LITMIR.BIZ

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Reynaud touched her pockmarked face. ‘You know what I look like. I fell ill just before Christopher’s father died. Divine retribution. I changed my name by deed poll as soon as I could. I didn’t want to shame him.’

      ‘You’re his mother.’

      ‘I am the woman who left him. He was only four. At first I tried to justify it. He had his nurse. He had stability and John, my brother-in-law, promised to look after him as much as he could. John desired me once, you see. The brothers were like that—rivals.’ She held up her hands and turned her face away. ‘When John gave me this cottage, I agreed I would never contact Christopher. My late husband spent my inheritance. I had nothing. I had no choice.’

      Hattie clenched her fists. Mrs Reynaud had had a choice. She had simply chosen not to take it. ‘Go on.’

      ‘The agreement was I would let him contact me. I have stuck by the agreement. John used to share his letters with me. He’d bring them over and read them. The highlight of my existence, those letters. I used to write to him. I have packets of letters which were never sent, just waiting for the day when he did contact me.’

      ‘Does he know you are here?’

      ‘John promised to leave him a letter. Once, a long time ago, I begged John for a chance to see Kit. He brought him to the Stagshaw fair. I made wild plans. John suggested we run away together and raise him. In the end I lacked the courage as I loved John like a brother, not a lover. It wouldn’t be fair to him. I bought Christopher a jumping-jack and had John give it to him. Shortly afterwards, I left for the Continent.’

      ‘Your former husband and brother-in-law are dead,’ Hattie whispered. She didn’t dare tell Susan Reynaud about the jumping-jack and what it had meant to Kit. She also knew the longing she had seen in his face when he spoke about his mother. She and Kit might have ended, but she cared about him. He needed to know that his mother wanted him. He needed to read those letters that his mother had saved for him. The question was how to do it. She couldn’t just show up at his house and demand.

      ‘But I’m alive and I gave my word.’ Mrs Reynaud shook her head. ‘Some mistakes you never recover from, my dear. I learnt that the hard way. I would like to see him just once. Not to speak to, necessarily, but to see. There is nothing I could say to him which would explain why I did what I did. Could you help me?’

      Hattie hated the way her stomach trembled. Kit was leaving. He might never be returning. It might be the only chance for Kit to learn the truth—that his mother did care about him. She hated to think about might-have-beens. She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t do it. She wasn’t going to think about giving him a reason to stay. They were finished. The summer was over.

      ‘Kit’s ward, Rupert Hook, is giving a lecture tomorrow,’ she said, coming to a sudden decision. ‘You could attend. You are one of the patrons of the lecture series. You can at least see what he looks like. You don’t have to greet Kit, but you could see him.’

      Mrs Reynaud’s hands trembled and she set down her teacup. Her grey eyes swam. ‘Yes, of course. No one would think it amiss. I just want to see what he looks like, to see if there is anything of me in him. I’m so frightened that …’

      ‘You can sit next to me,’ Hattie said.

      ‘You are a good woman, Hattie Wilkinson.’

      ‘I can’t understand why you did what you did, Mrs Reynaud, but I do know you can only change the future. Take the first step.’

      ‘It tore the life out of me to leave him, but my marriage was intolerable. I don’t expect you to understand. I made some bad choices in my life and I have paid for them, but the one I never regretted was having Kit.’ Mrs Reynaud straightened her back. ‘You are right, my dear. It is time I faced my demons. I will take your suggestion and go to the lecture. You have given me strength.’

      The Corbridge Village Hall was full to bursting for Rupert’s lecture. Kit regarded the various personages—the great and the good going in to hear Rupert. He had handled things badly with Hattie. The break had been too abrupt, too final. Normally he was far more civilised about such things.

      Rather than going to the front and taking his seat, he waited at the back to escort Hattie to hers. He’d make one last attempt and then they’d be through.

      An elderly pockmarked lady half-stumbled on the step leading to the hall. Kit put out a hand and caught her before she tumbled completely. ‘The steps up can be tricky,’ he said. She gave him an odd look. ‘Yes, they can.’ ‘You must take better care on them.’ The woman gave a small smile. ‘I will.’ ‘Mrs Reynaud—’ Hattie stopped. The colour drained from her face.

      Kit froze. He stared at Mrs Reynaud and knew. She was his mother. His stomach plummeted. He moved away from the woman, from his mother. This was most definitely not where he wanted to meet her and not in front of a crowd of people.

      From Hattie’s reaction, he knew that she knew the truth as well. Somehow Hattie was aware of who his mother was. For how long? Had she engineered this meeting?

      Deep-seated anger filled him. He disliked being manipulated. If his mother wanted to meet him, she knew where he was. He had hardly kept his whereabouts secret, but she had. He struggled to control his temper. It was wrong of Hattie to do this, particularly after their quarrel. She had set him up. It seemed everyone in the entire lecture hall had turned to look at him and his mother. It was worse than a nightmare. His first impulse was to run away, but he rejected that idea. All that would show was cowardice. He was no coward.

      Whatever happened, he refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing his emotions. Politeness and graciousness. Nothing to show that he was hurt beyond measure by both of their behaviours. He swallowed hard and regained control of his emotions. He knew what he had to do. Hattie with her superior expression would be held to account for her behaviour.

      ‘I wish both of you the joy of the evening. You must forgive me, but I have a lecture to attend. I made a promise to my ward. Mrs Wilkinson, Mrs Reynaud, your servant.’

      Hattie’s hand flew to her mouth as she watched Kit stalk off. He had cut her and Mrs Reynaud with absolute aplomb.

      She heard several shocked gasps and knew the encounter had not gone unremarked.

      She had made a grave error. She had never considered Mrs Reynaud would actually encounter Kit face to face, as it were, in the lobby before everyone. The final look he gave her before he turned away had damned her for all eternity, but he seemed in control, greeting any number of people with perfect politeness as if the meeting meant nothing to him.

      She went over to where Mrs Reynaud stood, clutching her reticule to her chest with a distressed look on her face. ‘This is all my fault.’

      ‘He knows?’ Mrs Reynaud choked out.

      ‘Yes, I believe he does … now.’ She put an arm about Mrs Reynaud’s shoulders. ‘It will have been a shock for him and for you. If there is anything I can do for you … just ask.’

      ‘I should go. It was wrong of me to come. I should have waited for him to contact me as John suggested. He looked so like his father then. It quite unnerved me.’ She moved out of Hattie’s embrace. ‘You must allow me to depart, Mrs Wilkinson.’

      ‘What, and miss this lecture? You can sit next to me and we shall hear this lecture. See, Livvy is signalling to us.’

      Mrs Reynaud fumbled in her reticule and withdrew a battered lady jumping-jack. ‘No, I won’t enjoy it. Give Kit this jumping-jack from me. It is up to him then. You may tell him where to find me. Please do this for me, Mrs Wilkinson.’

      Hattie closed her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to have a confrontation with Kit, but how could she refuse? She had to do something to make amends … to both of them.

Chapter Thirteen

      Hattie

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