The Pearl Sister (The Seven Sisters Book 4) by Lucinda Riley (17)

17

Kitty hardly slept that night, Drummond’s words racing around her head like a swarm of flies feasting on a carcass.

‘Please ignore anything I said, I was delirious from exhaustion and drink,’ he said at breakfast the next morning. Then he took Charlie into his arms and threw him high into the air, catching the laughing child and placing his chubby legs about his own broad shoulders.

‘So, nephew of mine, we men must stick together. Show me what needs to be shown around here.’

They promptly disappeared out of the drive, and were gone so long that Kitty was quite beside herself with worry when they eventually returned.

‘Charlie has shown me the town,’ Drummond said, setting him onto his feet. Kitty noticed her son’s face was filthy from chocolate and ice cream and God knew what else.

‘I did, Mama, and everyone thought he was Papa! He lookum the same!’

‘He does look the same, yes, Charlie.’

‘We fooled a few people, didn’t we, Charlie?’ Drummond laughed as he set about wiping the child’s dirty mouth.

‘We did, Uncle Drum.’

‘We might well be receiving some house calls from confused neighbours who believe that your husband has returned early from his travels. Personally, I can hardly wait.’ Drummond winked at Kitty.

Sure enough, in the days that followed, there was a stream of townsfolk beating a path to her door. Each time, Drummond greeted them politely, behaving like the perfect host. He was far more ebullient than his brother, joking with them gently about their mistake and charming all who met him. The end result was a flood of dinner invitations arriving through the letter box.

‘Yet another one,’ Kitty said as she opened it. ‘And it’s from the Jeffords! Truly, Drummond, we must refuse them all.’

‘Why? Am I not your brother-in-law? Let alone Charlie’s uncle and my father’s son? Have I not been invited here at the specific request of my twin brother?’

‘You said only recently that a snakebite was less deadly than the viper tongue of a female neighbour. You will see such an event as sport, and however dull you may find our “colonial middle-class” acquaintances, I do not wish you to offend them,’ Kitty retorted.

‘I told you that I was drunk that evening. I remember nothing,’ he called after her as she stalked along the hallway and into the drawing room.

‘What the matter, Missus Kitty? You lookum sad.’ Feather duster in hand, Camira surveyed her.

‘Nothing, I think I must be tired.’

‘Mister Drum upset you?’

‘No.’ Kitty sighed. ‘It’s too complicated to explain.’

‘He likem light in sky; Mister Andrew dark, likem earth. Both good, jus’ different.’

Kitty thought how accurate Camira’s assessment of the twins was.

‘Charlie likem him, me an’ Fred likem him. He good here now for us.’

But not for me . . .

‘Yes, it is good he is here. And you’re right, Charlie seems to adore him.’

‘Mister Drum makem the life better for you, Missus Kitty. He funny fella.’

Kitty stood up. ‘I think I’ll take a nap, Camira. Could you mind Charlie while I do?’

Camira studied her suspiciously. ‘Yessum. I in charge of little fella.’

Kitty went to lie down and wondered if she was sick. She certainly felt feverish and, despite her best intentions, the mere thought of Drummond’s presence only a few feet away through a paper-thin wall had set her senses on fire. He hadn’t said a single intimate word to her since the first night, and he’d confessed to being drunk then anyway . . .

Kitty rolled over to try to get comfortable and allow her tired mind some rest. Perhaps he really was here out of best intentions: minding his sister-in-law as his brother had asked him to do.

* * *

 

Kitty read the telegram over breakfast and groaned. Even her husband seemed to think it was wonderful that Drummond was staying with them. And so far, her guest was making no move to leave. Eventually, she’d had no choice but to accept some of the dinner invitations and, subsequently, they’d been out to dinner three times in the past week. Much to her surprise, Drummond had behaved impeccably on each occasion, charming the wives and telling swashbuckling stories to their husbands of his life in the Outback. And, most importantly, staying sober throughout the entire evening.

‘Do come again to visit!’ Mrs Jefford had tittered as Drummond had kissed her hand as they had said their goodbyes. ‘Perhaps Sunday luncheon next week?’

