The French Wife

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘Well, please don’t put it in those terms to Katharine,’ she retorted. ‘It’s her fiancé we’re talking about here, the man she was going to marry. Do you not take her feelings into consideration when you speak like that?’

  ‘Feelings are all very well,’ returned her husband, ‘but this was more than a question of feelings and—’

  ‘Not for Kitty it wasn’t,’ snapped his wife. ‘And poor Frances is having to look after everything at Pilgrim’s Oak, as her mother has gone into a decline. Understandable, I know, but leaving a lot on Frances’s shoulders.’

  ‘Well, I hear that she telegraphed for Rupert to come home; he can take control of all that when he gets here. After all, he’s the heir now.’ He looked thoughtfully at his wife and added, ‘Isn’t he.’ And it wasn’t a question; to him it was a thought worthy of consideration. After all, there was not only land at stake here, but a title as well.

  Kitty had been achingly miserable since she’d heard the news, but she had controlled her tears and they had only been shed in the privacy of her own chamber. She had of course put on mourning and paid the required visit to Pilgrim’s Oak. Fran had greeted her with a quick embrace and then led her to where Justin was lying in his coffin for her to make her farewells. Left alone in the morning room, she had looked down at his pale face – only it wasn’t Justin’s face any more, it was stiff and waxy and cold. She reached out with one finger and touched his cheek. The chill and texture of it made her draw back in horror, wiping her finger on her sleeve as if to wipe away the feel of his skin.

  She looked down at him, and having ensured she was alone in the room and that the door remained closed, she murmured, ‘Goodbye, Justin. We could have been happy, you and I. I shall miss you.’ There seemed no more to say. She hadn’t loved him as a wife should, but she had loved him as an old friend and she was full of sadness at his sudden demise. She dashed away the single tear that had escaped and trickled down her cheek. No! No more tears. She would not cry. Now she had to get through all the condolences and sympathies which would be heaped on her by well-meaning friends and family. They would mention the wedding, they would regret her single state, they would talk about the Justin they knew with little thought to her own memories of him, private and sad. With one last glance at the man she might have married, she turned away, opened the door and went out to face the world.

  Rupert arrived home three days later and was immediately aware of the invisible mist of sorrow that had drifted through the house, invading every corner, ever since Justin had been brought home. Servants moved silently about their business, voices were low, the sounds of the living quieted by grief for the dead.

  Fran had heard the carriage bringing her brother home from the station and was out to greet him before the coachman had had time to let down the steps and open the door. Rupert was tired after the uncomfortable journey by train, ship and coach, but as soon as he saw Fran’s eyes, glistening with unshed tears, peering up at him from her strained, pale face, he jumped down from the coach and enveloped her in a bear hug.

  ‘My poor girl!’ he murmured. ‘Tell me what happened. Was he thrown from his horse?’

  ‘No,’ said Fran. ‘He fell by the weir, hit his head and was drowned.’

  ‘Drowned? But he could swim like a fish.’

  ‘He was fishing, he missed his footing on the rocks and hit his head. I found him face down in the river.’

  ‘You found him? Oh, Fran, my poor Fran.’

  ‘Let’s go indoors so we can talk properly,’ said his sister, taking his arm. ‘We need to discuss the arrangements I’ve made so far.’

  ‘You? Has everything landed on you! Never mind, I’m here now and we’ll sort things out between us. How’s my father? And dear Mama, how is she?’

  ‘Papa is well enough,’ Fran replied as together they turned towards the front door. ‘He’s very sad, of course, but determined to show no emotion. He seems to carry on as normal, but spends most of his time in his library and has left all the arrangements to me. Mama, on the other hand, is all emotion. She is prostrate and has retired to bed.’ Fran bit her lip before she went on softly, ‘Rupert, I’m so glad you’ve come home.’

  Rupert gave her hand a squeeze. ‘So am I,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry it took this long. Where is he?’

  ‘In the morning room,’ replied Fran, ‘but you can’t see him. I’m afraid we had to close the coffin.’

