Secrets Behind Locked Doors Page 10

  Robert was always very quiet if she ever brought the subject up. He didn’t want to talk about it. Something had happened that made him want to block out all memories of that time. Louisa hadn’t pushed him on the subject. She knew well enough what it was like to want to forget large chunks of your life.

  Nevertheless she was curious about the war and what had happened to make Robert so serious and withdrawn from some of the pleasures of everyday life.

  ‘And how are you finding it?’

  ‘Living with Lord Fleetwood is wonderful,’ Louisa said. ‘He is very kind and thoughtful. My last guardian was not the nicest man in the world and Robert—’ she paused and corrected herself ‘—Lord Fleetwood has done so much to make me feel welcome in his home.’

  ‘Fleetwood always did have a tendency to try to look after other people,’ Dunton said quietly.

  ‘I would like to know a little about the war,’ Louisa said, glancing round for Robert. He was just sitting down opposite her. Lady Gillingham was whispering something in his ear and he was looking at her distractedly. ‘If it’s not too painful for you.’

  ‘Fleetwood hasn’t told you much?’ Dunton asked.

  ‘He doesn’t seem to like to talk about it,’ Louisa said, ‘which is completely understandable, it’s just I feel as though I would understand him so much better if I knew a little about what went on.’

  Robert caught her eye and gave her a reassuring smile. Suddenly Louisa felt guilty about asking his friend to tell her about the war. Maybe she should just wait and let him tell her in his own time.

  ‘We were just boys when we left to join the army,’ Dunton said, leaning back slightly so the footman could place the first course in front of him. ‘We had just finished university, Fleetwood, Knapwell and I, and we wanted adventure,’ he scoffed at his own naivety.

  Louisa could picture younger versions of Robert and Dunton setting off for their grand adventure, not knowing what was really in store for them.

  ‘We were all patriotic and so idealistic. We thought we’d join up and make a difference. That within months we would have defeated the French and return home heroes.’

  Louisa glanced across at Robert. He was scowling and trying to catch Dunton’s eye, no doubt wondering what his old friend was saying to her.

  ‘That’s what all young men want, isn’t it? To be heroes.’

  Robert’s eyes flitted to her and Louisa gave him a reassuring smile. His frown deepened.

  ‘The first few months were tough. We went through some basic training, then met up with the men we’d be leading. At first there was some resentment between the officers and the recruits.’

  ‘But surely you were all fighting for the same cause.’

  Dunton grimaced. ‘To the common foot soldiers we were overprivileged toffs playing at war whilst they were doing the dirty work. Many of the men had families back at home and this was the only way to support them. They would have fought for anything if it kept their loved ones clothed and fed.’

  Louisa nodded thoughtfully. She could imagine the tension between the officers and the other soldiers, but surely when they started fighting side by side that would have all passed.

  ‘The three of us were sent to the Peninsula. We were lucky all to stay together, but we made a good team and the higher powers realised that. It wasn’t long before Fleetwood was promoted and was asked to head up a light infantry squad.’

  ‘And what about you and Mr Knapwell?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘We stayed around as his seconds-in-command to make sure Fleetwood didn’t go and get himself killed doing something awfully patriotic.’

  Louisa took a bite of her first course. She was so engrossed in Dunton’s account she had barely noticed when the dish was placed in front of her. She felt as though she understood so much more about the war already. It wasn’t something that had been spoken of much. She hadn’t received any news whilst she was in the asylum and Mr Craven had been of the opinion the less she knew about the wider world, the less trouble she would cause. Dunton’s account was fascinating and gave her a glimpse of what it must have been like for Robert.

  ‘Dunton,’ Robert said loudly from the other side of the table.

  Everyone stopped eating and looked at him.

  ‘I hope you’re not boring Louisa with war stories,’ he said.

  To the casual observer his words were light and joking, but Louisa knew he was issuing a warning to his friend to stop whatever he was saying.

  Louisa opened her mouth to protest. She needed to hear more of what Major Dunton had to say. She felt as though he had the knowledge that would help her to understand Robert more, to unlock the mysteries of his past.

  ‘Not at all, old chap,’ Dunton said back across the table.

  He glanced at Louisa and gave a small shrug. It seemed their conversation was at an end.

  Louisa frowned as she took a few more bites of her first course. What could truly be so terrible in his past that Robert would actively seek to keep it from her?

  ‘How are you enjoying London, Miss Turnhill?’ the small man on her left asked, taking advantage of the lull in conversation.

  Louisa racked her memory. She thought this man was called Baldwin, but she could not for the life of her remember if he was a Lord or a Mister.

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ she answered politely.

  ‘Has Lord Fleetwood made any plans for your coming out?’ Baldwin asked.

  He leant in towards her as he spoke and Louisa had to stop herself from shifting in her seat to get farther away from him. She wasn’t sure what it was about the man, but she felt uncomfortable when his attention was fixed on her.

  ‘My coming out?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘You must be of age and a beautiful young woman like yourself would have no shortage of suitors. Lord Fleetwood will find you a match in no time.’

  Louisa felt sick. She put her fork down on to her plate and forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths. Robert wasn’t going to force her to marry anybody. She’d only just got her freedom, he wouldn’t take that away from her already.

  ‘You’ll probably get a proposal within a week or two,’ Baldwin continued, oblivious to Louisa’s discomfort.

  She didn’t want a proposal. She didn’t want to marry anyone. And she didn’t even want to have a coming out. She was perfectly content with spending her days with Robert and having intimate dinners, just the two of then, each evening.

  Louisa glanced across the table to find Robert glowering at her. She smiled weakly, wondering what he was upset about. Maybe he did want to get her off his hands, get rid of his responsibility.

  As soon as she thought it, Louisa felt guilty. Robert had been nothing but kind to her. He’d taken her into his home and welcomed her into his life. Over the last few days he’d done everything he could to make her feel comfortable and safe.

  He wasn’t trying to get rid of her. He wasn’t going to try to marry her off to anyone. Louisa felt some of her confidence returning and she turned back to Baldwin, ready to face the irritating man.

  ‘Of course it does depend what sort of dowry Fleetwood decides to settle on you,’ Baldwin said.

  ‘I’m in mourning,’ Louisa said bluntly, ‘for my old guardian.’ Finally Mr Craven was being useful. ‘I doubt Lord Fleetwood will want to go against propriety and have my coming out whilst I am still in mourning.’

  Baldwin looked at Louisa’s sapphire-blue dress as if searching for the black mourning gown.

  ‘My guardian expressly asked that no one wear mourning clothes for him,’ Louisa said, starting to enjoy herself. ‘In fact, he asked that his family and friends celebrated his life by wearing brightly coloured clothes.’

  ‘How unusual,’ Baldwin murmured, unconvinced.

  ‘He was a most unusual man,’ Loui
sa confirmed.

  An unusual man who was finally being useful to her. He was a perfect reason for her not to have to worry about social events and marriage proposals. She was in mourning for the lecherous old fiend.

  Feeling pleased with herself, Louisa resolutely turned back to her meal. The main course had just been placed down in front of them and Louisa tucked in, discouraging Baldwin from talking to her again.

  * * *

  When she was halfway through her pork and confident Baldwin had started to engage Lady Grey in conversation on his other side, she took the chance to glance over at Robert. He’d momentarily stopped glaring at her and had just the slightest of frowns on his face; for Robert he looked positively happy. He was still engaged in conversation with Lady Gillingham, the young widow who had seemed rather familiar with him earlier in the evening.

  Louisa felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy towards the older woman. She was poised and confident and looked as though she knew how to get exactly what she wanted. And, if Louisa wasn’t mistaken, Lady Gillingham wanted Robert.

  She wondered if they had been close before. The intimate way Lady Gillingham brushed her hand against Robert’s as she reached for her fork made Louisa think maybe they had. Suddenly Louisa felt awfully young and inexperienced. No wonder Robert had seemed unmoved by their kiss, he’d probably kissed hundreds of women. Real women like Lady Gillingham, not silly young girls like Louisa.

  She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. Robert could have a dalliance with whomever he chose. He was a grown man who could make his own choices. And it wasn’t as if she wanted him for herself. She might have given in to her desire for him once, but it wouldn’t happen again. She wasn’t about to tie herself to someone so intimately, that would just be begging for pain and heartache when it all went wrong.

  No, she was resolute she would never marry or allow herself to fall in love. She might get lonely, but at least she wouldn’t get hurt. She glanced again at Robert and Lady Gillingham, knowing she should be pleased if he found pleasure and intimacy with this woman. Just because she had decided to spend her life alone and independent didn’t mean Robert had to.

  A little bit of love would be good for him, Louisa realised. He was still hurting from whatever awful things had happened to him in the war. Love could heal that. She saw him look in her direction and smiled encouragingly. He’d been so good to her, the very least she could do was wish him happiness and companionship.

  Louisa felt a lump forming in her throat. She might have known him for not quite a week, but Robert was the kindest man she’d ever met. If she did ever decide to give up her freedom and spend her life with someone, she just hoped it would be with someone as loving and perfect as him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘How are you doing?’ Robert murmured in Louisa’s ear.

  She seemed to be coping incredibly well, but he didn’t want her to overdo it at her first social event.

  She gave him a sunny smile. ‘I’m enjoying myself,’ she said genuinely.

  Robert wished he could say the same. He’d been cornered by Lady Gillingham at dinner and politeness had kept him from turning his back on her. Once the meal had finished Robert had been one of the first to stand and leave the table, eager to get away from her overt flirting.

  ‘You look as though you’ve got yourself an admirer,’ Louisa said airily.

  He grimaced. ‘An unwanted admirer,’ he corrected her.

  She smiled again and Robert felt his pulse quicken. He had a sudden urge to reach out and run his fingers through her hair, pull it from its elegant coiffure and tousle it around her shoulders.

  He gave himself a mental slap; he shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like that about Louisa at all, let alone whilst at the dinner party of the woman whose son he had as good as killed.

