Tall Poppies (21 page)

She didn't ask him if he was up to it. Richard was a law unto himself, and she'd do anything to make his life more comfortable and enjoyable, and the small tasks involved with the arrangements would occupy his mind.

Mr Stone paid a visit and he and Richard spent two hours talking together.

That same evening Richard placed his mother's jewellery box in her hands. ‘You might as well have these. I've cleared it with Simon Stone, and none of them belong to the Sinclair estate. My mother didn't have a lot of jewels, but what she did have are of exceptional quality. She would have wanted my wife to have them. '

‘Thank you, Richard. I'll put them back in the strongbox for safe-keeping.'

‘I've told Simon Stone about the baby.' He placed his hand against her stomach. ‘You're not showing yet, but isn't it time you consulted a doctor?'

‘It is time, but I don't know if I can fool Doctor Elliot. I've worked out that the child is due on the eighth of October. But I've got to take another six weeks into account for it. I was thinking I might go to his partner.'

‘Doctor Bramble? He's nearly retirement age, and he's getting a bit absent-minded.'

‘Yes, I know, but I'm not a very good liar, and Doctor Elliot is so thorough.'

‘Which is why I'd rather you saw him. I don't want your health put at risk.'

‘But what if he realizes?'

‘He's a man. He'll think we had a bit of something going on before we got to the altar. Most of the people in the village speculated on why we married in such haste, and in secret, so they'll expect the child to arrive early anyway.'

Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened. ‘How utterly embarrassing. Say it's not true!'

He drew her face down to his and kissed her, his lips tender against hers. ‘If I said it wasn't true, would that make you feel better about it?'

‘Only if it's true that it's not true.'

‘It doesn't matter if it's true or not since nobody will ever ask you outright. I'll ask Doctor Elliot to see you the next time he checks me over. We'll fudge the dates. I'm a wonderful liar, so would you like me to stay with you?'

She nodded. She hadn't thought much about the coming infant, just put it to the back of her mind. She wouldn't be able to do that for much longer, so she might as well see the doctor and get it over with.

Dr Elliot hummed and briefly felt her stomach through her clothing. ‘It seems as though you're correct, Mrs Sangster.' He made a few calculations on his notepad. ‘From the dates you've given me, the baby is due to arrive in the first week of December, a lovely Christmas present. Congratulations to the pair of you  . . . though don't be surprised if the little chap arrives early; first babies often do.'

He knew!
Yet the smile he gave them both was impersonal and non-judgemental. ‘Mrs Sangster, I'll need you to come to my surgery for a blood test and a proper examination, just to confirm it. My nurse will be there for the examination, and she'll give you some information leaflets so you'll know what to expect in the coming months. You might like to sign on for her maternity clinic, where a monthly check can be made on your progress.'

‘Thank you, Doctor, I will.'

‘Good. Now, I'd like to have a private word with Richard, if I may, and to be quite honest, I could do with a cup of coffee if you wouldn't mind.'

‘I'll make you one.'

As Livia closed the door behind her, the doctor was saying to Richard, ‘Your blood pressure is elevated. I might have to put you on medication if it hasn't normalized in a couple of days, and I'll make sure you have a tank of oxygen at hand to help your breathing if need be  . . .'

Thirteen

Within days an oxygen cylinder took up space in the corner of the room. It was an unwanted reminder to both of them that he might need assistance to breathe before too long.

The days went by fast. Beamish and Florence celebrated their wedding at the church and there was a party in the staff quarters. Richard, who'd been his friend's best man, made a short speech, then he and Livia left them to it.

Life went on as usual. Beamish and Florence had refused the offer of the cottage.

‘Beamish and I have plans of our own,' Florence told her. ‘We'll be leaving when  . . . well, before long, anyway, so there's no sense in going to the effort of moving.'

Richard began to die before her eyes, and she thought each coughing spasm might be his last. She was thankful for the oxygen and for the stalwart Beamish. There was nothing Livia could do about Richard's suffering. At his urging she moved back into her own room, and the closeness between them reverted to a supportive friendship.

