The Fifth Kiss (13 page)

“Oh, Clara!” Olivia sighed, much moved.

“Can you understand what that meant to Miles, my dear? Do you have enough maturity to comprehend the difficulty of his position?”

“No, I'm afraid I don't,” Olivia admitted. “Just because his wife is no longer … er …
compliant
… is not sufficient reason for a man—if he
is
a man of honor—to turn into a
rake.
”

“Then you know nothing of men, my dear. Miles is a man of strong desires, of full-blooded passions. He couldn't understand why I had suddenly cooled to him. He was furious … yet he was as proud as he was angry. He never again spoke to me about the matter. He's been as scrupulously devoted to me and the family as he ever was. He's not permitted my name to be dragged into scandal. Yet he must have had a great need to find an outlet for his passions. Can't you feel for him? Still loyal to his marriage, he would not permit himself to indulge in a relationship with a woman of his own class—although there are many men who are not so fastidious, and many women who would welcome his attentions. If he's found himself a mistress from among a class of women he would normally disdain, I cannot find it in my heart to blame him.”

Olivia lowered her eyes and bit her lip. Perhaps her sister didn't blame him, but Olivia couldn't help but
despise
him. A man need not be the slave of his passions. If he had any sort of character, he would have endeavored to control his passions and eschew the sort of self-indulgence of which Strickland was guilty. Even if he'd been led to believe that his wife no longer loved him in that way, he was still
married
. Honor and loyalty should have taken precedence over desire. How can he have believed himself to be a man of honor otherwise?

“I see by your expression that you don't agree with me,” Clara said with a sigh. “But, Livie, you have much to learn about marriage. When a wife deserts her husband's bed, she hurts him in many ways. She deals a blow to his pride, to his self-esteem, to the essence of his manhood. Don't you see?”

Olivia considered the matter. “But, Clara, if that is true, why did you
lie
to him? Why didn't you tell him that you were ill and that as soon as you were well, your lives could return to the happy intimacy that you'd had before?”

“Because, my love, I knew that I would
never
be well. Never again.”

Olivia's heart stopped for a moment, and her face paled. “Clara!” she gasped. “Clara … no!”

Clara reached for her hands and held them tight. “Don't look like that, Livie. Hold on to yourself. I
need
you to be
strong
. That is why I've told you all this. I don't have very much more time, you see. And although I've tried to arrange things so that my family will continue to thrive after I'm gone, I'm very much afraid that I haven't succeeded very well. There are parts of the family's structure that may fall to pieces. And only you, my dearest Livie, can be counted on to keep things together.”

Olivia stared at her sister in white-faced horror. “What do you
mean
? You don't have much more time to … to
live
? But … it can't be
true
! It
mustn't
be true!”

Clara didn't answer. She merely sat quietly, looking down at the hands folded in her lap and waiting for the shock waves to pass. But Olivia couldn't face the fact at first.
Perhaps this isn't happening
, she told herself. Perhaps it was only a terrible dream, and she would waken and find the whole scene disintergrating into the mists where all dreams disappear. Or perhaps Clara was mistaken. Perhaps another doctor … another medicine … “Oh, Clara,” she whispered brokenly, “are you
sure
…?”

But Clara's eyes were fixed on hers, level, steady, unwavering, and she knew there was no escape. How could she have been so blind not to have read the message in back of those courageous eyes? How had she not guessed her sister's tragedy—a tragedy developing right before her eyes? How could she have permitted her sister to carry this shocking burden
alone
? With a cry, she lifted her arms, and the two sisters embraced, letting the tears flow in sorrow, in grief, and in relief that the burden could now be shared. So they hugged each other close, painfully close … as if they were hanging on to each other for dear life.

chapter nine

Clara had only one wish—a most urgent desire to live out the few months remaining to her in as normal a manner as her illness would permit. She wanted to avoid tension in the household. She wanted no shadow to cloud her children's eyes when she played with them. She wanted no pity or unwonted attention from the people around her. To that end, she made Olivia promise to tell no one about her illness. No one—not her father, not her brothers, not Strickland, not
anyone
was to be informed. Only Mrs. Joliffe (who had guessed a long time ago that her mistress was seriously ill), the doctor and Olivia were to know the truth. Olivia was not at all certain that this secretiveness was for the best, but despite a nagging reluctance, she did as her sister wished.