‘Thank you, Mrs Jefford, I will let you know if we’re free, as soon as I’ve consulted my diary,’ Kitty had replied politely.

‘Do. It must be strange for you, having Drummond to stay. So like your husband, but so much . . . more’ Mrs Jefford had blushed like a young girl. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’

It had been raining incessantly, but even so, Drummond had found ways to entertain Charlie and Cat. They played hide and seek inside the house, which rang with shrieks of excitement as the three of them tore around it. A miniature cricket pitch was set up along the entrance hall – Drummond professing horror that Andrew was yet to teach his son the basic rules of the game. Fred had been commandeered to whittle some stumps and a bat, and had, as Drummond said, done ‘a bloody good job’.

As the rain continued to beat down, the front door became pockmarked with the ball Drummond had bought as a present for Charlie from the general store, and Cat was corralled into being wicket keeper or fielder, with Kitty keeping count of the runs and overs. By the end of the session, despite Kitty’s careful scoring, Drummond always declared it a draw.

‘House happy when he around,’ Camira announced one afternoon as she herded the overexcited children into the kitchen for tea. ‘When he leave, Missus Kitty?’

‘I have absolutely no idea,’ she replied truthfully, not knowing whether she wished him to or not.

* * *

‘When the rains stop, I suppose,’ said Drummond after Kitty asked him over supper the following evening.

‘That could be weeks,’ Kitty responded, toying with the overcooked chicken on her plate. Tarik could still not judge how long to roast a bird.

‘Is that a problem for you? If I am unwelcome here, I will go.’

‘No. It’s not that . . .’

‘Then what is it?’ Drummond eyed her.

‘Nothing. Perhaps I’m just tired tonight.’

‘Perhaps you find my presence uncomfortable. I’ve never seen you so tense. There was me, believing I was doing so well to behave in front of all your friends and doing my best to amuse Charlie and Cat – what an adorable child she is. Going to grow up to be a beauty too. Never mind my helping Fred keep the path free of sludge and—’

‘Stop! Please, just stop.’ Kitty put her head into her hands. ‘God’s oath, Kat, what is it I’ve done?’ Drummond looked at her, genuinely shocked at her distress. ‘Please tell me and I’ll try to rectify it. I’ve even laid off the grog because I know you don’t like it. I—’

‘Don’t you understand?!’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know why you’re here, or what you want! Whatever it is, I’m simply . . . exhausted!’

‘I see,’ he sighed. ‘Forgive me. I had no idea that my presence here was upsetting you so much. I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘Drummond.’ Kitty put her hand to her brow. ‘I did not ask you to leave tomorrow, I asked you when you would be leaving. Why does everything with you have to be a drama? Do you go to your bed at night thinking how you fooled everyone? Or is this the real you and the other Drummond a pretence? Or perhaps it’s nothing to do with any of us here, and even though you protest it isn’t, it’s because you can never change the fact that you were born two hours later than your brother and he has everything you want!’

‘Enough!’ Drummond slammed his fist on the table, starting a cacophony of china, glass and cutlery tinkling in a surreal impression of an orchestra.

‘Well? Which is it? What is the real reason you are here?’ Kitty asked him again.

He was silent for a long time before he looked up at her. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not to me, no.’

Drummond stood up and left the room, slamming the door behind him. She wondered if he’d gone to pack and would leave immediately. It was just the kind of dramatic gesture he was inclined to.

Within a few seconds, he was back, not with his luggage, but with a decanter.

‘I brought a glass for you, but I’m presuming you don’t want it.’

‘No, thank you. It is at least one lesson I can thank you for teaching me.’

‘There are no others?’

‘Not that I can think of presently. Although I have learnt to score at cricket, even if you always fix the result.’

He smiled at that and took a sip of brandy. ‘Then at least I have achieved something. You are right, of course.’

‘About what? Please, Drummond,’ she entreated him, ‘no more riddles.’

