The Loving Spirit Read online

  He had done it to secure her position. Thus she reasoned. Soon every servant in the place knew that he respected her. Their own respect had been growing by slow degrees. Now they accepted her authority completely. They were intelligent and critical. Had she tried to give herself airs they would have made her life impossible. But her modest demeanour and gentle manners had won their goodwill.

  From Jane, especially, she benefited. It offended the maid to have a mistress who did not dress according to her position, and, without fuss, Jane had taken Lady Farringdon in hand and changed her wardrobe to that of a woman of quality.

  Kate had allowed Jane to do her work, realizing that now she must present a convincing appearance. She stipulated only that her clothes must be dark and quiet, as befitted a woman in mourning. Official mourning for the first Lady Farringdon would continue for a full year, on the orders of her successor.

  It was she who decided that Charlie and Jack should go to prep school, judging the house to be too gloomy for two boisterous youngsters. That left only Grace and baby Amelia in her charge, and she continued to teach Grace herself. But the scale of her new duties meant that she was unable to spend as much time with her as she would wish. She found that Grace had taken a particular fancy to Albertine, one of the nursery maids, a plain, buxom young woman, not sharp witted but with an abundantly kind heart. She informed Albertine that in future Grace would be her especial charge, and knew that she had made them both happy.

  She managed Justin’s affairs successfully, and at any other time she would have revelled in it. But her heart was far away, following him in the north, thinking of him day by day, wondering what he was thinking, how he thought of her. Or if he thought of her at all.

  Only now that he was gone did she discover the depth of her love for him. It had stolen up on her during the long weeks when she had witnessed his suffering. It was her nature to be drawn to those who needed her protection. Lord Farringdon in his full strength and glory had inspired only her fear and dislike. Justin, driven half crazy by grief, reaching out to her as his only friend and comforter, had won her love.

  Almost as great as her heart’s ache was her body’s deprivation. In one, blinding, ecstatic night he had revealed to her the passion for which she had been created, but which her misfortunes had driven her to shun. And that knowledge, once gained, could never be forgotten. If she had wanted him before she wanted him now with all the craving born of experience. She wanted his nakedness against hers, his hot breath in her mouth, his manhood hard and driving inside her. Night after night she lay awake, aching with need for him, knowing that he had rejected her. An experience that had been shatteringly beautiful for her had brought him only guilt.

  She had one hope, that he might have left her with child. A letter, telling him so, would have brought him home, she was sure of it. But the hope died. There would be no child and, as time passed, she tried to believe that this was for the best. He would have returned in body but not in spirit. He was not ready to be her husband in truth. But there was always the future to hope for. As the months slipped by and a new warmth crept into their correspondence her hope grew greater.

  His birthday gift had filled her with joy.

  And then he had sent for her to join him, not in the way she had longed for, but with the news that her son was desperately ill, perhaps dying. Now she was in such a tangle of emotion that she didn’t know which way to turn. At this moment only Tom mattered. Whatever was between herself and Justin would come later, but some day, soon, they must confront each other.

  She would not be parted from her son for so much as a moment. Reluctantly she agreed to Justin’s suggestion that they take turns to watch, but she begged him to have a truckle bed set up in Tom’s room, so that she could sleep on it even when Justin was there. He persuaded her to sleep while he took the first watch. She tried to protest, but she was clearly exhausted, and although he was tired himself after sitting up all the previous night, he concealed it.

  Several times that night he had to walk about the room to stay awake. He moved silently, not to awaken her. Twice he administered medicine, but it seemed to make Tom very little better. In the early hours Kate awoke, very stiff. He supported her as she rose from the truckle bed. For a brief moment she clung to him, smiled and thanked him. And he had to be content with that.

  This became the pattern of their days. Often he couldn’t persuade her to sleep at all, but when he could she always awoke early. In angry helplessness he watched her becoming more weary, while their mutual fear, that neither dared express, grew rapidly. For Tom did not improve.

