Daisychain Summer

‘Thank you, but no. I’ve brought adequate with me, though it’s kindly of you to ask. And tomorrow, when I’ve got myself straight, I hope I might return the compliment and entertain you to tea.’

Brought adequate? Alice frowned as she walked the lane that wound into West Welby, yet both of them thin as rakes, just like Dickon Purvis. But she would find a way to help them; do it without hurting their fierce pride. She, who had so much, whose little one was chubby-cheeked and whose husband walked straight-backed and true, would help the unfortunates who seemed to have so little. Not only was it her duty, but it would be in thanks for her blazing happiness. And she would favour especially the thumb-sucking Keth. A few mugs of milk, a few slices of dripping toast would work wonders for that pinched little face!

She raised her eyes to the clear September sky.

I’m so happy and I thank You with all my heart. And may it please You to let me keep it, God?

‘Psst! Lady Anna!’ Glancing at the house next door in case the formidable Cossack should appear, Elliot Sutton stood at the back garden wall hidden, he hoped, by a large flowering shrub. ‘Good afternoon to you.’

‘Why – Mr Sutton!’ She pretended surprise. She had known he’d been watching her from an upstairs window and it did not disturb her to hear him call her name. ‘Should we be talking like this?’

‘I see no reason why not. We are neighbours; we have been introduced and anyway, it is more fun this way – secretly.’

‘Yes, it is. And since our mothers are at this very moment discussing our future, then I think it perfectly correct for you and me to talk. After all, there is the thickness of the wall between us!’ she smiled, impishly.

‘Our future? I wouldn’t say that, exactly!’

‘You wouldn’t, Mr Sutton? Then I have a half-crown in my pocket that says you are wrong.’

‘I accept your wager!’ He threw back his head and laughed. Not only was Anna Petrovska disturbingly direct, but free from maternal supervision there was the makings of fun in her. ‘Though I’d rather you made it a kiss!’

‘Then a kiss it shall be.’ Her eyelashes dropped coquettishly. ‘And you shall pay it tonight, at this very place at – nine o’clock, say?’

‘How about ten? It’ll be darker!’ He said it in all seriousness, his eyes challenging hers. ‘Though if the hairy Cossack sees us –’

‘Karl? Don’t worry about him. He wouldn’t tell Mama. He and I are the best of friends.’

‘What is he, in your household? A butler – a caretaker?’

‘Neither. He is – Karl,’ she shrugged. ‘We are grateful to him. He helped us escape from the Bolsheviks. We owe him a great deal, though who he is we have never quite discovered. Sufficient that he is a Czarist. When we got to England we kept him with us – a debt of honour, you see.’

Elliot Sutton did not see. In his eyes, the man was a hanger-on, though since Anna Petrovska seemed so attached to him he had the good sense not to say it.

‘Debt of honour – yes, of course. And here he comes, now, to protect your honour, my dear!’

Karl bore down on them, gesturing, calling out in Russian, ignoring Elliot completely.

‘My mother is home – yours too. I must go.’ Then she smiled, her eyes teasing. ‘Until ten,’ she whispered.

‘So you’ve made a start?’ Clementina remarked as Elliot entered the room. ‘I saw you out there – wouldn’t be surprised if the countess didn’t see you, an’ all!’

‘Don’t worry. The faithful Karl came to warn Anna. But might one be informed of one’s fate?’

‘One’s fate? Talk straight, lad! If you want to know if the countess is willing for you and Lady Anna to meet, then the answer is yes. And don’t thank me,’ she rushed on. ‘I’m only the mother who’s got your interests at heart which is more than you deserve what with your carrying-on and your wilful ways and –’ She stopped to draw breath. ‘And from now on, you’ll mind yourself with women – and you know what I mean! That girl next door is a virgin. And don’t look so shocked. Virgins still exist, though I reckon it’s all of ten years since you chanced on one!’

‘Mother – please?’ She really should take more care. The family – and himself in particular – were well used to her directness, but one day she would forget herself in polite company and he shuddered, just to think of it. ‘And I do thank you for all you have done for me. I appreciate it more than you know. But do you think she should be addressed as Lady Anna?’

‘Her mother’s a countess, so surely her daughter has right to a courtesy title.’