  ‘Of course you did,’ said Rupert gently. ‘Anyway, I’d rather remember him as he was last time I saw him, young and vigorous and in good health.’

  Together they went up the steps into the house, where Mitchell stood in the hallway waiting to welcome Rupert home.

  ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ he said. ‘Sir Philip asks you to find him in the library as soon as is convenient.’

  ‘Thank you, Mitchell,’ Rupert replied. ‘Perhaps you would tell him I’ll be with him just as soon as I’ve washed off the dust of the journey.’

  Rupert went up to his bedroom, where he found Parker already waiting for him.

  ‘Your luggage will be brought up directly, Mr Rupert. Will you change your clothes, sir?’

  ‘No, for the moment I’ll just get washed and then I must go to Sir Philip.’

  He found his father sitting in the library beside a log fire. Despite the fact that it was the height of summer, the room still felt cold, and the old man sat in an armchair, huddled into his clothes. He got to his feet to greet his son and Rupert was struck by how much his father had aged in the few weeks since he’d last seen him. His face was gaunt, the skin loose about his cheeks, his eyes dull, smudged with dark shadows. The hand he extended to Rupert was dry and bony, more like a claw than a hand, Rupert thought as he grasped it in his. Was this change sudden? Due entirely to Justin’s unexpected death, or had it been happening gradually, unnoticed, over the last few months?

  ‘Father,’ he began and then had no idea what to say next. He added rather lamely, ‘Here I am, sir. I came at once.’

  His father nodded and turned back to his chair by the fire. He sat down heavily and waved Rupert to the chair opposite. For a long moment a silence lapsed about them and then Sir Philip said, ‘He was about to get married; did you know?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Rupert gently. ‘I was to be his best man.’

  ‘It’s great pity you weren’t here, instead of gallivanting off to France. If you’d been here it might not have happened.’

  Despite the unfairness of this remark, Rupert didn’t dispute it. He realised that his father needed someone to blame for Justin’s accident.

  ‘I believe Fran has been making all the necessary arrangements,’ he said to change the subject.

  ‘Frances has been very good,’ agreed Sir Philip. ‘Your poor mother is in no fit state to arrange anything.’

  And nor are you, Rupert thought, but he did not put this thought into words. He was shaken by how his father looked and knew he must share the burden Fran had been carrying.

  ‘And of course there is Katharine. You will have to visit her. The funeral is on Friday – we had to allow enough time for you to get home – but you should pay a call at Marwick House before we all meet at the graveside.’ Sir Philip’s voice was matter-of-fact, and Rupert realised that that was how his father was coping with Justin’s death.

  ‘Of course I will, sir. I will ride over tomorrow.’

  When Rupert went upstairs to see his mother, he found her in her bedchamber. She was not in bed, but wrapped in several blankets, sitting in an armchair before a glowing fire. The room was stiflingly hot, but the windows were tight shut.

  Rupert crossed the room and knelt down beside her, taking her hands in his. ‘Mama,’ he said softly, ‘Mama, I’m home.’

  She looked at him with blank eyes. ‘Rupert,’ she said. ‘Do you find it very cold in here? Will you put more coals on the fire?’

  He did as she asked, adding a single coal to the fire before taking a seat opposite her.

  ‘I came
as soon as I could,’ he said. ‘Dearest Mama, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Justin’s in the morning room,’ said his mother. ‘Have you seen him? I don’t go in there any more.’

  ‘No, Mama, I haven’t been in there yet. I wanted to see you and my father first.’

  It was ten minutes later that Rupert left his mother. She had uttered not another word and didn’t seem to notice when he got quietly to his feet and slipped out of the room.

  Then at last he went down to the morning room and softly opened the door.

  Justin’s coffin lay on two trestles. As Fran had told him, it had been closed the day after he’d been brought home, but she had put two vases of lilies, one at the head and one at the foot, and the room was filled with their heady scent.

