Seasons of Love (28 page)

‘Oh, sir, my head hurts! I keep waking up then falling asleep.’

‘Lie still until you recover.’

But Harry couldn't lie still, though he wasn’t yet fully conscious.

‘I'm so glad to see you, sir. I've so much to ask you! I've missed you dreadfully!’ he babbled, thinking for a moment that the figure bending over him was his stepfather. ‘They've made my mother cry so, and she's not well. Why did you leave us?’

‘Shh, lad. Don't try to speak. You've hurt your head.’

When Daniel spoke, Harry blinked up at him and realised his mistake, for the voice was nothing like that of Charles Carnforth, nor was the face. Tears came into his eyes. ‘Oh! I - I thought you were my stepfather, sir,’ he said. Tears started to roll down his cheeks.

A large hand covered his small grubby one. Daniel found himself very touched by the lad's grief. ‘You must miss him very much.’

Harry rubbed his other hand across his eyes, leaving another smear of dirt. ‘Yes. I - I'm sorry.

I don't usually cry. But he was - he was such a
splendid
person. I'm getting more used to it now, and I don't let my mother see me crying, of course.’

‘Of course not!’

‘It's just - you look quite a bit like him - only younger, of course. And with the sun behind your head like that . . .’ He tried to struggle up into a sitting position, but yelped and fell back as he put some weight on his ankle. He turned even paler and gulped. ‘I feel sick.’

Daniel held him while he vomited, then moved him away from the mess and fetched more water to rinse his mouth.

Anyone who had seen Daniel Carnforth tending a sick beast could have told you that he had a way with distressed creatures that was nothing short of miraculous. He now found that he also had a way with sick boys.

When Harry thought he could bear to be moved without vomiting again, Daniel picked him up and started to carry him home. For some strange reason they didn't meet any of the other searchers on their way back. They did, however, establish a tentative rapport.

‘I'm very grateful to you for finding me, sir. I wouldn't want my mother to worry about me.

She has enough to upset her. And - and I'm sorry to be such a nuisance to you.’

Daniel gave one of his quiet smiles, the sort his mother never saw. ‘Show me a boy who doesn't get into scrapes! I know I used to!’

‘Did you really?’

‘Oh yes!’ He described a couple of them, one involving a dog, and had the pleasure of seeing the boy smile.

‘I had a dog once, too,’ Harry confided. ‘It - it made a bit of trouble in the hotel. The manager shouted at me. But my step-father said I could keep it, so I did.’ An unhappy look came into his face. ‘But I had to leave it behind in Italy. Mr Napperby said my mother had enough to worry about on the journey and I could see he was right. I miss Nico, though.’

‘The dog would have hated the travelling on a boat. And it might easily have got killed or lost on the way.’

‘Yes. I suppose so. Besides, I had my mother to look after. My step-father said after he was dead I was to help her as much as I could. He said I'd be a great comfort to her.’

‘Did he - talk about dying?’ Daniel knew very little about Charles Carnforth and none of it good - though the servants seemed to have liked him well enough.

‘Oh, yes. We always tried to face up to problems. He said it was the best thing to do. It was hard to stay cheerful when he was dying, though. He got so thin. But he didn't like us to cry or be sad.’

What a strain that must have been! And what a contrast to the way Daniel’s own mother behaved! ‘You got on well with my cousin Charles, then, did you? I never met him.’

‘Didn't you? Oh, yes, he was the
best
of fellows! We all had such fun together. He made my mother laugh a lot. I don't remember my own father very well, but I do remember him making my mother cry. And I always had to be very quiet when he was at home, or he would hit her.’

Daniel tried not to show his shock. And was surprised at how angry the thought of anyone hitting a lady could make him.

Harry continued his tale. ‘After my real father died, she had to work so hard to keep us. She gave English lessons, you know, and she sewed. She was always sewing, even in the evenings. I used to carry the wood in for her and empty the slops, or fetch the bread. I was too little to do much then.’

Daniel was conscious of a feeling of pity for this child, who had faced so much in his short lifetime. He also felt envious, for at least Harry had had a loving father figure for a couple of years. Daniel had never had that privilege. ‘You were lucky to have had such a step-father. My father was a bit like your real father. Only he didn’t hit my mother.’ But he had ignored her and spoken to her scornfully, as if she were quite worthless, and that had hurt her greatly. Perhaps that was why she had become so fussy and attention seeking after his death.

