Songs of Spring (27 page)

‘For what?’ He seemed surprised. ‘I do not take up my position until the New Year.’

‘You’re here until then? I have you for another …’ she counted busily, ‘five days.’

‘Here, yes. Then we return to London.’

For a moment she thought she did not hear properly. ‘We? So how long are you here for in all?’

‘Why, for ever.’ And seeing her lack of reaction, added uncertainly, ‘If you will have me.’

The words finally made sense in a Boxing Day gift of glory. ‘For
ever
?’ It came out as a squeak.

‘I told Luke—’

‘The line was cut.’

It was Yves’ turn to be shocked. ‘You mean you did not know? All this time you thought I was here but for a day? Oh,
cara, cara
.’

She was in his arms, he was cradling her, rocking her
to and fro, stroking her hair while she sobbed out her happiness against his shoulder.

‘Why?’ she asked, for it mattered that she should know. ‘You have always said it was a matter of honour to return to your wife.’

‘And you said, my love, that even I had a choice. I did not believe you then, but I changed my mind, thanks to King Albert and your Aunt Tilly.’

Caroline began to laugh. ‘
Tilly?
’

‘I will tell you of King Albert first. He asked me about my plans, and I explained my problem – or rather as I saw it, my duty. I had to tell him, for he had met both my wife and yourself. He thought for a moment and then said at the outbreak of war he had had three choices, each of which could be said to be the honourable one: to stay with his occupied people to encourage them, to fight and lead his free troops against the enemy, or to go to lead the Belgian government in exile to have greater control over Belgian destiny. Faced with three honourable choices, he had followed his instinct, or perhaps one could say his heart. I too had a choice, he said, and I saw he was right. Annette-Marie is my wife in name only, you are my wife in fact. I saw that I am honour-bound to both, and not to recognise that would be to dishonour the love that lies between us.’

Caroline sighed with happiness. ‘And Aunt Tilly?’

‘She came to visit me. You thought she was visiting King Albert. In fact she came to us to see how things were, I suspect. Why did I stay? she asked indignantly, when she saw how hard I found it to adjust and how unforgiving Annette-Marie was of my absence in the war. I replied pompously that I had
promised to look after Annette-Marie for the rest of our lives. And did I wish, she asked sarcastically, to take responsibility for her unhappiness if
she
later decided she loved someone else? Would I insist on remaining with her? I was very angry with Tilly, for I thought I knew that Annette-Marie would
never
find the love of a man acceptable. She told me then that she herself had believed that of herself, assuming life had omitted to provide her with the necessary feelings. She had had to wait until she was over fifty to meet Simon and find she was wrong. Could I take the risk for Annette-Marie, who is not yet thirty? Tilly asked. Suppose she later met a man – or a woman, had I thought of that possibility – whom she could love?’

‘Dear Aunt Tilly.’

‘It took some time – and it was hard – but Annette-Marie has reluctantly agreed that I should annul our marriage. That too will take time, but after that you will be the wife of Colonel Rosier, at his Belgian Majesty’s Military Legation in London. If you agree, of course,’ he asked anxiously.

Elizabeth came triumphantly downstairs with the baby in her arms to show Laurence.

‘Our first grandchild.’

Laurence looked at his wife, however, not the baby. He saw that her face was alive and glowing once more. Just as the Americans had injected new life into the war, Gerald’s visit might open up new horizons. He and Elizabeth might even visit America if they could afford it, certainly their children might. And as for this little girl – he looked fondly at the now screaming mite in Elizabeth’s arms – who knew to what horizons she might fly?

‘Yes, my darling Elizabeth. A new life in the house—’

‘But she can’t replace Isabel,’ Elizabeth said immediately.

‘No, but we will cherish her memory alongside the living. My love, we have been parted from one another.’

‘And now we are together.’

Mrs Dibble, listening outside the door, having lingered for a sight of Mrs Phoebe’s daughter, crept away well pleased. The Rectory was itself again.

Songs of Spring
concludes my quartet of novels on Ashden Rectory during the First World War, in which the earlier titles were
Summer’s End, Dark Harvest
and
Winter Roses
. I am very grateful to those who have helped me during its creation and publication; in particular I would like to thank: my agent Dorothy Lumley of the Dorian Literary Agency, my editors Marisa McGreevy and Hugo Cox, Jane Wood, Marian Anderson, Norman Franks and Mary Lewis. Thanks also to the team at Allison & Busby for bringing these books to a new generation of readers.

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A
MY
M
YERS
was born in Kent, where she still lives, although she has now ventured to the far side of the Medway. For many years a director of a London publishing company, she is now a full-time writer. Married to an American, she lived for some years in Paris, where, surrounded by food, she first dreamed up her Victorian chef detective Auguste Didier. Currently she is writing her contemporary crime series starring Jack Colby, car detective, and in between his adventures continuing her Marsh & Daughter series and her Victorian chimney sweep Tom Wasp novels.

T
HE
S
EASONS
OF
W
AR SERIES

Summer’s End

Dark Harvest

Winter Roses

Songs of Spring