Obsession Read online

  Whilst such thoughts were occupying her father, Bessie was fastening a pearl locket containing a picture of Harriet’s mother round her neck. Harriet, still euphoric, was saying breathlessly,

  ‘If I can’t marry Mr Brook Edgerton when I’m old enough, I’ll have to be a spinster like poor Miss Perkins for the rest of my life, as I won’t marry anyone else!’

  Much later that night, as Bessie helped her into bed and bade her goodnight, Harriet decided to add her poor old governess to the list of people in her nighttime prayers. Her last thought before falling asleep was a prayer for herself – that she would be placed somewhere near the handsome Brook Edgerton again soon, before he forgot all about her.

  ONE

  1862–1863

  ‘My dear chap, are you quite sure you know what you’re doing, eh?’

  Sir Walter Edgerton regarded his only son over the top of his spectacles.

  ‘See here, Brook,’ he continued as he took a cigar out of the box on the table beside his favourite large studded leather armchair, ‘I’ve nothing against her … pretty little thing … but you say she is only seventeen.’

  Brook got up and went to stand with his back to the fire where he could better observe his father’s face. His own expression was slightly ironic as he said gently, ‘I believe you told me, sir, that Mama was only eighteen when you married her.’

  Sir Walter harrumphed and took time to cut the end of his cigar and light it before replying. Then he said, ‘Your mother had come out by then – done her season; knew a bit about adult conventions.’

  The hint of a smile crossed Brook’s handsome face as he asked, ‘What kind of conventions do you have in mind, sir?’

  Sir Walter paused, his round, florid face wrinkled in thought. ‘Dash it, Brook, you know perfectly well what I mean – keeping house, entertaining, social calling, that sort of thing.’

  Once again, Brook’s voice was gentle as he replied to his father: ‘I am aware that Harriet is very far from being a sophisticated woman of the world, Father, but I propose to engage an experienced housekeeper to take care of domestic trivia. As for Harriet being … unsophisticated, I think you meant … yes, that is true, but ever since she turned fifteen years old her father has allowed her to act as hostess when – on the few occasions – he entertained formally, and he went to great pains to assure me that Harriet’s manners were as appropriate as they were charming, and so I have no qualms about her qualities or suitability to be my wife.’

  Sir Walter shook his head. ‘No need to get on your high horse, m’boy – only wanting to make sure you know what you’re doing.’ He drew a long sigh which threatened to tip the ash off the end of his cigar. ‘Fact of the matter is, I’d thought once or twice that you and Denning’s sister might make a good match. Know who I’m talking about? Paul Denning – the railway chap – has his widowed sister living with him. Nice-looking woman – speaks a bit better than he does. Had a better education, I suppose … you’d never know she was – well, not exactly top drawer. She has money too.’ His face lit up as he gestured towards Brook. ‘Denning inherited the fortune his father made in the railways. Bought some shares m’self. Told you to do so, didn’t I?’

  Giving Brook no time to reply, he continued, ‘Denning has none of his own flesh and blood, so like as not he’ll leave his ill-gotten gains to his sister, the widow. I gathered she was not yet thirty – so about the same age as you, m’boy!’

  Brook was smiling. ‘Not exactly “ill-gotten gains”, sir. Mr Denning wisely had the foresight to see how the shares were likely to rise. However, rich as he is or his sister might be, it is little Miss Harriet Drake I happen to be in love with. It may interest you, sir, to know that when I proposed to her, she told me she had fallen in love with me when she was only fifteen years old. If you recall, I had just arrived back from Jamaica that January and Sir Charles was short of a gun for his weekend shooting, so you took me with you.’

  Sir Walter frowned. ‘Young, maybe, but not too young to set her cap at you?’

