A Wife's War Read online

  ‘Happen he will be soon, ma’am,’ she replied. ‘Happen they both will be.’

  ‘You know, I’m sure Aubrey suspects something is afoot.’

  Deducing that Naomi must be referring to the baby, she turned to examine her expression. ‘Truly? I wouldn’t have thought a man capable of noticing such things. Certainly not with you being so early along.’

  ‘Before this, I wouldn’t have thought so, either,’ Naomi agreed. ‘But there have been a couple of times when I’ve caught him looking at me as though trying to decide what it is that’s different.’

  Staring at Naomi was something she, too, had noticed Mr Aubrey doing. At the time, she’d wondered whether perhaps he rued having fumbled his chance with her. It wasn’t really something she could tell Naomi, though. Instead, she said, ‘But he was right to say you look well. Unlike some women in your condition, you haven’t even been sick of a morning.’

  For a moment, Naomi looked thoughtful. ‘I haven’t, have I?’ she replied. ‘How fortuitous. But, how very not fortuitous that when the time comes to tell Lawrence, I shall be unable to do so in person. I should love to be able to see his expression.’

  She smiled. She could understand that. ‘For certain he’ll be thrilled,’ she said.

  ‘Just remember though, not a word in front of Aubrey.’

  She shook her head. But then, with Aubrey once again in her thoughts, she asked, ‘By the way, ma’am, where is Mr Aubrey this evening?’

  ‘He said earlier that he was going to follow the cliff path into Westward Quay. He said it was such a fine evening that he felt moved to take a stroll.’

  The discovery made her want to laugh out loud. Never for a single moment had Mr Aubrey put her in mind of someone inclined to walk for the sake of it. But who knew how being at war might alter a man’s appreciation of the simple things? Indeed, who knew how, at this very moment, it might be altering Luke – and his feelings and views of life and the world? Who knew how different he might be when he came back?

  ‘’Tis a treacherous old walk back after sundown,’ she said, preferring not to dwell on the possibility of Luke coming back to her a changed man. Sometimes, she had enough trouble just conjuring the details of his face, let alone his ways. ‘I do hope he doesn’t leave it too late to return,’ she added, ‘especially since ’tis a dark moon tonight.’

  ‘I said that very same thing to him – well, obviously, not about the moon. To that end, we agreed that once there, he would go to the station and procure the cab. And to make certain of it, I gave him the fare.’

  Turning away, she frowned even harder. Mr Aubrey didn’t even have the fare for a cab? Then he was in dire straits. ‘Oh. Well, then,’ she said, ‘he should be all right.’

  ‘Of course he will be. Any man who’s led other men into battle and been shot in the process ought surely to be able to find his way home without incident.’

  That much did seem true. ‘I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘You know, I do feel mean deceiving him.’

  Turning again to study Naomi’s expression, she noticed that her forehead was set with deep lines. ‘Deceiving him? Not telling him about the baby, is that what you mean?’

  ‘He seems so changed – not at all the same man who came to stay last summer. But then I suppose it’s as he said – being away at war has made him see things differently. Since he is so altered though, I feel mean not telling him. He is Lawrence’s brother, after all.’

  To her mind, Naomi seemed to be confusing many things; her loyalty, in this instance, wildly misplaced. ‘He is, ma’am, yes,’ she ventured. ‘But Mr Lawrence is your husband. Don’t he deserve to be first to learn of the news?’ Picturing herself in the same situation, she felt certain Luke would be mortally upset to find out she’d told someone else first – even just Mabel or Edith. Or Naomi, come to that.

  ‘You’re right. He does.’

  ‘And happen Mr Lawrence would welcome the chance to tell his brother the news for himself.’

  For a moment, Naomi looked taken aback. ‘Gosh, how right you are. I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘Besides, not long now and we’ll be back at home. Then, once you’ve seen the doctor, it need be a secret no more.’

  ‘No.’

  Home. Since Mr Aubrey’s arrival, Naomi’s plans in that regard seemed to have fallen by the wayside. It was something she’d been meaning to raise with her. ‘On that note, ma’am,’ she said carefully, ‘before Mr Aubrey arrived, we were all but ready to depart. Since then, though, you’ve made no further mention of it. And so, I was wondering… well, wondering about your plans.’

