Read Candles in the Storm Online
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
Tags: #Romance, #Sagas, #Historical, #Fiction
Candles in the Storm (33 page)
‘I don’t like being manhandled.’
‘Manhandled?’ His voice expressed hurt now.
‘Yes, manhandled.’ His arm had pressed against her breasts, whether by accident or design Daisy wasn’t sure, but she had not liked it. Every Sunday afternoon he met her and Kitty, come rain, hail or snow, and even today he had been waiting for her! Her voice reflected her irritation as she said, ‘What on earth are you doing here at this time of the day? Why aren’t you out on the water?’
Alf stared at her. If he told her the truth - that he’d suspected there was a chance her mistress would let her visit the village on her birthday - she would know he had planned his whole day around the possibility. He rubbed his face with the back of his hand. ‘There’s other jobs to see to on land. Anyway, maybe it’s just as well I’ve seen you like this without the others around. I want to get a couple of things sorted once and for all. I might as well tell you straight, I can’t carry on like this much longer.’
‘Like what?’
He continued to stare at her, moving his head with a small jerk before he said, ‘I’m tired of waitin’, that’s it in a nutshell. I want a wife an’ family, lass. That’s not too much for a bloke to ask, is it? Companionship, someone waitin’ when I get off the boat of a night, an’ don’t say I’ve got me mam for that.’
She hadn’t been about to say that. Daisy swallowed. ‘I can understand that, Alf.’
‘An’ that’s all you’ve got to say? Look, lass, to put it bluntly I want a wife afore I’m too old to enjoy being wed and I’d like it to be you, but you know that. Are you still sayin’ no? An’ before you say anythin’ you ought to know this is the last time of askin’. The very last.’
Daisy’s eyes widened slightly. He’d said that as though he meant it. Turning, she began to walk on, and as he fell into step beside her, said, ‘Alf, you’re my friend and dear brother and I can’t think of you in any other way. I’ll never be able to thank you for your kindness to Gran--’
A sharp movement of his hand stilled her voice. They had reached the first of the cottages, and his voice was rough when he said, ‘It’s no use hopin’ he’ll come back an’ marry you, you know that, don’t you? He’s got bigger fish to fry.’
Her heart jerked in her chest and then began to thud hard against her ribcage. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘You’re throwin’ your life away, pinin’ for him, and he’s nowt. They’re all nowt, in spite of their fancy clothes an’ la-di-da way of talkin’.’
‘I’m not pining for anyone, Alf Hardy.’ She was angry now. ‘Just because I don’t want to marry you doesn’t mean I want to marry someone else.’
‘So that’s me final answer then? You’re determined to go on lookin’ after that old crone an’ actin’ Lady Bountiful to every Tom, Dick an’ Harry?’
Daisy took a step away from him, terribly hurt.
‘An’ don’t look at me like that neither,’ Alf said thickly. ‘I’m not one of your fancy pals who mince about an’ never say what they really think.’ He swore, the first time he had ever used a profanity in front of her, and then he grabbed at her, pulling her against the bulk of him. One big hand was in the small of her back and the other under her armpit, and he arched her rigid body into his as he took her mouth in a kiss which had no gentleness in it.
Daisy didn’t fight him. They were in full view of the village and so she was quite safe, besides which she instinctively knew the only way to bring him quickly to his senses was to remain perfectly still. She stood stiff and unyielding in his desperate embrace for as long as the kiss lasted which wasn’t more than a few seconds. And then he thrust her aside so violently she almost fell but for his hand reaching out again to steady her. ‘If you don’t want me there’s one as does.’
His face was flushed, veins bulging in his forehead, but his voice was low and deep and held a note Daisy didn’t recognise. She was trembling with the shock of it all but she managed to speak steadily when she said, ‘That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a good catch for anyone.’
She saw the rage drain from his face along with the high colour and for a terrible moment she thought he was going to cry. Then he said, the words strangled in his throat, ‘I’m goin’ to ask Kitty to start courtin’, Daisy.’
‘
Kitty?
’
Kitty?
’
‘Aye, Kitty. We . . . we get on an’ she thinks a bit of me.’
Daisy stared at him. Kitty? Kitty and Alf? But then a separate part of her mind said, Why not? Why not indeed? If she’d had half the sense she was born with she would have seen long ago that what Alf said was true. Kitty did like him, she always had, but knowing how Alf felt about her, the other girl had never talked of her own feelings. And Kitty was bonny and jolly and as strong as a horse. She would make a perfect fisherman’s wife, and the hard life wouldn’t worry her at all. In fact, she’d take to it like a duck to water. So why, Daisy asked herself now, in view of all that did she feel as if the bottom of her world had just fallen away?
‘You know she won’t say yes to me if she thinks you are against it. She thinks the world of you.’ Alf’s voice was low and he didn’t look at her as he spoke.
‘I’m not against it.’
She stared at him until he looked up again, saying, ‘I’ve had a bellyful of bein’ on me own, lass, an’ I’m not gettin’ no younger. Kitty’s a good lass an’ I know we’d suit each other. It won’t be the same as if we’d . . .’ His voice trailed away and he shrugged his shoulders.
‘Kitty would make anyone a wonderful wife.’ Daisy’s voice was stronger now. ‘And you would be kind to her?’
‘You know I would.’
Aye, he would. Alf couldn’t be anything other than kind, and she knew he must have worked himself up into a right state to speak as he had about her and William. This last thought gentled Daisy’s voice as she said, ‘I wish you both every happiness, Alf.’
‘I haven’t even asked the lass to walk out yet.’
