As Julia replaced the receiver, Gabriel saw her hands were shaking.
68
Mayfair, 1861
‘MADAM, THERE IS A SERVANT HERE, sent by the ambassador of the Confederate States,’ the footman said, waiting by the door of the parlour.
Lavinia glanced at her custodian, who was in the window seat, knitting.
‘I shall have to receive him in the morning room. Do you mind, Aunt Madeleine? I believe this may be an invitation of some importance.’
‘You go on. I shall still be here when you get back.’
Trying not to appear too hurried, Lavinia followed the footman to the morning room.
Samuel stood in the middle of the room, awkwardly turning his cap. He dared not sit down, so walked over to an eighteenth-century statuette of a naked Venus atop a console; he thought her proportions ideal.
Lavinia entered the room, followed by the footman. Samuel immediately stood to attention.
‘You may leave us,’ Lavinia told her servant.
Bowing, the footman closed the door behind him. As soon as he’d gone, Lavinia went to Samuel and took his hands in her own.
‘Have you news? Pray God you have.’
‘Our friend is well and is close by.’
‘Tell me the address and I shall contrive a way of seeing him.’
Samuel glanced at the window; upon seeing it was free of any onlookers, he leaned towards Lavinia.
‘My lady, he is waiting in your cellar this very minute,’ he whispered, smiling.
The tallow candle sputtered and sent a faint curl of white smoke up to the ceiling. The cellar was dark and the strong musk of old wine saturated the air. To Aloysius, it seemed their lovemaking still hung in the shadows like a twisting phantom. Remembering, he closed his eyes. Never had he taken such risks; never had he thought himself capable of such ambition. Lavinia’s invitation to France had opened up a myriad of possibilities above and beyond being in service and he’d been possessed ever since.
A flicker in the candlelight made him open his eyes again.
There were no words, just the hunger of their embrace, the lilac scent of Lavinia’s hair and her tongue curling around his own.
‘We have no time,’ she murmured as they clutched at each other’s clothes. Catching her hands, now tracing a path from his lips to his groin, he lifted them and held them tightly in front of him.
‘I want you to come with me, Lavinia. My brother has sent me money. We can sail together to America; start a new life, the three of us. There, no one cares what your past is; there, everyone begins as equals.’
She stopped trying to touch him. Aloysius saw how the past weeks had marked themselves across her face in years; her pupils dilated, her eyes dulled.
‘There might be a way,’ she whispered, more to herself than to him.
Sensing some great jeopardy, Aloysius fought the impulse to cross himself.
Sitting at his desk, the Colonel dipped his pen into the inkpot, then paused, wondering at the sense of destiny that had consumed him since the evening before. Was it the impending ceremony, the thought of reaching a state of mind that transcended the ordinary? Or was it something far more subtle? A hidden fear perhaps? This exhilaration of the nerves reminded him of the sensation of waiting upon a great battle, and it was not entirely an unpleasant phenomenon—at least it woke the spirit. And, at that conclusion, he began to write.
Dearest boy,
I hope you will read this when you are of an understanding age and will not judge me too harshly. I pray I shall still be on this earth when you have reached your adulthood and that we may enjoy the pleasures a father and son can, but please, if I am no longer with you, make your own judgements independent of your mother’s opinions. Know that whatever tribulations lie between your mother and I, I have always loved you.
Yours in loving kindness,
Your father