Olivia would never forget as long as she lived the amazing courage her sister demonstrated as she passed her days with seeming serenity, never acknowledging her pain, rarely taking to her bed, always welcoming the children's company and taking part (as much as she was physically able) in the activities of the household. For Olivia, watching her with aching heart, it was an inspiration—a demonstration of the enormous gallantry which the human spirit can sometimes muster in time of stress.

In order not to arouse suspicion, Clara did not permit Olivia to overstay her visit. At the appointed time, Olivia returned to London. But she came back as often as Clara permitted for short visits, especially when she knew that Strickland would be away from home. It was only in Olivia's company that Clara could relax her rigid self-control and permit herself to speak truthfully about her pains, her problems, her fears and her desires for the future of her family. The two sisters became closer than they had ever been, the pain of their imminent separation making the pleasure of being together more poignant and meaningful.

On the first of her return visits, Olivia was surprised to see that the advent of the new tutor had not made a significant difference in the daily routine. Mr. Cornelius Clapham was a studious young man whose eyes, behind their silver-framed spectacles, had a warm twinkle. A little below average height, the tutor was quick and nervous in his movements, his step was sprightly and his long fingers constantly twitched as if from an excess of energy. Although his hair was scraggly and his lips thin, he had an agreeable face lit by a ready smile, and everyone seemed to have taken a liking to him. Olivia, who had so violently objected to a tutor's presence in the household that she was prepared to detest him, had to admit that his presence seemed to be doing Perry no harm.

Mr. Clapham took over Perry's schooling during the afternoons. He was a patient, indulgent teacher, and Perry was an eager pupil. Olivia, on paying a visit to the schoolroom, was pleased to discover that the tutor had no objection to the presence in the classroom of Sir Budgidore. The teacher even addressed a number of his comments to the invisible knight, asking him to impart bits of history in his ear or to repeat the declensions of the Latin verbs that Master Perry had confused. “Sir Budgidore is better at history than I,” Perry confided to Olivia proudly, “though I'm catching up to him in Latin. Don't you think Papa will be pleased at how well I'm doing in Latin?”

Olivia assured him that his Papa would be proud as a peacock, but in her heart she was not at all convinced. She had never known Lord Strickland to unbend enough to pay
anyone
a compliment, so she very much doubted that his son would have the satisfaction of a kind word from his arrogant father.

However, Strickland evidently had been right about the tutor. Perry was certainly thriving under his tutelage. Olivia was humiliated to realize that she'd made that scene in the library—and been subjected to that unnerving embrace—all for nothing. His lordship had been right, and she'd been an interfering fool.

Olivia came away from the schoolroom very favorably impressed by Mr. Clapham's scholarship and his handling of the little fellow. He was a natural teacher—affectionate, patient, knowing and kind. “He even has a touch of humor, though it's a pedantic, dry sort,” she told Clara later. “At least you have nothing to worry about on that score. Perry is in good hands.”

Clara smiled in agreement. She had gone to bed with a book to spend a restful afternoon, and she now leaned back against the pillows and studied her sister with a teasing glint in her eye. “So Miles
was
wise in this matter, wasn't he?” she asked triumphantly.

“Not necessarily,” Olivia demurred. “He was more lucky than wise. If his agent had not found such a good specimen in Mr. Clapham, the entire situation might have been quite different.”

Clara sighed. “How can I convince you to change your opinion about Miles?” she asked wistfully.

“Why does my opinion concern you? What difference can it make to you whether I approve of your husband or not?”

Clara cast a quick look at her sister's face and then looked away. “It makes a difference to me. A great deal of difference. I had hoped that …” But she fell silent and turned her head away.

“What had you hoped?” Olivia asked curiously.

“Nothing. Never mind.” She looked back at her sister with her quick, soothing smile. “I'm glad you find our Mr. Clapham to your liking.”