‘Then I will tell you straight. You said a few moments ago that perhaps I secretly wanted everything my brother has. Well, you were right, because there was – and is – something I want very much. When I first met you that Christmas, I admired your spirit, and, yes, I found you attractive, but what man wouldn’t? You’re a beautiful woman. And then I watched my brother set his cap at you, and I admit now that the fact I could see how much he wanted you added to your allure. Brothers will be brothers, Kitty, and t’was ever thus, especially with identical twins.’ Drummond took another gulp of his brandy. ‘However, if it began as a game, I apologise, for over that Christmas, I watched how you adapted to our ways, how you were so patient with my mother and my aunt, never once complaining about missing your family, and throwing yourself wholeheartedly into all that was presented to you. I will never forget you clambering onto that elephant with no care for your appearance or modesty. It was at that moment everything changed. For I saw through to your soul; saw it was free like mine, unfettered by convention. I saw a woman I could love.’

Kitty concentrated hard on the contents of her water glass, not daring to raise her eyes to his.

‘When I asked you to wait for me, I was in deadly earnest, but it was too little, too late. I knew it when I walked away and, I admit, if I had been you, I would have made the same decision. Two brothers, identical looking, one a drunkard and a joker and the other . . . well . . .’ He shrugged. ‘You know who Andrew is. When the inevitable happened and I heard you were to marry my brother, I knew I had lost. Time passed and I lived my life, as we all do. Then I got the telegram from Andrew, asking me to call in to see you in Broome. I will shock you by confessing that I deliberated for many hours. Eventually, I decided it was best I came here to lay the ghost to rest and move on. I walked in here out of the rain, depleted and exhausted, took one look at you and immediately knew that nothing had changed. If anything, as I’ve witnessed your strength and determination to make a life for you and your child in a hostile environment which most men – let alone women – would find daunting, my admiration and respect for you has increased. Put simply, my darling Kat, you are by far the most courageous, stubborn, intelligent, irritating and gorgeous female I have ever had the misfortune to come across. And for some extraordinary reason that I cannot fathom, I love every bone in your beautiful goddamned body. So’ – he raised his glass to her – ‘there you have it.’

Kitty could hardly believe what she’d just heard, or dare to trust it. Every word he’d spoken mirrored her feelings exactly. Yet she knew she must reply pragmatically.

‘I am your brother’s wife and you have admitted you covet what he has. Are you sure that this feeling you say you have for me is not to do with that?’

‘Good Lord! I have just put my heart on the plate in front of you, so I’d ask you to refrain from cutting it up into small pieces with your sharp tongue. However, it matters not whether you believe me, but whether I believe myself. You asked me why I was still here and I have told you the truth: I am yours for the taking. If you wish me to leave, then I will.’

‘Of course you may stay. Why, my husband himself invited you. Please, ignore my strange mood tonight. It’s probably something I ate.’

He searched her face to find the truth, but she pushed it down deep inside.

I will not be like my father . . .

‘I am tired, Drummond. If you’ll excuse me, I’m retiring to bed. Goodnight.’

She felt his eyes on her as she walked to the door.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Mercer,’ he said.

* * *

As the Big Wet took hold of Broome, the streets became flooded and impassable. The shops along Dampier Terrace were shored up with sandbags and Fred valiantly waded through the sludge to fetch provisions. Kitty looked out of a window and saw that her precious garden was now buried under a river of red mud. Tears came to her eyes as she thought of the love she had put into trying to recreate a small slice of home.

The fact they were housebound made the situation with Drummond even more tense. Even if he wished to leave, with the weather as it was, he had little choice but to stay put. After several long days, during which Kitty thought she might go mad with frustration and desire, the rains finally stopped, and all of them emerged like blinking moles into the bright sunlight. Within minutes, Charlie and Cat were knee-deep in the red soupy earth, shouting and screaming as they splattered it on each other’s faces and bodies.

The air felt fresher and cooler, but an unpleasant odour of sewage hung in it like an afterthought.

‘We’d better be careful, this is cholera season. Scrub the children thoroughly, won’t you, Camira?’ she said, hauling Charlie out of the mud.

‘Yessum, Missus Kitty. Bad time for big sick after rains stop.’

