Lakeland Lily (37 page)

They were stopped first by Clive and Edith Ferguson-Walsh, proudly relating the latest adventures of their brave daughter, though as Lily well knew, they’d done everything in their power to stop Dora going into the war. They were kind enough to shake Nathan’s hand and congratulate him on his safe return.

Lucy and Philip Linden came next, showing off a bevy of children and a very flustered nanny. He’d managed to miss out on the action completely, he admitted, without explaining
 
why. Seeing Nathan’s mouth tighten, Lily made their excuses and led him quickly away.

‘There’s Margot. I can see her through the conservatory window with Selene. Do you want to go in on your own?’ As panic filled his eyes, squeezed his hand. ‘You don’t have to.’

They set off across the lawn, feet sinking into the mossy turf, Nathan’s hand closed tight on hers and he stammered out three words. ‘D-don’t - l-leave - me.’

Lily’s heart swelled with love for him. Wouldn’t she go with him anywhere? To hell and back if he asked, although that was silly. Hadn’t he been there already? She couldn’t bear to contemplate how it was that such a strong, forceful man had become so fragile.

‘I’m so glad you’re home.’ Oh God, how she loved him, and yet she must somehow give him up!

Swallowing her pain, Lily couldn’t help wondering what control, if any, she could exercise over Selene and Margot. She came to a swift decision and, glancing about to check they weren’t overlooked, pulled Nathan into the azalea bushes.

‘Perhaps it would be best if I were to go in and speak to them first. What do you think? I could explain about Bertie’s not being here, and that I’ve got a surprise for them. Selene will be delighted.’ She waited for Nathan to comment. When he didn’t, merely continued to wait for her decision, Lily reached up and kissed him softly. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise. You stay here till I call.’

He nodded, indicating agreement, but his eyes were filled with anguish and he let her go reluctantly.

The pain in Lily’s chest weighed heavy as she crossed the lawn. They’d better be pleased or she’d give them what for! But then, he wasn’t her man. She really should remember that.

Thankfully she achieved the house without being stopped, took a deep breath and entered the conservatory.

The sun streamed through the tall narrow windows and the cloying scent of gardenias, summoning memories of that long-ago graveyard, became almost overpowering, seeming to add to Lily’s growing sense of unreality.

The tableau before her of two women in oyster silk pleated tea gowns and strings of beads, entertaining the elite members of the assembled company in the privacy of their conservatory, reminded Lily of some Impressionist painting. What was she doing living in this house with people she had vowed to hate? Why bring Nathan to Selene when she desperately wanted to keep him for herself’

But it was too late now to turn back.

Drawing in a deep breath, she began carefully to explain how Bertie had not been on the train after all. The few privileged guests hurriedly melted away, as if the artist had blotted them from his canvas.

Margot’s outraged voice rang out, bouncing off the window panes like splinters of ice which refused to melt in the overheated room. ‘Not here? How can he not be here? What have you said to my son to make him not want to come home?’

Lily sighed with resignation, her fears instantly being proved correct. As always Margot blamed her. Patiently she tried again, reassuring her that Bertie’s missing the train had no doubt been an accident, a simple misjudgement of the time, or perhaps he’d been held up for some other reason in London.

‘What other reason could there possibly be? He would certainly wish to see me, his own mother.’

Hastily Lily interrupted, in case this should turn into yet another of Margot’s endless lectures. ‘But I do have a lovely surprise for you both. Particularly for Selene.’ And turning to her sister-in-law, Lily took both her hands in her own. ‘There’s someone waiting for you down in the garden. Someone very special.’

Selene merely looked blank.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Margot butted in, determined not to be ignored.

Lily smiled, struggling to dampen her own emotions and concentrate on the happiness of the woman before her. ‘It’s Nathan. After all these months of worry, he’s come home safe and in one piece. How about that?’

‘Nathan?’ Selene whispered the name in wonder, as if she had never expected to hear it again.

