A Falling Star, page 62
part #3 of Wintercombe Series
‘I did not know that you played the guitar,’ she said, as the talk diminished a little. It lay propped against the wall, plain and sturdy, not at all like her mother’s beribboned and frivolous-looking instrument.
‘I learned when I was young, but I’ve forgotten most of it from lack of practice,’ Alex said. He leaned across and picked it up, running a gentle finger down the strings. Louise’s musical accomplishment consisted of a limited and reluctant acquaintance with the spinet, but her ear was acute. ‘The fifth is flat.’
Alex glanced up in surprise. ‘You’re right — but I didn’t know you were interested in music.’
‘I love to listen, but I haven’t the patience to practise,’ she told him. ‘Much to Grandfather’s disgust, I think — he’s the one with ability in that field.’
‘You flatter me,’ said Nick, who could handle spinet and fiddle with equal facility and accomplishment, and who had tried to encourage Louise, in vain, to play a little during the last few weeks at Chard. ‘But I would like to hear a piece or two, if you don’t mind sharing it with us.’
‘If you don’t mind missed notes,’ Alex said. ‘I have been practising assiduously, but poor Gerrit has suffered much over the past weeks, I fear. And I certainly won’t do you the disfavour of singing — that would be altogether too much.’
‘But you have a good voice,’ Louise said, without thinking.
Alex looked at her over the top of the guitar, which he was tuning. ‘Do I? I wasn’t aware that you’d ever suffered my singing. I don’t actually indulge in it.’
‘I — I must have overheard you at some time,’ Louise said, unable to stop the betraying flush which suffused her face. One day, perhaps, she would be close enough to him to reveal that she had heard him singing once, at Wintercombe, a song that betrayed far more of his innermost feelings than he had ever admitted. She did not know, even now, who was the woman who had been false, although it was most probably Lukas’s mother. But she wished that she could tell him, somehow, that he would never have to fear such treachery from her.
The tuning completed, he bent over the guitar, rippled a hand across the strings, and launched into a complicated and fiery piece that was admirably suited to his flamboyant style. There were plenty of missed and mistaken notes, as he had warned, but they passed almost unnoticed amongst the wild flood of sound. And Louise gazed at him as he played, entranced and enchanted for ever, and did not know how strongly her feelings shone from her face.
They stayed for two hours and more, talking and listening, and as they said their goodbyes, Louise felt suddenly and utterly bereft. To her horror, she found tears beginning to fill her eyes, and it took all her determination, and fierce control, to blink them back, and smile, and kiss him like the others. She must never, ever allow herself to weaken, for if he once suspected that she was not so light-hearted as she pretended to be, he would surely discard her at once.
But Phoebe noticed, for she drew Louise aside as they walked back through the Tower precincts, and said softly, ‘Nothing has changed, has it?’
She had mastery over her treacherous emotions by now, and was able to give her cousin a swift smile. ‘No, nothing has.’ She paused, took a deep breath, and said in a hasty undertone, ‘Would it be possible to — to see him alone?’
Phoebe raised her brows pointedly. ‘I don’t see why not — although a palm full of silver should make it certain. I thought you might wish for that — and I don’t think Alex would object, either, from the way he was looking at you today.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘I don’t suppose it escaped your notice that he is still besotted with you.’
‘It didn’t,’ Louise said. Silence and Nick had drawn a little ahead, and she stared at their respectable, elderly backs with a small frown between her brows. ‘But how can I return here alone? I can hardly cross London unaccompanied without rousing comment.’
‘You won’t have to,’ Phoebe said. ‘I promised Lukas that I would bring him here tomorrow, to see his father — and the lions. We can hire a hackney, grease a few palms, and while I look at lions with Lukas, you can have an undisturbed hour with my brother.’ She glanced sideways at her cousin. ‘I have no experience of such things, myself, but I can see your need for each other, plain enough. And although he seems to have adapted well to life in such comfortable captivity, I can tell that it has not been very easy for him, these past weeks.’ Her expression became more serious. ‘I think that he has been forced to examine aspects of his past life which, perhaps, he now regrets. Of course, being Alex, he would die rather than admit as much to me, but I know him as well as anyone, if not better, and there are some thoughts which he can’t hide from me.’ She gave Louise a sudden vivid smile, very like her brother’s. ‘If we can get these ridiculous accusations dropped, somehow, then I think this incarceration, in a curious way, will have been very good for him. And perhaps — who knows? — your affair could possibly become more permanent.’
