Loretta Proctor Read online

  A short sharp stab of pain. The glorious hazy mist of delight that obscured her heart and mind lifted and cleared away with the shock. She seemed to realise that they were committing some sort of sin but didn’t care anymore. There was no way she could stop now it had begun, nor did she wish it. Alfie’s mouth was on hers and tasted like marmalade at breakfast or devil’s kidneys– such strange thoughts that flashed through the mind even at a moment like this. He was inside her now, fully inside her own body and that was the oddest sensation she had ever known.

  Ellie dressed with haste. Alfie, turning away from her, pulled on his trousers. They couldn’t bear to look at one another. Suddenly it was all over and with the ebbing of the strong sensations that had brought them together like magnets, came the shamed realisation of what they had done.

  ‘Ellie…‘he reached out a hand to her but she ignored it.

  ‘Ellie, I’m sorry… I led you to this. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’m all wet, Alfie. It’s horrid.’

  ‘It’s my fault. Now you’re angry with me. But we mustn’t let anyone know, must we? Ellie, must we? Here take my handkerchief.’

  He looked away as she cleaned herself then threw the handkerchief into the bushes. She was in turmoil – not sure whether to laugh or cry. It had been so strong, the longing, the utter need to feel him within her. He had always been a part of her heart and soul but now a physical part of her too. It hadn’t felt wrong or bad to let him make love to her. That urgent and irrepressible need satisfied, euphoria was followed by remorse and fear – on Ellie’s part at least. She felt that Alfie looked rather pleased with himself.

  ‘It was wonderful though, wasn’t it?’ he whispered as they walked back to the house.

  ‘I’m not sure. I have to think about it. I feel frightened now.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be frightened about. No one will know. You must say nothing to anyone. My father would kill me if he knew,’

  ‘Your father! What about mine? Alfie, I am not stupid.’

  Lord Dillinger and Ellie’s father, Joshua Farnham, were away in London and thankfully, both their mothers were occupied elsewhere. Ellie didn’t feel she would be able to face her mother; she’d be sure to give herself away somehow. She felt it was emblazoned upon her forehead… I am not a virgin any longer.

  As they approached the house they were greeted instead by George and Ben, Alfie’s younger brothers, who sped up to them as they always did, demanding that they participate in a game of cricket on the lawn or a ramble over the fields.

  ‘Where’ve you been such ages?’ demanded George, ‘We’ve been looking for you.’

  ‘In the woods, I expect,’ piped up Ben in all innocence, ‘they’re always in the woods.’

  Alfie and Ellie looked at one another, their minds occupied with the same idea. Suppose the youngsters had found them! Alfie laughed aloud at the thought. He had no fear, his brief moment of shame already evaporated. Ellie realised he saw it as a huge joke. In a way, she admired this fecklessness but at the same time felt a little angry, her heart beating at the thought of their narrow escape.

  They were allowed to join their parents at dinner later and it was a relief not to have the younger boys or little baby Charlotte chattering around them all the time. As Ellie picked at the food on her plate, her mind still awhirl with anxiety and remorse, she knew she was not a silly fun-loving girl any more. How could it be that a mere physical act could make her feel so different? She couldn’t bear to look at Alfie and their usual laughing and joking died in silence that evening. He tried hard but Ellie could not bring herself to respond as normal.

  ‘You’re very silent tonight, Eleanor,’ said Lady Mary looking at the young girl anxiously, ‘I trust you have not caught a chill, my dear.’

  Ellie looked up from the half-eaten food on her plate and put down her fork.

  ‘I am not too well, Lady Mary. Perhaps… perhaps I am feeling a little chilled by the autumn air. Maybe I’ll lie down after dinner, if you have no objection?’

  ‘Good heavens, of course, my dear, of course.’

  ‘I’ll send Mulhall up to you with a little broth later,’ said Maria Farnham, looking anxiously at her daughter. ‘It’s not like you, dearest. You’re usually so robust.’