  ‘My plans,’ Naomi repeated thoughtfully. ‘Yes, Aubrey’s arrival has rather thrown them, hasn’t it? The thing is, I do believe all this fresh air and calm is doing him good. That being the case, I feel obliged to remain here a while longer, you know, do my little bit to help him.’

  Not the answer she had been hoping for, it was, nonetheless, the one she had been expecting – not that it helped her to sound any less dejected. ‘Yes, I see that.’

  ‘The poor man was wounded in battle,’ Naomi went on, as though to justify her point. ‘And I find myself hoping that were Lawrence in the same boat, Aubrey would do the same for him.’

  ‘I should hope for that too, ma’am.’

  ‘In any event, apart from delaying my seeing the doctor, I don’t see that our remaining down here is causing any real disruption, is it?’

  She withheld a sigh. She’d been hoping to learn they were about to make fresh arrangements to leave. With no real purpose there now, her days felt long and empty. Rather than admit to that, though, she decided to try another tack. ‘Has Mr Aubrey not mentioned when he will be returning to his regiment?’

  ‘Not directly,’ Naomi said. ‘He did mention having to go before a board to be passed as fit. Why do you ask? Are you really so anxious to return to Hartland Street?’

  Feeling unable to press her point any further, she buried her feelings. ‘Not especially, ma’am. But, if we’re to be here a while longer, perhaps I ought to speak to Edith, you know, so she’s prepared.’

  ‘You do make a fair point. Look, I doubt I shall see Aubrey again tonight since shortly, now, I intend to retire. But, at breakfast, I shall enquire of his plans. Once we know those, you can advise Edith accordingly.’

  ‘Very well, ma’am.’

  ‘And do go on up to bed. I shan’t need anything else tonight.’

  ‘All right, thank you. I’ll do that. Good night, ma’am.’

  ‘Good night, Kate.’

  Making her way slowly up to her old bedroom on the second floor, Kate reflected upon how quickly everything seemed to change these days. No sooner had she become a wife than she had been left without a husband. No sooner had she settled into Hartland Street than she had unexpectedly been brought back to Woodicombe, the upshot being that during these last few days, London had started to feel like little more than a distant dream. In truth, it was how her marriage was beginning to feel, too.

  Still, she thought, wearily unbuttoning the bodice of her uniform, it was unlikely that Naomi would want to remain in Devon too much longer. With a baby on the way, she would soon become anxious to return home. And then it would be Woodicombe that felt to be little more than a dream. And thank goodness for that.

  Chapter Three

  Absence

  ‘So, child, why don’t you come on in and tell me what’s ailing you?’

  To Ma Channer’s greeting, Kate laughed. She hadn’t heard anyone call her child in years.

  ‘Oh, ’tis just the usual,’ she replied, stepping inside and glancing about. Where Luke’s mother was concerned, there was no point pretending everything was all right because the woman could read faces more easily than most people could read a book. ‘Just this ’n that, you know how it is.’

  It was an afternoon a few days later and, with Naomi and Mr Aubrey gone for a walk around the cove, she’d been struck by the idea to wander up the lane a
nd see Mrs Channer, especially since it was something she’d been meaning to do anyway.

  ‘I know it. Tell you what, lover, since you’ve come all the way up here, why don’t you an’ me rest up awhile and set the world to rights over a nice brew?’

  Smiling back at the suggestion, Kate nodded. ‘Thank you, yes, I’d like that.’

  For as long as she could remember, Loveday Channer had seemed to be an old lady. Her simple little knot of grey hair and sparrow-like frame had always made her look more like someone’s granny than their ma. She supposed that with Luke being the youngest of seven children, she’d already been that good bit older when he’d come into the world. She was certainly now more Mabel’s age than Edith’s.

  ‘You heard from that boy of mine lately?’

  Watching as her bony arm reached to the dresser for two cups, Kate shook her head; if only she had heard from him. Maybe then she wouldn’t be in such a fret. ‘Not in a while. But those in the know would say that’s no cause for concern.’