The day of Richard's supper party arrived. Livia intercepted Beamish in the hall when he came to dress him. ‘He's very tired, Mr Beamish. I hate seeing him like this. I think we should cancel the supper.'

‘It's too late for that. Besides, it's his birthday and he's looking forward to it. We both know he's not going to celebrate another. You go and dress up in your very best for him, Mrs Sangster. The captain is proud of you, and he loves seeing you looking pretty. He needs your support. Leave the rest to me. I'll give him some oxygen and he'll be as lively as a lop in no time at all.'

Livia had already decided to wear the gown her mother had designed for Margaret Sangster, though she'd shortened it to just above the ankle and removed the train. The overskirt hid the growing signs of her pregnancy, and the salmon pink suited her colouring. She'd had her hair styled into a bob that morning, and the curls sprang about her neck.

In Margaret Sangster's jewellery box Livia discovered a necklace glittering with a spray of diamonds, and she wore her engagement ring.

Esmé was excited because Chad had come home for the weekend, and the pair had been allowed to stay up for an extra hour and mingle with the guests. Chad had changed a lot. He was quite the gentleman, quiet and polite, and self-assured for his tender years.

Livia waited for Richard at the bottom of the stairs by the wheelchair. Eventually, Beamish carried him down. Richard had lost a lot of weight and his dinner suit hung loosely on him.

His smile broke her heart as her eyes met his, for his had lost their tiredness and regained their brilliance, though there was something desperate about them. She wondered for a moment if Beamish had given him an injection to bring about this transformation. Whatever it was, Richard would have sanctioned it. ‘You look exquisite, my lovely girl,' he said.

She kissed him, whispering against his ear, ‘Happy birthday, Richard, I love you.'

He bore her hand to his mouth. ‘Ready?'

They made their way through to the patio, which was decorated with coloured lanterns. A long table was set out with drinks and glasses and was tended by Matthew Bugg. Florence and Connie wove in and out with trays of food.

Claps, cheers and shouts of happy birthday went up. ‘For those of you who have never met her, I'm proud to present the love of my life, my beautiful wife, Livia.'

There was more applause, then a man detached himself from some half-a-dozen men and stepped forward to take a hold on the wheelchair.

Livia put a hand on his arm to stop him.

‘It's all right, Livia, this is Corporal Anderson. We fought side by side in the war together.'

She smiled at the man. ‘How do you do.'

Richard pulled her down so he could whisper against her ear, ‘Look, Dents is skulking behind the pot plant. I think I put his nose out of joint when I took you to the altar. Go and be sweet to him, my darling, and I'll work my way round to you.'

Straightening up, she turned. Immediately her eyes were drawn to the enigmatic green of Denton's. They stared at each other while her heart fell out of her chest like a star deserting the sky. She was poignantly aware that she still loved him. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run to him, have him hug her tightly against his strong, warm body, and tell him she loved him.

How could she love two men at once? It wasn't decent. She couldn't  . . . she mustn't allow herself to.

She did none of the things her turbulent mind suggested. Instead she pulled on her Mrs Sangster smile and began to close the gap between them, making sure her feet touched the ground between steps.

Denton watched her approach, a smile playing about his lips, his eyes filled with an unguarded mixture of condemnation and love, so they scorched as well as caressed her.

That look turned her resolve to mush and her knees to water. Suddenly she was standing in front of him, defenceless, gazing up at his tallness. His name whispered from her lips like a caress, giving away her feelings to anyone who happened to be listening. ‘Denton.'

‘You look absolutely breathtaking, Livia.'

‘Thank you, Denton. I'm so glad you came.'

A tender kiss grazed across her cheek to her ear, and left a little shiver there. ‘Are you happy, Livia?'

Across the patio she heard Richard's laughter ring out. If he was happy then so was she. ‘Richard is a wonderful man.'

‘Yes, he is, and if you're happy, so am I. You didn't answer my letter. You broke my heart, you know.'

‘I'm sorry, I didn't intend to. The letter? I haven't opened it yet  . . . I couldn't bring myself to.' She drew in a breath to steady herself. ‘It arrived on our wedding day, just as I was about to leave for the church. I thought it would be better to put it away until  . . . later.'