Lily nodded, puzzled by her lack of reaction. Was the poor girl too stunned to take it in? ‘Yes, Nathan. In person. Isn’t it wonderful?’ This was a girl so eager to be his wife she had spent the last four years endlessly planning and re-planning her wedding. Was the reality of seeing him in the flesh suddenly too much for her? These thoughts, racing through Lily’s head in seconds, brought with them an echo of concern. Selene had never had occasion to handle sickness or show any kind of compassion. How would she cope with this new and different Nathan? ‘Before you go to him, you ought to know that he is not quite perfectly well.’

‘What do you mean?’ Fear flickered briefly in brown eyes so like Bertie’s, and Selene snatched her hands away.

‘I’m certain it’s nothing permanent. I believe they call it shell shock. God knows what the boys suffered out there. He’ll need love and care, and plenty of patience to help him get well again. Now go to him. He’s waiting for you by the azaleas.’

Selene half turned to Margot. ‘Mama?’

Margot, who had remained silent through all of this, lowered her chin and clasped her hands upon a stomach grown plumper with the years. ‘You must certainly go and see how dear Mr Monroe is. Then bring him up here for a glass of champagne and to meet our guests. We must all celebrate his safe return.’

But the smile on her face was stretched to an unnatural stiffness, and as Lily watched Selene weave her way slowly through the crush of guests, Lily feared she might have done entirely the wrong thing in bringing him here at all.

Over the next few days Nathan was to be a constant visitor to Barwick House. Margot surprised Lily by her apparent concern for him, dutifully inviting her future son-in-law to tea or dinner, urging him to call in for a chat or take a turn about the garden with Selene.

‘So lovely at this time of year. Selene will require a garden nearly as pleasant when you are married, Mr Monroe. I trust you could manage that?’

Edward attempted to talk to him about his experiences but Nathan rarely responded, his silences seeming to grow longer as time went by.

Lily watched with growing concern.

With each visit Nathan seemed to shrink more and more into himself, his face tired and drawn. Sounds startled him alarmingly. It only needed Margot’s pen to clatter upon the wooden floorboards and he would leap from his chair, ashen-faced and shaking. Lily guessed he slept little, and there was a constant tremor in his hand which caused the china cup to rattle against its saucer so fiercely that eventually Selene was driven to take it from him, emitting a deep sigh as she did so.

‘I-I’m s-sorry,’ he stammered.

Lily’s heart went out to him. To watch Nathan daily strive to appear normal, desperately struggle to form his words, and so miserably and frequently to fail, brought her unbearable pain. His bride-to-be, unfortunately, was less charitable.

‘He really makes no effort to converse,’ she complained when he had finally, and silently, taken his leave one afternoon. ‘Sits there saying nothing, not caring a jot how difficult it is for me.’

‘I tried to explain that he’s suffering from shell shock.’

In her cosy chair by the fire, Margot sniffed. ‘There, didn’t I say this would happen? We’ve given him ample opportunity to feel welcome in our family, no one can deny it. But as you say, my dear, he makes no effort. It’s all sham, of course. "Swinging the lead", isn’t that what they call it? Pretending to be suffering from some unknown disability, when really it is nothing but cowardice.’

Lily could hardly believe her ears. ‘That simply isn’t true. It’s some kind of nerve damage.’

Edward said, ‘I asked him what was wrong with his arm. Said he’d woken up one morning and found he couldn’t move it. Wouldn’t say why.’

‘Perhaps he can’t bear to remember,’ Lily said.

‘Seems to me that there’s a lot about Mr Nathan Monroe that he can’t bear to remember.’

Lily swallowed, not knowing what to say, for hadn’t she once said exactly the same thing herself? ‘He doesn’t like to talk about himself, or seem to ask for pity.’

Margot clicked her tongue. ‘If you ask me, he’s a malingerer. Playacting to cover his cowardice. Not like my brave Bertie who single-handedly went behind enemy lines without any thought for his own safety.’

