more?’ She felt utterly humiliated and confused, her only thought being that he did not want her.
He kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘I love you, Caroline, as much—no, more than ever. I just want to save my pudding for later.’
She began to feel better as she remembered how, when Reggie was little, he had insisted on Mrs Dibble’s pond pudding every time he lunched at the Rectory. On one occasion he had been caught shovelling it from the plate into an old biscuit tin so that he could enjoy it all themore later on. Old times, old ways, and now they were changing.
She struggled to understand what he was going through. ‘Don’t worry, Reggie. I am fighting at your side. Really. You should see me working. Boots, trousers—’
‘Please don’t,’ he interrupted hoarsely. ‘Do your rotas if you wish, but don’t work in the fields.’
She sat still with shock. ‘You can’t mean that. I am staying in Ashden like you wished. Why don’t you approve of my work in the fields?’
‘I don’t care about boots and trousers. What I mind about is the hell over there and my need to think of Ashden at peace. And Ashden to me means you and my family.’
But which, Caroline wondered as she waved him goodbye an hour later at Victoria, was the stronger loyalty? Then a terrible thought occurred to her: was it a coincidence that Reggie’s brief leave had come so quickly after her quarrel with his mother? Or could Lady Hunney have ordered her son home? The Reggie Caroline loved would have disregarded such an order. Or would he? Back to haunt her came his words of last year: ‘As soon as the old man dies, I’m lord of the Manor whether I like it or not. Just once in a while I feel like cutting loose.’ But she knew he never would. Not Reggie.
She was certain of something else too: there could be no peace in Ashden while she and Lady Hunney remained in the village together without Reggie’s restraining presence.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘If you please, ma’am, Percy says when’s the tennis match to be? He needs to start rolling.’ Mrs Dibble pursed her lips challengingly.
On the point of hurrying out to settle a dispute as to whether Mrs Stone or Mrs Dodds was on the rota tomorrow for hoeing the flax, Elizabeth was startled by the question. ‘Here?’
‘Where else, ma’am? The Rectory always holds a tennis match in June.’
‘But there’s no one here to play, except Phoebe and George, and in any case now the—’
‘It’s always been done.’ Mrs Dibble was not going to accept war for an answer.
‘Not this year, I’m afraid.’
‘If you say so, ma’am.’ Mrs Dibble started the long march of disapproval back to the kitchen.
Elizabeth sighed. ‘I can see you are not convinced.’
The rigid back turned round briefly. ‘To my mind, ma’am, it’s a wicked shame to let the Kaiser beat us.’ Mrs Dibble disappeared into one domain that the Kaiser would never dare claim.
‘What is the wicked shame?’ Laurence came in through the front door from Matins in time to hear the dispute. ‘Why is Mrs Dibble upset?’
‘She was asking when the tennis match is tobe, Laurence,’ Elizabeth explained. ‘Of course it’s out of the question, now that Caroline and Felicia have left, and so many young men.’
Laurence thought for a moment. ‘But Eleanor’s still here, so is Janie Marden; there is Phoebe, George, Dr Cuss, perhaps Philip Ryde, and I’ll ask Pickering if he knows how to use a racket. Why don’t we invite the wounded officers from Ashden to be spectators?’
Elizabeth felt torn. One half of her begrudged the precious time, so badly needed on farm organisation now that Caroline had left so suddenly, the other half—well, the other half pointed out that her first duty was to support Laurence. She realised, to her dismay, that she had not done much of this lately. Parish work had never been her forte, and she disliked committees, arguments, even her role as village peacemaker. But war work was quite
He kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘I love you, Caroline, as much—no, more than ever. I just want to save my pudding for later.’
She began to feel better as she remembered how, when Reggie was little, he had insisted on Mrs Dibble’s pond pudding every time he lunched at the Rectory. On one occasion he had been caught shovelling it from the plate into an old biscuit tin so that he could enjoy it all themore later on. Old times, old ways, and now they were changing.
She struggled to understand what he was going through. ‘Don’t worry, Reggie. I am fighting at your side. Really. You should see me working. Boots, trousers—’
‘Please don’t,’ he interrupted hoarsely. ‘Do your rotas if you wish, but don’t work in the fields.’
She sat still with shock. ‘You can’t mean that. I am staying in Ashden like you wished. Why don’t you approve of my work in the fields?’
‘I don’t care about boots and trousers. What I mind about is the hell over there and my need to think of Ashden at peace. And Ashden to me means you and my family.’
But which, Caroline wondered as she waved him goodbye an hour later at Victoria, was the stronger loyalty? Then a terrible thought occurred to her: was it a coincidence that Reggie’s brief leave had come so quickly after her quarrel with his mother? Or could Lady Hunney have ordered her son home? The Reggie Caroline loved would have disregarded such an order. Or would he? Back to haunt her came his words of last year: ‘As soon as the old man dies, I’m lord of the Manor whether I like it or not. Just once in a while I feel like cutting loose.’ But she knew he never would. Not Reggie.
She was certain of something else too: there could be no peace in Ashden while she and Lady Hunney remained in the village together without Reggie’s restraining presence.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘If you please, ma’am, Percy says when’s the tennis match to be? He needs to start rolling.’ Mrs Dibble pursed her lips challengingly.
On the point of hurrying out to settle a dispute as to whether Mrs Stone or Mrs Dodds was on the rota tomorrow for hoeing the flax, Elizabeth was startled by the question. ‘Here?’
‘Where else, ma’am? The Rectory always holds a tennis match in June.’
‘But there’s no one here to play, except Phoebe and George, and in any case now the—’
‘It’s always been done.’ Mrs Dibble was not going to accept war for an answer.
‘Not this year, I’m afraid.’
‘If you say so, ma’am.’ Mrs Dibble started the long march of disapproval back to the kitchen.
Elizabeth sighed. ‘I can see you are not convinced.’
The rigid back turned round briefly. ‘To my mind, ma’am, it’s a wicked shame to let the Kaiser beat us.’ Mrs Dibble disappeared into one domain that the Kaiser would never dare claim.
‘What is the wicked shame?’ Laurence came in through the front door from Matins in time to hear the dispute. ‘Why is Mrs Dibble upset?’
‘She was asking when the tennis match is tobe, Laurence,’ Elizabeth explained. ‘Of course it’s out of the question, now that Caroline and Felicia have left, and so many young men.’
Laurence thought for a moment. ‘But Eleanor’s still here, so is Janie Marden; there is Phoebe, George, Dr Cuss, perhaps Philip Ryde, and I’ll ask Pickering if he knows how to use a racket. Why don’t we invite the wounded officers from Ashden to be spectators?’
Elizabeth felt torn. One half of her begrudged the precious time, so badly needed on farm organisation now that Caroline had left so suddenly, the other half—well, the other half pointed out that her first duty was to support Laurence. She realised, to her dismay, that she had not done much of this lately. Parish work had never been her forte, and she disliked committees, arguments, even her role as village peacemaker. But war work was quite
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