‘There’s small hope of that,’ Louise said, unable to eliminate the bleakness from her voice. ‘I’ve known from the beginning that it is purely a matter of lust — on his side, anyway. Our liaison will last only until his eye lights on someone who attracts him more than I do.’
‘Will it?’ Phoebe said, her face thoughtful. ‘I wonder… Well, you have far more knowledge of these things than I do. But whatever the outcome, whatever happens in the next few weeks, remember this and hold to it — you have the power to make him extraordinarily happy, and that is something greatly to be cherished.’
*
Louise had feared that Nick and Silence would divine her intention when she announced casually that she planned to visit Alex again the following day. But since Phoebe and Lukas were going too, they did not seem to suspect anything untoward, despite the inner excitement that she feared must blaze from her face. Dressed in the peacock-blue silk mantua that was her best, her hair covered by a soft dark hood and with a fur tippet to warm her shoulders, she stepped into the hackney behind Phoebe’s familiar plain grey, and folded her hands in her lap as the vehicle jolted its slow way up King Street, hoping that Lukas would not notice their trembling.
There was much traffic in the streets that morning, adding to her impatience, and considerable delay, quite usual, Phoebe told her, around the new cathedral of St Paul’s, already ten years in the building and surrounded by scaffolding, piles of stone, waggons and workmen. It took more than an hour to reach the Tower, and by that time she was sweating with anticipation, despite the chilly, overcast day. The usual pettifogging procedures held them up at the entrance to the Tower, but at long last, nearly two hours after leaving Westminster, they were climbing the stairs to Alex’s quarters, Lukas holding tightly to her hand as he towed her eagerly upwards, while Phoebe, encumbered with her stick, limped doggedly after them.
A word to the warder, the discreet clink of coins, and they were once more admitted. Lukas rushed in, shouting joyous welcome, and Alex swept him up into his arms and up off the ground, his own delight glowing unguarded in his face.
Her time would come presently, and she did not grudge Lukas his father’s undivided attention. She sat with Phoebe, watching, as Alex and his son, two almost identical dark heads, bent over the paper on which Lukas, with happy pride, was demonstrating his skill in penmanship. This was another side of Alex, and one that was completely different from the one which most people saw. The big man, smiling with unconcealed affection at the small boy kneeling on the stool by his side, concentrating all his efforts on writing his name, was also the man who desired her so passionately, who loved horses and books, and who, despite the façade of casual, callous cynicism, was as vulnerable to emotion as she was. And realising that, suddenly, gave her hope.
She glanced round at the little chamber. There was, she was glad to see, a closet off to one side, to which, presumably, Gerrit could retreat to give them privacy. How long would they be allowed? By now, the waiting and the longing had heightened desire to such an intensity that she felt that she would burst into flame at his first touch. And if she shut her eyes, she was aware of him, only a few feet away, as strongly as she could tell the direction of the sun at midsummer.
Phoebe touched her arm, gently, and she could not help starting in surprise. Her cousin glanced at her meaningfully, and smiled. Louise, suddenly tense, smiled stiffly back. Then the older girl rose, and limped over to the table. ‘I’m glad you have remembered so much of my lessons, Lukas. Your hand is very neat and careful now.’
‘More than mine is,’ Alex said. He took the pen from the boy’s hand, and wrote a few words. ‘What does that say?’
Lukas looked at it, and then peered closer. ‘It doesn’t say anything. Is it French?’
‘No, it’s English.’
‘No, it’s not!’ The child twisted round, laughing. ‘It’s not anything at all — it doesn’t make sense!’
