he had done the same thing with his dead wife.
“Yes,” Alistair nodded. “You are right. A small lie is better than letting her continue to hope.”
Alistair struggled to his feet again and Debenham looked away uncomfortably. Once at the door he held out his hand and his eyes stared into the older man’s, to an almost unnerving degree. “I will leave you then, Mr. Debenham. Please, look after Clarissa. She is a treasure, and I don’t think you quite realise how lucky you are.”
And he was gone.
Debenham shut the door and didn’t watch him depart. He was relieved that the matter had been dealt with so easily, and now they could be comfortable again. And yet there was a niggling sense of guilt when he remembered the expression in the man’s eyes.
Pain and sadness, almost as if his life was over now.
He shook his head. Lives did not end because hearts were broken. He knew that well enough himself. No, this was for the best and he refused to believe it could have ended otherwise.
***
Alistair stood on the Cobb and stared at the sea. He’d wished many times since he lost his leg that he could have died that day, that he might have been taken as a whole man, and not left as a cripple.
But such thoughts seemed ungrateful to the doctors who had sweated to save him, and the kindness of those at the naval hospital who had helped him to learn to walk again. At least he had enough savings to keep him from penury, no matter what Debenham seemed to think.
He could have kept himself and Clarissa quite nicely, and there was talk of a job with his uncle in the country, helping to run the estate. “You don’t need legs to give orders!” the man had said, when Alistair explained the situation. Perhaps his uncle felt some guilt, as he was the one who had bought Alistair his commission in the navy.
But there was more to marrying Clarissa than being comfortably off. Debenham was right there, as much as Alistair loathed the man. He could not burden Clarissa with a cripple for a husband, not when she was working at a job she loved and making her own way in the world. It wouldn’t be fair.
She would probably come to resent him and he would come to hate himself for causing her to do so. They would end up just like his parents, and the very thought of it made him even more certain he was doing the right thing.
It was just as well he’d given her no sign that he meant to come home and marry her. Quite the opposite in fact. He’d struggled so hard to hide his love from her, and himself, that she could never have guessed the depth of his true feelings.
No, far better to do as Debenham suggested and write a lie to her, a quick cut that might sting for a while but would heal relatively quickly and allow her to get on with her own life. She’d meet someone else. How could any man not want her?
He tried not to let that hurt him, but it did. The pain was so great that he swayed and only just caught his balance. The swirling water looked inviting but he wasn’t a coward. He would not end it here, not when he had come through so much.
His mouth tight, Alistair made his way back to shore.
***
A week later Clarissa hurried home from school, hoping as she did every day there would be some news. A letter. And this time there was. The letter was waiting for her and Clarissa clutched it to her breast and hurried upstairs to read it.
She felt anxious. Annie had said something strange to her when she came for her lessons and she couldn’t shift it from her mind. Annie claimed she had been walking by the Cobb a week past and had seen Alistair standing on the far end of the wall, staring out to sea. “Only it couldn’t have been him, because this man was injured. He’d lost a leg and was on crutches. I would have gone to speak to him, but he was too far away and I was late.”
Clarissa agreed that it could not be him, and yet the words played with her mind, niggled at her fears.
With shaking hands she now tore the letter open and her eyes feasted on his familiar writing.
But as she read on the words seemed to blur and she blinked and read them again. ‘Will be marrying very soon . . . know as my friend you will be very happy for me . . . will always treasure our time together . . .’
He was marrying someone else. He wasn’t coming back to her.
After she’d sobbed into her pillow she wiped her eyes and tried to pull herself together. He’d never said he would marry her, it was true. He had never promised her anything, and yet she had believed . . . hoped . . . and now there was nothing.
At the end of the letter he’d wished her well and hoped she would soon find someone to give her as much happiness as he had found himself.
Clarissa shook her head. She would never marry. Alistair had been the man she loved, the only man, and there would never be anyone else. Teaching was her love now and she would make it the most important thing in her life. The only thing in her life.
Downstairs she set to work on supper, her eyes swollen and red, her face chalk white. Her father didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, and she was glad not to answer any questions.
Clarissa vowed to herself she would never speak of Alistair again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN