Something Dangerous (Spoils of Time 02) (30 page)

Celia looked after him, at the extremely firmly closed door – Oliver never actually slammed doors – and felt slightly sick. Not because of what he had said about her attendance of the Mosley rally, or even his forbidding her to continue with her relationship with any of the Mosley entourage. She could deal with that as she had with any of his strictures in the past: by ignoring it. It was the fact that she had agreed with Lord Arden – who had passed the news on – to commission a biography of Goering, and was in the process of arranging a trip to Germany, to interview some of the people closest to him, and possibly even the great man himself. His history fascinated her, his exploits as a flying ace in the Great War, his command of the famous Death Squadron, his singleminded pursuit of both military and political power since. He would be a marvellous subject. But she could see it might be more difficult than she had imagined to persuade Oliver into agreeing to the publication of such a book. Well, she was going to publish it; even if she had to keep its preparation so quiet that she wrote it herself, she was going to do it. Apart from the fact that he was a most fascinating subject, it would be an important book. It could do much to persuade people that the Hitler regime was not the dangerous thing that so many of them feared.

LM parked her car outside Sebastian’s house, and sat looking up at it, gathering her courage for what she had come to do. She shrank from it, from the pain she must confront, the hostility she might encounter, but she knew she had to do it just the same.

He was in, as she knew he would be, for she had telephoned first; nevertheless, he expressed surprise and delight at seeing her. His charm, dulled by grief and the passage of time, could still be brought into use when he chose. Or when he thought it might help him.

‘LM, my dear, how very nice to see you. Do come in. I’ve asked Mrs Conley to bring tea out to the conservatory. You’ve got the proofs, have you?’

‘Yes, I have.’ That had been her cover, the excuse for her visit; she wondered if he guessed there was another reason. ‘I think they’re fairly clean. So you shouldn’t have too much work on them. Two of our readers are checking them also, of course.’

‘Just as well. Attention to detail was never my strong point. Recently it’s become one of my weakest. Old age, I suppose.’

‘Sebastian, you’re hardly old.’

‘On the way, I fear. Forty-nine now, LM, I do find it so hard to believe.’

‘Well, I’m nearly sixty,’ said LM. ‘And I don’t like that at all.’

‘Oh dear. Where is that gilded youth that once was us?’

‘It’s become our children,’ said LM quietly, ‘whether we like it or not.’

‘I suppose so. How is young Jay? Got any plans yet for his life?’

‘Not – quite,’ said LM, ‘but there’s plenty of time. I hope he decides on Lyttons, but – he does have so many interests, so much he wants to do.’

‘Quite right. As it should be. I never knew what I wanted to do. Still don’t, really. Cake?’

She shook her head. ‘Sebastian, how can you say that? The most famous children’s author publishing today—’

‘Arguable, that one. What about Milne, for a start? Anyway, it’s hardly a job for a grown man, is it?’

She smiled at him. ‘It’s very much a job for a grown man, and I don’t like this conversation at all. What would Lyttons do without you, Sebastian?’

‘Oh, you’d find someone else and—’ There was a tap at the door; it was Nanny.

‘Yes?’ he said shortly. The charm was quite gone, wiped away from him, like chalk on a blackboard.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Brooke. Isabella is going to her dancing class in half an hour or so, and we are invited out to tea after that—’

‘Yes, very well. No need to bother me with that. I presume I’m not expected to come?’

‘Of course not, Mr Brooke. I just thought you might—’

‘I’m busy, Nanny. Please excuse us.’ She shut the door quietly; he looked at LM and scowled. ‘Irritating woman. Always bothering me with trifles.’

‘Surely arrangements for Izzie can’t be considered trifles.’

At least she had an introduction to her subject: although his mood was scarcely promising.

‘Not you as well, using that ridiculous name, LM. It’s all right for the children, I suppose but—’

LM took a deep breath. ‘Sebastian, could I talk to you about Isabella?’

‘I’d much rather we stayed with the subject in hand,’ he said and his face was hard, somehow expressionless at the same time.

‘You see, I do know – a little – of what you feel for her.’

‘I don’t think so,’ he said, ‘and LM, I should tell you, I really don’t want to continue with this.’

‘I would like to. Just for a few moments. Bear with me, please.’

He was silent.

