Lakeland Lily (46 page)

At the end of the two-hour sail the family were deposited back at the pier with an appeal that perhaps they might tell others how much they had enjoyed their trip.

‘Indeed we will, Mrs Clermont-Read. Delightful, quite delightful.’ They finished off the glories of the day with a substantial tip.

Nathan was standing at the end of the pier with his back to her and Lily couldn’t resist running to tell him her good news. He turned quickly at the sound of her voice, a startled expression on his face, and she saw then that he was not alone. Selene was with him.

Selene looked angelic in lemon chiffon with a cleverly twisted scrap of fabric about her blonde curls which might have passed for a hat. A long straight feather protruded from the top of this to emphasise her regal height. The vivid picture she made, with her shining fair hair and red lips, caused Lily suddenly to feel altogether grubby and dowdy in Edward’s old steam coat, no doubt with smuts of soot on her nose too.

Selene declared that she’d only called upon Nathan with a message from Marcus Kirkby.

‘The dear man wishes to take all his workers for a steamer ride. He is so generous, you simply wouldn’t believe.’

Lily hadn’t even realised Nathan and Selene were speaking again. To her eyes the pair seemed decidedly jumpy, Nathan wearing his famous scowl as he so often did when on the defensive. But this fairy story had to be believed, however unlikely a benefactor Marcus Kirkby might seem, as Lily had no wish to give Nathan the satisfaction of seeing her display any jealousy.

She blundered in with her news, which now seemed to have fallen rather flat. They both smiled at her, benevolent, condescending, indulging her as if she were a small child seeking praise.

Before she was halfway through her tale, Selene interrupted. ‘How very fortuitous that we should meet like this. So much nicer to take a ride home with you instead of that dreadfully slow ferry. Why the old man cannot get a modern one, I really can’t imagine.’

‘He enjoys rowing,’ Lily said, but her mind was not on Ferryman Bob and his idiosyncrasies. Selene was already making impatient gestures, keeping her impeccable costume well away from Lily’s grubby coat.

‘Do stop prattling, Lily. I haven’t all day.’

On their homeward journey, Lily struggled to listen while she chattered on about poor Mrs Kirkby and how she was more and more confined to a darkened room.

‘Suffers dreadful pains in her spine, poor woman, resulting in the most debilitating headaches.’

‘Is she good to you? What are your duties exactly?’ The idea of Selene reading to an invalid, tending her every need, serving and carrying milk puddings, seemed beyond imagination. Certainly Lily’s.

‘Heavens, yes, I’m much more comfortable at Rosedale Lodge. I am Catherine’s companion, not her servant, dear girl. You are welcome to draughty Barwick House and Mama’s moods.’ Selene’s lips curved into a beatific smile and, fleetingly, Lily wondered what secrets lay behind it. Were those suspicions she’d had about her all that time ago right after all?

Later, as Selene disembarked at the folly and slipped out through the kissing gate, Lily could see a carriage waiting in the lane, and caught a glimpse of Marcus Kirkby. His frowning stare seeming to devour the distance between them, bringing an unexpected shiver to her spine. A very strange man indeed. Who knew what Selene was up to? Though really Lily had no wish to know. She was welcome to him.

So many secrets and lies.

Lily, of course, had secrets of her own, and had seriously underestimated Margot. Her mother-in-law’s fortune may have diminished but not her vindictiveness.

She was waiting for Lily on her return, watching silently as she assisted Betty in gathering together the remains of the luncheon and instructed George on what time to have the yacht ready next day, always supposing there were some bookings.

But as the maid scuttled into the house and George made the
Faith
secure, Margot crossed the lawn with a gracious smile painted upon her plump face and Lily braced herself for a barrage of questions.

‘I take it the day was a success?’

‘Yes, indeed.’ But before Lily could embark upon her tale, Margot grasped her arm between pincer-like fingers and hissed into her face. ‘Continue with this shameful nonsense and I shall tell Bertie your dirty little secret. I doubt you would wish that to happen, in his delicate state of health.’

