Little did she know! It was precisely her intention to be noticed by one special tradesman; have him beckon her with a small tilt of the head as he went towards the servant’s entrance, she following cautiously, coming to a stop just beyond the corner of the house, hopefully out of sight of prying eyes.
The milk delivered, Mrs Plumley gone back inside, as always he came up to Madeleine, pausing beside her and they’d pass the time of day. He’d ask how she did. She’d respond gladly, a little self-consciously to start with, telling him what she had been doing the days between seeing him, he in turn telling her what he’d been up to during that time. All the time her heart would beat heavily, excitement tingling through her veins at his closeness as she listened to his deep voice.
The days between not seeing him would drag, taken up by dreaming of him. But she didn’t tell him that, nor how she counted the hours seeking anything that might speed up their agonizing, creeping progress; how she would linger over dressing far longer than was necessary, taking time to choose which morning dress to wear, which afternoon robe, which tea dress or evening gown, constantly changing her mind, to the scarcely concealed impatience of her mother’s personal maid, Lily, who attended Madeleine too. But still the time seemed to creep.
Also she would prolong the time in having her hair done by the girl, first asking for her long tresses to be puffed out over her ears in the latest fashion, only to change her mind and have it taken down again and wound in a loose coil on the nape of her neck, ignoring Lily puffing and sighing.
Mealtimes also helped speed up the hours. Afterwards she’d go to her bedroom to write to friends or sort out her wardrobe, hobbies like painting and needlework and the like not being her idea of engaging pastimes, giving too much scope for dwelling on those days she didn’t see Freddy. She would tell herself over and over how silly she was behaving but it didn’t help.
Today she wore her beige-coloured tube dress with dark buttons all down the front that showed off her slimness. Her heart began to pound as she saw him come through the gates, guiding his milk cart along the smaller path that led to the rear of the house. In response to his signal and after a moment or two to make sure no one had seen the gesture, she followed as if idly sauntering.
It was exactly the same pattern as before – a few minutes’ small talk, awkward pauses, she not quite knowing what to say as she silently pleaded for him to fill in for her. Then suddenly he bent his head towards her, his deep brown eyes searching hers.
The smile on his lips had faded, his expression grown serious. ‘So, what are we going to do about these meetings of ours?’ he asked in a low tone.
For a moment she was thrown. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean we can’t keep on just meeting like this.’
He broke into a grin at the triteness of the remark. ‘Just standing here chatting about the weather. Shouldn’t we do more than that? I’d like to see more of you – somewhere else, more convenient. What d’you think?’
Caught unawares, she was stunned for an answer. Finally she heard herself saying: ‘That might be nice,’ in the tiniest of voices.
Before she knew what was happening, he had leaned towards her to plant an unexpected kiss on her mouth.
Startled, she flinched back, but even as he made to draw away from her obviously feeling he’d overreached his position and expecting a frigid repulse, she lifted a hand. She saw him stiffen against the expected slap. Instead her fingers came about his neck, pulling his head down towards her again and, surprised by her own action, returned the kiss very briefly before stepping quickly back from him.
For a moment he looked at her. There was no smile on his face now as slowly he said, ‘You’ll meet me then, Maddie?’
‘Yes,’ she said somewhat breathlessly.
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.’
He thought for a second while she stood awkward, uncertain; aware that her body was quaking a little although no thought was in her head. Then he said almost matter-of-factly: ‘There’s a lane a few yards down the road, running alongside the Pil. Would you meet me there on Monday?’
Madeleine nodded, then burst out, ‘I have to go!’ suddenly aware of the jumble of thoughts now tumbling across her brain like tiny acrobatic figures.
Why had she done that, kissed him? Why had she agreed to see him? She was completely mad. All sorts of trouble could come of this. Yet she had said yes, and she knew she wanted to say yes, to see him, somewhere less obvious; she knew, and her insides were bubbling like a cauldron, her whole being shaking, trembling with excitement deep inside her – her first ever kiss from any man and it had felt wonderful.
Three
Even Hamilton had never kissed her, not truly kissed her. All the time in the company of others, dinner parties or social gatherings, they’d never been left alone together for a minute, both their families constantly hovering in their misguided attempts to encourage them into getting to know each other more.
Beyond the occasional peck on the cheek which she dutifully offered for the benefit of those around, that was as far as it had ever gone. Not that she wanted him to kiss her anyway. Compared with Freddy Dobson, he was an insipid shadow, certainly not the stuff of a promising husband.
The trouble was, neither was Freddy, a man who laboured for his living, forbidden to court her. At night, trying to sleep, she’d make up wild plans to run away with him, be married in secret,