‘But her father, I believe, was a count. Does that entitle Anna to –’

‘It entitles me to call her what I want, and as far as I’m concerned, the daughter of a countess is entitled to the courtesy. And them that don’t like it can lump it! Anna Petrovska is aristocracy!’

‘Russian aristocracy. Is it the same as ours?’

‘Their Czar was our king’s cousin; that’s good enough for me! Now then – when do you aim to shift yourself and get this thing settled?’

‘I intend, dearest mother, to meet Anna at ten o’clock tonight. We made a wager this afternoon, and it would seem I have lost it. I must honour my debt.’

‘Sneaking out in the dark? You’ll do no such thing!’

‘Try to stop me!’ He planted a kiss on his mother’s cheek, pinching her bottom as he did so.

‘Impudent young puppy! Mind your manners!’ She made to cuff his ear, but he sidestepped her.

Impudent, yes – but hers, she thought fondly as he waltzed nonchalantly out of the room. Elliot had the devil in him but she would always love him best. People misunderstood him because he was handsomer than most men – and richer than most, an’ all. Or would be, one day.

‘Now mind what I’ve told you,’ she called to his blithely retreating back. ‘Watch your step, son – or else …’

Of course he would watch his step, Elliot Sutton promised the mirror image he so often gazed upon. Didn’t he always – or almost always? And hadn’t his mother as good as promised that as soon as he was married and had provided a couple of sons for Pendenys, he could please himself what he did?

He frowned, wondering what it would be like, getting sons with Anna Petrovska. A virgin, his mother said; an aristocratic virgin. Yet there had been a challenge in her eyes, a promise. She might make him a tolerable wife in spite of her careful upbringing. He must now, he admitted sadly, forget about the servant in black, next door. Too near to home. Best he should concentrate on establishing himself with Anna – with Lady Anna. All things considered, he’d had a good run for his money. He must watch himself for a while; be on his best behaviour until he had done his duty by Pendenys and earned his reward for doing it.

He sighed, pleasurably. Anna Petrovska, he supposed, would do very nicely; better, indeed, than some of the mare-faced daughters of English aristocrats with their lumpy, childbearing hips. It pleased him to think that the Almighty had created women in man’s image, but had had the good sense to create them sufficiently different to make them interesting and pleasurable – and infinitely accommodating. It was his unshakable belief, his gospel.

He hoped the girl next door would not put on the required show of modesty and refuse him twice before she accepted him. And more to the point he hoped she would be there, tonight. She had very kissable lips. And very exciting breasts. It mightn’t be half bad, married to her.

He began to think of expensive motors and a bank account credited with an amount equal to his mother’s approval. Aleksandrina Anastasia Petrovska. Would she – or wouldn’t she? More to the point, when she did, would she prove fertile? His own virility, he knew without doubt had already been established. There was nothing wrong with the breeding prowess of Sutton males. Even his cousin Giles had surprised him, getting the servant pregnant. A sly one, that sewing maid; pretending modesty, fighting for her honour. Like a wildcat she had clawed him, that first try in Brattocks Wood. If it hadn’t been for the damned dog things might have been different, like the second time. At a place called Celverte, hadn’t it been? Very vague, that second time. He’d been well in his cups that night. Pity he couldn’t remember more about it.

Yet think – could he have had anything to do with that child Julia hawked about with her? Could he, had Giles lived, have challenged him?

But the child Drew was everything a Sutton should be; was fair, as Giles was. He supposed he should give credit for that begetting to Giles who, after all, was dead whilst he, Elliot Sutton, was gloriously alive – and that was all that mattered.

But it was a thought, for all that!

‘Take her will you, Tom?’ Alice withdrew her nipple from her daughter’s lips. ‘Asleep, already. Put her over your shoulder, just in case there’s any wind to come up. Don’t want her waking, soon as she’s put down.’

‘What is it, love?’ Tom gathered his daughter to him. ‘Got a bad head?’

‘No.’ She rarely got headaches. ‘Just that – oh, it’s nothing!’

‘Then why’ve you hardly said a word since I came in, tonight? Summat’s bothering you.’ He knew her too well to accept denial.

‘It’s something or nothing. I suppose. When I went to Willow End –’

‘To see if she’d got herself settled …?’

‘Settled – yes. She put the kettle on and we had a chat. And then she said – oh, I’m daft, even to think it, but –’