Sure enough, word soon came that five cases of cholera had been brought to Dr Suzuki’s hospital and, subsequently, many more were reported.

‘At least it’s confined to the shanty town for now,’ Drummond comforted her after he’d taken a stroll into town to stretch his legs. ‘No white cases reported so far.’

But soon there were, and having escaped from their homes, the residents’ doors were once again shut tight, this time against a deadly plague.

Fred was the first one down in the Mercer household, and lay delirious on his straw pallet in the stables. Kitty was surprised when Camira insisted on caring for him herself rather than allowing him to be taken to hospital.

‘He bin good to me an’ I dun trust those docta fellas,’ she said firmly.

‘Of course,’ Kitty said, knowing that Aboriginals were the last priority for hospital care. She clasped Camira’s hands. ‘You must let me know what I can do to help.’

Retreating to the house, Kitty’s heart pounded as she thought of the amount of contact Fred had with Charlie on a daily basis.

‘Try not to worry. The Aboriginals have a far lower resistance to cholera than we do. Our Western illnesses came to Australia with us and slayed the natives in their thousands,’ Drummond said.

‘As horrific as that is, it’s a comfort to me for Charlie’s sake.’ She gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

‘Well now, that’s the first positive thing you’ve said to me in days. My pleasure, ma’am.’ Drummond gave a mock bow.

While Fred sweated his way through the following two nights, Camira reported that she ‘dun know if he make it’ and scurried back to the hut with noxious-smelling concoctions from the kitchen.

‘How say you we take the kids on the cart to the beach?’ Drummond suggested.

‘Surely not?’

‘Riddell Beach is well away from the town. And I think a breath of fresh air will do us all good,’ he added.

Kitty was as desperate as he to leave the house, so she packed up a small picnic and they set off, Drummond taking the longer way round to avoid going through the town.

Kitty sat on the soft sand as Drummond removed his clothes and went into the water in a pair of long johns.

‘Sorry, but it has to be done,’ he teased her. ‘Come on, kids, race you to the water!’

She watched Charlie and Cat shouting and screaming as Drummond played with them in the shallows. She was glad to be out of the oppressive atmosphere of the house, but was disturbed by the facsimile of a family outing with a man who was not cowed by the rules of society, who looked like Andrew, but was not Andrew. A man who knew how to laugh, and live in the moment.

And yes, Kitty confessed to herself finally, she wished with all her heart that things were different.

When they arrived back home, Camira was already in the kitchen, her face full of relief. ‘Fred be fine now.’

‘Thank God,’ Kitty said as she gave Camira a hug. ‘Right, let’s get these children into the tub and think about supper.’

In the small hours of the night, Kitty felt sick and feverish. Then her stomach began to cramp and she only just made it to the privy, which was where Camira found her the following morning, collapsed on the floor.

‘Mister Drum! Come-a quick!’

Perhaps she dreamt Camira screaming at Drummond, ‘Nottum hospital, Mister Drum! Many people sick! Go gettum medicines, we takem care of Missus Kitty here.’

She opened her eyes to see Andrew’s face – or maybe it was Drummond’s – urging her to sip some salty liquid that made her gag, then vomit, and noticed that a foul, acidic smell hung permanently in the air.

Gentle hands washed her down with cool water as her stomach contracted again and again. She dreamt then of floating off to join Camira’s ancestors who lived in the sky, or maybe God himself . . . Once, she opened her eyes and there was an angel, shimmering white in front of her, offering her a hand. A beautiful high-pitched voice was singing in her ear.

It would be nice, she thought with a smile, to be free of the pain.

Then another figure appeared in front of the angel, telling her to ‘Fight, my darling Kitty. Don’t leave me now, I love you, I love you . . .’

She must have slept again, for when she opened her eyes, she could see small horizontal chinks of light appearing from behind the shutters.

‘Why did no one close the curtains?’ she murmured. ‘I always close them. Helps keep out the heat . . .’

‘Well, your majesty, please do forgive my tardiness. I’ve had other things on my mind just recently.’

