been worse.’
The fish was too fresh and the accompaniments seemed slimy. Edie had no appetite for the food, imagining her stomach round and balloon-like, like Susie’s must have been. Imagine if he did get her pregnant. What on earth would she do then?
‘Well,’ she said decisively. ‘Susie Leonard might have wanted your baby but I categorically and absolutely do not. So please see to it.’
‘If you were a real parlourmaid you’d jump at the chance to get your own cottage and a steady income instead of living that life. You’re here for a holiday of sorts, I think. Or perhaps you’re running away from something? Oh, yes, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re escaping. Unlucky Edie, to run straight into my arms. Poor unfortunate damsel.’
He was enjoying his speculations, nibbling at the last crust of bread after mopping up the remaining sauce.
‘Nothing of the sort,’ she said. She was aware of sweat gathering at the back of her neck. The day was too hot and the table lacked a parasol. ‘I think I should like some shade. Could we go and sit over there, underneath that tree?’
‘Of course. Have you finished?’ He looked doubtfully at her plate. ‘I always thought you maids ate like horses. You’re going to need to do better than that, my girl, once I’ve got you in my clutches. I want you in peak condition.’
‘Oh, stop it,’ she muttered, hotter still at the thought of what he had in mind for her.
He called for ices to be brought to the little bench beneath the weeping willow and sat down beside Edie, taking her hand in his as they gazed at the water. Just watching it flow onwards had a refreshing effect, and the ices fought off the worst of the discomfort, cooling Edie down to a bearable level.
‘Any more conditions?’ he asked lightly.
A swan glided past. How incongruous this was.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Just … if you could try and be … nice … about it.’
He seemed to melt at that, his face almost sad.
‘What you must think of me,’ he said. ‘I am a terrible man. I know it. I can’t help it. But I won’t be terrible to you, Edie Prior. I couldn’t be terrible to you.’
It would be all lies, of course, and she should not feel reassured, but she did. He might be a rake and a wastrel and all sorts of other awful things, but at his core she felt he was a man of his word.
‘I hope so,’ she said.
‘And now, here are my conditions for you,’ he said, brightening. ‘You will eat three square meals a day. You will not work so hard that you fall asleep the minute you come off duty. You will avoid Ted Whatsisname. And you will enjoy yourself when you’re with me. Do you think you can do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said truthfully. How could she avoid Ted? And what if sex turned out to be dreadful?
‘Promise me you’ll try.’
‘I promise.’
‘Right. Good. Have you finished that ice? Come on then. I’m taking you out on the river.’
Edie always remembered that afternoon as if it were accompanied by music, perhaps Delius’s
Summer Night on the River
, which she had heard conducted by Thomas Beecham. Its idyllic, impressionistic quality suited that lazy, warm afternoon, floating with this man, soon to be her lover. Her thoughts, all bunched up and tense, dissolved under the sun’s power and she became a creature of sensation. Her clothes clung to her and she felt heavy and hot between her legs and wonderfully light-headed. When the skiff found a bend of the river that was deserted, Charles would let the boat drift while they kissed, endlessly and with a languor that protected them from extremes of passion. Besides, they would capsize the boat.
Love and sex might be wonderful after all. If it felt this way, she could scarcely blame the maids for losing their heads and hearts.
But how would she keep from losing hers?
Chapter Six
‘I’d better drop you off here,’ said Charles, slowing down as the car approached the entrance to Deverell
The fish was too fresh and the accompaniments seemed slimy. Edie had no appetite for the food, imagining her stomach round and balloon-like, like Susie’s must have been. Imagine if he did get her pregnant. What on earth would she do then?
‘Well,’ she said decisively. ‘Susie Leonard might have wanted your baby but I categorically and absolutely do not. So please see to it.’
‘If you were a real parlourmaid you’d jump at the chance to get your own cottage and a steady income instead of living that life. You’re here for a holiday of sorts, I think. Or perhaps you’re running away from something? Oh, yes, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re escaping. Unlucky Edie, to run straight into my arms. Poor unfortunate damsel.’
He was enjoying his speculations, nibbling at the last crust of bread after mopping up the remaining sauce.
‘Nothing of the sort,’ she said. She was aware of sweat gathering at the back of her neck. The day was too hot and the table lacked a parasol. ‘I think I should like some shade. Could we go and sit over there, underneath that tree?’
‘Of course. Have you finished?’ He looked doubtfully at her plate. ‘I always thought you maids ate like horses. You’re going to need to do better than that, my girl, once I’ve got you in my clutches. I want you in peak condition.’
‘Oh, stop it,’ she muttered, hotter still at the thought of what he had in mind for her.
He called for ices to be brought to the little bench beneath the weeping willow and sat down beside Edie, taking her hand in his as they gazed at the water. Just watching it flow onwards had a refreshing effect, and the ices fought off the worst of the discomfort, cooling Edie down to a bearable level.
‘Any more conditions?’ he asked lightly.
A swan glided past. How incongruous this was.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Just … if you could try and be … nice … about it.’
He seemed to melt at that, his face almost sad.
‘What you must think of me,’ he said. ‘I am a terrible man. I know it. I can’t help it. But I won’t be terrible to you, Edie Prior. I couldn’t be terrible to you.’
It would be all lies, of course, and she should not feel reassured, but she did. He might be a rake and a wastrel and all sorts of other awful things, but at his core she felt he was a man of his word.
‘I hope so,’ she said.
‘And now, here are my conditions for you,’ he said, brightening. ‘You will eat three square meals a day. You will not work so hard that you fall asleep the minute you come off duty. You will avoid Ted Whatsisname. And you will enjoy yourself when you’re with me. Do you think you can do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said truthfully. How could she avoid Ted? And what if sex turned out to be dreadful?
‘Promise me you’ll try.’
‘I promise.’
‘Right. Good. Have you finished that ice? Come on then. I’m taking you out on the river.’
Edie always remembered that afternoon as if it were accompanied by music, perhaps Delius’s
Summer Night on the River
, which she had heard conducted by Thomas Beecham. Its idyllic, impressionistic quality suited that lazy, warm afternoon, floating with this man, soon to be her lover. Her thoughts, all bunched up and tense, dissolved under the sun’s power and she became a creature of sensation. Her clothes clung to her and she felt heavy and hot between her legs and wonderfully light-headed. When the skiff found a bend of the river that was deserted, Charles would let the boat drift while they kissed, endlessly and with a languor that protected them from extremes of passion. Besides, they would capsize the boat.
Love and sex might be wonderful after all. If it felt this way, she could scarcely blame the maids for losing their heads and hearts.
But how would she keep from losing hers?
Chapter Six
‘I’d better drop you off here,’ said Charles, slowing down as the car approached the entrance to Deverell
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