  Rupert went and stood by the coffin, laying his hand on its polished oak surface. He felt he ought to be saying something to his dead twin, but found that the words would not come. His throat had closed and he stood there with his eyes shut, trying to conjure up Justin’s face. The scent of the lilies was cloying and he knew that whenever he smelled them again it would remind him of this minute, of his farewell to Justin, the best brother a man could possibly ask for. With his hand still on the coffin lid he managed to say, ‘Goodbye, old man,’ before he turned away, blew his nose, wiped his eyes and went back to his grieving family.

  Later that evening, when they had had their dinner, he and Fran sat alone in the drawing room. Lady Chalfont had taken her meal upstairs, as she had ever since Justin had been found. Sir Philip had eaten with his children, but had now withdrawn once again to his library.

  For a while the two of them sat in a comfortable silence. Rupert looked out of the window at the familiar view of the garden. The sun was setting and the sky was painted a glorious rose gold, streaked with orange. Justin was lying in his coffin and yet the world was still unimaginably beautiful.

  ‘Do you think Mother will attend the funeral?’ he asked Fran.

  ‘I doubt it,’ Fran replied. ‘You’ve seen her. She’s in no fit state to appear in company, is she? I thought when the first shock was over she might rally, but there has been no sign of that.’

  ‘And my father?’

  ‘Oh, certainly he’ll be there; whatever torment he feels, he will stand at the graveside and do his duty,’ she said, adding almost as an afterthought, ‘as will you and I.’ She glanced across at him and asked, ‘Why were you away for so long in France? We had no word of you for ages. We didn’t even know where you were until Parker arrived here to collect your luggage. What kept you so long?’ She softened the question with a faint smile. ‘I bet it was some woman you met.’

  ‘Well, I admit it was a woman…’ began Rupert.

  ‘I knew it!’ cried Fran. ‘It always is with you!’

  ‘Well, you’re wrong,’ Rupert said. ‘It was not “some woman”, it was the woman to whom I’ve become engaged and whom I intend to marry.’

  ‘What?’ Fran stared at him in amazement. ‘What did you say? You’re engaged?’

  ‘As good as,’ Rupert said with a smile. ‘Hélène’s very young, but if we are still of the same mind in the spring, we have her father’s blessing.’

  ‘Have you told Papa? Or Mama?’

  ‘No,’ replied Rupert. ‘This is hardly the time. I’ve only told you, and I’m trusting you not to mention it until the time is right.’

  ‘Of course I won’t,’ Fran said. ‘And I think you are quite right to say nothing for the time being. Papa is expecting you to stay here now and take over Justin’s role. You’re the heir and you have to learn about the estate.’

  ‘I realise that everything has changed,’ Rupert conceded. ‘Everything here at Pilgrim’s Oak – but my feelings for Hélène won’t change, I promise you.’

  Chapter 28

  The next morning Rupert rode over to Marwick House to call on Kitty Blake and her parents. He was greeted in the hall by Campbell, who took his hat and gloves and, as a retainer who had known the Chalfont twins since they were babies, offered his condolences in a muted tone before saying he would ascertain whether Sir James and Lady Blake were at home and receiving visitors.

  He was back almost at once and Rupert was shown up to the drawing room, where Lady Blake sat stitching at some tapestry. Immediately she set it aside and, as Rupert crossed the room to her, held out her hand in greeting.

  ‘My dear Rupert,’ she said. ‘You’re home again, but on such a sad occasion. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Yesterday afternoon, Lady Blake.’

  ‘And you’ve come at once to call on Katharine. It is very good of you to do so. The poor girl is distraught, losing Justin so unexpectedly and so close to their wedding day. Sir James is from home, I’m afraid, but I’m certain Kitty will want to receive you. She’s not receiving callers at present, of course, but I’ve no doubt she’ll make an exception for you.’ So saying, she reached for the bell pull, and when a footman came in answer to her summons she said, ‘Ah, John. Please will you inform Miss Kitty that Mr Rupert has called and ask her to join us.’

  The footman went off on his errand and while they awaited Kitty’s appearance, Lady Blake asked, ‘And how is your dear mother? I believe she has been extremely unwell since your brother’s accident.’ There was something in her tone of voice that seemed to imply that she should not have been so stricken, and Rupert, who had never really liked Lady Blake, found himself rising to his mother’s defence.