  Lifting the teapot, Ma Channer gave a sharp nod. ‘True enough. There you are then,’ she said, placing a brimming tea cup on the table, ‘let ’un cool off a bit first, though. Don’t want to go a-scalding your tongue.’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’ From the fragrant smell rising up with the steam, she realized then that this wasn’t, as she had been expecting, a brew of plain old tea but rather a steeping of fresh elderflower. The smell of it was lemony. Grassy. Summery. A scent that in London would seem out of place, to Kate, it was a smell that conjured all the hopefulness and expectancy of the first warm days of summer.

  ‘So, what be a-vexing you then, girl? That fancy piece up yonder proving a tricky madam to please?’

  Out of respect for Naomi, she stifled the urge to laugh. That was something else she remembered about Ma Channer: she always told it how she saw it.

  Trying to decide how best to answer her, she bent to blow across the top of her cup, watching as the steam coiled away from the steady stream of her breath. ‘No, not at all,’ she sat back up to say. ‘Mrs Colborne is very kind to me.’

  Loveday Channer nodded her approval. ‘My mother always used to say you could tell the quality of a lady by the way she treated her staff. And I’d have it no different. I saw three Mrs Latimers pass through this place, and won’t hear a word said agin’ any of them.’

  Raising her cup carefully to her lips, Kate took a sip of her drink. As a child, she had detested the taste of elderflower – had thought it akin to swallowing the smell of old ladies’ perfumes. Now, though, she was surprised to find it not nearly as floral as she remembered but instead, light and crisp and very slightly sweet. ‘Isn’t it a bit early in the year for elder blossom?’ she asked, setting her cup back on the table.

  Across from her, Mrs Channer tapped the side of her nose. ‘Know of a favoured spot to look for ’un, see. Couple of bushes quite sheltered in a little hollow. Never fail to blossom weeks before any other. But I’m minded you didn’t come a-traipsing all the way up the lane to enquire about elderflower now, did you? You came because you’ve summat on your mind.’

  Pressing her lips together, Kate paused to think for a moment before replying. The truth was that any number of things had brought her there, that she had been bored and looking for a way to fill some time being one of them. That it had struck her as a pleasant stroll to take on a sunny afternoon was another. But Ma Channer was right to remark that she was preoccupied. The trouble was, so far, she’d been unable to boil down her preoccupation to just the one thing. Lately, so many things seemed amiss that she struggled to know where to begin.

  ‘Happen I just don’t feel settled,’ she ventured, her answer feeling like a suitable catch-all. ‘Just lately, I seem all at sea.’

  ‘Not settled with life and the ways of the world in general,’ Mrs Channer immediately wanted to know, ‘or just in your own bones?’

  She stared down at the surface of the table. Scarred from decades of use, the wood nevertheless still bore a deep lustre – no doubt the result of liberal and frequent applications of Mrs Channer’s own concoction of beeswax and linseed oil.

  Spotting a particularly swirly knot in the grain, she traced around it with the tip of her forefinger. Elm wood, she decided, remembering back to one evening when Luke had tried to explain to her about the uses of the different timbers on the Latimers’ estate. Picking out one from another came naturally to him; with no hesitation whatsoever, he could identify any piece of wood you cared to put in front of him.

  ‘I suppose I just wish Luke would hurry up and come home,’ she eventually said. ‘And that we could get on with our lives.’ But then, deciding there to be no point telling only half the truth, she went on, ‘Though even that’s not the worst of it.’

  ‘No?’

  Slowly, she shook her head. ‘No. See, Luke went off so quick that most of the time, it don’t seem like I’m wed at all. I long for him to be back so as to be a wife, yet in truth, I don’t even really know what that means. And that leaves me feeling cross at him for having gone away. And angry at the government for taking him. And sad for all these months we’re wasting while he’s not here. Sometimes, I’m even taken to wishing we’d waited to get wed until after he came back – you know, so I’d never have been left feeling like I do now.’