  Brook laughed. ‘No, Father, she gave no inkling of her feelings and was quite charming company. She only told me how she had felt at our first meeting once I had declared myself to her. I’m quite sure you will love her when you know her better, Father. She is delightfully innocent, sweet-natured but intelligent. If she can be said to have any fault, it is that she is, so she tells me, very impetuous. If there is something she feels should be done, she will wish it to be done yesterday rather than tomorrow. I find her enthusiasm for life quite enchanting, and I believe she will make me an excellent wife.’

  Sir Walter sighed. ‘I suppose you are more than old enough to know your own mind, young fellow.’ He sighed again and then frowned as an uncomfortable thought struck him.

  ‘I suppose there will have to be quite a few changes here, won’t there, when you get married? I confess that after your mother died, I rather let Firlbury become a bachelor establishment. Remember when you were a boy, you used to complain that you had umpteen uncles but no aunts to spoil you! A young wife will want a few females around, I dare say …’

  Smiling once more, Brook interrupted. ‘Having grown up here, I am well aware of your preference for the bachelor nature of your life, sir, and I am of the firm opinion that it is only right that it should remain so. However, as you say, Harriet and I will want young people to visit us, and we have agreed we shall have a large family of children, so I don’t think, large as this house is, that sharing Firlbury Manor with you is a good idea for any of us. I have, therefore, instructed the agent to buy Hunters Hall. It is a very attractive old house situated only an hour’s ride from here, so we can visit each other as often as we chose. Do you know it, sir?’

  Diverted from his son’s matrimonial intentions, Sir Walter nodded. ‘Certainly do! Used to belong to the Harewoods. Dashed shame Harewood losing all his money the way he did. Always said gambling was a fool’s game – gets to be an addiction. Poor Alice Harewood had to take the children to Shropshire, I think it was, to live with her parents. I thought the place had been sold to pay the debts!’

  ‘It was, sir, but the new owners only stayed there a month or two – too isolated for them, I was told. It’s been empty ever since, so the asking price is a lot lower than it should be. I think Mama would be pleased to know to what use I am putting all that money she left me.’

  For a moment or two, Sir Walter did not speak; then he tossed his half-finished cigar into the fireplace and, nodding his head, turned to look at his son.

  ‘Seeing you’ve got it all settled, m’boy, I’d best go along with it.’ He cleared his throat and, leaning over, pulled hard on the rope to summon his butler.

  ‘Bring up a bottle of the ’fifty-five!’ he instructed the servant, and turned to give Brook an impish smile. ‘Good excuse for a tot or two of the Perrier-Jouët, eh? Your mother always used to deplore the drinking of alcohol before luncheon! You make sure you set the rules in your home, m’boy. Start as you mean to go on, I say. Far too easy to play second fiddle when marriage is a bed of roses for the first year or two.’

  Brook laughed. ‘I think you have forgotten what you were deploring earlier, sir. My darling Harriet is ten years younger than I am and I cannot envisage her ever overriding my wishes.’ His expression softened further into one of affection.

  ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you in the matter of Mr Denning’s widowed sister, Father. If, as you say, she is an attractive woman with money, I’m sure it won’t be a problem for her to find a second husband.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Why don’t you marry her yourself, Father?’

  Sir Walter shook his head vigorously. ‘The last thing I want is a woman fussing round me. Besides, half the time you can’t make them out. With men, we all know where we are – call a spade a spade, eh? I have more than enough companionship with my friends.’

  His father did, indeed, have a great many long-standing male friends, Brook reminded himself as he finished his glass of wine and rang the bell to order the
coach to be brought round to the front of the house in readiness to take him to the train station. It was his intention to go down to Sussex and call to see Harriet the following day. He couldn’t wait to tell her that his father had raised no objection to the marriage or to them living elsewhere after their wedding. He would also surprise her with the news that he had heard that morning from the land agent to say his offer for Hunters Hall had been accepted. He wanted to see if she would be as eager as he was to see their future home.

  As the train steamed its way speedily towards London where he intended to spend the night in his club, he felt a brief moment of anxiety lest the lovely old house he had chosen for them did not meet with her approval. It did not cross his mind that, being as deeply in love with Brook as she was, Harriet would happily have lived with him in a tent in the Sahara Desert so long as he was there beside her.