  ‘Of course she is most upset,’ he replied, keeping his voice even, ‘which is only to be expected. However, she is a little better each day, which is a comfort to my father.’

  ‘Will she attend the funeral, I wonder?’ mused Lady Blake. ‘In our family it is not the custom for the ladies to attend funerals, it is left to the gentlemen to show that respect, so I shall not be there; however, I know that Katharine, despite our wishes on the matter, intends to be present.’

  At that moment the door opened and Kitty came in. She was dressed in deep mourning, which a detached part of Rupert noticed suited her well. Her face was very pale, but she greeted him with an attempt at a smile, which didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  ‘Rupert!’ she said as she crossed the room to greet him. ‘How very kind of you to come. I’m so glad you managed to get here in time for the funeral.’

  ‘I was just telling Rupert, my dear, that you are intending to go to Justin’s funeral on Friday, despite your father and I feeling it is not quite proper for you to appear in public so soon.’

  ‘As I’ve told you, Mama,’ responded Kitty, ‘I shall only go to the church. I shall wear a heavy veil and no one shall see my face. I have no intention of meeting with other people after the service, but shall return here immediately.’ It was clear from the resignation in her voice that she and her mother had already had this conversation more than once and that she was not going to change her mind.

  Lady Blake sighed and said, ‘Well, I suppose you will do as you please, but I don’t know what Sir Philip and Lady Chalfont will think – nor you, Rupert, for that matter.’

  ‘Kitty must do as she thinks best,’ replied Rupert. ‘But I’m sure you know, Kitty, that you will be more than welcome at the church.’

  Lady Blake said no more on that subject, but getting to her feet, she said, ‘Kitty, my dear, please ring the bell and ask Campbell to bring us some refreshment. I have to speak to Mrs Carson, but will be back with you directly.’ Campbell came in answer to the bell, and Lady Blake gave him her orders and then left the room, leaving Rupert and Kitty alone together.

  Kitty took a seat by the window and invited Rupert to do the same.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve only just got home,’ Rupert said. ‘It must be a very difficult time for you.’

  ‘And for you,’ returned Kitty. ‘He was your brother, after all.’ She gave him another smile and said, ‘And everything seems to have fallen on poor Fran’s shoulders. She must be extremely glad to have you home again.’

  Rupert smiled back
as he said, ‘Yes, I think she is, with all the arrangements that have had to be made. Still, I’m here to take some of the load now and to comfort my parents in their grief.’

  ‘I believe you were in France,’ Kitty said. ‘Justin told me that you’d been invited to a wedding.’

  ‘Indeed I was, but the countryside there was so beautiful I stayed on a while to explore.’

  ‘He did wonder why you didn’t come home when he wrote and told you about our engagement. He hoped you would.’

  ‘I know, and of course I wish now with all my heart that I had, that I hadn’t left it too late, but such regrets are of no use. Now I must do all in my power to ease my parents’ sadness. I shall stay at home and try to learn what Justin was brought up to know.’

  It was on the tip of his tongue to confide the secret of his understanding with Hélène St Clair, but as he hesitated the moment was lost as Lady Blake came back into the room, followed by Campbell with a tea tray and a dish of cakes and biscuits.

  They drank their tea and ate the sweetmeats, and as soon as he decently could, Rupert left Marwick House with a promise to return to call on Sir James in the next few days. As he rode home, Rupert thought about Kitty and her reaction to Justin’s death. Her mother had described her as ‘distraught’, but Rupert had seen no sign of that. Kitty had been dignified in her determination to attend the funeral in two days’ time, and she had spoken of Justin in a tone of affection, but without the depth of love he would have expected from a fiancée. Perhaps, he thought, it is the only way she can get through the days, the only way she can hold herself together until the ritual of the funeral is over and Justin is committed to the ground.

  When he got home again, he and Fran went over all the arrangements she had made.

  ‘How did you find Kitty?’ Fran asked.