WILLIAM WAS PRETENDING to be engrossed in painting his soldiers when Ashley entered his bedroom. It was clear that he had said his piece and he wasn’t going to unsay it. Ashley had met with her wilful son’s passive resistance before.
‘I take it that you like Mr. Cliffton very much,’ she said dryly, settling onto the end of William’s bed.
‘He catches on real fast. He doesn’t treat me like a stupid kid. He doesn’t come the heavy adult. And he knows a lot of interesting stuff. Why shouldn’t I like him?’ came the belligerent reply.
‘No reason at all. I’m glad you do. I like him, too.’
William spun around on his chair, eyes bright with eagerness. ‘Then why don’t you grab him, Mum? He’d buy us all sorts of great things and he’s rich enough to take us to some super places. I bet he’d take me to Sea-world and Dreamworld and…’
‘William, he doesn’t want to stay in Australia,’ she broke in, cutting off his starry-eyed dreams. ‘He’s here for a while. Then he’ll go back to being a butler at Spring-field Manor in England, and what he’s doing for us now, he’ll be doing for someone else over there. He’s not really rich. The man he works for is rich.’
‘Then how come he’s got a Rolls Royce and a chauffeur and can buy anything he thinks of?’
‘Because that’s what his English boss told him to do while he’s here. It’s like…well, a holiday for him.’
William’s brow puckered. ‘Then why is he being our butler?’
It was too pertinent a question for Ashley to set aside. She took a deep breath as her mind flew through what she could say without revealing the real crux of the matter. William could have the tenacity of a bulldog. If she told him he was in line for an inheritance in England, she wouldn’t hear the end of it, and what it might do to his ego did not bear thinking about. She fixed on a discreet line and delivered it.
‘Over a hundred years ago, a member of your father’s family emigrated to Australia from England. Mr. Cliffton’s real boss has been researching his family tree and he found out we were very distantly related to him. He sent Mr. Cliffton to learn more about us. In return for living with us for a while, he’s being our butler.’
William chewed over this revelation for some time. ‘So the Rolls Royce isn’t Mr. Cliffton’s,’ he finally commented.
‘He has the use of it.’
‘And the money isn’t his?’
‘Not as I understand it. No.’
‘But he is a lot of fun to have around.’
‘Yes.’
He eyed Ashley speculatively. ‘He likes you a lot, Mum. He cares about what you want and what will please you. And the way he looks at you…’
Ashley could feel her cheeks heating up. Was their desire for each other transparent to her son? Would every look and gesture make a nonsense of discretion? Yet how could she possibly dismiss Harry now? She had to know more. Not to stretch this once-in-a-lifetime experience to its absolute limit would be a negation of the very best life had to offer.
‘I bet you could persuade him to stay if you worked at it, Mum,’ William said with confident calculation. ‘Even if he isn’t rich, I’d still like to have him as an uncle.’
Harry’s blunt declaration rang in her ears. I won’t be an uncle for William. Nor for her, either. It would be total commitment—his way—or goodbye and nothing more.
It was all very well for him to make decisions like that. He had had a beautiful relationship with Pen. He couldn’t imagine how marriage to Roger made marriage such a fearful step for her.
Why did it have to be marriage or nothing? He hadn’t married Pen. At least he hadn’t mentioned it. But Pen had been dying. There was a foreseeable end to it, no promise of a future together. No children.
Instinctively she lifted a hand to her stomach. What if she did conceive? Stupid to take risks when the outcome might not be what she wanted. She must do something about that. She had to be sensible.
She caught William’s hopeful look and knew she had to dash it. Harry would not be persuaded into being an uncle. He had made that issue decisively black and white. No greys.
‘I’m sorry, William. I’m afraid that’s impossible. You misunderstood Mr. Cliffton earlier. When he said he’d fight for me, he meant he would protect me from any harm. That’s what good butlers do.’
‘Oh!’ It was a sigh of disappointment. He reconsidered the situation then gave a resigned shrug. ‘I guess we’d better make the most of it while we can, Mum, but it’s an awful pity it can’t last. It would have been good having Mr. Cliffton in the family. He makes it better, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes. Yes, he does.’
Harry painted brighter colour into their lives, excitement and interest and wonderful surprises. Would it always be like that if they shared his world? Could it last? Or would the shining newness of it wear off? And after it did, would she be left toeing Harry’s line, or the line the master of Springfield Manor insisted upon, with submission to others’ will expected and taken for granted?
She had sworn never to marry again. But was she condemning herself to half a life? What she had felt with Harry just now…Would it always feel so incredibly special with him, so exalting and…She felt her muscles spasm in an exquisite reminder of the sensations she had experienced.
Harry could make a great father for William. They certainly seemed to have struck up a happy rapport. But the commitment, the complete change of lifestyle would have long-range effects that were incalculable to her at the moment. Would she and William ever achieve a sense of belonging at Springfield Manor, as Harry clearly had? Deeply and irrevocably.
‘Do you miss not having a father, William?’ she asked, concerned that he was feeling the lack of a man to relate to.
He grimaced. ‘Yes and no. It kind of depends.’
‘On what?’
‘Well, it’s like mothers. I wouldn’t want one like Mrs. Stanton.’ He screwed up his nose to express his opinion of her motherly attributes. ‘And some of the kids have got fathers who just yell at them, picking on them because they haven’t done this right or that right. I figure I’ve got it pretty good, really. I mean, as far as mums go, you’re definitely the best.’
Ashley couldn’t help smiling, even though she knew William wasn’t above a little flattery to sweeten her up, thereby slithering out of a deserved scolding.
‘Has Mr. Cliffton got that family tree with my father on it?’ he suddenly asked.
‘Yes. He brought it with him.’
‘Can I ask him to show it to me?’
‘If you like.’ She couldn’t deny her son his paternal line. She hoped Harry would keep his promise not to tell William he was the only surviving heir to Spring-field Manor.
‘Is it okay if I do it now?’
Harry had had ample time to get respectably dressed. She stood up. ‘Go ahead. I’m sure you’ll find it fascinating with all the stories Mr. Cliffton can tell you.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
He scooted out of the room, his precious soldiers forgotten with the prospect of further dialogue with Harry. Whom he liked enough to have as an uncle even if he wasn’t rich.
What