The Dower House came into sight just then and Harry wriggled in his rescuer's arms. ‘Do you think I could get down and limp along, sir? I don't want my mother to get a shock if she sees me being carried.’

‘I think I'd better continue to carry you. You shouldn't put any weight on that ankle for a day or two.’

Harry sighed and lay back. ‘Very well, sir. Oh, and I was coming to apologise to you, and I haven't. I'm very sorry I shouted at you after the funeral. It was ungentlemanly.’

‘You were right in what you said, though. We hadn't been kind to your mother. But I didn't understand - didn't mean to upset her. I'll try not to do it any more.’

‘That's all right, then.’

Before they reached the door, Helen came running out to meet them. ‘Harry! Darling, what happened?’

‘I’m sorry, mother, but I fell out of a tree. Mr Carnforth found me and brought me back. I've sprained my ankle, but he says it'll soon get better.’

It was a good thing all her attention was on her son, because Daniel couldn’t help staring.

Without her veils, he realised in stunned astonishment, Helen Carnforth stood revealed as a beauty. Not a showy sort of woman, as he’d expected, but truly beautiful nonetheless. When she bent over the boy, her glorious hair was only inches from his nose. Her skin looked creamy and soft to the touch, and he had a sudden inexplicable urge to run a finger over it and bury his face in her hair, which utterly amazed him. He wasn’t one to run after women.

Having made sure her son was all right, Helen raised a glowing face to his rescuer, which made him feel - strange. She didn’t seem to notice anything, thank goodness, just went on to thank him unreservedly for his help. ‘Won't you come inside the house, Mr Carnforth? Harry must be heavy. Have you carried him far?’ She had quite forgotten the animosity between them, in her joy at having her son back safe and sound, for of course, Becky hadn’t been able to keep the secret for long.

Once indoors, Harry was deposited on a couch and Becky summoned to inspect the damage to one whom she now regarded as
her
nurseling. She and Sir Daniel had a brief consultation about the ankle, which was then bound up.

‘If you'll carry him upstairs, sir?’ Becky asked, but it was an order rather than a request.

‘Of course.’

The sufferer was carried, protesting, to his bed, to be delivered completely into Becky's hands. Not until she had given him a thorough wash and seen him consume a light meal did she leave his side, by which time he was falling asleep.

Shyly, Helen asked Daniel if he would take tea with her, and he accepted. Like her son, she had been struck by his resemblance to Charles when she first met him and it made her feel strange. But the resemblance lasted only until he began to speak. Unlike her late husband, Daniel Carnforth seemed to be a man of few words, even perhaps, she realised now, rather shy. The silences between them weren’t awkward, however, just peaceful, for both were tired, he from his exertions, she from her condition.

‘Yes. Tea would be nice.’

‘And something to eat?’

‘I'd appreciate that.’

She rang for Susan and ordered tea and sandwiches from the cook whom Alfred had found for them in Bedderby by a fortunate chance, and who had started at the Dower House that very day.

Susan bustled out again with a cheerful, ‘Won't be long, ma’am.’

Daniel leaned back in his chair, feeling very tired now. ‘I'm sorry to impose on you, but I'm afraid I missed my lunch entirely and I'm rather hungry.’

‘It’s no trouble. Was that Harry's fault?’

He nodded. ‘But don't get angry at him. He's only a boy. He didn't mean to get lost.’

‘It's about time he did start getting into mischief,’ she admitted. ‘He's been so
good
since -

since - ’

‘Yes. He was telling me how he tries to help you.’

‘He does help me. Greatly.’ Her eyes misted up again.

Daniel pretended to brush some dirt off his sleeve to give her time to recover.

Susan rescued them by clattering back in with the tea-tray, forgetting to knock, but smiling so proudly as she set it before her mistress that Helen hadn't the heart to correct her behaviour.

She poured out some tea and saw her guest supplied with sandwiches, taking one to nibble on, so that he wouldn't feel uncomfortable. ‘I'm sorry,’ she said, after a while, with her quiet smile.