  ‘Kate, you must take some rest,’ he urged one evening when she resisted his attempts to move her.

  ‘If he wakes he must find his mother here.’

  ‘But now he has a father, too,’ he said gently. ‘If he opens his eyes I’ll awaken you.’

  ‘No,’ she said hoarsely, ‘I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of things I must tell you.’

  She was pacing the room, brushing aside his attempts to guide her to a chair. She’d reached a pitch of tension that was beyond rest. Her mind was going around and around, unable to stop or take comfort.

  ‘Are these things important?’ he asked.

  ‘They are about your children. I should have told you when I first arrived. The boys are doing very well at school.’

  ‘With your teaching behind them, I never doubted it. But Kate, this can wait.’

  ‘No,’ she said with a kind of suppressed fierceness. ‘They returned home recently and their masters’ reports are excellent. I meant to bring them to show you but I seem to have forgotten.’

  ‘It can wait until another time.’

  ‘Philip especially,’ she continued as if she hadn’t heard him. ‘I told you he would be a scholar and the headmaster of Eton thinks so, too.’

  ‘Kate – ‘

  She brushed her hair back distractedly from her forehead.

  ‘Wait, let me think...I was going to...’

  She swayed and his arms were around her instantly, preventing her from falling. Gently he drew her against his chest and wrapped his arms right around her in a gesture of protection. She was trembling violently and little gasps and moans came from her throat.

  ‘Kate,’ he murmured against her hair, ‘Kate, Kate, hold on to me and all will be well.’ He hardly knew what he said. It didn’t matter as long as she knew that he was there, offering all his comfort, hoping she could take it. So he held her tightly, waiting for the shaking to pass, and at last it did.

  He kissed her again, whispering, but she didn’t respond and at last he realized that she knew nothing about it. So many hours of anguish and fear had take their toll and she was asleep on her feet. Moving gently, not to awaken her, he bent and slipped his arm under her knees, lifting her against his chest and carrying her to the soft bed in the next room.

  She lay where he placed her, not moving, sleeping as though stunned. He disentangled his arms and drew a coverlet over her, watching her face for a moment, listening to the faint sound of her breathing, so soft that he had to lean close. He wondered where she really was now, but all he could tell was that she had gone away into another place, where he could not follow.

  As soon as he settled beside Tom, he knew he was going to have a hard time. The boy had begun to mutter in his sleep, on and on, endlessly, making no sense, trapped behind his eyelids in a hell of his own. As far as Justin could tell, his mind was fixed on the battle which he relived over and over in dread and confusion.

  At last the sound of his voice reached the next room and Kate emerged, having slept barely an hour. She sat on the far side of the bed to Justin, and touched her son’s forehead. His eyes opened and he went on talking, talking in a hoarse, desperate voice.

  ‘Tom, my darling, don’t talk,’ she begged.

  ‘But I must try to tell you, Mama. It was like...nothing I could imagine, so much blood...and men dying so horribly...I never thought. Mama, I was frightened...I’m a s
oldier but I was frightened....’

  ‘Every sensible soldier is frightened at some time,’ Justin said. ‘Only the fools are never scared.’

  But Tom didn’t seem to hear. ‘Mama, you won’t tell His Lordship I was scared, will you?’

  She could barely speak through her despairing tears. ‘No, I won’t tell him, but I’m sure he’d understand.’

  ‘I wanted him to be proud of me...but how can he be...now?’

  ‘He is proud of you,’ Justin said gravely. ‘A man who has been wounded in the service of his country is a son to make any man proud.’

  ‘Tom, do you hear that?’ Kate asked urgently.

  ‘I killed a man, Mama. He went down so suddenly...and there was so much blood...and I looked away...I couldn’t bear it.’

  ‘That sounds very sensible,’ Justin said, in his quiet way. ‘A good soldier attacks the enemy and passes on. You’re learning well, but that’s no more than I expected. I have the highest reports from your commanding officer.’