But he was going to do so, and Kitty would say yes. A strong feeling of gladness rose up in Daisy now. Alf would be so good for Kitty, providing that solid foundation her friend had never experienced before, not with her mam and da being as they were. The marriage would work, she could see it working very well, and the pair of them were her dearest friends after all. It was just the surprise of it which had made her feel odd for a moment or two.
‘I’ll make sure she comes with me on Sunday, Alf.’
He looked down at the ground for a moment. ‘Aye, all right.’ And then he jerked his head in the direction of the road leading out of the village and his voice was flat when he said, ‘I’ve a few bits to see to in town. ’Bye, lass.’
She nodded. ‘’Bye, Alf.’
He moved away first and strode off rapidly. It was the first time he had ever chosen not to spend time with her when she visited her granny, and as she watched him go Daisy knew a moment of deep regret. Not regarding her decision; she could never have married Alf, and would have made both of them utterly miserable if she’d weakened in that respect. No, her regret was for how things would change from this point of time. In a way she would lose both Alf and Kitty, and it wasn’t until this moment that she fully realised how much coming first with both of them had meant to her after William had discarded her as easily as he would a pair of old boots. But that was horribly selfish of her, she knew.
She stood without moving until Alf had disappeared from view and then began walking slowly, her head drooping. Somehow this didn’t feel like a birthday at all. And then she pictured Tommy’s little face with its wide infectious grin and her spirits lightened. She had her boy, her precious little boy. All right, so her financial responsibilities might be too great for her to leave Miss Wilhelmina’s employ, besides which she felt a loyalty to the old lady which kept her at Evenley House, but one day circumstances would change and a door of opportunity would open and she’d jump through it, taking Tommy with her. It was all down to the time machine again and the buttons she chose to press.
She was going to make something of herself, and when she did Tommy would have all the advantages of a solid home and a good education or her name wasn’t Daisy Appleby.
Daisy opened the door to the cottage, her face breaking into a wide smile at the childish shriek of joy which greeted her entrance. She bent and opened her arms to receive the scampering body, and as she did so, thought, This is what it’s all about. As the child wrapped his plump little arms and legs about her, for all the world like a baby monkey clinging to its mother, Daisy cuddled him close, glancing across at the smiling face of her granny and then Tilly who came bustling out of the scullery, her hands covered in flour. As their combined welcome flowed over her in a warm tide, she relaxed. She was home.
Chapter Sixteen
William took one of the newspapers a servant had recently ironed - it wouldn’t do for the ink to rub off on a family member’s hands - and pretended to read to escape the conversation around the breakfast table. In spite of having lived in Paris with his uncle’s family for the last three years, he still found the discussions which invariably raged at breakfast a little too early in the day to be enjoyable. He knew Pierre and Marcel liked to bedevil their father, who was of the old school, with their radical ideas, and sometimes felt he would like to point out to his uncle that the two young men were only baiting him - it would certainly make for quieter mealtimes - but as this would spoil his cousins’ fun he kept silent.
He raised a hand and immediately a liveried servant poured more coffee into his cup. There were thirty servants in all looking after the family of four and any guests his uncle had to stay in his town house, some of whom travelled with the family when they visited their château in the French countryside. On those occasions, though, William and his cousins often stayed in Paris where the night life excelled any other city’s and hedonism was the order of the day.
His first lover there had been the young wife of an ageing count, and perhaps because Jeanette had been the first he remembered her more clearly than all the others who had followed although her face was now a blur in his mind. Strange, when you thought about it, that it was the one girl he hadn’t had, the one who had only allowed him to hold her hand, whose face was crystal clear whenever he shut his eyes at night. He forgot the others as soon as he left their presence and yet every detail of his time with Daisy was imprinted on his memory. He felt the familiar twisting in his guts and changed the direction of his thoughts ruthlessly.
His aunt and uncle were thinking of visiting their château for a few weeks and he might go with them this time. It would give Hildegarde time to cool down and accept that their affair was over.
As though his thoughts had conjured it up William became conscious of a footman at his elbow, holding out a silver plate on which reposed a pink-flushed envelope. He recognised both the paper and the bold black script of the writer and, sighing inwardly, took the envelope with a nod of thanks. Another of Hildegarde’s faintly hysterical demands that he visit her, no doubt. She had caused quite a fuss at the Rothwells’ musical soiree last night, even going so far as to hold on to his arm when he had tried to walk away after she’d cornered him in a recess of the drawing room. The woman was shameless, but then hadn’t that been what had attracted him to her in the first place? She had wanted him and she’d made no bones about it, but that hadn’t mattered so much when her husband had been abroad. Now Rudolf von Spee was back, and as German Ambassador to the French government he was not a man to mess with, being both important and influential. He was also a nasty piece of work.
William slit open the envelope, his eyes scanning the lines of writing. He read the letter twice before leaning back in his seat. The woman was deranged, she had to be to threaten she would tell her husband everything if he didn’t resume their affair. What had he got himself into here? This could turn into the mother and father of a scandal.
He thought quickly. His uncle’s château was not far enough away with Hildegarde in this frame of mind. Perhaps England would be better? It was the second week of September. That meant the King had spent a week or two at the Palace after his usual month’s cure at Marienbad and would now be going up to Balmoral for the grouse and deer. Scotland would be the accepted place to be; no one would think it overly strange if he renewed his acquaintance with one or two university friends whose families had estates up there. It was time to show his face for a while anyway, it had been nine months since he had spent some time in England and eighteen since he had visited Greyfriar Hall, and that had only been a brief stay. Of course Daisy must be married by now, he could easily take up residence at Greyfriar again, but somehow the thought of seeing her on Hector Lyndon’s arm was still as raw as the last time he had observed them together.
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