Drummond stood over her, his hands clasped to his waist. He looked dreadful: pale and haggard, with dark purple rings visible under his eyes.

‘Welcome back to the land of the living,’ he said to her.

‘I dreamt an angel came to take me up to the heavens . . .’

‘I’m sure you did. We nearly lost you, Kitty. I thought you were giving up. However, it looks to me like God didn’t want you yet, and sent you back.’

‘Perhaps there is a God after all,’ she whispered as she tried to sit up, but then she felt horribly dizzy and lay back down on the pillows.

‘Now that is a conversation we’ll have another time, after I’ve taken a nap. You seem lucid – up to a point – and you haven’t messed the bed for a whole twelve hours,’ Drummond declared.

‘Messed the bed?!’ Kitty closed her eyes and used what little energy she had to turn away from him, full of horror and embarrassment.

‘Cholera is a messy disease. Don’t worry, I left the room when you and the sheets were changed. Camira did all that. Although I admit that if you had died, I was about to go to the police station and insist they arrest her for the murder of her mistress. When I tried to take you to the hospital, she fought like a tiger to restrain me. She’s convinced that “whitefella” hospitals are full of disease, which, in truth, they probably are. If you don’t die of your own bacteria in an epidemic, you’re likely to die of your neighbour’s. In the end, she wore me down and I agreed, God help me.’

‘An angel was in here, I swear . . .’

‘Are you delirious again, Kitty? I do hope not.’ Drummond raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I will leave you to your talk of angels and go and tell Nurse Camira that you are alive and could be very well soon.’

Kitty watched him as he walked towards the door. ‘Thank you,’ she managed to utter.

‘My pleasure, ma’am. Always here to serve.’

‘I did see an angel,’ she insisted as, exhausted from the conversation, she closed her eyes and slept again.

* * *

‘Mister Drum withum you night an’ day. Neva left your side. Only when I change you an’ dem stinkin’ sheets.’ Camira wrinkled her nose. ‘He good whitefella, he listen to me when I tellum no hospital.’

Kitty, who was sitting up in bed and doing her best to sip the watery, salty soup on the tray in front of her, studied Camira’s dreamy expression. She realised her nursemaid and helpmeet had completely fallen under the spell of ‘Mister Drum’ too.

‘He lovem you, Missus Kitty.’ She nodded firmly.

‘Of course he doesn’t! Or at least’ – Kitty tried to soften her gut reaction to Camira’s words – ‘he loves me like any brother-in-law should.’

Camira rolled her eyes in disagreement. ‘You lucky woman, Missus Kitty. Most fellas not good like-a him. Now, you eat an’ gettum strong for your boy.’

Two days later, Kitty felt confident enough to see Charlie without the sight of her terrifying him.

‘Mama! Are you better?’ he said as he ran into her arms and she felt the sheer life force in him.

‘Much better, Charlie darling. And oh, so very glad to see you.’

‘Papa said he would come home when Uncle Drum telegraphed him to say you were sick.’

Instinctively, Kitty’s stomach turned over, just as it had during the worst of her recent illness. ‘Did he? That is very kind of him.’

‘Yes, but then you got well, so Uncle Drum went back to the telegraph office to tell Papa, so he isn’t coming back.’

‘You must be disappointed, Charlie.’

‘Yes, but we have Uncle Drum to take care of us, and he looks exactly the same, but he’s funnier and plays cricket and swims with us. Why won’t Papa swim with us?’

‘Maybe he will if we ask him nicely.’

‘He won’t, ’cos he’s always busy with work.’ Charlie kissed her wetly on her cheek as his chubby hands went round her neck. ‘I’m glad you didn’t die. Me and Cat are going to help Fred build a hut in the garden.’

‘What hut?’

‘Our own house. We can live in it together and maybe eat our supper there sometimes.’ Charlie’s eyes pleaded with his mother. ‘Can we?’

‘Sometimes, maybe,’ Kitty agreed, too exhausted to argue.

‘And one day, we’ll get married like you and Papa. Goodbye, Mama. Eat your soup and get strong.’

