But Edmund, having lost his heart, kept a tight rein on his head. He went to some lengths to explain his position. He was, after all, head of the Scottish branch of Sanford Cubben, a man of some prominence and very much in the eye of the media. Edinburgh was a small city, and he had many friends and business colleagues, and their respect and trust he valued. To step too blatantly out of line and end up with his name plastered over the gossip columns of the tabloid newspapers would be not only foolish but possibly disastrous.
As well, he had to consider his family.
"Family?"
"Yes, family. I have been married before."
"I should think it very strange if you hadn't been."
"My wife was killed in a car accident. But I have Alexa. She's ten. She lives with my mother in Strathcroy."
"I like little girls. I would be very careful of her."
But there were still other hurdles to be faced.
"Virginia, I'm seventeen years older than you. Does forty seem so very decrepit?"
"Years don't matter."
"It would mean your living in the wilds of Relkirkshire."
"I shall drape myself in tartan and wear a hat with a feather."
He laughed, but wryly. "Unfortunately, it's not September all the year round. All our friends live miles apart and the winters are long and dark. Everybody hibernates. I am so afraid that you would find it very dull."
"Edmund, it sounds a little as though you're having second thoughts and are trying to put me off."
"It's not that. Never that. But you have to know all the truths. No illusions. You are so young, and so beautiful, and so vital, and you have all of life in front of you…"
"To be with you."
"That's another thing. My job. It's demanding. I'm away so much. Abroad so often, sometimes for two or three weeks at a time."
"But you'll come back to me."
She was adamant, and he adored her. He sighed. "I wish for both our sakes that it could be different. I wish that I were young again, and without responsibilities. Free to behave any way I wanted. Then we could live together and have time to get to know each other. And be totally sure."
"I am totally sure."
She was. Undeviating. He took her in his arms and said, "Then there's nothing for it. I shall have to marry you."
"You poor man."
"You will be happy? I want so much to make you happy."
"Oh, Edmund. Darling Edmund. How could I be anything else?"
They were married two months later, at the end of November, in Devon. It was a quiet wedding in the tiny church where Virginia had been christened.
The end of her beginning. No regrets. The casual, indiscriminate affairs were over and she let them go without a backward glance. She was Mrs. Edmund Aird.
After their honeymoon they travelled north to Balnaid, Virginia's new home, and her new and ready-made family: Violet, Edie, and Alexa. Life in Scotland was a new and very different experience from anything that Virginia had previously known, but she made every effort to adjust, if only because others, very obviously, were doing the same thing. Violet had already moved firmly out and gone to Pennyburn. She proved a mistress of non-interference. Edie was equally tactful. The time had come, she announced, for her to leave as well and settle herself in the cottage in the village where she had been brought up and which she had inherited from her mother. She was retiring from resident work but instead would continue on a daily basis, sharing her time between Virginia and Violet.
Edie was, in those early days, a tower of strength, a source of excellent advice, and a fund of cosy gossip. It was she who, for Alexa's sake, filled in for Virginia some details of Edmund's previous marriage, but once this was done, never mentioned it again. It was over, finished. Water under the bridge. Virginia was grateful. Edie, the old servant who had seen and heard everything, could well have proved to be the fly in the ointment. Instead she became one of Virginia's closest friends.
Alexa took a little longer. Sweet-natured and self-contained, she was inclined to be shy and withdrawn. She was not a beautiful child, with a dumpy shape and pale-red hair and the white skin that goes with this colouring, and was at first uncertain of her position in the family, yet almost touchingly anxious to please. Virginia responded to the best of her ability. This little girl was, after all, Edmund's child and an important part of their marriage. She could never be a mother, but she could be a sister. Unobtrusively, she eased Alexa out of her shell, speaking to her as though they were the same age, taking much care not to tread on any tender toes. She showed interest in Alexa's ploys, her drawing and her dolls, and included her in every possible activity and occasion. This was not always convenient, but the most important thing was that Alexa should never feel abandoned.
It took about six months, but it was worth it. She was rewarded by Alexa's spontaneous confidences, and a touching admiration and devotion.
So there was family, but there were friends too. Liking her for her youth, for their affection for Edmund, for the fact that Edmund had chosen to marry her, they made her welcome. The Balmerinos, of course, but others too. Virginia was a gregarious girl who did not relish solitude and found herself surrounded by people who seemed to want her. When Edmund was away on business, which he was right from the start, more often than not, everybody was enormously kind and attentive, asking her out on her own, constantly phoning to be certain that she was neither lonely nor unhappy.
Which she was not. Secretly she almost relished Edmund's absences because, in some strange way, they enhanced everything; he was gone but she knew that he was coming back to her, and each time he came back, being married to him was even better than before. Occupied with Alexa, with her new house, and her new friends, she filled in the empty days and counted the hours until Edmund should return to her. From Hong Kong. From Frankfurt. Once he had taken her with him to New York, and afterwards had indulged in a week's leave. They had spent it at Leesport, and she remembered that time as one of the best in the whole of her life.
And then, Henry.
Henry changed everything, not for the worse, but for the better, if that was possible. After Henry, she didn't want to go away any more. She had never imagined herself capable of such selfless love. It was different from loving Edmund, but all the more precious because it was utterly unexpected. She had never thought of herself as maternal, and never analyzed the true meaning of the word. But this tiny human being, this little life reduced her to wordless wonder.
They all teased her, but she didn't mind. She shared him with Violet and Edie and Alexa, and relished in the sharing because, at the end of the day, Henry belonged to her. She watched him grow and savoured every moment of his progress. He stumbled and walked and spoke words, and she was enchanted. She played with him, drew pictures, watched Alexa push him in her old doll's pram across the lawn. They lay in the grass and watched ants, walked down to the river and threw pebbles into the swift-flowing brown stream. They sat by winter fires and read picture books.
He was two. He was three. He was five years old. She took him to his first day at the Strathcroy Primary School and stood at the gate watching him walk away from her up the path to the school-house door. There were children everywhere but none of them took any notice of him. He seemed, at that moment, especially small and very vulnerable, and she could scarcely bear to see him go.
Three years later, he was still small and vulnerable, and she felt more protective of him than ever. And this was the cause of the cloud that had gathered and now lay on the edge of her own personal horizon. She was afraid of it.