Billy tells me that Florence writes often about the baby in her letters to him. Apparently she’s beautiful, just like her mother. I hope she is. This is hard for me to say, but sometimes I think Isabella would be better off not having me as her adopted father. What can I give her when I return home? Wouldn’t she be better off living permanently as a Devereux with you at Island House? Please don’t think I’m trying to shirk my responsibilities; I’m not, I just want Allegra’s daughter to have the best start in life and I’m frightened I can’t do that. What if she refuses to regard me as her father?
In the meantime, I must thank you for being Isabella’s guardian. I wish I could give her some kind of present, but stuck here in the middle of nowhere, there’s nothing I can send, other than this lucky four-leaf clover I found the other day when I went for a walk during a short break from duty. It’s not much, I know, but I’m sending it with my love to the daughter of the woman I loved, in the hope that it will bring her luck.
Kind regards,
Elijah Hartley
Touched by how painfully honest Elijah had been, Romily unwrapped the four-leaf clover he had carefully included with his letter. It was such a little thing, but the thought of him taking the time and effort to preserve it for Isabella filled her with sadness. She pictured him finding it amongst the long spring grass and thinking of Allegra and her daughter. Just as soon as she could, Romily would have the lucky talisman pressed and framed as a keepsake for Isabella. Hopefully one day the girl would come to realise its significance.
Chapter Sixty-Five
‘I just wish I knew exactly what happened to Kit,’ said Hope. ‘With Dieter there was certainty; as heartbreaking as it was, I was with him at the end and could say goodbye. But with my brother, there’s so much uncertainty how he died. I can’t stand the thought of him suffering alone, of not being there, when he needed me …’ Unable to go on, she put down her cup for fear of her hand shaking too much and spilling tea over the tablecloth.
‘When he needed you most?’ said Edmund quietly, his voice only just audible above the hum of chatter and busy activity around them. It was mid afternoon and the Lyons Corner House on the Strand where they’d arranged to meet was packed; there was a pianist playing, adding to the noise.
Hope raised her gaze and met Edmund’s. ‘It’s the not knowing that haunts me.’
‘I’d feel the same way. I’d want to know all the facts. As a doctor rooted in the laws of science, I always need physical proof of a thing before I can accept it. I think that’s why I’ve never been drawn to religion; it all boils down to faith rather than actual empirical knowledge.’
‘Sometimes I think faith is all we have,’ she said with a heartfelt sigh.
‘Do you remember that awful row we had as children,’ said Edmund after a pause, ‘when you announced that you were going to become a nun and—’
‘And you said if I wanted to get dressed up in a stupid outfit I’d be better off running away and joining the circus as a clown,’ she finished for him with a smile. ‘I was very cross with you.’
‘You were. You refused to speak to me for days afterwards, you said you didn’t want to associate with such a heathen.’
Hope cringed. ‘I had a tendency to be a frightful prig back then. I still can be. I’m ashamed to admit this, but the afternoon Allegra went into labour I’d been unnecessarily sharp with her, and for something so absurdly inconsequential, for which I can never apologise.’
‘We all say things in the heat of the moment that we later regret.’
Her head tilted to one side, she smiled. ‘You always try to make me feel better about things, don’t you?’
‘But do I succeed in doing that?’ he asked, returning her smile.
‘You do.’
‘Good. Now tell me how things went with your publisher this morning.’
She told him about the meeting she’d had before coming here. ‘They’ve asked me to make a start on a sequel,’ she said. ‘In fact they see it as a series of books for children.’
‘That’s wonderful. I assume that’s precisely what you wanted to hear?’
‘Yes. I feel oddly connected to the characters I’ve created, protective of them too, and in a way that I never have before with just my drawings. I say,’ she said, as a waitress passed their table in her smart Nippy uniform, carrying a heavily laden tray, ‘look over there, the table to the right of the pillar; it’s my sister-in-law, Irene, and oh …’ Her voice broke off abruptly.
‘What?’ asked Edmund, turning in his chair to follow the direction of her gaze. ‘What’s wrong? Oh,’ he said, echoing Hope. ‘That’s not Arthur with her, is it?’ he added quietly, whipping his head back round.
‘No it’s not, and whoever he is, they seem awfully familiar with each other, don’t they?’
‘I think we can agree they’re not strangers.’
Hope tried to tear her eyes away, but she couldn’t and continued to watch in what could only be called fascinated horror as the man leaned in closer to Irene and stroked her cheek. She had no real fondness for her brother, but she felt a surprising pang of sympathy for him that his wife was betraying him this way. Or was Arthur such a terrible husband that this was how Irene coped?
‘Would you rather we left so you don’t have to witness what’s going on?’ asked Edmund.
At last Hope tore her gaze away from Irene and the man. ‘No,’ she said firmly, ‘I’m not going to let them spoil our time together, not when I see so little of you. Shall we order another pot of tea?’
‘Good idea.’ After he’d attracted the attention of their waitress and requested more tea and a plate of crumpets, Edmund settled back in his chair. ‘We needn’t see so little of one another if you wanted to change things, you know.’