  Kate was about to protest that it was useless to say things Tom couldn’t understand, but something stopped her. The boy had turned his head to Justin and grown still, as though his attention had been arrested.

  ‘I did...my best,’ he murmured.

  ‘I know you did,’ Justin said, ‘and no man could do more.’

  Tom’s eyes closed and he lay still. Justin touched his face, feeling it burn under his hand. Very slowly, Kate rose and went to stand in the window, looking out at the dark. But she turned when Justin touched her shoulder. Her face held the calm of terrible despair.

  ‘Did you mind me calling him my son?’ he asked.

  ‘No, he would have been so glad...that is...he will be so glad when he wakes and I tell him...when he wakes...’ She caught herself up on a gasp.

  ‘Yes,’ Justin said quietly. ‘You must tell him.’

  ‘I’ll never tell him,’ she said in despair. ‘He’s dying. I know he’s dying.’

  He feared that she was right, but something made him say mechanically, ‘You mustn’t give up hope.’

  ‘Hope,’ she whispered the word longingly, but the emptiness in her eyes did not change. ‘I don’t give up hope, but I feel it being taken from me.’

  He longed to say something to comfort her, but there was no comfort to be found in the sight of the young man on the bed, with his grey skin and sunken eyes, his breath coming in agonized rasps.

  Justin was seized by the same sensation of terrified helplessness that he’d felt the night his wife died, when he’d put out all his strength to save her, and known that his strength was as nothing against the Deity who had decided otherwise. Inwardly he’d screamed defiance at Heaven.

  Looking at the woman who was his wife now, he understood that she knew better. He wanted to offer her all his strength to bear it, but she had strength of her own, drawn from that secret place where he couldn’t reach her.

  She turned the lamp down and stretched full length on the bed beside her dying son, her face close to his, her arm protectively across him. He didn’t move or show any sign of knowing her, but with a sudden catch in his throat, Justin understood that when Tom went into the valley of the shadow he wouldn’t go alone. Kate would be with him until the last possible moment.

  ‘Kate...’ he said.

  ‘We’ll be all right, Justin. There’s no need for you to stay.’

  ‘But I want to stay with you. I won’t trouble you.’

  He moved a few steps back and when he was out of her vision he doubted whether she would know if he was there or not. So he sat on the window seat, and stayed there without moving or speaking, never taking his eyes from the small pool of light and the figures on the bed.

  After a while he dozed off, but awoke a few minutes later to find himself still in near darkness. From the bed he could hear the sound of Tom’s harsh breathing, and see the gleam of Kate’s eyes, open and fixed on her son, yet at the same time looking past him to some unknown future where she would have him no more.

  Now Justin, too, found himself wondering about that future. How would they live together with this between them? Kate had said she didn’t blame him, but that was when Tom seemed likely to live. How could she feel the same when he was dead? Outwardly she would continue doing what she had promised, protecting his children, treating himself with a courtesy that masked the feelings she would never share with him. And whatever else they might have shared would die without having lived.

  Whatever else they might have shared.

  He said the words to himself as he faced that thought for the first time. They had parted in troubled circumstances where neither was at ease. Over the following months he had discovered the beauty of her mind, warmed by its sweetness and generosity, and gradually he had come to accept the possibility of love. But now love between them was impossible.

  He drifted in and out of sleep again, and this time when he awoke there was a grey light in the room. Then he heard the silence.

  Torn’s laboured breathing had stopped and there was no sound in the room. Kate still lay with her arm across her son, and she too was sleeping, not knowing that he had died while she was unaware. The knowledge of having failed her again overwhelmed him. If he’d stayed awake he could have alerted her in time to say a last goodbye.

  There was a faint movement from the bed, and a voice whispered, `Hello, Sir.’

  For a moment he thought he’d heard a ghost. Then his head cleared and he found himself looking directly in Tom’s open eyes. Only half daring to believe, he laid his hand on the boy’s forehead and felt the damp. The fever had broken.

  ‘Kate,’ he said urgently. ‘Kate! For God’s sake look!’

