Page 64 of The King's Man
‘Your husband was older than you?’ she asked.
Lucy pulled a face. ‘Oh yes, more than thirty years. Martin was a colleague of my father’s – a most suitable business transaction. No one thought to consult me on my feelings. I was only fifteen! Imagine! My only consolation was that he was old and one day I would be a very wealthy widow.’ She smiled. ‘Which of course, I now am!’
Thamsine regarded the woman for a moment. Her age was indeterminate. She had been blessed with a heart-shaped face and clear skin that could have placed her anywhere between sixteen and thirty. If she was somewhere in her mid-to-late twenties, it would have meant a wait of some years to pass into the blessed state of widowhood she now enjoyed. ’When did your husband die?’
‘Just over a year ago. He went to dine with a friend and when he returned he had dreadful stomach pains.’ Lucy shuddered. ‘It was quite awful, such a relief when death took him.’ She tightened her lips. ‘I find I miss him sometimes. I was quite fond of him. He had a wonderful sense of humour – but then he must have done to marry me! He was always kind to me and never grudged me a new petticoat or a pair of gloves. But – ’ the bow-shaped lips parted in a smile again, ‘– I am fonder still of my handsome jointure and the freedom to pick and choose my companions.’
Thamsine picked up the lute and idly picked at the strings in the pretence of fine-tuning the instrument. ‘And what of Kit Lovell?’ she asked casually. ‘How did you meet him?’ She was interested to hear Lucy’s version of the meeting.
Lucy wandered over to the table and began sorting through her packages. ‘Oh, Kit … ’ She looked up and coloured. ‘Well, it’sall rather embarrassing. I was shopping and some ill-mannered oaf ran into me, knocking me to the ground. Kit helped me up, retrieved my parcels, and –’ she laughed, ‘took me to bed!’
It was Thamsine’s turn to colour. The story tallied with Kit’s in all except the last detail, which she could have done without.
Lucy smiled. ‘My dear Thamsine. Please be under no illusions about my relationship with Kit Lovell. Kit is an extremely attractive man. How could I resist? But I am quite well aware that he is also a scapegrace and a scoundrel. We have fun together, that is all.’
‘Do you love him?’
‘Love him?’ Lucy frowned. ‘Love has nothing to do with it. We enjoy each other’s company and … ’ She leaned forward ‘ … we enjoy each other, but it has nothing to do with love. Have you never taken a man to bed for the sheer pleasure of it?’
Thamsine stiffened. ‘No!’
‘Then that is your loss. How old are you?’
‘Twenty-six.’
‘And there has never been any man in your life?’
‘I didn’t say that. There was someone I thought I loved, a long time ago but … ’ She waved a hand. ‘Now, my circumstances … ’
‘Oh, the war!’ Lucy must have assumed, wrongly, that Thamsine’s sweetheart had died in the war. ‘You poor thing. Twenty-six and never had a man?’
Thamsine felt the heat in her cheeks. She looked out of the window where a cold, wintry rain beat at the panes.
‘Do you never worry about conceiving?’ she asked, turning back to look at Lucy.
Lucy’s face became serious. ‘I can’t bear children, Thamsine. My husband had a son by his first marriage, a sickly boy who died not long after we were married. In ten years of marriage, I never conceived a child. The doctors concluded I was barren.’
‘I’m sorry, Lucy.’
‘Well, it is something of a blessing, is it not?’ Lucy’s laugh chimed around the room. ‘I’m sure I would have made an appalling mother.’ But in the silence that followed Thamsine saw the shadows of sadness in her eyes.
Lucy reclined in the nearest chair and looked up at the ceiling, her eyes narrowed. ‘I’m very fond of Kit,’ she continued, ‘but you see his like in any tavern in London. Good-looking men without hope or purpose.’
‘The flotsam of the war?’
Lucy nodded. ‘Oh yes, well put. That’s exactly what they are.’ She spread her hands. ‘So there you are, Thamsine. I leave Kit to lead his own life, and if he condescends to spend some time with me then that is always pleasant, but I ask no more. It’s an arrangement that suits us both. But of course, as you probably know, he never talks about himself.’ Lucy leaned back in her chair, one hand draped elegantly at her shoulder. ‘Mind you, I am beginning to become quite used to him being around … ’ She trailed off, thoughtfully biting her lip.
‘Will you marry again?’ Thamsine asked.
Lucy shrugged. ‘Only for money, or a title. Preferably both. I would dearly like to have a title, wouldn’t you?’
‘Not particularly,’ Thamsine said. ‘I would only marry for love.’
Lucy waved a hand. ‘Love is highly overrated, my dear Thamsine. Marry for practicality but not for love. Tell me, where are you from?’
‘My family home was in Hampshire,’ Thamsine replied.
‘Your family?’