  Louisa was looking up at him innocently, her wide brown eyes unaware of the turmoil he was feeling inside. Every time he looked at her he wanted to sweep her into his arms, lay her down beneath him and do very wicked things to her. It was inappropriate to the extreme. She was a vulnerable young woman who was also his ward. He needed to stop these thoughts as soon as possible.

  Unaware of how much she had unsettled him, Louisa reached up and took his arm, her hand seeming to burn through his layers of clothes and make the nerve endings in his skin tingle.

  ‘It was lovely talking to Major Dunton,’ she said as they took a slow walk around the room.

  Robert grimaced. He wondered how much his old friend had revealed to Louisa.

  ‘Shall we get a breath of fresh air?’ he asked, motioning to the open doors that led to the small terrace outside.

  They stepped outside. The weather was balmy, almost tropical, and the skies overcast. The garden was in almost complete darkness, but there were a few flickering candles placed on the terrace area, casting small pools of light and illuminating the immediate surroundings.

  They were the only people outside, the rest of the small dinner-party guests were only a few feet away, but their voices had quietened to a background hum and Robert had Louisa to himself.

  He realised how easy it would be to press her up against the stone columns and steal a kiss. Easy, but disastrous. Robert reminded himself why he had brought Louisa out here; it was to find out what Dunton had told her, not to compromise her.

  ‘I wish we could see the stars tonight,’ Louisa said dreamily. ‘When I lived in Norfolk I used to love gazing out of my window at the night sky. It made me feel as though I wasn’t alone, that I was part of something much bigger.’

  She gazed wistfully at the sky for a few moments, then turned back to him.

  ‘You’ve done very well this evening, Louisa,’ Robert said, his voice low.

  ‘I was nervous,’ she admitted. ‘Very nervous. But everyone has been so kind and welcoming. Mrs Knapwell is a lovely hostess.’

  Robert felt himself grimace at the mention of Mrs Knapwell. Every time someone even mentioned her name he felt guilty.

  ‘You seemed deep in conversation with Major Dunton at dinner,’ he said casually.

  Louisa looked at him intently for a few seconds, studying his face.

  ‘Are you annoyed with me?’ she asked.

  ‘Annoyed? Why would I be annoyed?’

  ‘You didn’t want me talking to him about the war.’

  Louisa had a knack of getting to the point quickly. Most people would sidestep around the subject for a few minutes before bringing it up. Louisa was much more direct than that. He supposed it was all those years with just herself for company.

  ‘It’s not that I didn’t want you talking to him about the war,’ he said slowly.

  It was exactly that. He didn’t want Louisa knowing anything about what had happened in those awful few years, and especially not what had happened to Knapwell and half the rest of his company.

  ‘You basically told him to stop talking to me in front of the whole dining room.’

  He couldn’t deny it.

  ‘Louisa,’ he started, not sure how to explain things to her without revealing what had happened, ‘war is terrible. When people talk about it they make it sound incredibly romantic and idealised. It’s not.’

  He thought of the men screaming as they slowly bled to death from internal wounds, or dragging themselves across a muddy battlefield, one of their legs missing and the other hanging off. War most certainly was not romantic. It was hell on earth.

  Louisa was looking at him intently, hanging off his every word. He realised she wanted to know more about what had been such a big part of his life and suddenly he wondered if telling her would be quite so bad. She was kind and understanding, maybe she wouldn’t judge, but the thought of her shying away from him, looking at him with disgust, stopped him from going ahead and telling her anything more personal.

  �
�Every day you’re faced with death. Death of your men, men who have become like brothers, and death of the enemy.’

  ‘It must be hard having to kill,’ Louisa said.

  Robert nodded. He’d found it incredibly difficult the first time he’d killed a man, but Knapwell and Dunton had been there. They’d supported each other, and the next time was, if not easier, at least bearable.

  ‘The worst thing is knowing that most of them are just ordinary men, following orders. They don’t care about this piece of territory or that piece of land. They just want to stay alive so they can go home to their loved ones.’

  Louisa stepped towards him so they were almost touching.

  ‘But if you didn’t kill them they would have killed you.’

  Robert nodded. And they had. The French had killed the British in the thousands. Thousands of young men cut down in their prime, never returning to their wives or children or mothers and fathers again. Just left to rot in an unmarked field, forgotten almost immediately.

  ‘The worst thing is you get hardened to it. Over the months and years fighting and killing becomes the norm and you forget it is an aberration.’

  Louisa reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand. Robert grasped her wrist with his fingers and held her in place, taking comfort from the warmth of her touch.

  ‘It was never the norm for you,’ she said quietly. ‘I can see it in your eyes. Every death, every man you killed and every soldier you lost, you remember each and every one, don’t you?’

  He nodded silently. He could still see the faces of each of the soldiers who had died under his command.

  ‘It haunts you, doesn’t it?’

  Robert wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. He was the strong one, the one who was meant to protect people.

  ‘Every night in my dreams I go back to the battlefield,’ he said quietly.

  He’d never told anyone that before. His nightmares were his penance, he believed, his punishment for surviving whilst his friends and comrades did not.