Kitty watched him as he walked stoutly across the room. Even in the past few days, he seemed to have grown, both in terms of maturity and stature.

Although there was nothing wrong with childhood games, Kitty wondered once more whether she had made a mistake by entrusting Camira with so much of Charlie’s care, but all that was for another time. Kitty concentrated on finishing her soup.

The following morning, she insisted she was well enough to take a bath and dress. Food was still a problem – it made her feel nauseated every time she looked at it – but she did her best to eat. Charlie and Cat were busy in the garden with Fred, who was sawing and nailing their play hut together.

‘He’s a good man,’ Drummond commented over breakfast. ‘You’ve treated him and Camira with respect, and they’ve repaid you ten-fold.’

‘You’re a good man too. Thank you for caring for me while I was sick. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here.’

‘My pleasure, or, at least, my duty. I couldn’t have you die under my watch, could I? My brother would never have forgiven me. The good news is that it seems the epidemic is over in town, though Dr Suzuki has told me they’ve lost a dozen souls at the hospital and you can probably triple that in the shanty town. Sadly, Mrs Jefford was one of them.’

‘How tragic. I must write immediately to her husband.’

‘Death makes saints of us all, doesn’t it?’ Drummond gave her a wry smile. ‘Anyway, now you’re well and the weather has improved, I’ll probably make tracks in the next day or so.’

‘Surely there’s more rain to come?’

‘Perhaps, but I don’t want to be under your feet any longer.’

‘Please stay until the weather is more settled,’ she begged, the thought of him leaving unbearable. She was sure it was his voice that had called her back when she’d stood on the brink of death. ‘Charlie adores you.’

‘That’s kind of you to say so. And you?’

‘Mama! Uncle Drum!’ Charlie burst through the door. ‘Our hut is finished. Will you come and see it now?’

‘Of course.’ Kitty stood up, grateful her son had broken the moment.

They crowded into the tiny hut, drank tea and ate the iced buns that Tarik had made. They had the texture of bullets, but nobody minded.

‘Can we sleep in here tonight, Mama?’ Charlie begged.

‘Sorry, darling, but no. Cat sleeps with her mother, and you sleep in your bedroom.’

Charlie pouted as the adults rose and crouched down to leave the claustrophobic space.

That evening, Kitty took more time than normal to perform her toilette. Whether it was the way Drummond had nursed her, his voice pulling her back towards life, or the way he played so naturally with Charlie and Cat, she could deny it no longer. Dabbing her neck with a little perfume even though she knew it attracted mosquitoes, she stared at her reflection in the looking glass.

‘I love him,’ she told it. ‘God save me, I can’t help it.’

They ate dinner together that evening, Kitty’s hands shaking as she struggled through the three courses. Whether Drummond could feel the sudden electricity in the air, she had no idea. He ate well, enjoying a bottle of wine from a case that Andrew had had sent up from Adelaide. He seemed oblivious to the seismic shift inside her.

‘Might you pass me a small glass of the wine?’ she asked.

‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Drummond frowned at her request. ‘I hardly think it’s a good idea, given the delicate state of your health.’

‘Maybe not, but I wish to toast to the fact that I still have health to worry about, and am not lying in the morgue like poor Mrs Jefford.’

‘All right.’ He poured her a thimbleful.

‘A little more, if you please.’

‘Kitty . . .’

‘For God’s sake, I’m a grown woman! If I wish to take a glass of wine, I shall.’

‘I can see you’re better.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Back to your bossy ways.’

‘Am I bossy?’ she asked him.

‘It was a joke, Kitty. Most things I say are. What’s bitten you tonight? You’re as jumpy as an unbroken mare.’

Kitty took a sip of her wine. ‘I think that almost losing my life has . . . changed me.’

‘I see. How?’

‘I suppose I’ve realised how fleeting it can be.’

‘It can indeed. And here in this great new world of ours, more so than most other places.’

‘I will also confess that in the past I’ve doubted God’s existence, but that night I felt him. I felt his love.’

‘God’s oath!’ Drummond refilled his glass with wine. ‘You’ve had an epiphany. Will you soon be begging the local reverend to be the first female to take the cloth?’