“Yes, I do like him. In fact, I think I should like to encourage a match between him and Miss Elspeth. Wouldn't they make the most perfect pair?”

Clara shook her head and smiled in disparagement. “You're not the sort to be a matchmaker, Livie. You haven't the knack.”

Olivia drew herself up in offense. “How can you say that? What's
wrong
with my matchmaking?”

“Your match is too obvious, don't you see? People don't take to each other in such neat, comfortable patterns.”

“Don't they? Why not?”

“I don't know. The strangest sort of people attract each other. No one can say why. But our Elspeth, who is just the right age for Mr. Clapham and has enough in common with him to make it appear that they would be
ideally
matched, is the only person in the whole household who holds Mr. Clapham in dislike.”

Clara was quite right. Miss Elspeth had turned up her nose at Mr. Clapham the moment she laid eyes on the tutor. She never said a civil word to him, despite the fact that they both spent the. greater part of their days on the third floor in the children's wing. The moment the tutor would appear in the schoolroom doorway for his afternoon lessons with Perry, Miss Elspeth would snatch up Amy's hand and scoot from the room, leaving a trail of hairpins or a forgotten scarf. Like a cook who can't abide having another chef in his kitchen, Elspeth couldn't bear the presence of the man she felt was a
rival
. It brought a bitter taste to her mouth to realize that she had to share her Perry with this
usurper
. She could see no good in him at all. To her, he was a nervous, fidgety, pretentious, encroaching
bore
, and the less she had to do with him the better.

As for Cornelius Clapham himself, he was completely indifferent to Miss Elspeth's view of him. His mind was on his lessons, his own scholarship and the child in his charge. The colorless little governess who dressed them in the morning, supervised their meals and took them out to play did not interest him in the least. If anyone had suggested to him that Miss Elspeth could be a potential wife, a potential lover or even a potential friend, he would have gaped in amazement. For he had his eye on another female entirely. At the first glimpse of Miss Olivia Matthews he had completely lost his head and heart.

He knew, of course, that Miss Olivia was quite above his touch. She was a lady of quality, high-born and rich. He was a nobody, without rank, title or wealth and with nothing to recommend him but a fairly prepossessing appearance, an honest nature and a good education. He had no property to his name and no prospects of ever being much better off than he was at this moment. A lady of Miss Matthews' sort would never even deign to notice him.

But a man could dream. And in his dreams, Olivia Matthews played a leading role. Her face hovered over his desk when he bent over his books, it shimmered in the sky when he gazed out of the window, it smiled over his bed when he stared up at the ceiling during the night, and it haunted his dreams during his sleep. He imagined her sitting with him before a fire, listening to him as he read her the lyrics he'd written in her praise. He dreamed of her in a bridal gown, standing before the vicar of a church, gazing fondly at him as he took his place beside her. He fancied himself embracing her as they stood high on a crag, the wind blowing about them and the stars beaming down on them. But never by word or deed did he reveal to anyone that she was the soul and substance of his waking dreams and his secret life.

Olivia's comings and goings were observed by Mr. Clapham with an interest more intense than that of anyone else in the household. When she returned to London his life lost its color. When she came back to Langley Park, his spirits soared. During the rest of that spring and the summer that followed, poor Cornelius Clapham's emotions were lifted and depressed too frequently for his good, for Olivia came and went a dozen times. Her visits to Langley became very frequent, for during that period Strickland was often away from home. Ever since the assassination of Perceval in May, the government in London had been in turmoil, and Strickland's presence was required. Even though the Prince Regent had appointed Lord Liverpool to the post of Prime Minister in June (after a month of indecision, procrastination and confusion), the appointment had really pleased nobody. Strickland, who had been instrumental in pushing the Regent to his decision and in forming the cabinet, felt it necessary to be on hand during the early days of the new ministry. Clara had said nothing to her husband to give him a moment's concern, and he therefore pursued his life in his usual manner. This was what Clara wished him to do, in spite of the fact that she missed him greatly. So Olivia posted up to Langley Park whenever she heard Strickland was in town, hoping to give her sister some comfort.