of so many letters clandestinely delivered, secretly read. The only words from home, the repository for her hidden thoughts, the name that had been custodian of her sanity in the madness that had been the war. Oh, God, what can I say to Mr Northway? What on earth will I say?
She found her heart beating even faster than it had when she was fighting. She repeated his name to herself, and it brought no memories of his well-ordered office in Chalcaster. Just as the smell of cordite would forever mean only the war for her, washed of its association with her father’s death, so his name took her to the front, and the moments she had been given to read his letters. His name brought to mind that he, selfish and corrupt, had taken to breaking laws on her account, not on his own; that he, avaricious as he was, had promised money for her rescue when she had gone astray. What kind of man had she brought out that had been so well hidden within his drab clothes?
For such a long time she had touched him only by messenger. Now here he was and she had not the first idea of what she might say.
And Jenna was offering to send him away.
‘Miss?’
‘Don’t . . . I’ll see him. Have him wait in the drawing room.’
After Jenna had left, Emily felt her heart skip, nervous as a young girl.
30
In the end, after deliberating over her old wardrobe, holding dresses up to the light and wondering how it would feel to wear one after all this time, she had Jenna bring her some of Tubal’s clothes. She felt that she needed the freedom of movement. Today was not a day to feel constrained.
And, after all, what do the clothes matter? She had worn the uniform of both armies in her day.
She met Alice coming down the stairs.
‘You’ve heard who’s here?’ she said. ‘That wretched man.’
‘It’s all right, Alice. I don’t mind seeing him.’
‘You always did want to argue with him. I can’t count the number of times you rode off to Chalcaster in high dudgeon, to give him a piece of your mind. Will you speak sharply to him this time, do you think? Could I watch?’
‘Alice, please . . .’
‘He has been here a dozen times since you left, oiling his way around Mary, trying to pretend he’s not a villain. He’s brought us food, as though we can’t make do for ourselves. He even brought a dress for me, when there were none in all the shops in Chalcaster. But I don’t care if I had nothing but my undergarments, I’d never wear anything of his. He’s been trying to buy our gratitude like some petty merchant.’
‘Then perhaps we should be grateful,’ Emily snapped, before she could stop herself. Alice halted at the foot of the stairs, looking hurt.
‘But Emily, he’s Mr Northway.’ She put a world of dislike into those two syllables. ‘You know what he’s done to us – and who knows what other bad things he’s done that we haven’t heard about. And, anyway, you must know what he is become now.’
Emily paused with her hand on the drawing room door. ‘No, Alice. What is he now?’
‘The Governor of Chalcaster, of course!’ replied Alice, exasperated.
‘But he was always that, Alice.’
‘Yes, for the King! But now he’s governor for the Denlanders!’
Emily stared at her, the pieces falling into place, and found the smallest smile creeping onto her face at how little things had really changed, beneath the surface. How very like him: he always knew which way was up. I wonder when he offered them his services?
Mary was already present as she stepped into the drawing room. She hovered behind Northway’s chair as though intending to clean it as soon as he got up, and Emily knew she was attempting to make the man feel unwelcome. The acrid smell of his pipe drifted through the air, and he had settled back as comfortably as ever Brocky had in his old armchair, mockery and insolence evident in every line of him. When Emily entered, though, he sat up sharply, blinking at her through the pipe smoke.
Had he changed? Study him as she might, she could not tell. Still the same undertaker’s clothes, the piercing eyes, the broad and thin-lipped mouth, and an indoor pallor that would have made even Caxton look healthy. Perhaps there were more lines on his face, from having to play to more sides than