Tall Poppies (31 page)

‘I thought you cared enough for me to wait. I thought we had an understanding.'

She'd wounded him more than she'd realized. She gazed into his dear face, absorbing the hurt in his eyes. In some ways he was even more vulnerable than Richard had been, for he'd loved her and he'd lost her to his best friend – a double betrayal.

But she'd also been betrayed. In the normal course of events, if the major hadn't attacked her and if Meggie hadn't been conceived from that attack, then Richard wouldn't have felt the need to wed her, and she would have waited for Denton.

She reached out and gently caressed his face. The world was full of regrets, and just at this moment she was experiencing every one of them. ‘We did have an understanding. I'm sorry, I didn't deliberately set out to hurt you. It was all such a rush.'

‘That was Richard all over. He made up his mind to something and you were just swept along. Were you happy with him?'

She smiled. ‘Yes.'

‘Good.' He took her hands in his again, his smile returning. ‘Come on, I'll take you home. Did you receive an invitation to my parents' party? Yes  . . . of course you would have.'

‘I can only stay for a couple of hours, since I'll have to be back for Meggie. She's a bit of a dictator, I'm afraid.'

Gently, he kissed her forehead. ‘I'll personally pick you up, and I'll deliver you back home. This isn't over yet, Livia. I don't give up easily.'

‘No  . . . I don't suppose you do,' and she wished she could tell him that everything would be all right for him. But she couldn't.

Nineteen

Livia dressed carefully in a waisted, ankle-length gown of midnight blue sprinkled with crystals. It was a gown Richard had insisted she buy. There was a silk jacket with a diamanté clasp in the shape of the moon. He'd bought her perfume to wear with it,
L' Heure Bleue,
which he'd said meant, The Blue Hour.

It was a perfume his mother had worn, and Livia had all but exhausted the small drop Margaret Sangster had left behind on her dressing table when Richard had bought her another bottle.

She went through the jewellery Simon Stone had returned to her. There was a pair of diamond earrings that were discreet. Clipping them to her earlobes, she slid her engagement ring on to her finger, then slipped the daisy ring on her other hand. She gazed at her wedding ring, wondering if she should remove it. She decided against it. It would remind people that she was the widowed Mrs Olivia Sangster.

Meggie settled down quickly. She was a child who responded well to routine, and Livia had arranged their daily lives around her comfort. Usually at this time Livia was helping with the washing up after dinner and looking forward to listening to the radio.

Tucking the covers round her daughter, Livia kissed the warm, rosy flush of her cheek and went downstairs. To Chad and Esmé, she said, ‘Don't forget to go to bed on time.' She turned to Connie. ‘I'll be back at ten o'clock. Call me if you need me before that. You know Doctor Elliot's number.'

‘Goodness, will you stop fussing, Livia. You're only a mile away. There's Doctor Denton's car. Slip your coat on now, it's cold outside.'

‘Now who's fussing?'

‘I am. You don't want to catch a cold to pass on to Meggie, do you?'

A car horn honked.

Kissing Connie's cheek, she pulled on her coat and sped outside. It was a clear night and the moon reigned serenely over a cradle of stars. Frost rimed the blades of grass, turning them into spears. The trees clawed black skeletal fingers into the sky, as though trying to scratch the stars from their settings. Warmth was leached from her body with each vaporous breath.

Denton tucked a blanket around her legs. ‘I like your perfume  . . . it's so you  . . . deep and mysterious, like the sky tonight.'

How close he'd come was an homage to the perfumer's art. ‘That's exactly what it was created to be. It's called The Blue Hour.' She wouldn't dilute the compliment by telling him that Richard had chosen it for her.

‘Obviously I have a good nose.'

She grinned. ‘You have an excellent nose; like a bloodhound.'

He voiced a blood-curdling howl towards the moon.

They gazed at each other for a moment, laughing, then she said, ‘Shouldn't we get going before you attract all the amorous farm dogs in the district? I only have two hours, and I don't want to spend it sitting outside the cottage listening to you howl.'

‘I would quite happily sit here howling for two hours, as long as I had you to howl at. But if we must  . . .' He gave her a smile and put the car in motion. ‘I've been offered a job at Poole hospital.'