‘I'm being very remiss as a hostess, sitting here without speaking to you.’

‘I was enjoying the quietness. Life has been a little hectic lately - and my mother isn’t a tranquil person to live with. I was glad when she left for Bath.’ He smiled with such visible relief that she smiled too. How could this quiet sensible man be that silly woman's son?

‘Let me pour you another cup of tea. And have another piece of Becky’s fruitcake, do!’

‘Thank you. I must confess to a hearty appetite.’

‘You Carnforths are large men. Charles was the same.’ A shadow crossed her face at the memory of her husband.

Daniel concentrated on stirring his tea and choosing a piece of cake. You couldn’t be with her for long and not realise how genuine her grief was. His cousin had been a lucky man. He felt deeply ashamed of his previous suspicions and hostility towards her and, he realised with surprise, she made him feel protective. Not because she sought anyone’s help, but rather because she was so brave.

‘Would you and your son care to take tea with me at the Manor one day?’ he asked, after a few moments. ‘You might like to see round the house where your husband was born. And there’s a portrait of him as a boy. He looks full of mischief.’

‘Oh, I'd like that very much. He remained full of mischief right until the end. Do you know, he was laughing at something at the very moment he died! I was so glad about that. It was the way he’d have chosen to go.’ She described the incident with Giuliana and the kitten.

‘He seems to have been a remarkable man.’

‘Oh, he was.’

Daniel was astounded to find himself feeling jealous of his cousin. He was surprised to find himself thinking about the beautiful widow rather more often than he should be doing. And enjoying her company when she came to tea. And inviting her to come again. And even enjoying the company of his ward.

For the next week or two, Helen let life drift past. The rainy August gave way to an Indian summer. She found herself disinclined to do much, and spent a lot of time sitting in the garden under a tree. She started a piece of embroidery, but didn’t get very far with it. Instead, she soaked up the sun, allowing her skin to become an unfashionable golden colour, and slept a lot.

It was like the period she had once spent at the convent, a much-needed rest after a very trying time. She kept meaning to write to her friend Roxanne and the Hendrys to tell them she was back in England, but she didn't. She also kept putting off revealing her condition to anyone and Becky was so busy bossing the new servants about, including the new cook-housekeeper, who was nominally in charge, that she, too, forgot how time was passing.

Now that peace had been established between them, Daniel found himself popping in to see his new relatives quite often, every day or two, in fact, and he never refused an invitation to take tea with them. There was the excuse of discussing the boy's future, or he had heard of a pony that might be just the thing for Harry to ride, or even just the truth that he had been passing the house

- though he didn’t add that he had come that way quite deliberately.

The pony was inspected by Briggs, approved and bought. Then Harry was found a puppy. A bitch at the Manor had recently had a litter. Would Mrs Carnforth allow her son to come and inspect them, even, perhaps, choose one for himself? They were ready to leave their mother now.

Harry was ecstatic.

Another tea party was held at the Manor and, after long and serious consideration, a puppy was chosen.

It was Becky who suddenly realised how much time had passed and watched all this with a little frown. Mrs Carnforth had still not made her condition known, and, if Becky were any judge of the matter, and she prided herself on having a sharp eye for such things, Daniel was fast falling in love with his cousin's widow. And that, as things stood, was not exactly the best thing that could happen. Let alone it was hard for a man to watch the woman he loved grow heavy with another man's child, it was too soon yet for Helen, who still wept for Charles at night.

Moreover, there were nasty rumours still circulating about the type of woman Mrs Carnforth was. Becky had given a few people the rough side of her tongue when she heard them gossiping, but she knew the malicious rumours had spread too far for her to stop them. Only time would remedy the damage, as the neighbouring society got to know Mrs Carnforth and saw her worth.

Well, Becky decided one day, there'd be no hiding the child soon, so she'd best speak up. That poor young woman was just drifting along in a fool's paradise at the moment.

‘Isn't it time you called in a doctor and spoke to Mr Napperby, ma’am?’ she said bluntly that same night, after she had seen Master Harry to bed.

Helen's face clouded. ‘I wish I need not! I don't want to - to spoil everything.’

‘You won't be able to hide it for much longer. You're putting weight on quickly now. You'll have to tell people. You’ll have to get some new clothes made, too.’