Stunned by this reminder of Margot’s power, Lily could think of nothing by way of response. Yet hadn’t she known the woman was a world expert at using information for her own benefit? The last thing Lily wanted was to hurt Bertie. Or abandon hope of one day finding happiness with Nathan.

‘Do you hear me?’

‘Yes, Margot, I hear you. But if you stop my cruises, which I see as the only way of earning our bread, not
shameful nonsense
at all, then how will you and your precious son survive? Why don’t you tell me that?’

The next day, to Lily’s great joy, there were several more signatures on the booking pad. The week was filling up nicely.

‘It’s going to work,’ she told Margot later that afternoon, following a second and even more successful trip with a party of six this time.

‘First thing in the morning, you will take the notice down.’

Summoning all the patience she could muster, anxious not to alienate her further, Lily made no comment. The boat belonged to Margot, after all, and the last thing Lily needed was to be denied the use of it.

‘I really can’t imagine what the ladies at the Yacht Club will think when they discover that I have gone into
trade!’

Lily forbore to remind Margot that her own husband had earned their very substantial income over the years through trade. Since his death, though the house was still stuffed with items of considerable value, certainly in Lily’s terms, cash was hard to come by and Margot would make no shift to help herself by selling any of the symbols of her success.

‘They’ll think that we’re being enterprising, I expect,’ Lily said, openly cheerful.

‘Didn’t you hear what I said to you yesterday?’

‘I heard.’ She decided to come clean. ‘Look, Margot, I admit there are problems, but Bertie and I are doing our best to solve them.’

‘Poppycock! I knew this marriage would be a disaster from the start. You’re entirely the wrong woman for my darling child.’

‘With all due respect, that is for Bertie to say and not you.’

‘Have you given him up? This paramour of yours?’

‘I think that’s my business, not yours.’

‘How dare you? Of course it is my business.’

‘It is not.’

‘Bertie is my son.’

‘And my husband. What he needs right now is time. If you’re prepared to risk hurting him after what he’s been through, on your head be it. I shall not be held responsible. Heaven knows what effect such a revelation might have.’

Margot’s eyes filled with sudden panic and Lily felt a rush of unexpected sympathy for her. She might very well have said something soothing at this point but there was a tap on the door and Betty entered bearing afternoon tea.

Ever uncomfortable before the servants, Margot sat straight-backed, staring stonily into space, for, much as she hated to admit it, the dratted girl did have a point. Bertie had been behaving exceedingly oddly lately. She certainly had no wish to be the one to tip him over the edge.

It was left to Lily to provide the necessary chit-chat as Betty set up the folding table for tea. ‘Our clients enjoyed themselves thoroughly today. What’s more, I see they’ve left us plenty of salmon pate. How wonderful.’

Margot’s eyes darted to the heavily laden tray of goodies which even now Betty was setting before her.

Tea was poured in an awkward silence, then Betty sketched a curtsey, anxious to be back in the kitchen with her aching feet on the fender. ‘Will there be anything more, ma’am?’

‘No, thank you.’ Lily reached for a slice of toast and started to spread it lavishly with butter and pate. ‘That will do, Betty.

‘I have every hope,’ she continued, sharing a smile of amusement with Betty as she exited, ‘that this summer will prove more profitable than we imagine. I only wish we had more boats.’

After grudgingly eating some pate, just to prove that she had not entirely forgiven Lily, Margot resumed her argument. ‘My permission should have been sought before you embarked upon such an enterprise.’

‘You’re quite right, and I’m sorry. I was afraid you might refuse.’

‘I most certainly would have done!’

Lily giggled. ‘Just as well I didn’t ask then.’

Margot glared and considered chastising this disrespectful daughter-in-law of hers. But the salmon tasted delicious, such a delight after the dreadfully dreary meals they’d been forced to endure lately, that she was already having second thoughts. She’d watch events closely, though Lily Thorpe had a habit of getting too big for her boots at times.

