‘Jack Gascoyne is home.’
Lucy Clifton’s heart thumped in her chest at the sound of the name that had not been spoken aloud in their house for almost five years. Then, as she had with every other element of her life, she gained control of it, smothering it to silence. She answered her brother, Frederick, without looking up. ‘He was so long in Belgium after the war that I had begun to wonder if he meant to return at all. Is he well?’
‘No,’ her brother said, in a dire tone that made it impossible for her to pretend uninterest.
Fred’s brief answer did nothing to quell her fears. Was he whole? Was he unhurt? Was he as handsome as she remembered, or would it be easier to resist him, should she see him again? If he had been sickly, or missing a limb, she’d have hoped that her brother might have added this information freely after the negative. Instead, there was something in her brother’s silence that made whatever was wrong with him sound even worse than a life-altering injury. ‘What is the matter? Was he hurt in battle?’
Fred shook his head. ‘He is intact, as far as I can tell.’ Then he added cautiously, ‘But something is not right about him. When I saw him, it felt as though I was talking to a stranger.’
‘Time changes people,’ she reminded him, wishing that it had done more to change her own feelings.
‘So does war,’ her brother added, unsmiling.
It did not really matter what had caused him to forget her. There were any number of reasons that he had not come home to them, the chief one being that he had not wanted to. Just as he’d often done when they were younger, he had walked away from the trouble he’d caused and let others deal with the resulting mess. For a moment, her sympathy was overwhelmed by the anger she felt when she thought of him. Then she forced it below the surface again.
‘If he is a changed man, then I suspect that is why we have not seen him before now,’ she said, wondering if her brother had any inkling of the true reason he had chosen to stay away. ‘He has other, newer friends that understand him better.’
‘Perhaps so. But they are neglecting him, or he them, for he is in a sad state. But I am sure a visit here will put him to rights again,’ her brother said as if character could be turned like a wheel.
‘If he is content, then it is not our business to alter the man,’ she said, feeling the first flutter of panic at the thought. ‘He might be perfectly happy as he is.’ Just as she was. She had worked hard for the equilibrium she’d achieved and would not have it upset by what she was sure her brother was about to suggest.
‘Happy?’ At this, her brother gave a bitter laugh. ‘He is nowhere near that. If you had seen him, you would be much less cavalier about leaving him to his suffering.’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, with a shrug. It was not as if he’d made an effort to come back to ease the pain in her heart, despite certain promises he’d made in moonlight. Nor had he bothered to soften the blow with a letter of warning. One day he had been there. The next, he had been gone, leaving her frightened and alone. If fate had punished him for his faithlessness, it was something almost like justice.
‘Since his family will do nothing, it will be up to us to bring him back to himself,’ her brother said, with the same urgency he had used to try to warn her off Jack when he’d first discovered the schoolgirl tendre she’d borne for his friend.
‘Major Gascoyne is old enough to make his own decisions.’ Yet, strangely, she was not. Even though she was well past twenty-one, all the important decisions of her life were still left to her brother. For the most part, she had been obedient to his suggestions. But now, he meant to involve her in something she wanted no part of.
He gave her a pitying look. ‘It surprises me to find you so hard-hearted. At one time, you would have been the first to rush to his defence.’
‘Perhaps I have changed as much as he has,’ she said, feeling her resolve begin to crumble. She wanted that to be true. She had made plans for marriage. For a future. But she could feel them slipping away with each word her brother spoke.
‘Well, I suggest you change back, for a fortnight, at least. I have invited him to spend Christmas with us.’
It was what she had been longing to hear for years. But now, when she had finally given up hoping and put childish dreams aside, it was the last thing she’d wanted. She always felt melancholy at Christmastime, perhaps because that was when he had left her. Even the continual attention of the man she meant to marry had not improved her mood. The return of Major John Gascoyne was unlikely to make it better.
Fred ignored her silence and continued. ‘I want him to meet Millicent. And of course, you will want him to approve of Mr Thoroughgood before that knot is tied.’
‘His opinion is the last one I’d solicit when choosing a husband,’ she said. ‘He is far too wild to be a good judge of such things.’
Fred gave her a curious look. ‘My, but you have changed. There was a time when you thought he hung the moon.’
‘And then I grew up,’ she said, firmly, smoothing her skirts.
‘Be that as it may, Jack belongs here for Christmas. He has never had more than us as family and should not have to spend his holiday alone.’
‘True,’ she said with a sigh, wishing it wasn’t. His parents were dead and his only brother had never been anything but critical of him. If her brother was right and he was truly in need, they were the only ones who could help him.
‘I knew you would understand.’ Fred released a long, slow breath of his own. ‘I owe him Christmas dinner, even if I can do nothing else. He is my best and oldest friend. But we did not part as such. I have always regretted it.’
‘And why was that?’ she asked, surprised. He had not mentioned a problem before. He had simply come home from London to announce that Jack had bought a commission and was on his way to Portugal. Then he had ceased to mention him at all.
‘It was a foolish quarrel.’ Fred looked away from her, not quite able to meet her gaze. ‘Nothing that you need worry about. But I would not want him to think I intended to continue it, after all this time.’
‘How noble of you,’ she said without feeling. She and Jack had parted on the best possible terms, or so she’d thought. When last she’d seen him, he’d held her in his arms and promised her a bright future. And then he’d disappeared. If he was miserable, there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that she would not be suffering through the holidays alone. This year, they could both be wretched together.
Her brother was staring at her with his head cocked and his mouth set in a firm, disapproving frown. ‘Do not be childish, Lucy. Whatever he did to upset you, you have had a good long time to get over it. You are a grown woman now and should know better than to let an old grudge stand between you. He needs our help and we will provide it.’
‘Of course,’ she said drily, wondering just what Fred knew about what had occurred right before Jack had gone off to war. It could not have been much or he would not have been so cruel as to make her spend her last days as a single woman with the only man she would ever love, the man who had seduced
