Although there was so much to say, so many questions to be asked and answered, they all recognized that Madeline was very tired. Half an hour later she was climbing the stairs to her rooms, her arm linked through her twin’s.
“How are you, Dom?” she asked as she closed the door of her sitting room behind them.
“As you see.” He spread his arms to the sides. “As good as new, Mad. And in civilian clothes, you will be delighted to observe.”
“I am.” She crossed the room and patted the lapels of his coat. “And it is just as well for you that you are. I would declare open warfare on you if you had not sold out already.”
“Ooh,” he said, grinning. “A narrow escape indeed.”
“What I meant to ask,” she said, “was how
“You are asking me about Ellen Simpson,” he said. “I was planning to call on her this afternoon. For the first time, and because I promised Charlie that I would look after the two of them if there were need. I have not seen her since Brussels, Mad. It is all over. It was just an unreal episode from a time of great crisis. Sweet at the time, but best forgotten.” He smiled.
“Was it?” she said sadly. “But it seemed so real at the time. You looked so very happy. What happened, Dom?”
“We both woke up,” he said. “That is what happened. It was inevitable.” He shrugged. “It was no big thing. It only seemed so at the time. There is one thing I must know about you. Did Penworth ask you to marry him, or did you ask him?”
She blushed and giggled. “You could not expect him to ask me,” she said. “He still does not particularly want to live, except that now I think he has realized that he must do so whether he wants to or not. He certainly does not think he has any worth left as a man. He is unwilling for anyone to see him. And he won’t go home to Devon. He cannot face the pity of his family, he says. All absurd, of course. I shall talk him out of it all eventually. It will take time.”
“So you asked him,” he said. “Do you love him, Mad? Or is it pity?”
“I love him,” she said. “He has filled my whole world for three months, Dom. I can’t imagine life without him now. You are not going to be difficult, are you, just because he has lost a leg and an eye?”
“No, I am not going to be difficult.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently back and forth. “You are as old and as wise as I, which is not saying a great deal, I suppose. But if you say you can be happy with Penworth, then I daresay you can be. And all I can do is repeat what I said downstairs. If you are happy, then so am I.”
She hugged him hard and rested her head on his broad shoulder. “Oh, Dom,” she said, “it is so very good to be home. So good to have you alive and safe at last. And I am so tired. I feel as if I have not slept for months.”
“Don’t fall asleep on my shoulder, then,” he said. “I’m sure your bed will be far more comfortable. Stand up now, or sit down if you will, and I will ring for a maid.”
Madeline yawned loudly and inelegantly and sat down hard on a chaise longue.
ELLEN WAS SITTING DOWNSTAIRS in the morning room finishing off a letter to her friend Mrs. Cleary, who was still in Paris. She had the house to herself apart from the servants. Dorothy and Jennifer had gone out soon after breakfast, in order to accompany the Emery ladies to the library and the shops.
She and her stepdaughter were both recovering their spirits, she had just written to her friend. Her husband had left her an independence, and she hoped soon to buy herself a cottage somewhere in the country and move there. She was not sure about Jennifer. The girl might stay with her aunt. Or perhaps she would move to her grandfather’s house.
Nothing was as certain as that in reality, of course. Dorothy had said no more about the visit to Sir Jasper Simpson. Perhaps she never would. Perhaps Charlie’s father would refuse to receive Jennifer, even if that meant that he could not meet his son’s widow either.
But Ellen was determined that matters would not be left at that. She had made a promise to Charlie, and she was going to keep it. His father would not reject them if appealed to, Charlie had said. Well, if necessary, she would go to Sir Jasper herself-not to take tea, but to plead with him to accept his granddaughter. If he had really loved his son, as Dorothy claimed, and if he truly grieved for him now, then surely he could not refuse to meet the daughter whom Charlie had loved, even if there really could be any doubt about her birth.
She would allow one more week to pass. If Dorothy had not said anything more in that time, then Ellen would take action herself. She felt better having decided so. She felt as if she were coming back to life after a long time. She reached for the blotter and carefully dried the ink on her letter.
She had taken action on something else too. She had told Dorothy the day before about the child. She had been feeling unusual tiredness during the days, and frequently felt nauseated and dizzy in the mornings. She needed to tell someone. She had told no lies. She had said nothing about the baby’s paternity and had said merely that it was expected sometime early in the following spring. She had not told the truth either, of course.
Dorothy had been overjoyed, and had hugged her and kissed her and laughed and shed tears.
“Oh, I am so very happy,” she had said. “I have hoped for it ever since Charlie married you, Ellen. And now it has happened just when it seemed too late. I am so very happy for you. But have you seen a physician?”
Ellen had shaken her head and agreed that she would see Dorothy’s doctor later in the week, as soon as it could be arranged.
She felt uneasy about the deception. But what could she have done? How could she have told Charlie’s sister the truth? On the whole, it felt good to have her secret off her chest. Though it was not entirely so.
“Please don’t tell Jennifer yet,” she had said.
“But why ever not?” Lady Habersham had asked. “She will be thrilled to know that she is to have a sister or brother.”
“I will find the right moment to tell her,” Ellen had said.
Jennifer’s brother or sister! She had felt very uneasy and guilty again. But if only she could bring about this reconciliation with Sir Jasper, then she could remove to the country, and she would be free to tell everyone the truth. The time would come soon, she hoped, long before her child was born.
Yesterday had brought one other relief from a burden, although Jennifer had been disappointed. An unexpected commitment had forced Lord Eden to cancel his plan to call on them during the afternoon. There had been no other explanation. It must be that he had realized that she was at home when he had called before, that she had refused to see him. It must be that he had changed his mind about forcing his company on her.
There was enormous relief in the knowledge. She really did not want to see him. And there had been a certain pain in the prospect of his seeing Jennifer again. It had seemed for a while in Brussels that the two of them might be developing a
She would not think of such things. Jennifer was not unhappy. She had her friends, and she was very young. There would be time enough for beaux and marriage after her year of mourning was past.
Ellen sealed her letter and got to her feet. She stayed standing despite the wave of nausea that had her bending her head forward and closing her eyes for a moment. She would hand the letter to a footman and it would go with the day’s mail. Strange to think that she would be in Paris herself if Charlie had still been alive. No, she would not think of it. She hurried out into the hallway.
And collided head-on with a man standing just outside the morning-room door.
“Oh,” she said, looking up sharply as he caught at her arms to steady her.
“Ellen,” he said.
She looked up into his face through a long, dark tunnel. There was a buzzing in her ears. She clasped her letter to her bosom.
“Ellen,” he said again. “How are you?”
“Well,” she said, but no sound came from her mouth. “Well,” she repeated.
He was still clasping her arms. He let her go suddenly, and they stared at each other foolishly, both seemingly incapable either of moving or of mouthing some commonplace.
“I have just sent the butler upstairs with my card,” he said eventually.
“I was writing a letter,” she said, holding it out almost as if she were offering it to him.
Her voice sounded very far away. She listened to it as if it were someone else forming the words. And the
