Connie’s Courage (36 page)

‘You've got to tell me what?' she challenged her sister.

The lower slopes of the mountains were clear of snow now, and Harry had journeyed with the Baron and those villagers deemed too old to fight to gather the flock from its winter pasture and drive it back to the mountains.

As a prisoner of war he was bound by his word and the fact that the Baron had stood as surety for it, not to try to escape. That was part of a code understood and adhered to by both of them, and one which Harry knew his own officers would respect.

He did still feel guilty though about the fact that he was living in what was, after all, relative comfort, whilst his fellow prisoners of war would be enduring far harsher conditions.

When he had said as much to the Baron, the older man had told him calmly, ‘My kindness to you as you call it, Harry, is not the result of either luck or altruism but is in repayment of my great debt to you. Had you not had the compassion to reach out to a fellow wounded soldier – to protect and
care for him – then that soldier, my son, would have died and you would not be here. You are, my friend, indeed the author of your own fate! You would be of no use to your Army anyway,' the Baron told him bluntly. There is little use left in your left arm even though the Professor managed to save it from amputation, and as for your chest … here in the mountain air you can breathe easily, but not on a field of war!'

Harry knew there was a great deal of truth in what the Baron had said to him. He did have some very limited movement in the fingers of his left hand, although it could support no weight. One benefit, if it could be called that, of his imprisonment was that he could now speak German reasonably fluently, and ski rather badly, but he had vanquished both the Baron and the Professor at chess on several occasions.

Harry had written both to the British Authorities explaining his mistaken identity, and to his family, but as yet he had heard nothing back. Initially he suspected, because of the isolation of the village, but he was desperately anxious for news of them. And not just of them. It was impossible of course for him, a married man, to write personally to Connie, an unmarried young woman, but he had slipped a few lines into his letter to Mavis, enquiring after the health of her friends, especially Connie, Mavis, who must always hold such a special place in all our hearts for what she did for Sophie!'

That had been as far as he had dared let himself go in his letter to his sister. But in the privacy of his thoughts, Connie was the bright beacon from which he drew strength in his darkest moments. Those moments when he wondered if the War would ever end, and if he would ever see his home and his loved ones again. He liked the Baron and the Professor but these were neither his people, nor his land.

There were times when he bitterly regretted having given his word not to try to escape, and times too when he was angrily tempted to break it; but it constrained him far more strongly than any physical bonds could have done, and he suspected that it was because the Baron was aware of that fact, that he allowed Harry so much personal freedom.

For all the grandeur of the castle and his title, as Harry had quickly discovered, the Baron was not a wealthy man – far from it.

‘We are poor relations who our family often prefer to forget, he had told Harry drily, during one of their winter evening discussions.

A poor man maybe, but also an educated one, and Harry had enjoyed sharpening his wits against the Baron's erudition.

During the winter they had had scant news of the progress of the War, but spring's thaw had changed that, bringing them news not just of the War but of the situation in Russia as well where the Czar had handed over the reins of government.

In New Brighton, his mother's carefully tended garden would be coming alive with spring bulbs. Valiantly Harry fought back his longing to hear news of his family and home.

‘What is it Ellie has to tell me, John?' Connie demanded sharply.

It was the last day of her brother's leave, and since their return from their visit to Friargate, there had been growing tension between the two sisters. It was a tension which on Connie's part, sprang from the bitterness of remembered betrayal, and which, she judged, could only on Ellie's part, spring from her guilt.

Ellie herself had become uncharacteristically stubborn, refusing to discuss either their father or their past, so Connie had been left with no other course than to tackle John before he left.

It is not really my place to say anything,' John protested, and then frowned as he added, but what I will say is that you are being very unfair to Ellie, Connie.'

John, I love Ellie and I know what I owe her, but I still can't help how she promised me that she would go and see our father and beg him to let us come home, and then broke that promise!' Connie's mouth trembled.

No, Connie, she didn't.'

Connie stared at him. She did!'