  A long two weeks had passed since this tumultuous incident occurred. That autumn day in the woods would be a vivid memory for the rest of Ellie’s life and just now occupied all her waking thoughts. She could not help feeling shocked by it all, startled by her new understanding of what a man was really like. All she had ever seen of a naked male was her furtive study of the fig-leafed Tritons that adorned the marble fountain at Oreton Hall. The reality was so different. She could never be the same after this. For the first time she comprehended just what Adam and Eve had felt about their nakedness. They had eaten of the Tree of Knowledge and could never feel pure and innocent again and walk in the sight of God. That she regretted.

  Back home again at the Farnham house in London, Ellie was upstairs in her mother’s room where she often came to sit and ponder when her mind and heart were full. A book of Tennyson’s poems lay on her lap, open at her favourite ‘The Lady of Shalott’ and she murmured half aloud:

  ‘…when the Moon was overhead,

  Came two young lovers lately wed.

  “I am half sick of shadows,” said

  The Lady of Shalott.’

  And she sighed deeply and felt her heart opening up with an almost agonizing pain of longing. She wanted to be back at Oreton Hall with Alfie and, yes, shameful as it seemed, back in the woods, his hands touching her body again, the feel of flesh on flesh, his entering into her. Her body shook with the intense longing. A tear trickled down her cheek. Was she really so shameful and all this very evil and wrong of her? Was it wrong to love and wanting that love to become a physical expression? She was astonished that it did not happen more often if it was as difficult to resist as this. She knew that she was not a person without discipline or sense. What powerful force was this that had overcome them both so easily?

  Feeling lost, she gazed about the room redolent with her mother’s gentle presence. Ellie often sat here for hours on the old carved chair that was like a throne, looking out of the window over the garden. Through the passing years the sycamore trees had grown tall, half-shrouding the window with their leafy foliage, creating a constant quivering twilight within.

  The fireplace, which always seemed too large for the room, was surrounded with carved oak panelling that rose from the mantle to the ceiling. Maria always kept a fire going in the grate for she also liked to come in here when she wished to write or read and was aware of her daughter’s habit of slipping in now and then. The warm glow of the coals took away the darkness: a warm heart at its centre. Though the room was dim and shrouded, it was never dismal in Ellie’s eyes; rather it felt a peaceful place. Nothing ever seemed to change in here. Everything was in its familiar place and this had a comforting feeling about it. It was the one sure, stable, unchanging place in the world and she felt something of her mother’s strength just by being there.

  Maria, always a woman ahead of her time, had not left her uneducated or ignorant of life’s details as so many mothers did. Thus, added to Ellie’s sense of betrayal, was the fear that she might be with child. She turned the idea over with all its implications.

  In the end, why be concerned? She knew these things happened and had overheard gossip about couples who were obliged to marry in haste. Of course, she and Alfie would marry; it was what everyone desired and expected. It must be. Mustn’t it?

  Maria came in to find her daughter seated by the window, looking pensive and sad.

  ‘What is it, dear child?’

  Ellie kept her head turned away. She could not speak about it. Speaking might make it all seem prosaic and lose the magic. Parents would be bothered about the silly practical details, especially her father.

  Her mother smoothed her cheek with her hand in the old familiar, comforting man
ner.

  ‘Can’t you tell me, Ellie? You’ve been distracted of late. I worry that you’re not eating well. Are you sickening for something, dearest?’

  Ellie forced a smile. ‘No, no, Mama, I’m very well. I’m… I’m just being a little vain. I want to lace myself a bit tighter to fit my lovely new dress. I want to have the tiniest waist in the world!’

  ‘I see. Well, that’s rather foolish. You’re perfect as you are – so let us have no more of this nonsense.’

  Maria sounded unconvinced. Ellie felt her stomach turn over and knew a strong desire to bury herself somewhere out of the probing searching glance of her mother’s eyes.

  Suddenly Maria laughed a little and added playfully, ‘Why, child, you’re in love, I can tell.’

  Ellie said nothing. Her cheeks flushed a light pink.

  ‘Oh, you cannot hide it. You’ve always been an open child, Ellie.’