  A year later, disregarding the two lines of servants waiting on the front drive to greet them, Brook lifted his young bride into his arms and carried her across the threshold of Hunters Hall. Mindful of the astonished faces of his waiting staff, he kissed Harriet before setting her on her feet and walking her back down the steps. Holding her hand, he effected the introductions: first, the upright, immaculate figure of his new butler, Fletcher, who he had been fortunate enough to inherit from the previous owners of Hunters Hall. The family had left for Shropshire leaving not only Fletcher but most of their former staff behind them for the young newly-weds. These included the appropriately named Mrs Baker, the cook, a middle-aged, experienced Scotswoman, and a number of junior servants – housemaids, footmen, kitchen maids and, not least, the necessary lower orders as well as the outdoor staff. Only two of the staff had arrived with Brook and his wife: his valet, Hastings, and Harriet’s lady’s maid, Bessie. Each of them had accompanied the couple on the month’s honeymoon which had followed their wedding.

  Following their betrothal Brook had taken Harriet to see Hunters Hall, the beautiful old house which was to become their home. Since then, during the long months of their engagement, it had been redecorated and furnished.

  At that time, Harriet and Brook had stood hand in hand in the big hall deciding where the portraits should be hung, what colour she would like for the furnishings and which of the forty rooms they would select for their bedroom and dressing rooms. Whenever Brook had been able to escape the notice of the decorators, he had drawn her into his arms and kissed her. She thought those kisses the most exciting thing in the world, but that was before Brook’s lovemaking on their honeymoon. With his gentle teaching, she had learned how wonderful the days and nights of love could be.

  Today, the start of their life together as a married couple, Harriet was enchanted once more by the loveliness of the house basking in the warm, summer sunshine. She was delighted by the smiling welcome of the staff as they bowed or curtsied as Brook introduced them.

  On the journey up to Leicestershire from London, Brook had been a trifle apprehensive, unsure how his young wife would cope with a household of strange staff and the responsibility of seeing that everything was to his liking. However, Harriet herself was full of confidence; besides which, Bessie had learned well enough during her years of service at Deerskeep Manor to know how a big house was made to run smoothly, and would be there to offer advice to Harriet should she need it.

  Brook now tucked his arm through Harriet’s and guided her back indoors while the footmen unloaded their many pieces of luggage from the second coach. Mr Fletcher, the butler, approached his new master.

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty of instructing Albert to carry hot water up to your dressing room, sir, as I thought you would want to refresh yourself after the journey, and one of the maids will be bringing water to madam’s dressing room.’

  He took Brook’s top hat and travelling overcoat and, turning, said, ‘May I bid you and madam welcome, sir, and Cook has asked me to tell you she has taken the liberty of preparing a poussin for your evening meal with apricots and peaches from your glass houses to follow, not being sure what time you would arrive home to give her orders.’

  Having thanked Mr Fletcher, Brook guided Harriet up one of the two wide curving staircases towards their rooms. Brook pressed her hand in his, saying, ‘It seems as if we might be well satisfied with our new employees. I could tell that they are going to be delighted to serve you by the admiring look on their faces – and how could they not? Why, even Father, who had it in mind for me to marry that rich widow who attended our wedding, has quite fallen in love with you and intends to call on you as soon as we are settled.’

  He drew her into their bedroom and, barely waiting for Bessie and his valet, Hastings, to depart, put his arms round her and said gently, ‘You know, my darling, I never imagined married life could be as wonderful, as perfect as this. Had I done so, I would have married you years ago.’

  Harriet returned his kiss, laughing. ‘So you would have had a silly little child for your bride. You forget, Brook, I am only eighteen now. Not so long ago I was still in the nursery!’