Probate would be settled soon and heaven knows what new horrors that would bring. Mr Groves had assured her that the house at least was safe but the income to run it, the vast sums of money which Edward had supplied for her to enjoy, was quite gone.

‘We’ll see how the business develops over these next weeks,’ she conceded, dabbing at a speck of butter on her chin with her napkin. ‘Then I will give you my decision on the matter.’

Smiling from ear to ear, Lily reached for a second slice of toast, suddenly desperately hungry for she’d been too excited to eat all day. ‘Thank you, Margot. Perhaps we might have a glass of champagne with dinner, to celebrate the launch of our new business?’

Margot’s eyes brightened. Now there was a rare treat. ‘Perhaps we might,’ she agreed.

That first season Lily’s business went from strength to strength. There was nothing she loved more than to rise at first light and walk to the
Faith
while the dew was still wet on the grass and the lake lay mirror-calm save for the odd yacht or rowing boat fidgeting at its moorings.

George was usually the one who brought a wagonload of coal from the station yard each morning, but Lily was not above helping to shovel it into the bunker. On other days they might load wood - usually birch, as she remembered it had been Edward’s favourite.

The first cruise of the day took place at eleven, so, once everything was ready, Lily would go into the house, wash and change, and take breakfast with Thomas. Always a lively meal, she would enjoy simply being his mother for a while. Bertie rarely joined them. Then she would leave Thomas in the hands of his new nanny for a few hours while she donned her skipper’s hat and went to work, humming happily to herself.

A stylish lunch was provided for her guests in a wooded inlet or on some island or other, while Lily, George and Betty snatched a sandwich when they could. Most of their time was spent in keeping the clients happy, pointing out dippers, coot, cheeky grey wagtails or Britain’s smallest grebe, the dabchick, swimming shyly underneath banks. Or laughing at the acrobatics of a red squirrel banging away at a nut wedged in a nearby tree.

The visitors, often city folk, enjoyed these diversions.

The afternoon party usually took a longer trip, leaving at three and returning by five. It was a lovely leisurely way of life but never for a moment did Lily forget that these people and this boat were in her care. The lake was over eighty feet deep in places and cold enough to kill in minutes, even in midsummer. She acquired from the stalwart George the skills of steering, learning how to turn the
Faith
to meet the wash from other boats, negotiate a landing in wind, and how a steam engine responds instantly to the controls, giving full power at the first movement. She learned the unwritten laws of the lake, such as who has right of way, where currents made it unsafe to steam, and how two steamers must not pass each other in the narrows between islands.

On the days when a squally wind brought five foot waves capped with white foam and she could not take the boat out, Lily would chafe and fidget restlessly. Not simply because of the loss of revenue but because this had become her own private world and she loved it.

On one such day when she was confined to barracks, as she put it, Lily spent hours in an overheated kitchen preparing a dish of fudge, with her own hands this time, for Hannah and Arnie.

As she stirred the sticky sweet mixture, the smell of it brought to mind happy days in her mother’s kitchen and she recalled with nostalgia the closeness she’d once enjoyed with her family. Now her own father had barred her from his house.

In her heart it did not surprise her. She had seen the knowledge of her affair in every curious eye whenever she walked out, heard the whispers as she passed by. Whether the gossip had reached her husband, Lily couldn’t rightly say. But she hadn’t set eyes on Nathan for months. Didn’t that count for anything?

It was almost a relief that Bertie seemed to spend most of his time sitting in Edward’s study with a glass of his father’s best whisky at his elbow, staring blankly out the window, though it broke Lily’s heart to see him that way.

He looked exactly the same. Sandy hair, soft brown eyes, round boyish face. But he was not the same. The joy in him was quite dead. He never laughed, never joked, never even smiled, except with little Thomas. And though she well knew the time was coming to be honest with her husband, fear of his response kept her silent. Such a revelation would do nothing to restore the spirits of this dear man who was her husband.