‘Will you take it?'

‘I haven't decided yet. Some time ago, just after I learned of your marriage to Richard, I applied for a position in an Australian hospital in Melbourne. They've also made me a tempting offer.'

Dismay yawned inside her as the realization that she might never see him again struck home. ‘Australia is such a long way.'

‘The contract would be for two years initially.'

In which time she'd probably get him out of her system  . . . but no, she'd never be able to do that. Lord, how she'd miss him if he went away. ‘What do your parents think?'

‘I haven't discussed it with them yet.'

‘Bernice?'

He slid her a quick look. ‘What about her?'

‘I thought you and she  . . . Bernice loves you.'

‘Bernice loves Bernice, and she's in love with being in love.' He gave a faint smile. ‘How can you think such a thing? Didn't I make my intentions towards you perfectly clear in that letter I sent you? All right, so you didn't read it because it arrived on the eve of your wedding to Richard, but you must have read it since, and the sentiment is still the same.'

‘I haven't opened it. I didn't like to while Richard was alive.'

‘Why not?'

A little shyly, she said, ‘I don't know if you'll be able to understand this, Denton. I never thought it possible that I could love two men at the same time, but I did. Richard was so good to me that I couldn't help loving him. I didn't want to feel as though I was being disloyal to him, even in my mind. So I hid your letter under the lining in a drawer in the cottage, and I tried to forget you, as I knew I must. But every time I saw you I knew I loved you with just as much intensity, if a little differently. The letter is still in its hiding place. Richard knew about my feelings for you.'

He gave her a quick smile as they turned into the driveway of his parents' house. ‘Well, at least I know where I stand in your estimation now.'

She said, ‘I know you doubt the truth of what Richard and I meant to each other, but it was very real and precious to me. I've brought this to show you. You'll need the flashlight.' She took a piece of paper from her beaded evening bag and handed it to him. ‘Read it. I found it in Richard's diary.'

Denton's heart sank as he read the poem. The intimacy and heartfelt eloquence of it made him ashamed that he'd ever doubted either of them. He wished she hadn't shown it to him, and he wanted to tear it into little pieces and throw it to the wind. But she'd never forgive him if he did. This was something she could cling to, and reassure herself with.

There was a moment of silence in which he felt defeated by his own sense of inadequacy. But Richard was dead, and he wasn't, which gave him quite an advantage. ‘I can't compete with Richard's way with words, but he's dead, and you're alive. Don't you think it's about time you read my letter?'

She reached up and touched his face. ‘Yes  . . . I suppose it is time, and I owe you that.'

The party was as Livia feared. The glances went from her to Denton, then back again, speculative.

Helen kissed her on the cheek. ‘I'm glad you could make it, Livia. How pretty you look. How's Meggie?'

‘Thriving. She's being christened after the service on Sunday. I do hope you'll stay for it. Mr Beamish and Mrs Starling will be her main godparents. And my sister and brother will also stand. They're a little young for the job, but the reverend has allowed it, since he's satisfied they know what's entailed.'

Someone nearby asked, ‘Will the major be attending the christening? He's such a delightful man. We haven't seen him since  . . . well, for quite a while. I would have thought he'd have been down to see his granddaughter.'

Livia cringed at the thought of seeing him again. ‘The major is in hospital.'

‘Is he? I hadn't heard. My, what a dark horse you are, Mrs Sangster. What's wrong with the major?'

Dr Elliot rescued her before she could tell the woman to mind her own business.

‘Hello, my dear. You look absolutely glowing. Being a mother suits you.'

‘Meggie's a good baby. She allows me to sleep for most of the night. She's got two teeth now.'

‘I must drop in and visit her, so she can show me how clever she is.'

‘What a scintillating contribution to the conversation that was,' she said, trying not to giggle. ‘I'll be telling you how many eggs the hens laid this week.'

Andrew Elliot grinned at her. ‘I'm sure that would be equally fascinating. Denton, my boy, take Livia's coat. Come into the drawing room where it's warm, my dear. Now, what can I get you to drink? We have some punch that packs a bit of a wallop. Helen made it and it's heavy on the gin.'