‘When – when Jay was born, it is not an exaggeration to say I – disliked him. I had hated being pregnant, and I wanted only to be rid of him, he was a most unwelcome intrusion into my life. I was quite sure that Jago hadn’t wanted him, he hadn’t replied to my letter telling him about the child, indeed I thought he had died angry with me for – for conceiving it. His wife had died in childbirth and he was very – very opposed to any idea of our having a child of our own. As indeed was I.’

‘Yes, yes, I know all this.’

‘No you don’t, Sebastian. You have to understand, I refused even to look at Jay, certainly I wouldn’t hold him or feed him. I told them to take him away. I had already made arrangements for his adoption. I just wanted him gone. He was a symbol of my – my grief, if you like.’

He was silent now; at least listening to her. She took courage from it.

‘It wasn’t until Celia arrived with – well, you do know this part of the story – until she arrived with Jago’s letter, that I saw things absolutely differently. He had wanted the baby, he was intensely proud and happy about it. And immediately I felt my attitude towards Jay change. I wanted him too, I could feel proud and happy myself. I could see that by rejecting him, I was in a way rejecting Jago—’

‘LM—’

‘Please let me finish. Although you do know the rest. Jay has been the joy of my life.’ She flushed. ‘I love him more than I would ever have believed possible. When – when he nearly died, I wanted to die too.’

Still the silence.

‘Sebastian, couldn’t you try to accept Isabella just a little? I know how dreadful you must feel. I know you see her as the reason for losing Pandora but—’

‘Please leave,’ he said, standing up. His tone was polite, but he was white and trembling violently. ‘Of course you don’t know how I feel. It’s outrageous you should even think so. Clearly you have no idea, and I find it insulting that you should imagine otherwise. And just to set the record quite straight I don’t
see
the child as the reason for my losing Pandora, as you put it, she
is
the reason. It’s as simple as that. Your – Jay’s father – died in the war. Very tragic, but it is hardly comparable to my own case. Now kindly don’t refer to this matter again. I’m disappointed in you, LM, I must say. I thought you of all people had more – sensitivity. Good afternoon.’

She stood there facing him; it was quite hopeless. But – she might as well say it. It could make matters no worse.

‘Sebastian, have you not thought how much you are failing Pandora in this?’

‘What? What did you say to me?’

His face was so white and so set with rage now that she could scarcely look at him, his voice shaking with the violence of his emotion. LM felt almost physically afraid at that moment; but she went on.

‘How do you think she would feel, if she could see Izzie growing up lonely, unloved? What—’

‘How dare you!’ he said, and his own voice was a great roar. ‘How dare you speak of Pandora to me, of what her attitude might be, of what she might be feeling. That is an outrage, LM, and one which you have absolutely no right to commit. I am astonished at you. At your insensitivity and what I can only describe as intrusion.’

‘I’m – sorry,’ she said quietly, ‘very sorry. I did not mean—’

‘I don’t care what you mean.’

‘Sebastian—’ Should she go on? Yes, she had to. ‘Sebastian, if you would only – only try to accept Isabella, she could be such a source of comfort to you. Have you never thought of that?’

He walked to the door, opened it, clearly ushering her out.

‘I asked you to leave. And since you ask, no I have not thought of
that
. Frankly, it is unthinkable. Clearly, in spite of your sentimental little speech, you have no real concept of grief. There can be no comfort for me anywhere, LM, and certainly not – not from her. Absolutely the reverse. Please excuse me. Mrs Conley will show you out.’

As LM sat in her car, trying to compose herself, she saw Izzie standing on the front doorstep, holding Nanny’s hand, her small face very solemn: a lonely, sad little figure.

She had failed her, thought LM, they had all failed her. What would Pandora have to say to them, if she knew. LM did not believe in an afterlife; there were occasions when she had wished she did, but at this moment she was thankful she did not.

‘I’m beginning to feel like Queen Victoria,’ said Celia, ‘all these grandchildren. Too ridiculous at my age.’

‘Mummy, you’re years older than Queen Victoria was when she first became a grandmother,’ said Venetia. ‘Anyway, you’ve only got five.’

‘Five is quite a lot.’ She looked at Venetia. ‘It’s nothing to do with me, of course—’

‘Of course it isn’t. And I know what you’re going to say. So don’t say it.’

‘Venetia, I’m only thinking of you. Your life is completely given over to – well, to having babies.’

