‘Yes, yes, he has. Well, I am sorry this should have happened; it will be sadly dull for you here without him while the weather continues so cold.’ She thought he was looking at her with unaccustomed attention and sharpness as he said this, seeking some reaction, and for a moment, she could think of no answer to make him that would not betray anything of what she felt; she only shrugged wordlessly and turned away. He still could notknow;it was perfectly possible for her to miss her pleasant companion, for her to cherish a tendre for him, even to be deep in love with him, and him with her, without anything in the least improper having taken place between them.
‘It will be a little quiet without him, that is true, until we grow used to his absence. But I have walked for too long,’ she said with hard-won, cool composure, ‘and I fear I have taken a chill. Excuse me, Edward, I am going to lie down for a little while in bed and get warm.’
He was instantly all solicitude, and urged her – so that she did not have to suggest it herself – to take her dinner in her bedchamber and be sure to keep warm.
The succeeding days passed in similar fashion, and when she was not in bed, she bundled herself up in shawls and had no difficulty at all in looking wan and miserable as she drifted about the house, coughing occasionally when it occurred to her to do so. She was very tired suddenly, with no need for feigning, and slept a great deal. He did not come to her, and when he suggested sending for the doctor, she told him that there was not the least need. She just needed to rest.
Nor did her courses arrive. By the time they were three days late, then four, she was tolerably certain that they were not going to make an appearance at all. She felt the same, and yet different – her breasts were a little sore, as usual, but she had not a twinge of the dragging pain in her belly, her back and thighs that ordinarily accompanied her unwelcome monthly visitor. She did now feel a compulsion to weep at odd moments in the long, cold days – but she could not wonder at it. Well might she weep, or rage.
Viola thought her husband must be on tenterhooks, but for several days, he dared not ask her in plain words how she did. In other circumstances, she might have felt pity for his anxiety and the dawning hope that she saw him struggling to suppress. But she had none to spare for him – after all, it seemed he was getting exactly what he wanted. His wicked plan had worked to perfection, and if there was a price, he was not the one paying it.
22
1813 – THE PRESENT
‘Yes,’ said Viola slowly. ‘Yes, I suppose we must discuss it. Though I do not know how much there is to be said. The past cannot be altered.’
‘Of course it cannot. It is years too late for that and we both know it. Viola, I should tell you now that I had wondered if I should approach you after Edward died, once your mourning was over. You’d been married to him for so many years that any sensation over the match and its outcome must have been long forgotten, and it wasn’t very likely anyone would assume that the boys could possibly be mine. Not when he had accepted them and lived with them as their father for so long. But the disparity in our fortunes was still so great, I still had so little to offer you.’
That sounded very much like a convenient excuse to her, and it didn’t matter anyway, except that she wished he wouldn’t lie to her. Again. ‘Far too much time had elapsed by then,’ she told him crisply. She was agreeing with him, on this at least, but that didn’t mean that they were in accord. She let down her knees and moved to sit more upright against the pillows; it was impossible to have a discussion of such a serious nature lying on her back like a stranded turtle. She could not afford to feel so vulnerable in his presence.
‘If we ever knew each other or cared for each other – and at this distance, I cannot be sure we did; we were both so young – the passage of years had driven us too far apart for us simply to resume where we left off. You said in your letter that I would not believe or accept declarations of love if you made them now, and you were quite right. Especially because you were never honest with me, Richard, were you? Not even when you were swearing undying love to me.’
He made no immediate response, his face closed and bleak. If she had expected him to rush into some smooth denial, plainly, she was to be disappointed. Would she never learn?
Angry with herself as much as him now, she went on, ‘You have made me think about the past when I have learned to be very adept at pushing it away, deep down where I need never confront it. To stir it all up again was your choice, not mine. And now that you have done that, you must live with the consequences. Even you, with all your audacity, can hardly expect that such a dangerous exercise will put me in charity with you, and come cuddling up to you begging for caresses. I think I’d like you to leave me alone for a while now, Ventris.’
‘Are you saying…?’
‘I don’t know what I’m saying, other than just now, I want you gone.’