John was beginning to look angry. Connie,' he
warned, and then broke off as the door to the parlour opened and Ellie herself came in.

‘I was walking past the door and I heard the two of you arguing, she told them quietly. ‘John, leave us please. I want to talk to Connie on my own.

‘I don't care what you've said to John. He was too young at the time to be able to remember what I can remember, Ellie!

‘Connie, I understand how you feel, Ellie tried to calm her.

‘No, you don t! How can you? You had your nice, safe life with our aunt and uncle. You could have persuaded Father to let us come home, Ellie. And if you had, then Father would never have let someone like Maggie …

‘Connie, please. Ellie looked white and strained. ‘Please calm down and listen to me, getting yourself in this state isn't good for you or the baby. Please sit down and let me try to explain. Please.

‘Very well then,' Connie agreed miserably.

‘I did go and see Father as I promised, Ellie told her quietly. ‘Mother protected us, Connie, and I suppose I was very young for my age. And … And immature. I wasn't prepared … I couldn't …

Connie started to frown. ‘I don't understand what you are trying to say.

Ellie took a deep breath. ‘When I went to see Father, Connie, it was already too late. You see, when I got to the house, Maggie was already there.

‘Maggie. What? I don't understand!

Ellie's face had turned pink.

I … I went upstairs, never thinking … not realising … When I went into the bedroom I found … I saw … Father was in bed with Maggie and they were … It was already too late. Had I been older, or more worldly, perhaps I could have challenged Maggie … spoken with Father, but I was shocked and distressed … I …'

Connie could feel her heart thudding painfully.

You mean that Father. That Maggie … you mean that so soon after Mother?'

Father is a man, Connie. He was lonely.' Ellie gave a sad sigh. I was upset and angry with him then, just as you were with me, but Father didn't know how much we all wanted to be with him. John and I have spoken at length about everything since then.

Our aunts deliberately kept back the letters we wrote to one another and they kept them, too, from Father. Had they not done so, I suspect he would have lost no time in reclaiming us …

Connie, you don't know how I have regretted not being stronger. And wiser. Not being older … Not knowing as I know now that I should have demanded immediately that Maggie leave. If I had done that …'

Instantly Connie got up and went to her side, taking hold of her arm, No, Ellie … You mustn't blame yourself – I had no idea. I thought …'

They looked at one another, both with tears in their eyes, and then suddenly they were in
one another's arms, crying and laughing at the same time as they hugged each other as tightly as Connie's pregnancy would allow.

‘I wanted so much to take Mother's place, for all that you thought I was the lucky one in our aunt and uncle's house. Ellie bit her lip. ‘I don't like to talk about it, Connie, but that household was not … Everything was not as it seemed, and our uncle … She stopped, plainly unable to continue.

Tentatively Connie put her hand on her sister's arm, the quiet calm she had learned as a nurse entering her voice as she told her. ‘Please don't stop there, Ellie. I can sense from your voice that whatever happened must have been very painful for you. We are sisters, after all.

Ellie started to shake her head. ‘Connie, our poor Aunt Parkes had much to bear. I feel guilty that I do not go and visit her more often, but just to enter that house …

Connie started to frown. There was no mistaking Ellie's distress.

‘I thought you were so happy there. Our Aunt and Uncle Parkes treated you as though you had been their daughter, especially Uncle Parkes! I remember that ball he gave and how envious I felt when I saw your beautiful room, and how Uncle Parkes …

‘Don t! Ellie begged her in a tortured voice, springing up to pace the floor in open agitation. ‘Please do not speak of our Uncle, Connie, I can
hardly bear it. Just to hear his name, and on your lips, when I know the fate he intended for you. For both of us, if I had not escaped into marriage to Henry.'

‘Ellie, what on earth are you talking about?' Connie demanded, as she studied her sister's tear-stained face with concern.

Wretchedly Ellie shook her head. I cannot tell you!'

You must,' Connie insisted, going to her side and taking hold of her hand again.

