The Tailor's Girl (23 page)

‘Funny, that portrait always troubled me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because she looked so sad.’

‘Not sad. Wistful,’ Pen said and gave a self-conscious smile.‘I always related to the girl who sat for that painting, whoever she was.’

‘Why?’

She sighed. ‘I can’t tell you the truth of why, not yet anyway. However, there are two reasons and the second is that I’m an only child. It has its benefits, I readily admit. But you can’t imagine what it’s like to have parental attention focused solely and wholly on you every moment of your growing up.’

He began rolling up his sleeves. It was a deliciously mild day, even beneath the cool of the glade. ‘I guess not.’

‘Please,’ she said, offering food. ‘I made everything myself.’

He gave her a look that said he was impressed.

‘Mind you, you were the one being groomed . . . in the spotlight.’

‘Indeed,’ he agreed, taking the triangular sandwich she offered, which had its crusts neatly cut off.

She paused, fixing him again with a similar intense look. ‘He was heartbroken, you know . . . I mean, when there were endless months of no news.’

He swallowed, remembering his father’s serious but ever-kind face – its lines and wrinkles that attested to years of listening rather than speaking, to acquiring information rather than offering advice, to thinking long before he spoke. Strangers often thought that Thomas Wynter was deaf, or perhaps rude, because he rarely answered a question immediately. Those who knew him well understood that he was genuinely considering each response. ‘I can imagine my father was the last to give up hope.’

‘Actually, no. I think your mother and I both agree that your darling father finally sickened and passed away when he gave up on you ever being found – alive or . . .’ She smiled away the word she didn’t want to say. ‘But there was one person who never gave up, Lex.’

He guessed what was coming. Pen had matured but there was one quality that had not left her since childhood, he noted, and that was her open expression. He recalled now how easy she was to read.

‘I never gave up hope that you’d return.’

He cleared his throat softly. ‘I’m grateful for that.’

‘Are you?’ He felt his skin compress beneath the cool palm she laid against his arm. He looked at where her unblemished hand, with its pale complexion, neatly proportioned fingers and manicured nails sat upon his naturally darker skin. There was something terribly intimate about her gesture. He wished she wouldn’t and yet it felt helplessly pleasant. She knew it too, and he saw the realisation of that intimacy glimmer in eyes that seemed to echo the violet of the bluebells. She was passing a message and wanted him to make no mistake in understanding it.

And now those eyes misted slightly. ‘I began in Scotland,’ she said.

‘Began what?’

‘Looking for you.’

Alex was sure that little could shock him these days but her remark made his mouth open in silent surprise.

She nodded, giving a thin smile. ‘Everyone said I was mad – including both our fathers, but I think Uncle Thomas admired me for it. He admitted to me before he died that because he was so busy comforting your mother, all he did was utter placations that sounded horribly empty. He said that he counted on me to be the one true believer beyond himself that you had somehow survived and would return. It’s why he made that codicil to his will.’ She dabbed at a tear with a lace handkerchief but didn’t appear self-conscious about weeping in front of him. ‘My parents tried endlessly to talk me out of the search but I wouldn’t be persuaded, Lex. I had to find you, if you were to be found. I worked my way down through all of the military hospitals and any public hospitals that were taking returning soldiers. I lost count of how many heads of nursing I spoke to.’ He looked at her in dismay. ‘And I lost count of the weeks I spent trawling the hospitals. In fact, the day I discovered the hospital you’d been in, you’d —’

His shock spilled over and he cut her off. ‘Bloody hell, Pen! What was in your head?’ Alex ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, disturbing it so a lock fell forward.

He knew she noticed it. ‘Love, I suspect,’ she reacted, fixing him with a liquid gaze.

Although he’d let himself in for that remark, it didn’t temper his shock at the easily spoken words. He stared at her uncomfortably.

‘Well.’ She broke the silence and gave a watery smile. ‘I’m glad I can surprise you.’

‘Oh, Pen.’

She refused to look at him now, busying herself in the picnic basket. ‘Is it so far-fetched that I could be in love with you? That I always have been? That I always will be?’

He didn’t know what to say and was aware of shaking his head slightly.

She rescued him, letting her gaze find him again. ‘Did you not know?’