‘For once will you stop teasing me!’ Kitty drained her wine, already feeling her head spinning. ‘The point is that I . . . that is . . .’

‘For pity’s sake, Kitty, spit it out.’

‘Just like I felt His love, I love you, Drummond. And I believe I have done so since the first moment we met.’

Kitty reached for the bottle of wine but Drummond snatched it away from her. ‘No more of that, missy. It brings back far too many bad memories. And’ – he grasped her wrist – ‘I want to believe you mean what you’re saying.’

‘I mean it. Yes.’ Kitty laughed suddenly. ‘And no, I am not drunk on a thimbleful of wine, but on relief! Have you any idea how exhausting it has been to deny my feelings for the past few weeks? Please, I beg you, Drummond, can we simply celebrate the joy of being alive? In this moment? And not worry about tomorrow, or what’s right or wrong . . .’

After a long silence, he finally spoke. ‘You have no idea how happy your confession makes me feel. However, putting aside the small glass of wine you’ve just drunk, I think that you are perhaps more drunk on life itself, having so recently almost lost it. As much as I am desperate to love you in all possible ways, I suggest that for your sake, a hiatus is required. Some time for you to regain your strength and contemplate what you have said to me tonight. And the ramifications it would have for both of us and our family.’

Kitty stared at him in disbelief. ‘Here I am, wantonly offering you my body and soul, and you choose this moment to be sensible! Time is a luxury that is finite and, my God, I do not want to waste another second of it.’

‘And by taking some of it to think about what you have said, it will not be wasted. If you’re still of the same mind in a few days, well—’

‘Now I am speaking from my heart, you from your head . . . Good grief!’ Kitty wrung her hands. ‘Do you always find a way to be contrary? Or is it perhaps because seeing me so sick, and my body . . . out of control, has changed your mind?’

‘I have seen every inch of your body, I can assure you it is quite beautiful.’ Drummond reached out his hand towards her, but she refused it and stood up on her still weak legs.

‘I am retiring to bed.’ She walked to the door, as straight-backed as she could manage, but an arm grabbed her and pulled her to him.

‘Kat, I . . .’ Then he kissed her roughly and her already giddy head spun even more. When he removed his lips and released his grip, she almost sank to the floor.

‘You are as insubstantial as a ragdoll,’ he said gently as he supported her weight in his arms. ‘Come, I will escort you along the hall and up to your bedroom.’

Outside the door, he paused. ‘Have you the strength to undress yourself or should I help you?’ He gave her a wry smile.

‘I do,’ she managed.

‘I must know you are sure, Kitty, because I cannot come back from this once it has begun. Ever.’

‘I understand. Goodnight, Drummond.’

* * *

The few days he had asked for passed as slowly as watching a large boulder become sand. Luckily the children had their hut in which to play – Kitty had little idea of what they actually did together in there, but a stream of high-pitched giggles emanated from it whenever she went to check on them.

Drummond had announced he had some business to conduct in town for his father and had absented himself from the house for most of the time, leaving Kitty to pace restlessly, mad with the oppressive heat and feverish desire. No matter how many times she told herself to ‘think’, as he had asked her to do, her rational brain seemed to have completely deserted her. And even when a loving telegram from Andrew arrived, she could not muster the necessary guilt to dominate her treacherous thoughts.

 

* * *

Two days later, Kitty could stand it no longer. Lying in bed, she heard Drummond’s door close. Since Andrew’s departure, she had taken to lying naked with only a sheet to preserve her modesty. Waiting until the grandfather clock in the entrance hall struck midnight, she stood up and put on her robe. Closing the door gently behind her so as not to disturb Charlie, she tiptoed along the corridor. Without knocking, she entered Drummond’s room. He hadn’t closed the shutters, and in the moonlight glinting through the glass panes, she saw him splayed naked on the bed.

She untied her robe and let it drop to the floor. Walking towards the bed, she reached out her hand to him.

‘Drummond?’

He opened his eyes and stared up at her.

‘I have thought. And I am here.’