Candles in the Storm (50 page)
Read Candles in the Storm Online
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
Tags: #Romance, #Sagas, #Historical, #Fiction
By morning she was telling herself that it was good she had seen him again. It had laid a lot of ghosts, she told herself firmly over breakfast. And Tommy, bless him, was right. She had been too particular in the past, too quick to end a relationship which might have blossomed if she had stuck with it. Part of it had been because with Tommy filling so much of her life she hadn’t needed anyone else, but things were changing now with her lad becoming a man. She had to look to the future and put common sense before ridiculous feelings which should have died years ago. But she knew what was what now so that was good.
She was overwhelmingly grateful when Mr Newton didn’t refer to the previous evening later at the office, and after a few minutes of feeling a little embarrassed she settled into work and got on with what she had to do. As always the day flew by, and before she knew it she was putting on her coat and saying goodnight.
She exited the building into bright sunlight, the warmth pleasant on her skin, and then she turned and William was in front of her. ‘Don’t walk away.’ His voice was urgent. ‘Listen to me for just a minute. I realise I did it all wrong yesterday and I’m sorry. I must have embarrassed you in front of Mr Newton and that was the last thing I wanted. I did, didn’t I?’
If embarrassment had been her only concern she would have considered herself well blessed. Daisy forced herself to look into the blue eyes without shivering. Although her whole body was tingling in the most peculiar way, her face did not give her away when she answered quietly, ‘No, not really.’
‘I didn’t think how it might look--’ He stopped abruptly. ‘No, that isn’t quite true. Seeing you again was the most wonderful thing that has happened to me in a long time and . . .’ He paused again, thinking as he did so, You’ve had women in every port in your time and here you are stuttering and stammering like a lad still wet behind the ears. But Daisy had always had this effect on him.
‘Perhaps it would be better to have this conversation elsewhere?’
Her voice, the northern inflection warm and soft on his ears, was pointing out that people were having to step round them as they stood in the middle of the pavement.
He flushed, aware he felt younger than he had in years but in all the wrong ways. The last time he had felt as gauche and awkward as this had been standing outside his aunt’s cottage watching her with Lyndon. ‘Why didn’t you marry the parson?’ He hadn’t meant to say it but with the words came the realisation he had wanted an answer to this question for years.
‘What?’
Her surprise made him feel even more stupid.
‘Parson Lyndon. My aunt made it very clear marriage was on the cards when I told her how I felt about you.’
They had begun walking, a full two feet between them, and as her head turned towards him he rubbed his hand across his mouth.
He was nervous
. As the knowledge registered with Daisy she stumbled. His hand came shooting out to steady her, stopping before he touched her.
He was nervous
. As the knowledge registered with Daisy she stumbled. His hand came shooting out to steady her, stopping before he touched her.
She took a deep breath, willing some sort of composure back. ‘I did not marry Parson Lyndon because he did not ask me,’ she said truthfully, ‘but if I had done so it would have been for all the wrong reasons. I did not care for him, not in that way.’
‘No?’
‘No, and I cannot imagine how your aunt could have thought so.’ She hesitated. She wanted to ask him what he had meant when he’d said he had told Miss Wilhelmina how he felt about her but it would have been too forward.
‘Last night you said you were not married. You are a widow?’
‘A widow?’ Now it was Daisy who stopped, oblivious of the late-night shoppers. ‘Why would I be a widow? I am not married, I have never been married.’
‘But they told me--’
‘What did they tell you?’
‘That you were married, that you had a little boy, a son. It was some time after my aunt’s funeral, when I knew I had missed my chance again . . .’
‘Again?’
‘I was going to ask you to marry me on your sixteenth birthday but my aunt persuaded me your affections lay elsewhere. I was stupid.’ His voice was clearer now. ‘If I had known then what I know now I wouldn’t have listened to anyone else.’
At some point in the conversation he had reached out and gripped her hands. Now he pulled her closer towards him, becoming aware for the first time that her whole body was trembling. ‘I was told you had a son.’
‘I do have a son.’ He didn’t blink or withdraw in any way, his blue eyes steady on her face, and in that moment Daisy knew just how much she loved him and why she always would. ‘But I did not give birth to him. Tommy is my brother’s child. His father died before he was born and his mother gave her life for his when she brought him into the world. He is a wonderful boy . . .’
William’s arms went around her and he lifted her right off the pavement and against his chest as he kissed her, the hunger of years in his embrace. Fawcett Street had never seen such a blatant display of carnal desire and it caused several passers-by to gasp in horror as they hastily scurried by whilst averting their eyes.
‘Oh, Daisy, Daisy.’ When they surfaced his face was still close to hers and they breathed each other’s breath as he said, ‘I can’t tell you how much I love you, how I’ve always loved you. I’ve been such a fool.’ He gradually let her feet slip down to the ground, only to whisk her up again as though he couldn’t bear to let her go. Their eyes on a level, he laughed, the sound so triumphant the war could have been over. ‘I should have listened to my heart. Damn it! I should have listened to my heart.’ And then he said quickly, ‘Forgive my language, sweetheart.’
Sweetheart. Her head spinning and all the strength drained from her, she leant heavily against him, the smell and feel of the man she loved intoxicating. She couldn’t believe it was happening, not so suddenly, so quickly, and yet in the same instant she was looking back down the years to the source of this consuming love and wondering why it had taken so long.
‘Would you ever! ’Tisn’t right. I blame this war. Never had such goings-on when we were young, Fanny.’
‘No . . .’
This last utterance came so wistfully from one of the two old women clothed in black with shawls covering their heads who were passing by that again William was laughing, Daisy joining in as she leant against him for a moment or two more before drawing away.