‘I don't think that would suit Meggie, do you?'

‘I'd forgotten you were nursing. Punch is out, then. I have a bottle of stout in the cupboard. It's nutritious, and just the thing for nursing mothers. I'll pour you one.'

‘Thank you.'

The dark brown liquid with its topping of caramel froth looked somewhat unappetizing. She took a sip and only just prevented herself from grimacing. She looked round for Denton when Dr Elliot was approached by another guest, recognizing a few faces from church. They stood in little clumps, talking.

Denton came in. Smiling at her over the heads, he made his way across. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her upper lip, laughing. ‘You have a frothy moustache. What's that you're drinking?'

‘Your father told me it's stout, but I have my doubts.'

He took the glass from her hand and helped himself to a gulp. ‘Yep, that's stout all right.'

On the other side of the room Bernice stood with two men. Dressed in striking maroon pants and a top with gold trim and a floating chiffon scarf, she looked vaguely oriental. It was not something Livia would have chosen for herself, but Bernice certainly carried it off.

Bernice's eyes narrowed in on Denton. Those same eyes shifted to Livia. They were unhappy. She said something to the two men and the three of them sauntered across.

Bernice kissed Denton's cheek before latching on to his arm. ‘Hello, darling.'

‘You came then,' he said, but without much enthusiasm. ‘I thought you were going partying with Jerome.'

‘We are. We're here to persuade you to come with us.'

‘I'm afraid not. I promised to take Livia home.'

Livia was looked up and down with some dislike. ‘Goodness, her cottage is only up the road, can't she walk?'

‘At night and in January, and when she has to get home to feed her baby? I think not, Bernice. Besides, it would be rude to walk out on my parents' party.'

Bernice persisted, her mouth shaping into a plum-coloured pout. ‘Couldn't your father take her home?'

Livia intervened. ‘Please stop trying to arrange my life, Bernice, and don't discuss me as though I'm not here. It's most annoying. And if you want to go somewhere else, please don't let me stop you, Denton. I'm sure I can manage by myself.'

‘I don't want to be somewhere else.' Denton managed to detach his arm from Bernice's colour-coordinated talons, and turned to her, his smile easy, but his eyes slightly narrowed in irritation. ‘Livia, have you met Jerome Scotter? And this tall chap is Bernice's brother, Nicholas. We studied together and lived in the same boarding house. May I introduce Livia Sangster.'

Nicholas flashed her a smile. ‘Denton has mentioned you often, but he didn't tell me you were such a peach.'

Denton laughed. ‘And I didn't tell her you were a wolf in sheep's clothing, despite your appearance.'

Nicholas resembled Bernice, but his clothes hung untidily on his frame, as if he'd lost weight since he'd last worn them. Jerome Scotter was shorter, but neat in an expensive-looking suit with velvet revers, and a gold brocade waistcoat under his jacket. His eyes were blue, and astute. ‘Bernice tells me you're the daughter of Eloise Carr, the designer.'

‘Yes, I am.'

‘Your mother was very talented. She was an inspiration to me when I was studying art and design. She was a lovely woman, too, and you look a lot like her.'

‘Thank you  . . . did you design Bernice's outfit?'

Jerome flicked Bernice a look and gave a tiny shudder. ‘Good Lord, no! She designed it herself.'

Bernice almost recoiled from the implied criticism, and Livia felt sorry for her. ‘I like it.'

Bernice was not mollified in the least. ‘You don't have to say the polite thing just to please me.'

Livia was tired of this woman's petulance. ‘Pleasing you is the last thing on my mind, Bernice. I like the outfit. It's different, and it suits you. Take that as a compliment or not, whichever you please.'

An awkward silence followed.

Jerome gazed at his watch, then at his companions. ‘Time to go, I think. It will take us a while to get to Bournemouth.'

‘You should have telephoned me first, it would have saved you a trip,' Denton said easily.

Jerome shrugged. ‘Yes, we should have, but we were down this way anyway. I have a maiden aunt who lives in Weymouth, and who needs to be buttered up now and again.'