  Ellie smiled a little, then turned away again and remained silent. Maria took her by the chin and turned her face towards her. Dropping the playful tone she said, ‘Very well, keep it in your heart for a while. Keep it in your heart. Just be sure it’s not a love that could harm you.’

  ‘How can love be harmful?’ asked Ellie, feeling as if tears would gush into her eyes at any moment, giving her away. She forced them back with an effort. She was not surprised her mother had guessed at her feelings. Maria always knew everything.

  ‘It can be if misplaced.’

  Ellie fell silent again.

  Giving her daughter one more puzzled glance, Maria went to her dressing table where she kept a small tabletop writing desk and seated herself there. Opening the lid, she took out paper and quills and a small sealed inkwell. Before beginning her daily letters she paused for a moment and looked thoughtfully at the huge bed that dominated the room. Here she had borne her one and only child. Here she too had been born and others before her.

  ‘One day this great bed will be yours,’ she said.

  ‘When I’m a bride?’

  ‘Of course. That’s the family custom.’

  ‘But where will you sleep then, Mama?’

  ‘I will just have to get used to another bed.’

  ‘That would be so strange for you.’

  ‘It would be strange but I would be happy to see my darling girl a bride. You’ve always loved this bed. You will keep it?’

  ‘Yes, I promise, Mama.’

  ‘I would hate to think of strangers sleeping on it.’

  ‘Strangers will never sleep on this bed,’ said Ellie firmly, ‘it belongs to us.’

  She smiled to herself at the thought of being a bride and climbing into the crimson bed with her beloved Alfie. He was no stranger and belonged in the bed.

  Crossing over to the window, she looked down into the garden below. Her eyes followed the twirling of an ochre leaf as it detached itself from a tree and drifted to the ground, slowly, slowly – and her mind went back in time. She felt herself sinking down onto the leaves, felt Alfie’s breath on her cheek, the sensation as he took her. She should remember the beauty of it, not the shame. The shame was not natural – their act was what was natural.

  She turned to look again at the huge oak bed in the centre of the room. Had Papa ever been in this bed? He must have come sometimes, a guest, or she would not be alive. It had never troubled her before that she had no brothers or sisters. She enjoyed being alone, the spoilt and petted child of a devoted couple, but now she was older and wiser she wondered about it. Her mother had told her long ago that she had difficulty in conceiving a child and how happy she and Joshua had been when Ellie was born safe and well.

  Ellie looked at the dashing gentleman carved on the bed head. A gallant lover! A thrill of secret pleasure ran though her and a tender smile curved over her lips

  When she turned back, she found her mother had ceased writing and was watching her with a peculiar intensity as if trying to look inside her mind. The telltale smile left Ellie’s face and she glanced down. Maria went back to the letters but a sudden fear troubled her and her eyes snapped back to her daughter’s face in apprehension. She saw Ellie’s little smile again. She recognised that kind of smile.

  She must write another letter. That was it. That was the only way. She scribbled furiously for a few moments, waved the page dry, sealed it then rang for her maid.

  Chapter 2

  Oreton Hall. The summer of 1852

  Two years had passed since that fateful autumn in Ellie’s young life and she was now almost eighteen years old. Her meetings with Alfie were infrequent enough; the families seemed to convene less often than in her childhood. When questioned, her mother told her that it was because they were all so busy and engaged with other matters.

  ‘As you know, Ellie, Lord Dillinger has much responsibility with his new government post. He has hopes of climbing even higher. Between you and me, he aims for Prime Minister one day and I am convinced he has all the qualities for such a position. Lady Mary, therefore, has much entertaining to do in London. Papa, of course, is also heavily occupied with his legal affairs. So, as you see, my dear, there is less time these days for long and pleasant holidays at Oreton Hall.’

  Sometimes, of course, the families met up socially in London but it was impossible for Alfie and Ellie to do more than steal a kiss now and then or hold hands surreptitiously when no one observed them. They were never able to go off alone or meet in any way that was unsupervised. This made the flame of their desire and longing for one another even more intense and desperate. Whenever the lovers could manage it, they stole away to the woods or barns at Oreton Hall and made love with all the passion of their first encounter.