‘Can we go somewhere?’ His voice was soft and urgent, and as Daisy nodded, he said, ‘I want to be able to hold you in my arms while we talk and unravel the tangle of it all. And it has been a tangle, sweetheart, has it not?’ Bringing her hands to his breast he pressed them tightly there, his eyes holding hers. ‘I want to hear you say you love me. You do love me, Daisy?’
‘So much.’
‘Oh, my love, my love. We’ll never be separated again, I swear it. We’ve so much time to make up for, so many wasted years.’
Daisy’s gaze dropped momentarily to his uniform and as she looked at him again something in her eyes made him say brokenly, ‘Oh, darling. It will be all right. I promise it will be all right.’
‘I know.’ It had to be, it just had to be. Fate couldn’t be so cruel as to take him now. But the things you heard in the newspapers . . . ‘Come back to my house.’
William stayed the night. They sat wrapped in each other’s arms on Daisy’s sofa, clearing the dross of sixteen years in between long drugged kisses. But, contrary to the desire which emanated from him, William asked no more of her than that. This was Daisy, his Daisy. When they became one it would be as man and wife and she would have the protection of his name. If nothing else in his life he would get this right.
In the cold silver light of a May dawn they stood in Daisy’s hall, lips clinging and their bodies moulded as one before William left for Greyfriar Hall. Daisy’s heart was full as she waved him goodbye. He had promised to return for lunch and for the first time in her working life Daisy played the malingerer.
William did return just after noon, but as she opened the door to him, her face alight, she knew immediately something had happened in the few hours they had been apart.
He had some news, he said softly, drawing her into him and holding her very tight. His father had passed away at ten o’clock that morning. He was now Sir William Fraser and had inherited the vast bulk of his father’s estate. And there was something else. All leave had been cancelled. He was leaving for France that evening.
Chapter Twenty-eight
William stayed for as long as he could that afternoon before returning to Greyfriar Hall. He had asked Daisy to come back with him so that his sisters and the rest of the household could be told the news that she had consented to become his wife, but Daisy wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Think, darling,’ she said softly. ‘Your father has just died and the house is in mourning. It wouldn’t be proper.’
Proper. He had stared at her before inclining his head, knowing he couldn’t speak what was in his mind. The war had shown him horrors he had never imagined in his worst nightmares, unspeakable abominations amid chaos and mayhem with men dying in their hundreds and the generals moving divisions around with little thought for strategy as though it was all some grotesque game. ‘Proper’ would never feature in his vocabulary again. He had found his love despite all the odds, and wanted to shout it to the rooftops and damn the rest of the world. He could hardly believe that after all the hurt and bitterness and pain a few hours could turn everything round, but it had. In truth it hadn’t even taken that long. From the moment she had told him she had never married he had felt reborn. The wonder of it, the absolute wonder of it, was that Daisy felt the same.
‘Then you’ll come to the station to see me off?’ he had asked once he’d realised she was adamant about not returning with him to the Hall.
‘Oh, of course. Of course I will.’
‘Come early, at five-thirty, so we can have a few minutes before the train leaves.’
Daisy was standing on the platform from five o’clock. The evening was a mellow one, devoid of the sharp north-east wind for once, and as she had walked to the station through terraced streets her thoughts had been similar to William’s. Sixteen years. Sixteen years of longing and heartache that need never have been, but they had been wiped away with that one sentence: ‘I was going to ask you to marry me on your sixteenth birthday’. Her hand went to the small diamond and pearl pin William had given her earlier that afternoon and she recalled the look on his face when he had said, ‘I couldn’t bear to get rid of it even though I knew you would never wear it.’
But she was wearing it now. Her heart thudded, and for the hundredth time that day she prayed, ‘Keep him safe, God. William and my precious boy, keep them both safe. Let them both come home to me.’
She saw him immediately he came on to the platform, a tall, lean, handsome figure who stood head and shoulders above anyone else, and because she had eyes only for him she did not notice the small man behind him. His hands stretched out and gripped hers as he reached her, drawing her to him and holding her close for a moment as he kissed her hard and swiftly.
‘Are you sure they won’t let you stay a little longer if you tell them about your father?’ she asked as his mouth left hers. ‘Compassionate leave or something?’
‘I’ve tried.’ His lips moved over her brow again as though reluctant to stop kissing her. ‘There’s an offensive and they need experienced officers. There are so many officers and men who have only been in five minutes and don’t know one end of a gun from the other.’ Which added to the carnage a thousandfold. Mind, even the oldest hands made mistakes when lack of sleep due to the ear-deafening continuous bombardment from the enemy took its toll.
‘An offensive?’
‘Oh, darling, don’t look like that. I’ll be all right. Look, for the first time I have my own batman. What about that? You remember Kirby, don’t you?’
As William put his arm round her waist and pulled her to his side, Daisy found herself staring into the face of the man who had worked against her in one way or another from the first moment they had met. William had told her it had been Kirby who had related she was married with a son, and when she had said the valet had done it on purpose because he didn’t like her, William hadn’t taken her seriously. ‘Nonsense, my sweet, how could he not like you?’ And because there had been so much else to talk about Daisy had not pursued the matter of Sir Augustus’s valet. But now William was Sir William and it appeared Kirby was equally determined to serve him as he had been to serve Augustus. She should have told William, she thought frantically. Told him about the incident with Francis Fraser in the kitchen which the valet had played a part in, about all the insults the man had heaped upon her head over the years, all the trouble he had caused. She should have made him
see
and then he would have dismissed Kirby.
see
and then he would have dismissed Kirby.
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