You must, Ellie, for your own sake as much as mine.'

Ellie gave a deep shudder but allowed Connie to lead her over to a chair, and then kneel down at her feet.

‘Now tell me,' Connie instructed her firmly, still holding Ellie's hand in her own.

Ellie swallowed and struggled to control herself.

‘Like you, at first when I went to live with them, I thought that our Uncle Parkes was kind. But then he started paying me particular attention, Connie, complimenting me,' she stressed, treating me, he claimed, as a daughter, as you said. But innocent though I was, I could sense that …'

Connie felt Ellie's fingers tighten within her own, and her heart missed a beat.

I was in a most uncomfortable situation. Our aunt was often unwell, and I was left alone with our uncle, no matter how much I tried to avoid it. There is no easy way to tell you this, Connie … There
was the most dreadful incident in Uncle Parkes study when I feared not just for my virtue, but for my life as well. Indeed, had it not been for the quick thinking and bravery of my maid, I dread to think what would have happened.

‘Mr Parkes tried to rape you? Connie asked her numbly.

Unable to speak, Ellie nodded her head.

Tears started to roll down Connie's face. Why had fate done this to them? Was it because they had been left motherless? Unprotected. Unloved.

Silently they hugged one another tightly, as though they were once again motherless children fearing being torn apart from one another. This was not the time to tell Ellie of her own burden of shamed grief, Connie decided, protectively. Right now her sister had enough to bear, and Connie wanted to help her to bear it, and to show her how much she loved her. As gently as a mother, she wiped the tears from Ellie's face and kissed her.

When they were able to talk again, she said shakily, ‘Oh, Ellie, I have accused you so often and so mistakenly inside my heart, and now it turns out that you were not to blame after all.

Regret for the closeness they had lost shadowed Connie's eyes.

‘Gideon tried so hard to find you after he and I were married, Connie. I wanted so badly to make things up to you; to have you here with me and to give you the life I knew you wanted: parties, pretty clothes …

‘I am sure Aunt Gibson would have had something to say to that! In her eyes such treats would have been the last thing I deserved, after the disgrace I had brought on myself by running away with Kieron.'

Despite all the happiness Gideon and our children have brought me, losing you, believing you dead, has shadowed that happiness, Connie.'

Now the shy, loving, confidences poured from both of them.

Tenderly Ellie touched Connie's face, pushing a stray curl out of the way.

But now my happiness is complete, for I have found you again and have all my family safe – you, John, Philip … I am indeed blessed, and will soon be blessed again by the birth of this child you carry.'

Pain pierced Connie's heart, and she was overwhelmed by a need to confess everything to her sister, and to remove the final barrier between them.

‘Ellie, this child. I …'

The door to the parlour burst open to reveal a white-faced John standing there.

Ellie! Connie! A message has just come from Friargate.'

‘Father!' Connie guessed.

John nodded his head.

Connie, what are you doing?' Ellie demanded, as Connie pulled away from her.

I must go to him,' Connie told Ellie simply. I must Ellie; please don't try to stop me!'

The familiar bedroom Connie remembered from her childhood, had been scrubbed until it was spotless under her direction, and the whole room smelled of carbolic and clean linen. Maggie had stubbornly refused to allow her husband to be moved to the comfort of Ellie's home, but that was the only argument Connie had allowed her to win.

Maggie and her children were banned from Robert Pride's sick room unless allowed there by Connie herself. Ellie and Gideon had insisted that Connie must not, as she had wished, move into the house so that she could watch over their father night and day; but Gideon had willingly agreed to pay the wages of the excellent nurse Iris had found, to take over from Connie at night and who maintained Connie's own strict routine.

It had been fortunate indeed that Iris should have happened to visit Preston, and to call in at Winckley Square to see how they all did, within hours of their father's collapse, Connie acknowledged. Their Uncle Gibson, although a doctor, had been reluctant to visit the Friargate house and administer to his wife's brother-in-law.