‘And it's not later yet.' A wry smile touched his lips and he folded her hands into his. ‘Obviously the letter was bad timing on my part. How has Richard been keeping?'

‘Some days are better than others. I'm sure you have noticed how much he's deteriorated. We live for the present, and for his sake I'm trying not to despair.'

He glanced over her shoulder and released her hands, leaving her palms glowing like the colour of rubies. His smile came, full of its usual warmth, but a little forced as he directed it behind her. ‘Oh, there you are, Bernice, what took you all this time?'

Bernice was of average height, with a pert nose, slightly pouting lips and sculpted dark hair cut to perfect points against each cheek. Her dark blue satin frock had a crossover bodice that left her arms bare, and floating chiffon side panels on the skirt, which finished at mid-calf. She looked fit and well-muscled.

‘I needed to comb my hair and renew my lipstick. If we had to come to this party, the least I can do is dazzle the peasantry. I've picked up a plate of food on the way through. The vol-au-vents are divine.' A pair of midnight blue eyes fell on Livia, followed by a frown. ‘Do we know you?'

The possessive plural wasn't lost on Livia. Denton and this woman were involved, and she had to deal with an almost lethal stab of jealousy. Be content, she told herself. You made your choice and married Richard.

Had there been any choice? Would she have married Richard if it hadn't been for  . . .? God, she hoped Richard hadn't invited his father as well. That would be too much to bear.

‘Where are your manners, Bernice? This is our hostess, Livia Sangster. Livia, this is Bernice James. I study with her brother, Nicholas, and we live in the same boarding house.'

‘Whoops! Sorry, Livia. Trust me to put my foot in it.'

Bernice held out her hand, and after a moment of hesitation Livia took it. ‘Are you studying surgery, too?'

‘Lordy no, men are a bit disapproving about women poaching their professions. I suppose they're frightened that women will outshine them  . . . don't you think so, Denton?'

Denton looked bored, as though he'd heard it all before. ‘If you say so.'

‘I'm a dress designer. At least, I'm trying to be one. Mostly I sew seams for a living. I hope to open my own business before too long.' She slid her arm through Denton's and gazed archly up at him. ‘Though I expect to get married one day?'

Denton didn't seem to hear her, instead asking, ‘Didn't your mother design dresses, Livia? I seem to recall  . . .'

‘Yes, she did. She designed the one I'm wearing. Her name was Eloise Carr.'

Bernice became animated. ‘Hey  . . . I've heard of her. Do you take after her?'

‘I'm afraid not. I haven't got an artistic bone in my body. I leave the drawing to my little sister.'

Denton gazed around him. ‘Where is Esmé? Is she in bed. If not, I must say hello to her.'

‘She's with Chad somewhere. He tells me the school we sent him to is starving him to death, so they're probably hanging around the buffet table.'

‘They starved us to death, as well. It's a feature of boarding schools. There's a tuckshop in the village, though.'

‘There's Bertie. He's supposed to be in the kitchen. Chad can't be far away.' The dog pawed at Richard's leg, then leaped into his lap when he patted it.

The children appeared and Livia called them over. Chad shook Denton's proffered hand. ‘Wizard party, isn't it, Doctor Denton? Richard said I can put the records on the gramophone and keep it wound up when it's time for the dancing.'

Esmé gazed up at him and quietly waited to be noticed. Denton disengaged himself from the clutch of Bernice and took her in a hug. ‘Hello, Poppet, how's my favourite girl now?'

Esmé hugged him. ‘Doctor Elliot said I'm better now and I don't have to take that awful medicine any more.'

‘Was it horrid?'

‘Chad said it was poison, and made from boiled mud and bat's blood.'

‘Chad has a wild imagination. My father wouldn't be so mean as to give you a concoction like that.'

‘I've missed you, Doctor Denton.'

‘I've missed you too. But I'm here for a whole week. I'll come over and visit you tomorrow, after I see my guest off at the station. Perhaps we can arrange a picnic.'