‘I know that, Mummy. But I like having babies. Boy likes children and he’s a wonderful father. And anyway, what else would I do? It’s the only thing I’m good at, if you ask me.’

‘Well that’s absurd,’ said Celia briskly, ‘since you have never tried to do anything.’

‘That’s unfair.’

‘It is not unfair.’

‘Mummy, I’ve got four children. I had Henry when I was nineteen. Amy is only six months old. How am I supposed to do anything else?’

‘I had four children – five, to all intents and purposes. I had Giles when I was also nineteen. I seem to recall doing – other things.’

‘Yes, well, you’re not like most people,’ said Venetia irritably, ‘and I happen to think that what I’m doing is quite important.’

Her eyes met her mother’s in a kind of challenge; Celia looked at her in silence for a moment, then said, ‘I recognise what you’re saying, Venetia. And of course I admit I had certain shortcomings as a mother. But I just think you could regret this rather – limited way of life you’ve chosen.’

Venetia sighed. ‘I think I’d like to stop this conversation, Mummy. I thought you wanted to ask me about that ball.’ She looked at her mother and grinned suddenly. ‘Actually, I didn’t think anything of the sort. Since when did you come round here to talk about something you would regard as so absolutely unimportant?’

‘Well – I did want to ask you about it,’ said Celia, ‘but only if you’d like to get involved. I thought as you so clearly have time on your hands—’

‘Actually,’ said Venetia, ‘I don’t have much.’

‘Well, you should organise it so that you do. You have plenty of staff.’

‘Yes, I know, but I like spending time with my children. How do I get you to understand that?’

Celia frowned at her. ‘The trouble with spending time with your children,’ she said, ‘is that they grow up and move away from you. Then you have nothing left. Look at that dreadful Duffield Brown woman. Always round at Giles’s house, trying to bring up their baby.’

‘I bet you wouldn’t tell Helena she ought to do something else with her life,’ said Venetia.

‘I wouldn’t, because she hasn’t got a brain to do it with.’

‘Mummy, that’s unfair. She’s terribly well read, much more so than me.’

‘Being well read is neither here nor there, Venetia. It’s pointless unless it’s backed by judgment. Anyway, your brain is twice, three times as good as Helena’s.’

Venetia sighed. ‘Oh, Mummy! If Helena saved your life, dragged you from a burning building, you’d say she hadn’t done it in the right way.’

Celia smiled. ‘Is it really that obvious?’

‘It really is. How’s Daddy?’

‘Worried about the business.’

‘He’s always worried about the business.’

‘I know. But things aren’t very good at the moment. And he’s so resistant to change, to doing the sort of things that might help. Like the book clubs, for instance, you know the sort of thing, people buy books cheaply by mail order; it’s such a good way of getting books out to the public, but he just says they’ll take people away from the bookshops. That we’ll lose business.’

‘Really? Well I can see his point, I suppose . . . oh hallo, Elspeth, my darling. I haven’t forgotten, I said we’d go for a walk, maybe Granny would like to come with us.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Celia, standing up. ‘I have to go, I’m terribly busy at the office. Hallo, Elspeth, that’s a very pretty dress.’

Elspeth looked up at her, her dark eyes solemn.

‘So is yours,’ she said finally.

‘Thank you, dear. Now think about what I said, Venetia; I really do think you’d enjoy doing some work of some kind.’

‘I enjoy not doing any work of any kind,’ said Venetia firmly. She kissed her mother goodbye. ‘We’re not all like you, you know. Anyway, Boy’s working much harder now. He’s thinking of founding some kind of antique business. A bit like Sothebys, I suppose. He does know an awful lot about it.’

‘He certainly does. How very – interesting.’

‘Well there you are. This family is not entirely idle after all. You can relax. Now give my love to Daddy and do tell him not to worry. I tell you what, why doesn’t Lyttons form its own book club? That way you’d win both ways.’

Celia had been walking out of the room; she stood quite still, thinking for a moment: then she turned to look at her daughter and said, ‘Venetia, it really is too absurd to say you haven’t got a brain. I shall suggest that to your father as soon as I get home.’

Venetia was actually feeling happier; she genuinely enjoyed caring for her large family, her social life kept her very busy and ‘Boy seems to be settling down,’ she said to Adele, ‘he’s home much more often these days, when he’s not busy with his various things.’