‘And took a dozen prisoners while he was about it,’ Edward finished. This was the closest he had ever come to expressing pride in his son, and his neck flushed slightly with the embarrassment of it.

‘However,’ Margot continued, warming to her theme, ‘I really am having second thoughts about allowing our darling girl to rush into marriage. How will the man look, walking down the aisle with one useless arm hanging by his side? Not to mention that lop-sided leer. What will people think?’

The room seemed to grow perfectly still as Lily held her breath, waiting for Selene to tell her mother that what people thought of Nathan was unimportant. It mattered only that he was home, safe, and in reasonably good health. But she remained silent.

‘Selene?’ Lily gently prodded, at which she instantly burst into tears and ran from the room.

‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Margot said, and frowning at Lily, hurried off in the wake of her weeping daughter.

Each day Lily took the ferry and then the omnibus to Windermere station and dutifully waited for the afternoon train. Each day it arrived and unloaded its quota of passengers, a few less each time as the troops gradually came home but never the one she was waiting for. There was still no sign of her husband. Till one morning Betty brought her a letter, excitement in her voice.

‘I think it’s from Master Bertie. It has a London postmark.’

Lily recognised the handwriting instantly and longed to rip it right open, there and then. But, aware of the maid’s curiosity, she laid it aside and continued to brush her hair. ‘Thank you, Betty. Did Margot see it come?’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘Then leave it to me to tell her. Just in case it’s bad news.’

Betty paled. ‘Oh, yes, ma’am. Of course, ma’am.’

‘Help Thomas get dressed, and give him his breakfast, will you?’ Betty had quite taken to caring for the child. Margot had wanted him to have a nanny, but they weren’t easy to come by during the war, many having gone into nursing, so Betty had played the role unofficially and enjoyed it.

When she’d carried the toddler away, cooing delightedly and promising him toast soldiers with his breakfast egg, Lily snatched up the envelope. At last the mystery would be resolved and an explanation given. But it was no more than another brief note.

‘Can’t come home just yet. Will write later. B.’

No explanation, no address, no indication of where he was staying or what he was doing. Lily screwed the paper up into a tight ball and flung it into the wastepaper bin in an unusual outburst of temper. What was he thinking of? Surely Bertie wasn’t suffering from shell shock too? No, his last proper letter had told her he was fit and well, and couldn’t wait to see her. What had got into him? How could they possibly rebuild their marriage while several hundred miles apart?

But then, once he was home for good, how would she cope feeling as she did about Nathan?

Irritated and confused Lily went to retrieve the letter and put it into her dressing-table drawer. She couldn’t risk Margot’s seeing it. Its very briefness would somehow be made to prove her own inadequacies as a wife. Lily would have to make up some story about his staying with friends he’d accidentally met up with. Which was very probably the case.

She stared at her own reflection in the mirror, smoothing her fingers over her clear skin. Time was passing. How much longer could she go on like this? Did she have any hope of happiness?

Lily forbore to mention the letter to Margot, and later that morning set off as if for the station as usual, in order that her mother-in-law should not grow suspicious.

However, instead of making her way to the folly and ringing for the ferry, Lily walked along the shore in the opposite direction, gazing out over the rippling waters. Such a beautiful day for early May, a soft breeze ruffling the silvered waters and fluffing up the feathered clouds that floated like swans in a wide blue sky.

Apart from a small boy and his father out fishing in a rowing boat, the lake lay empty and serene, with only the sound of a bubbling beck to disturb the peace.

No trippers crowded the piers and quay so early in the season, and there were still no Public Steamers in operation. Perhaps they would start again soon, now that Nathan was home. As soon as he was well enough, Lily thought.

Several of Edward’s richer neighbours were saying the war had put an end to the era of steam. They were scuttling their old steam-launches and yachts by letting them sink into the mud at the bottom of the lake, since no one was interested in buying them any more. Edward had long since berthed the
Faith
up
a backwater, where she was rusting quietly away, no longer taken out for ferry trips or jolly picnics on the lake. He seemed to have lost all interest in her.