A Bitter Truth

“He does talk to his brother. I heard him only last evening, in his room, carrying on a conversation with Malcolm,” the elder Mrs. Ellis continued.

“It wasn’t Malcolm he was speaking to,” Lydia said at last, her gaze dropping from Juliana’s face and moving to Gran’s. “Henry was coming out of George’s room as I was going up.”

“Nevertheless, you know as well as I do that Malcolm’s death had turned his mind. Roger had even suggested that asking him to be here for Alan’s memorial would be too much for him.”

I’d heard that exchange. But I’d interpreted it to mean that Roger would be made uncomfortable, not George.

Lydia said, a sigh in her voice, “Gran. Thank you. But there’s no way to undo what was said here tonight. George will try to put a better face on them, and Roger will deny any knowledge of what he was saying, but the words were spoken . None of us can pretend we didn’t hear them. Or know that some sort of truth must lie behind them. The question now is, what will Roger do?”

“There couldn’t have been a child, Lydia. He’s been fighting in the trenches, for God’s sake. There are no whores in the trenches.”

“What about his wounded shoulder, Gran? He wasn’t in the trenches then. There was time . Was it a nurse who bore him a child? Or someone else?”

“Lydia, there is no child!” Gran said, nearly angry.

“I’m Roger’s wife,” she answered slowly. “I know when my husband is cold to me. I know when he isn’t eager to hold me or tell me he loves me. You’re his grandmother. It’s natural for you to feel he can do no wrong. I can’t fault you for that. But something is different. I’ve known it since the day he arrived, while Alan was so ill. I put it down then to sorrow and impending loss. But at some point-some point in his grieving, why didn’t he turn to me? And why, when I asked him for a child, did he strike me across the face? I thought it was because I’d mentioned Juliana as well. Now-now, I’m not so sure.”

“You’re overwrought,” Gran told her. “And not making any sense.”

“I’m making a great deal of sense. For the first time I see my way clearly.”

“Don’t do anything rash, Lydia. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“There’s no one else, Gran. Whatever Roger tells you, there is no one else.”

“In my day, a woman knew when to look the other way. Not that I ever had to, but I knew my duty all the same.”

“It isn’t your day and age now, is it? When we were married, Roger promised to forsake all others-”

“Don’t be naive, Lydia. A man’s needs are very different from those of a woman,” Gran snapped.

“I’m not naive,” Lydia retorted. “I’m jealous. Don’t you understand?”

“There’s no arguing with you in this mood,” the elder Mrs. Ellis said. “Perhaps you’ll come to your senses in the light of day.” With that she turned on her heel and walked past me and out of the room.

I think she’d even forgot I was there. For I caught a look of surprise in her eyes as they met mine, and then irritation before she’d closed the door behind her.

I said after a moment, “Perhaps I should go as well, Lydia. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“No, stay.”

We hadn’t heard the door open again-or perhaps Mrs. Ellis hadn’t shut it firmly. Roger’s voice startled both of us.

Standing there just inside the threshold, he said, “And I think it would be better if Miss Crawford left,” Roger said.

“No. Whatever you have to say, she remains. What child was George talking about, Roger?”

“He told you. Malcolm’s.”

“We both know he was trying to cover up his gaff. What child, Roger? You might as well tell me. It’s out in the open now, you can’t pretend it’s a secret any longer.”

“I swear to you-” He cast a look in my direction.

“Is that why you don’t want us to have a child? There’s someone else, isn’t there? Someone you met in France and love more. Why couldn’t you tell me? Just-tell me.”

He glanced up at the portrait over the mantel, as if looking for courage. “I don’t love anyone else, Lydia. I never have.”

“Then she was what? A refugee? A woman of the streets? A girl willing to sell herself for food and a place to sleep that night? Who was she?”

“Lydia, this isn’t the time or place to be having this conversation.”

“Why not? He said she was the image of Juliana. It couldn’t be Alan’s child-he’s been on a cruiser in the North Atlantic. If he’d fathered a child in some faraway port, George would never have known that she looked so much like Juliana. No, this child is the reason why you didn’t take leave to come to England when you were wounded, the reason you haven’t had leave to return to England in three years of fighting.”

“Lydia, you’re letting your imagination run away with you. There was no woman. There is no child. Miss Crawford here can tell you how impossible it is to get leave, even when you’re wounded.”

“Leave her out of this.” She was looking up at him now, such misery in her eyes that I could have wept for her. I didn’t want to be a witness to this scene. But there was nothing I could do, except watch in silence, pretending I wasn’t there after all.

Finally Lydia said tiredly, “I don’t know what to believe. In London I’d believed that you struck me because of what I’d said about Juliana. I blamed myself for using such a vile weapon to make my point. I came home to apologize and beg your forgiveness. Well, if the truth has come out finally, it’s just as well. If Bess will have me, tomorrow I’ll be returning to London with her, until I can make other arrangements. Under the circumstances, I shall expect you to give me an allowance, so that I can live at least with dignity, if not comfort.”

“You can’t leave. We have guests. Mother and Gran-”

“Our only guests are Eleanor and members of your own family. They will understand-this time-why I need to go away and not think about anything for a while, until I’m able to decide what this has done to our marriage.”

She rose, walking to the door. “What’s more,” she said, with an overtone of spite, “before I went to London the first time, you were all but accusing me of having an affair with Davis Merrit. And you made me feel guilty, when I had done nothing more than read to the poor man. And all the while, you knew what you yourself were guilty of. I think that’s the most disgusting part of all this.” Her voice finally broke on the last words, and she left, not bothering to shut the door behind her.

“Damn it,” Roger began, but it was too late, she was gone. He turned to me then, and said, “I don’t know how to reach her. It’s impossible.”

“Is it?” I prepared to leave as well. “We all heard what Lieutenant Hughes said. You can pretend he wasn’t speaking to you. He can swear that he was drunk and talking to his dead brother. But neither will satisfy your wife.”

“There is no child!” he exclaimed, angry now.

“Sadly I’m not one of the people you must convince. Good night, Captain Ellis.”

“Wait!”

I stopped but didn’t turn.

“I must ask you,” he went on, as if the words were forced from him, “what Lieutenant Hughes said to Dr. Tilton.”

“He stood by what he’d said before he left the drawing room.”

“And Dr. Tilton? Did he pry?”

There was nothing for it but to tell the truth. “I’m afraid he tried. But I reminded him that we had done our duty and ought to return to the other guests, and he stopped.”

“Yes, damn it, that’s precisely what I was afraid he would do. Even what little he knows will be all over Ashdown Forest before tomorrow is out. That’s why I asked you to go with him. I couldn’t-it would look too much like I was trying to rush George away before he could say more.” He hesitated. “Thank you, Miss Crawford. I appreciate your loyalty.”

I turned then. “It wasn’t so much a matter of loyalty,” I said. “It was disliking the doctor’s taking advantage of