‘Yes, it does. Look at it harder.’
‘I am looking!’ Lukas sat back on his heels, scratching his head. ‘They aren’t words, they’re just scribbles.’
Phoebe bent down and whispered something in his ear. Lukas’s face broke into a wide, delighted smile. He picked up the paper, scrambled off the stool, and ran to the closet door. ‘Gerrit, Gerrit! Hebt U een Spiegel, als het U belieft?’
The servant emerged, smiling, with a small wooden-framed mirror. He held it steady as Lukas stared intently at the paper’s reflection. ‘It’s backwards writing! It says… “How many lions in the Tower?”’
‘You’ll have the chance to find out,’ Phoebe said. ‘And you can tell your father, the next time you come. They will be fed soon, so if you want to watch that, you’ll have to hurry.’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ Lukas said. He put the paper back on the table, and flung his arms around Alex with childish abandon. ‘You will still be here tomorrow, won’t you, Papa?’
‘I think so,’ his father assured him. ‘I can’t imagine that I will go anywhere different, for a while at least.’
Lukas withdrew from his embrace and stood still, looking up at him, his face suddenly serious. ‘When are we all going home to Wintercombe?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alex told him. ‘I don’t know, Luikje. But they can’t keep me here for ever. Sooner or later, they will have to let me go.’
‘I hope it’s sooner,’ Lukas said, suddenly fierce. ‘I wish they could let you go now, and then we could all go home.’
‘So do I,’ Alex said, with a wry smile for Phoebe, standing by the child. ‘Believe me, so do I.’
‘But at least the Tower does have its compensations,’ his sister pointed out. ‘Lions, for example…if we don’t go now, we shall miss their dinner. Say goodbye to your father, and then we must leave.’
There was another embrace, and then Lukas, as was his habit, gave his aunt a supporting arm. Louise remained sitting by the fire, wondering if the child would notice that she was not going with them. He did: he stopped by her chair, and said earnestly, ‘Don’t you want to see the lions, Cousin Louise?’
‘I saw them yesterday,’ she lied, smiling. ‘And once is quite enough for me… I will catch you up in a little while.’ And she watched as he led Phoebe from the chamber with a gravity and sense of responsibility far in advance of his years. The door closed behind them, and for the first time in two months, she was alone with her lover — save of course for Gerrit, who had discreetly withdrawn to his closet and shut the door.
‘How long have you planned this?’ Alex asked. He came to stand in front of her, and although his face was calm, even dispassionate, his eyes were not.
‘Since yesterday,’ Louise told him. ‘You have Phoebe to thank — it was her idea.’ Now that the moment had come, her mouth was dry, and she seemed to have lost the power of movement.
He stretched out his hand to her. ‘Well, since she has been kind enough to give us the opportunity, we must not waste it. And Gerrit will not disturb us, do not worry.’
She was pulled into his arms, and the kiss that followed confirmed, overwhelmingly, that separation had not diminished need or passion in either. Their lips still melded together, they crossed the few feet to the bed. Alex took his mouth away to say softly in her ear, ‘In case the guards take it into their heads to enter — shall I draw the curtains?’
The world within them was dim, and green, and totally private. Clothes were an impediment, to be feverishly cast aside, and their bodies a familiar landscape that yet held pleasures and secrets and undreamed-of delights. She gazed up at him, her soul, unknowing, in her eyes, filling her vision, and her mind on his face, his body, lean and hard and muscular, possessed of a power and strength that he always, with her, held in check. He smiled back, and the look in his eyes, dark with ungovernable passion, took her breath away. ‘Oh, sweet Louise, I have waited so very long for this,’ he said softly, and lowered his body on to hers.
It did not last long, but the intensity of pleasure, and the final cataclysmic explosion of joy, made her dizzy and faint. She lay beneath his warm weight, her mind dazed and wondering, wanting this moment of utter peace, and fulfilment, and love, to continue for ever.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked her quietly.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings once more, the closed curtains shutting out all but a trickle of light, the comforting feel of his skin next to hers, and the overwhelming, sensual languor that had invaded all her limbs. She opened her eyes, and saw him smiling. One lock of black hair dropped forward, tickling her face: she smiled lazily, and brushed it aside. ‘No,’ she said, teasing. ‘I think I must be ill.’