‘No.’

She laughed sadly. ‘Lex, you’re pathetic. I’ve been crazy about you since I was about seven years old.’

‘What?’

‘I was that age, I think, when our families started meeting regularly; you must have been what – about fourteen then? And you became more dashing with each year. Didn’t you wonder why I was always angling to spend the holidays here?’

‘I thought it was Charlie’s friendship. I mean, you are a cousin, after all.’

‘Tosh! That was something the adults found convenient. Yes, we are related but so distantly that I’m probably a closer cousin to your gatekeeper!’

‘I’m sorry, Pen.’

‘For what?’

‘Not realising.’

‘I hid it well. To tell you the truth, I was terrified that you’d guess.’

He shook his head. ‘I thought you found me intolerable.’

‘Quite the contrary!’ She laughed and he had to admit he found her amusement most attractive. ‘I was so nervous that I might be wearing my heart on my sleeve, that you could hear it pounding harder whenever I was near you, or that I’d faint if you touched me accidentally. I did avoid contact as we grew older. Silly little girl that I was.’

‘No longer a silly little girl, though.’

She shook her head. ‘Far from it. And forgive me for being so direct but it’s best you know that none of my girlish crush has waned. If anything, it’s deepened. You’re every bit and so much more than the handsome, charming, funny Alex Wynter I recall.’

‘I am shocked.’

‘I can tell. But when you left, I was just fifteen and —’

‘Podgy.’

She slapped him playfully.

‘Didn’t we call you Podge?’

‘Very unkind it was, too.’

‘Well, well. You certainly didn’t live up to it. You are such a catch now, Pen.’

‘I don’t want to be a catch for anyone, Lex. I want to be yours.’

Every ounce of breath was trapped in his lungs because each time he tried to divert the conversation, she dragged him deeper. She grinned disarmingly. ‘Moving too fast for you?’

He scratched his head, feeling unnerved. ‘Yes, a little. Leaping over the top of a trench with machine guns firing at me and bombs dropping all around me feels easier to navigate than this minefield.’

She edged closer and took his hand. ‘I won’t rush you, but I made a promise to myself that if my prayers were granted and you walked back into our lives that I would not waste a minute before telling you how I feel. I’m sorry to ambush you but I have to say this right now or I’ll never find the courage and probably not have this opportunity of us being alone in a totally romantic bluebell field again.’ Alex knew she wanted to sound witty but instead it struck him as so intense that he wanted to stop her saying any more, but she pushed on. ‘So here it is. I have loved you since I was old enough to understand the difference between how I loved my pet rabbits and how I love my parents. You were in my life – romantically, I mean – like a burning meteorite from my eleventh birthday and in my mind you have never lost your fire. I told you I searched for you the length and breadth of England and that is no word of a lie. Even your mother begged me to stop, feared I was going mad.’ She shrugged. ‘She was right. I surely did go a little mad. I was convinced that you’d made it through and that you were injured somewhere and didn’t know how to get home.’

‘That probably sums me up.’

‘I refused to believe that the man I secretly loved – the man I’d never been able to look in the eye and tell him how I’d felt for years – was gone. I had to find you, Lex.’

Without thinking through the potential repercussions, Alex lifted her hand to his face and gently placed it against his lips. He made no attempt to kiss it, but even in that gentle act of affection, he knew he risked the young, passionate Penelope Aubrey-Finch reading so much more into the gesture.

‘Thank you for not giving up.’

‘Oh, Lex.’ She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He could feel her body trembling and even though he didn’t dare hold her close, he stroked her in a brotherly way.

‘Come on, now. I’m home.’

She pulled away and damp eyes regarded him. He knew she desperately wanted him to kiss her but he found himself in a strange mindset, one he couldn’t explain yet. He wasn’t sure if this potential relationship was wrong but just now it certainly wasn’t right.

‘Let’s get that champers open, Pen. We need to celebrate, surely?’

She moved closer to kiss his cheek gently. ‘I’m so grateful to the angels who guarded you and kept you safe. I’ll be patient but not for much longer,’ she whispered, before returning her attention to the champagne bottle. ‘Will this do?’

He glanced at the label:
Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin
.

‘Brut,’ he pronounced with relish, trying to ignore the kiss and her warning.