  His voice pierced her sleep, bringing her sharply awake. For a moment she was full of fear, but he seized her shoulders.

  ‘Look at him, Kate. His fever’s broken. The danger is over.’

  He helped her to her feet. With disbelieving joy she felt Tom’s forehead.

  ‘It’s true,’ she gasped. ‘Oh God!’ She met his eyes. ‘It’s true. Justin... Justin.’

  ‘Yes, my dearest,’ he said gently. ‘My dearest, dearest Kate.’ And nothing could then have stopped him taking her in his arms.

  He kissed her but only briefly. The time for kisses would come. Now they most needed to hold each other, seeking comfort and reassurance, and a promise for the future. Kate clasped her arms about her husband’s neck and buried her face against him, her eyes closed.

  ‘I couldn’t have borne it without you,’ she whispered.

  ‘You’ll never have to bear anything without me again,’ he vowed.

  The doctor was sent for and pronounced Tom out of danger.

  ‘Sleep and good food will do it now,’ he said. ‘Keep him warm, give him plenty to drink and he’ll soon be the strong young man nature made him.’

  Justin saw him to the door. Returning to Torn’s room a moment later, he found Kate on her knees beside the bed, her eyes closed, her hands clasped and her lips moving in heartfelt thanks. He crept away.

  It was still not the moment to say what was in his heart. First her overwrought nerves must have a chance to recover, and later in the day he was able to persuade her to take a drive with him along the sea front while Ferris sat with Tom. She sat in the phaeton, raising her face to the sun, feeling life flow through her again.

  ‘I’m so happy,’ she murmured. ‘I never thought to feel as happy as this again.’

  Returning to the hotel they found Torn awake and talking drowsily with Ferris. He greeted them rationally and said to Justin, ‘Thank you, sir. It helped a lot.’

  ‘Don’t tire yourself with talking,’ Justin advised.

  He was right because Tom nodded off almost at once.

  ‘Now you, too, must rest,’ Justin said to Kate. ‘For I don’t call the sleep you had last night rest.’

  She thought of that night, waiting for Tom to die, and shuddered. Unresisting, she allowed Justin to draw her into the room where he had hi
s huge bed, and begin to help her undress. As the garments fell from her she looked enquiringly into his face.

  ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘Not until you’re ready.’

  ‘Justin...’

  `First you sleep.’ On the words he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. There he tucked her in and drew the covers up to her chin. Then he kissed her as chastely as a boy and left the room.

  It was bliss to lie in cool sheets. There was something she must think of, but not now. Her eyelids insisted on closing. The strain of the last few days was slowly overwhelming her. Her final conscious thought was of Justin, his gentleness, his tender care of her. She was whispering his name when sleep claimed her.

  When she awoke it was dawn, and she was not alone. Two arms enfolded her and her head was resting against a bare chest, through which she could hear strong heartbeats. As soon as she moved, the arms about her tightened, and a kiss was deposited on the top of her head.

  ‘You’re here, aren’t you?’ she whispered. ‘You’re really here?’

  ‘I’m here, and I always will be,’ he vowed. ‘Kate, I’ve found you now, and I’ll never let you go.’

  He kissed her on the words, covering her mouth gently but then with increasing urgency, and the sadness of the last months began to slip away from her. She had longed for this moment through lonely days and aching nights, and now she would claim it to the full. She helped him remove her nightdress and pressed her naked body eagerly against his.

  ‘Justin,’ she murmured against his lips.

  ‘My love...’ His arms tightened about her. ‘My love ...my love...’

  The words were beautiful, but just now she wanted more, the satisfaction of body against body, deep, intimate caresses that set her aflame and sent shivers of pleasure scurrying across her skin. She yielded whole-heartedly to that pleasure, thrilled to know that it was only the precursor of more intense delights.

  Justin, looking down on her face on the pillow beneath him, her rich hair spread out like a glorious halo, knew a contraction of his heart in which joy was mingled with pain. She was so unutterably dear.