  Time and custom made it easier. Ellie felt less disgrace and became more abandoned with her lover. The thrill of such forbidden fruit tempted her as it had tempted Eve in the past. She yearned to speak of her love – she was young and eager; she was overflowing with delight and fearful excitement. Yet she was obliged to keep silent because Alfie demanded her silence. He kept telling her they were both too young, that their parents would object to such an early attachment and that his father had in fact hinted that he should not think of women yet but concentrate on his examinations. She hated these restrictions and rebelled inwardly but was obedient to Alfie’s whim. It was hard. Especially when she was with her cousin, Anne Templeton. Anne wanted to chatter about all the young men of their acquaintance who showed any interest in them and could not understand Ellie’s disinterest in so enthralling a subject.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Ellie? Don’t you care for Thomas Williamson at least? Is he not the handsomest of things? I swear you mean to be a nun, sometimes, you show so little interest in any of the gentlemen who come calling.’

  Ellie smiled to herself. A nun indeed!

  ‘But I don’t care for any of them, Anne. They’re all shallow, stupid fools. They have no passion. I want passion in a man. You can have those milksops, you can have them all.’

  ‘Oh, la, you’re so particular. Well, Thomas will be mine then – if I can persuade him to leave you alone.’

  ‘I’ll tell him to do so, if you like, and advise him to transfer his affections to you as a far more deserving cause.’

  Anne went pink. ‘Heavens, don’t you say any such thing! I would die of shame. You’re so bold, Ellie!’

  Alfie had now left Oxford and graduated with honours as expected. One morning, during a late summer visit to Oreton Hall, so momentous had Ellie but known it, Alfie came sauntering over to her after breakfast. Their conversation the evening before had been brief and formal, surrounded as they were by family members. To Ellie’s mind, her mother seemed uneasy every time they came close to one another these days.

  ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he whispered in her ear.

  She looked around. Maria was deep in conversation with Lady Mary. Lord Dillinger was absent on business at the time and Alfie’s younger siblings were busily engaged in the kind of tumultuous laughter and teasing which looked ready to break i
nto a fight between the boys at any moment. That was enough to keep the adults occupied for a while.

  ‘Yes, quick, let’s get away.’

  They slipped out of the French windows, which opened onto a pleasant summer’s morning, as yet not too hot or sultry. The sun shone with a gentle warmth, the world seemed beautiful, and she felt relief and delight at having Alfie to herself for a little while.

  They took the path alongside a broad stream that wound its way into their beloved woods. Safe out of sight and sound of the Hall and its occupants, he turned and caught her up in his arms and kissed her.

  ‘Ellie, Ellie! I’m so hungry for the taste of your lips. You have no idea how I think of you wherever I am. I think of you night and day.’

  ‘Do you, Alfie? I think of you all the time too. I like your new little moustache. It suits you.’

  ‘Thanks. And I like your new little breasts,’ he said, trying to feel them through her summer clothing.

  ‘Oh, Alfie, behave!’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘We need to be careful, suppose your brothers see us? Or little Charlotte?’

  ‘So? Let them learn about real life.’

  She giggled at the thought and they kissed once more. Alfie had no respect for anything, he was so wicked. His dark laughing eyes and energetic warmth always broke through any restraints and foolish fears. She loved him so much.

  ‘You say these bold things and yet you seem afraid to declare our love to the world. And these days I see so little of you, Alfie,’ said Ellie, twining her arms about his neck.

  ‘I know, Ellie, but just now I’m busy with all the things a fellow has to do. You women have an easy life.’

  ‘Easy? A boring life. A life always waiting for men.’

  ‘Are you grumbling at me? You never used to grumble.’

  ‘I’m not grumbling. I’m just miserable about it. I want to see you and be with you all the time – you say you think of me as well but I don’t believe you. Men always have their mind on other things. Alfie, when will you speak to Papa? Do you not think you should do so? Do you not think we’ve waited long enough?’