A Fall from Grace Maggie Ford (feel good books .txt) 📖

As she stared up at him, he broke off and, bending over her, pulled her up into his arms and she clung to him as though she would die if he let her go now.

‘James doesn’t know it was you,’ she whispered, her face buried in the warm curve of his neck and his shoulder.

She so wanted him to make love to her, but instinct told her it was too early after what had happened and maybe even dangerous.

‘He’ll have to know sooner or later,’ he whispered.

‘There’s no need. Since I’ve lost what I was carrying, it’s done. It’s over – no need for him to know whose it was, so long as we’re cautious.’

She knew he would be. He had no wish to go through this fear again. ‘In time we can get back to where we were.’

He pulled away from her a little way still holding her. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this, darling. Maybe it’d be best if he did know. He would divorce you. He may do that even now. And then we can go away together and be married.’ It sounded wonderful, but James wasn’t well enough it seemed to think of divorce or any other course.

The weeks were going by and still James had hardly left his room. Maybe he did when she wasn’t there. She thought to ask Mrs Cole then thought better of it. These days Mrs Cole was keeping herself at a distance. If they happened to have cause to speak, she now addressed her as Madam, no longer love or dear.

Chronic ill health was now preventing James from going to his office, it being managed without him, not quite so efficiently, she felt, as when he’d been at the helm. She had learned a lot about investment business from him and her own money pursuits seemed to falter very little, swelling her bank balance considerably and she had little need to consult him on anything. Not that she could these days the way his health was going.

He hardly seemed to care what she did; whether she was at home or out. At least it didn’t seem to matter any more that she went out each Wednesday. She seldom set eyes on him to know whether he cared or not.

‘He’s going to have to know the truth about us sooner or later,’ she told Anthony as she lay in his arms, after they had made love, with Anthony having taken the utmost care to see her safe. Her fear of causing herself hurt after her miscarriage, as she preferred to call it, had now dissolved.

‘Of course he’s aware that I’ve had a relationship but he has never questioned me. But then I never see him. Merton says that he’s not at all well but I’m not allowed to even go into his room. In fact when the doctor was called a couple of days ago I tried to go to him to see how he was but his door was locked. It seems only he and Merton have a key. Even our housemaid doesn’t go in unless Merton allows her. And he takes all James’s meals up to him. I don’t know what to make of it. I’m sure he hates me.’

Anthony tightened his arm about her, drew her closer to him. ‘Why should you let that worry you, my love? The way things are you should be pleased. You’re more or less as free as a bird to do what you like.’

She had to agree. ‘But I worry about his health,’ she couldn’t help saying.

On the Friday at the end of March, Dr Peters was called in the middle of the night. Madeleine heard the sound of people moving about downstairs, then someone coming up the main staircase, voices, Merton’s and the doctor’s, James’s door being opened and, as she came fully awake, being closed gently.

Instantly she was out of bed, throwing her dressing gown around her as she made for his room. The door was closed but it opened easily as she turned the brass handle. She half expected James to explode, ‘Get out of this room!’ but all she saw was Dr Peters bending over him with Mrs Cole standing by.

‘What’s wrong with my husband?’ she burst out. ‘Is he very ill?’

Dr Peters turned and came towards her, his face grave as he spoke in terms a layman could understand.

‘As you know, dear lady, your husband has been suffering for some time now from chronic bronchitis since last contracting pneumonia. I am afraid he has now suffered an acute attack of bronco-pneumonia and it is serious, very serious. There is also pleurisy and it is crucial he be taken to hospital immediately. At this moment I am waiting for the ambulance. I cannot understand why I wasn’t alerted sooner. I should have been called to him much earlier. Did you not realize how ill he was, Mrs Ingleton?’

‘No one told me,’ Madeleine could only gasp. She turned towards Mrs Cole for help. ‘Why wasn’t I told? I had no idea.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought you were that interested,’ was the hissed reply, the sting of the words piercing right through her.

‘He’s my husband!’ she cried out, only to receive a curt, ‘Humph!’ but she ploughed on in anger. ‘Yet I’ve not been allowed to even go into his room to find out how ill he was.’

Dr Peters, stethoscope to his patient’s chest, had resumed listening to James’s chest, the man’s rasping, laboured breathing filling the room. Now he turned abruptly, a finger to his lips for Madeleine to lower her voice.

‘Please, Mrs Ingleton, if you don’t mind.’

It was almost a command and instantly Madeleine fell silent while in the distance came the urgent jingling of an ambulance bell.

Twenty-Four

‘He shouldn’t have died!’ Madeleine sobbed, Anthony holding her close as the group of mourners came away from the graveside.

It would of course be seen as quite natural to show grief at losing a