  From the other side of the table, Ma Channer reached out to pat her hand, the skin of the back of her own marbled with purple-grey veins and dotted with freckles. ‘’Course you feel that way, love. Poor thing, there you are, weddin’ band on your finger but your husband neither home at your hearth nor in your bed of a night-time. Course you’re cross with the way things have turned out. You miss him. ’Tis only natural. Had you wanted the life of one of those bloomin’ sufferingette women, you wouldn’t have got yourself wed in the first place, would you? No. But here you are anyway, all on your own, the two of you leading your lives as though the other didn’t exist.’

  Leading your lives as though the other didn’t exist. That was about the size of it. And no, it wasn’t natural. As usual, Ma Channer had hit the nail on the head.

  ‘It’s not just that he’s not here,’ she said, doing nothing more, really, than thinking aloud, ‘it’s not knowing when he’ll be back… or… or even…’

  ‘It’s all right, love, you can say what’s in your heart. I won’t judge you for owning to it. Happen it’s no bad thing to give voice to your worst fears. Show a fear the light of day and as often as not, he’ll lose some of his bluster and his menace.’

  When she glanced up, it was to see Ma Channer looking back at her, her expression kindly. Was it possible she could read her thoughts? It certainly felt that way.

  ‘…or even whether he’ll be back at all,’ she forced herself to finish. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve not such a dread of it that it fills my every waking hour to leave me good for nothing else. But, all the same, it does lurk at the back of my mind.’

  ‘For certain it does, maid. Like I said, ’tis only natural.’

  ‘So,’ she began again, hoping Ma Channer would have some words of wisdom to offer, ‘that being the case, what do I do? How do I stop feeling so… so all up in the air?’

  ‘Well, when faced with a thing that won’t be bent to your will, as often as not, you’re best served casting it from your mind altogether. Best thing, of course, would be if you had a child to chivvy about after. But, since you’ve not yet had the chance to fall, you’d be best finding summat else to fill your days. And in that regard, each and every one of us is different. Some women might take to working till they’re fit to drop, the exhaustion of it bringing them the sleep of the dead come nightfall. Some would fill their time helping out folk in need. Others I can think of would most likely take to knitting scarves and mittens for sending to soldiers. Others still would go to evensong, or take to reading the words of the Bible for the comfort it would bring to them.’

  ‘Hm.’ Sadly, none of those suggestions felt to offer the
sort of reassurance and respite she was seeking – certainly not the knitting part; that was more up Edith’s street. Not that she had worries to be distracted from.

  ‘Take your mind from it,’ Ma Channer picked up again, ‘that would be my advice to you. If nothing else, few folk regret a day spent all a-bustle. A day wasted on the other hand, well, we all know what the devil does upon sighting a pair of idle hands. And what husband wants to come home from fighting a war to find his wife taken by the devil, eh?’

  When Ma Channer laughed, she made a chortling sound so filled with mischief that Kate found herself grinning back. ‘I do understand what you’re telling me,’ she said. ‘Truly I do. I just wish I didn’t have to wait about, constantly wondering what’s happening to Luke. I wish I didn’t feel as though I have no control over my own life – of my own destiny, if you will.’

  Loveday Channer released her hand. ‘Can any one of us truly claim to be in control of anything?’ she asked. ‘Even were we all blessed with the power to see what was waiting for us around the corner – a year from now, a score years from now – would we want to know? No, trust me, girl, keeping busy is what you need. That way, before you know it, young Luke will be back here. And, once he is, and you’ve a family constantly getting under your feet, I’ll warrant you’ll give anything for even a pinch of the peace and quiet you rue as being so irksome right this very moment.’

  Reflecting on her mother-in-law’s words, Kate swallowed the last mouthful of her tea. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she said, replacing her cup on the table.

  ‘And don’t overlook the good to be had from putting it all down in a letter to him, either – let him know how you feel and how you’re looking forward to getting settled. Take it from me, it’ll please the poor lad no end to hear it from you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, struck by the suggestion and wondering why she hadn’t thought of that for herself. ‘I think I’ll do that. Thank you. That’s good advice. I’m glad I came.’