She saw a flash of something in his face that looked very much like anguish, and went on roughly, desperate to drive him out of her presence before she softened towards him when he did not deserve it, ‘I need some time alone. There is no need to make any more of it than that. I am your wife, and nothing can change that fact. I am committed, however much I might sometimes wish I wasn’t; I will have your child if I can. But just now, I do not wish to look at you.’
‘That is your right,’ he said desolately, and left her without another word.
Viola sank back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted, and let the memories come flooding back. All of them, as he had said, damn him – the brief moments of joy, and the searing pain. Perhaps wherever he was – and just now, she didn’t much care – he might be doing the same. God knows he had as much to regret as she did, and maybe even more.
23
SPRING 1802
It was her maid who spoke to her first, and really, she had no option. ‘Your grace,’ Mary said tentatively one morning, when in the middle of dressing, Viola was overwhelmed by a violent spasm of nausea that had her grabbing for the bowl she’d just used to wash, ‘do you think you might be… in a delicate condition?’
‘I think it’s just possible, don’t you?’ said the Duchess faintly, raising her head and then lowering it swiftly again.
It was folly, of course, to imagine that Edward, who so rarely spoke to her at any length unless it was entirely necessary by his lights, would not speak to her of this.Thiswas an event of great moment in his life. She could not make out if Jennings had told him, though much later, she had reason to suspect that she might have done, or if he’d counted and noticed the signs himself; at any rate, he came to her in the sitting room one day and said tentatively, ‘My dear… my dear girl, you have been unwell, these last few days, and I wonder if you might possibly…’
‘I believe I am with child, yes, Edward,’ she said quietly. ‘Of course, I have no experience of it, other than what I have seen in my mama and my oldest sister, but Jennings tells me that the symptoms… Yes.’
There were tears in his eyes, she saw, and they stood in her own too, though not for the same reason. He reached out a hand as if he might touch her, then thought better of it. ‘It is wonderful news, the best news in the world, but it is early, of course,’ he said gruffly. ‘We must take the best possible care of you. Dr McAllister shall attend on you immediately, just to reassure us that all is proceeding as it should. Does Jennings, do you…?’
‘Some time in November, she thinks,’ Viola said. Seeing an opportunity, she added craftily, ‘My mother might be able to advise me better, having such great experience in these matters. If she came to stay and brought the girls, it would be a great comfort to me. There is none of my sisters preparing to come out at the moment, Allegra is still too young this year even by Mama’s standards, so they will not be constrained by the demands of the Season that will soon begin.’
Edward had always been notably unenthusiastic about the prospect of having his mama-in-law, who was some six or seven years his junior, to stay at Winterflood with her large and noisy brood. He and Viola had married in London and left immediately and alone for their honeymoon at Winterflood, and that had plainly suited him very well. But matters were different now, it seemed – now Mrs Constantine could be of practical help. He hastened to agree to his wife’s suggestion, letters were written and replies sent, and in an astonishingly short time, a vast, old-fashioned hired vehicle, paid for by the Duke and full to the brim of Constantines, plus Miss Naismith, the young governess, was to be seen pulling up in front of the grand entrance to the mansion.
The weather had grown warmer over the last few days, and it seemed that spring might be on its way at last. The ice on the reflecting pool where they had skated a few weeks ago had melted, and all the icicles that had decorated the statues and the grottoes were gone. Swelling buds could be seen on the stark fingers of the trees, and tiny shoots were beginning to push up through the soil. Noticing them, Viola felt a little embarrassed, almost as though she embodied a cliché, but pushed away the thought as fanciful. The change of seasons was welcome, and her family were welcome too, and her dear friend Emily. They could not replace Richard, they could not transform Edward into the husband she wanted and could never have, but the bustle and drama they created would make her life seem a little less empty.
Leontina had left her meek husband at home on his small estate just to the south of London; he would do very well by himself, she said ruthlessly, and it was probably true that he would welcome the unaccustomed peace and quiet. But she had brought her four younger daughters with her: Allegra, who was almost sixteen, Beatrice, who was twelve, Cecilia, nine, and little Bianca. They tumbled out of the coach in a torrent of femininity that made the Duke blanch visibly, and seized upon Viola to hug her fiercely and exclaim over her. But they parted to let their mother and Miss Naismith pass between them.