  Brook kissed her again. ‘Then I would have emulated some of those royal kings in the past who sometimes became betrothed to children still in their nurseries – for dynastic reasons, of course. Oh, Harriet, my dearest, do you think we can always be as happy as this? I wake up in the mornings now thinking how fortunate I am that there is nothing – nothing at all I want that I have not got!’

  Harriet reached up and touched his cheek. ‘I feel as you do, Brook, but what of all those children you told me you wanted when we were drifting down the canal in Venice in that lovely gondola? Four boys and five girls, if I remember right. All the girls were to look like me and I said I wanted all the boys to look like you. That’s when you said nine wasn’t really enough: that if we had a dozen we would never run out of children to look out for us in our old age.’

  Brook laughed. ‘Yes, we agreed a large family! At least I can then be sure that as you will be so busy having all these infants, you will never have time to run away and leave me.’

  Harriet regarded him, wide-eyed. ‘Leave you? But why ever would I want to do that, Brook? I love you. I would never ever love anyone else, or want to be without you.’

  ‘Nor I without you, my dearest,’ Brook said. Then added with a smile: ‘Have you forgotten telling me how you had imagined when you were a child that your prince would have golden locks and blue eyes like Cinderella’s prince in your storybook, and here am I with dark hair and brown eyes – the very opposite of Prince Charming!’

  Winding her arms round him, Harriet laughed. ‘Only because I imagined all princes looked like the one in the storybook.’

  Brook broke away from her embrace. ‘I will not be answerable for my actions if I have you in my arms any longer. At this moment, I wish we had no servants at all who might appear at any second and be shocked to find us half-clothed on your bed. I’m seriously frustrated, my dearest! We have not made love since last night and the way I feel …’

  He broke off as his valet knocked on the door and, without waiting for a reply, came in with two large bath towels over his arm.

  ‘I think Bessie has your bath water ready for you, madam,’ he said to Harriet. ‘She said to tell you she was afeared it would get cold if …’

  Breaking free of Brook’s arms, Harriet said quickly, ‘It’s all right, Hastings! I’m just leaving.’ She hoped that she was not looking as disappointed as she felt. Her sister, Una, had warned her on the eve of her wedding to Brook that not every wife enjoyed their husband’s bedtime approaches. Having lost their mother at Harriet’s birth, Una, her elder sister by twelve years, had taken on the role, and had admitted she did not particularly welcome her husband’s visits to her bedroom, most of which invariably led to the birth of another child.

  At the time, Harriet’s reply had been that everyone knew how totally devoted the queen had been to her husband, Prince Albert – so much so that she was unwilling to come out of mourning for him even though it was now two years sinc
e he had died. Surely she wouldn’t have loved him so much if she had not been happy to fulfil such duties? Harriet had no doubt whatsoever that she and Brook loved one another every bit as devotedly as the royal pair, or that she would ever tire of any demands Brook might make. Since Una’s warnings the blissful five weeks of their honeymoon travelling in Italy could not have proved more adequately how totally they had been unfounded. Once Brook had initiated her into the pleasures of their bodily union, she was only too willing to repeat them whenever Brook so desired.

  Later that evening, as they sat one each end of the large, candlelit mahogany dining table, and the last of the excellent meal had been cleared away by the footmen, Brook drew a long sigh.

  ‘I suppose we shall have to do our duty and issue invitations to our neighbours to dine with us. I am far from being an unsociable person, as you know, Harriet, but I really don’t want to share you with anyone!’

  They both smiled.

  ‘We will entertain them as seldom as possible,’ she agreed, ‘but I know I am required to make calls, and that I shall receive them.’

  Brook nodded. ‘Fortunately, there are not that many big houses near enough for too many calls. Leicestershire is hunting country and in the hunting season the lodges are full, but that does not continue all the year round. Nevertheless, there is one family we must invite as soon as we are settled here – my father’s friend, Paul Denning and his sister, who is widowed. If you recall, they gave us that hugely valuable Venetian glass-footed bowl. Goodness knows what we are supposed to do with it, but we cannot ignore such generosity.’