‘Stole it from Dad’s cellar. He won’t miss one,’ she said with a conspiratorial wink.

Alex deliberately popped the cork so it exploded in a cascade of bubbles. He poured the frothing pale golden liquid into two glasses.

‘Here’s to your safe return,’ Pen said, offering her glass in a toast. ‘I’m celebrating that you’re back in my life,’ she said, more directly. ‘I’m going to say it, Lex, no matter how it shocks you. I know I must be patient while you come to the conclusion that you also want me to be Mrs Alex Wynter.’

Alex’s hand, raising his flute, froze mid-air.

‘There, I did it,’ she said, more nervously than she’d said anything today. ‘No one will ever be able to accuse me of skirting the issue or falling into that terribly British trap of not actually saying what one means. I prefer to be candid.’

‘You certainly do,’ he breathed.

‘I hope that doesn’t scare you?’ she frowned.

He shook his head, half amused, half baffled. ‘You’re extremely refreshing.’

‘Good!’ she said, eagerly. ‘I think I’ve scared off most other suitors because of it.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, that and the fact that the only man my heart was beating for never knew how I felt. Now he does,’ she said with a determined nod. ‘Will you drink to honesty?’

Alex raised his champagne. ‘To honesty.’

‘Will you always be honest with me, Lex?’

‘I promise you I will.’

They clinked glasses and sipped. ‘Mmm, that’s delicious. Now, shall we keep eating?’

He laughed. ‘You are quite a girl, Penelope.’

‘I am. I hope I’ll continue to impress you enough that you’ll truly believe it. My family has more than enough that I shall never have to worry about money, you know that.’ She blinked. ‘So I’m not Fern. Furthermore, I certainly don’t need the Wynter surname to give myself social status, or security.’

‘No, indeed,’ he said, chewing on another sandwich although the food felt suddenly too thick in his throat to swallow.

‘I am not interested in anything that belongs to the Wynters . . . other than you. If you suggested we elope to South America and turn our backs on everything, I’d say yes and not flinch. I know I’m young, and I can see in your perplexed expression that you are still struggling to see me as anything but your “little cousin”. But I want you to accompany me to the ballet next week and just give me a chance. I’m asking for nothing more than your company and let’s see how we are together.’

He blinked, watching her carefully.

She frowned suddenly. ‘Oh, Lex, I’ve been so insensitive . . . is there someone else? A girl in France, or Belgium, whom you need to go back for? Perhaps there’s a nurse you met while in hospital?’

He sighed. ‘I don’t know, Pen. Have I lived as a monk for the past few years . . . or has there been someone special in my life?’ He thought of the heart cut out of the handkerchief. ‘I don’t know. I fear there may have been.’

She looked instantly downcast. ‘And?’

‘I just can’t remember. These are confusing days for me.’

‘Do you feel anything for someone else?’

Alex shrugged. He chose to be honest. ‘I feel nothing. A void.’

She gave him a look of genuine sympathy. ‘The photograph of you in the newspaper a few days ago didn’t prompt any calls?’

‘None. Well, unless you count a lawyer offering his services and using my father’s death and family connections as an excuse. He didn’t mention the article but the timing struck me as too obvious.’ He gave a sound of disdain. ‘And the police did call and say a barber in the city might have recognised me and phoned his local station, but when questioned further became less sure and had little to offer in the way of information anyway. He didn’t know the name of the customer, where he was from or where he was going – only that he recalled someone who looked like the man in the newspaper article which he glimpsed over a client’s shoulder. All he could tell police is that the man came in on his birthday and that he was going off to celebrate. That’s all he knew. Their conversation was so general he recalled nothing important from it.’

‘Well, then. It definitely wasn’t you. Your birthday is February, if I’m not mistaken.’

‘You’re not.’

‘More importantly, you don’t like celebrating birthdays.’

‘You know me too well. Just a coincidence.’ He sighed. ‘Mother has demanded that I let the past be just that.’

‘I can understand that, Lex. She’s got you back. To her, what else matters? And surely someone significant would have recognised you and come forward. Perhaps you need to allow that there is no great secret? You were in and out of hospitals, you were ill, you may have been cared for by a family, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that there’s anything to fear.’