.
Suddenly he began to tremble. He leaned on the back of a chair for support. 'It's been quite a day,' he said shakily. 'I'm feeling a little odd.'
'Perhaps you ought to sit down.'
Suddenly he was overwhelmed by love for her. Instead of sitting, he threw his arms around her. 'Hug me hard,' he pleaded.
She squeezed his waist.
'I love you, Maisie,' he said. 'I've always loved you.'
'I know,' she said.
He looked into her eyes. They were full of tears, and as he watched one tear overflowed and trickled down her face. He kissed it away.
'After all these years,' he said. 'After all these years.'
'Make love to me tonight, Hugh,' she said.
He nodded. 'And every night, from now on.'
Then he kissed her again.
EPILOGUE:
1892
FROM The Times:
DEATHS
On the 30th May, at his residence in Antibes, France, after a long illness, the EARL OF WHITEHAVEN, formerly Senior Partner of Pilasters Bank.
'Edward's dead,' Hugh said, looking up from the newspaper.
Maisie sat beside him in the railway carriage, wearing a summer dress in deep yellow with red spots and a little hat with yellow taffeta ribbons. They were on their way to Windfield School for Speech Day.
'He was a rotten swine, but his mother will miss him,' she said.
Augusta and Edward had been living together in the south of France for the past eighteen months. Despite what they had done, the syndicate paid them the same allowance as all the other Pilasters. They were both invalids: Edward had terminal syphilis and Augusta had suffered a slipped disc and spent most of her time in a wheelchair. Hugh had heard that despite her illness she had become the uncrowned queen of the English community in that part of the world: matchmaker, arbitrator of disputes, organizer of social events and promulgator of social rules.
'He loved his mother,' Hugh said.
She looked curiously at him. 'Why do you say that?'
'It's the only good thing I can think of to say about him.'
She smiled fondly and kissed his nose.
The train chugged into Windfield Station and they got out. It was the end of Toby's first year and Bertie's last year at the school. The day was warm and the sun was bright. Maisie opened her parasol--it was made of the same spotted silk as her dress--and they walked to the school.
It had changed a lot in the twenty-six years since Hugh had left. His old headmaster, Dr. Poleson, was long dead, and there was a statue of him in the quadrangle. The new head wielded the notorious cane they had always called the Striper, but he used it less frequently. The fourth-form dormitory was still in the old dairy by the stone chapel, but there was a new building with a school hall that could seat all the boys. The education was better, too: Toby and Bertie learned mathematics and geography as well as Latin and Greek.
They met Bertie outside the hall. He had been taller than Hugh for a year or two now. He was a solemn boy, hardworking and well behaved: he did not get into trouble at school the way Hugh had. He had a lot of Rabinowicz ancestry, and he reminded Hugh of Maisie's brother Dan.
He kissed his mother and shook Hugh's hand. 'There's a bit of a ruckus,' he said. 'We haven't enough copies of the school song and the lower fourth are writing it out like billy-o. I must go and whip them faster. I'll meet you after the speeches.' He hurried off. Hugh watched him fondly, thinking nostalgically how important school seemed until you left.
They met Toby next. The small boys no longer had to wear top hats and frock coats: Toby was dressed in a straw boater and a short jacket. 'Bertie says I can have tea with you in his study after speeches, if you don't mind. Is it all right?'
'Of course.' Hugh laughed.
'Thanks, Father!' Toby ran off again.
In the school hall they were surprised to meet Ben Greenbourne, looking older and rather frail. Maisie, blunt as ever, said: 'Hello, what are you doing here?'
'My grandson is head boy,' he replied gruffly. 'I've come to hear his speech.'
Hugh was startled. Bertie was not Greenbourne's grandson, and the old man knew it. Was he softening in his old age?
'Sit down by me,' Greenbourne commanded. Hugh looked at Maisie. She shrugged and sat down, and Hugh followed suit.
'I hear you two are married,' Greenbourne said.
'Last month,' Hugh said. 'My first wife didn't contest the divorce.' Nora was living with a whisky salesman and it had taken Hugh's hired detective less than a week to get proof of adultery.
'I don't approve of divorce,' Greenbourne said crisply. Then he sighed. 'But I'm too old to tell people what to do. The century is almost over. The future belongs to you. I wish you the best.'
Hugh took Maisie's hand and squeezed it.
Greenbourne addressed Maisie. 'Will you send the boy to university?'
'I can't afford it,' Maisie said. 'It's been hard paying the school fees.'
'I'd be glad to pay,' Greenbourne said.
Maisie was surprised. 'It's kind of you,' she said.
'I should have been kinder years ago,' he replied. 'I always put you down as a fortune-hunter. It was one of my mistakes. If you were only after money you wouldn't have married young Pilaster here. I was wrong about you.'
'You did me no harm,' Maisie said.
'I was too harsh, all the same. I don't have many regrets, but that's one of them.'
The schoolboys began to file into the hall, the youngest sitting on the floor at the front and the older boys on chairs.
Maisie said to Greenbourne: 'Hugh has adopted Bertie legally now.'