‘You don’t look ill,’ Alex observed. His hand caressed her cheek and her hair, with tenderness. ‘Your face has a very healthy glow, and your eyes look as if you have just beheld some wondrous marvel.’
She grinned at the mischief in his voice. ‘You flatter yourself, surely.’
‘Not unduly. For the wonder is also of your making, my sweet Louise, and after nearly two months without even a sight of you, let alone the chance to enjoy each other once more, I was beginning to pine and waste away.’
‘So was I.’ Louise lifted her hand and traced the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the dark, shaven hairs of his beard beginning to grow through the skin and rasp against her fingers. ‘And I hope that we will have the chance to be alone together again.’
‘If Phoebe is willing to bribe enough people, it should not be too difficult. Discretion is everything — even if the guards are prepared to condone it, they will find it very difficult to ignore if I flaunt my mistress openly. I am supposed to be held in comfort, but not that much comfort.’ He kissed her, with affection. ‘Which is why, delightful as it is to lie here and dream the day away in love and idleness, we must up, and dress, and pretend that nothing more has passed between us than friendly conversation.’
As so often before, they helped each other to put on their clothes, discovering in the process that to make love but once, after so long an abstinence, was not nearly enough. But she tried, with some success, to ignore the feelings that his touch roused once more in her, and knew that he would do the same. Her mantua, only a little creased, was decorously arranged, her hair just slightly disordered, and she hoped that Lukas, at least, would notice nothing unusual.
Alex tied the tippet about her shoulders, his hands drifting, teasingly, over the swell of her breasts above the embroidered stomacher. ‘There — you look almost respectable, save that your eyes tell a different story. Now I think you should go, and join Lukas and Phoebe — if they have to come back for you, it will only draw attention to the fact that you have been here with me alone.’ He kissed her, in a way that left her in no doubt of his feelings, and led her to the door.
The guard was on duty at the bottom of the stairs. He was a surly, venal-looking man, but such was her happiness that she gave him her most brilliant smile, and slipped a coin into his hand as she went past. There was no harm, no harm at all, in ensuring that the fellow was suitably rewarded for his co-operation.
The Tower precincts were, as usual, crowded with people: there were soldiers garrisoned here, as well as the Mint, the Ordnance with its stores of arms and gunpowder, and, of course, all the state prisoners, not to mention the parties of sightseers, come to marvel at the Crown Jewels, gape at the lions, and revel in the bloodstained and sinister past of this grim fortress. Hoping that she could remember the way back to the menagerie through the maze of buildings and throngs of visitors, Louise pulled on her hood and walked quickly, threading her way through a group of stout country folk being shown the more notable sights by a warder.
There was a man coming towards her, not tall, but broad-shouldered, and strangely familiar. She stared at him for a moment, bewildered by the lack of shock or recognition in his face, and then realised that her black velvet hood, a fashionable accessory for any lady abroad in London, effectively shadowed her face. He was about to pass her; hastily, she put out a hand to detain him. ‘Charles! What are you doing here?’
He looked as amazed as if the ground had opened up to reveal an abyss at his feet. For a moment, she thought that he would ignore her, but, evidently, his wish to speak to her defeated the anger also prominent in his face. He said abruptly, ‘I might say the same to you. Have you been visiting him?’
There was no point in denying it. She said candidly, ‘Yes, I came with Phoebe and Lukas — they’ve gone to watch the lions being fed. Have you seen them?’
Charles’s face was an extraordinary mixture of guilt, and revulsion, and yearning. He said curtly, ‘No, I haven’t. Good day, Louise.’
‘Wait!’ She gripped his sleeve urgently. ‘Charles, don’t go — I must talk with you, in private.’
‘Here is as good a place as any,’ he said. ‘But you told me that you never wished to speak to me again.’
