She stopped, perhaps because the silence had become too heavy. ‘Oh, well, it’s just an idea. You’re going to have to do something.’
The finished slices popped from the toaster, and she put more in. ‘I’ll go and do the eggs now. Dr Murray will want to see you, Miss Roswell, when he’s finished up there ... the ambulance and police are there too. I’d better put on more coffee ...’
She looked across at Nat. ‘I suppose the police will take care of getting in touch with the Condesa’s family. But don’t you think ... well, it would be a good idea if you sent a message? They probably will want to have her body sent back to Spain. I suppose I could try ringing the Spanish Embassy in London. The address in her passport is some place in Italy. But a family as important as that ... I’m sure the Embassy people would know where to find them ... Well, I’d better go and do the breakfast. I didn’t want to start the eggs until you arrived. I’ll bring more coffee.’
She paused in the doorway. ‘We’ll just all have to stick together. If there are reporters, you’ll just have to say “no comment”, Nat – Lord Askew. I’ve already told all the children they’re not to talk. They’re all going to the service in Kesmere. Grandfather thought it was right. I don’t think I’ll go – I didn’t want to last night, either. But I’ll be here with Miss Roswell, and I’ll go to the burial ground when you bring the Earl back. Nat, shall I go and get the Land Rover? You could drive Miss Roswell to the burial ground in that – it’s too far for her to walk.’ Then the door closed behind her.
After she had gone we all exchanged glances, but it was on Nat’s face that the beginning of a smile first appeared. It infected all of us, and we had to laugh. ‘Well, there you are,’ Nat said. ‘Everything laid out nicely. Everything taken care of.’
‘And the thing is,’ Gerald said, ‘the child could be right.’ He rose and went to pour himself more coffee; then he came back and laid more wood on the fire. When he turned back to us his face was serious again, and he looked tired. He was another on whom Robert Birkett’s death had laid an extra burden. ‘You know, that was as close as I’d like to come again to being really in the hands of the law. It’s possible the Condesa might not have told about the rest of it if she’d been caught only with La Española. I had already primed Tolson with the story that it could have been a gift from Robert. Of course, it would have seemed even more natural if we’d known from the beginning that she was of the same family as the Spanish Woman. But when I saw the El Greco I realised that if she’d been caught with that, there would have been no mercy for us. She would have told the whole story – Vanessa, Tolson, everyone would have been implicated. She wouldn’t have been stealing it, but simply acting as a courier, as quickly after Lord Askew’s death as possible, in getting out the most important item of a fabulous collection ... Well, thankfully, it didn’t happen that way. But I do wonder. I wonder about that place at the birch copse ...’ He shrugged. ‘Useless wondering about things like that ... never gets you anywhere.’
I shivered, and Nat was quickly beside me. ‘You cold, Jo?’ He pulled the rug higher on me. I was wearing the yellow anorak, which was what they had bundled me into last night before wrapping me in blankets for the trip to the hospital. It was soiled now, and there was some blood on the front of it.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m all right.’ I wasn’t going to say, not now or ever, what it might be that the Condesa had seen at the beginning of the birch copse. Perhaps she had seen nothing. An accident with no apparent cause. But the dying words of the Spanish Woman had once more proved their potency, and La Española would once more be back at Thirlbeck, another shred of legend and tragedy attached to its history.
Gerald took my empty cup and went and brought me more coffee. Nat had taken his place at the end of the sofa. There was the beginning of a smile once again appearing on his face. ‘If I didn’t feel so miserable – and so damn bewildered – I could almost laugh. Look at them, the Tolsons. Every last one of them, the family, I’m certain, is planning already for Thirlbeck. What they’ll do to fight off the death duties. How we’ll all hang together. Incredible, isn’t it? There’s Jessica now – fighting to redeem herself in some way. She’ll give her heart and soul to this place. She’ll take over when Tolson begins to falter. When she does marry, you can bet it will be to someone who can, in some way, be of service to Thirlbeck. We’ve got Jessica and the Tolsons – and Thirlbeck – for the rest of our lives. You know that, don’t you, Jo? Can you bear it?’ He shook his head impatiently. ‘Of course you’ll bear it. You’ll bear it because I need you, and because you’re his daughter. My need – and your inheritance, Jo. It’s a formidable combination.’
He rose and went to the window, looking up the valley to where the white of the ambulance, and the white markings on the police car could just be seen at the beginning of the birches. ‘I said you’ll make a rotten farmer’s wife, Jo – that’s the truth, and always will be. But you’ll be great for Thirlbeck.’
Now he looked quite deliberately between Gerald and myself, perhaps even glad that there was a witness to his next words.
‘I’m not really asking you, Jo. I’m telling you the way things have to be. You can’t leave here now. I’ve got to take this job on and I can’t do it without you. It wouldn’t really matter if you were a helpless dummy. I’ve got to have you with me. If you decide you’re not going to stay, then that’s the end of Thirlbeck, no matter what the Tolson’s say or do.’
Gerald remained motionless, as if he feared that a movement might stop the flow of words that were still to come. Nat began to speak again, rather slowly, making things clear for himself as well as for me. ‘Jo, if you don’t stay with me, I’ll sell every damn thing that’s saleable, and if no one will buy the house, I’ll tear it down. It’s possible to give up a title, and I’ll give up this one. The earldom of Askew will cease to exist. I have no heart, and no guts for this job unless you are here.’
I watched Gerald’s face for a moment, saw the faint, almost involuntary nod he gave. I felt incredibly weary. ‘Nat,’ I said, ‘you won’t tear down Thirlbeck – no more than you’ll give up trying to save the golden eagles. Jessica said it. Everything has changed by this one man’s death. You’ve taken his title and his responsibilities. You’ll handle both in a different way from him – but you’ll handle them, not throw them away. Yes, I know I’ll make a rotten farmer’s wife. The rest – I’ll do what I can.’
I looked down at the bandaged hand. ‘It’s only the beginning, Nat. Gerald knows even better than we do what sort of problems are ahead. You’ll have to go soon, and get changed. You have to go to the church and be ready to face the cameras, and the questions, and keep your temper. There’s an awful lot to start to learn. We might as well begin properly.’
II
I stood at Nat Birkett’s side when they brought the body of Robert Birkett, eighteenth Earl of Askew, back to Thirlbeck to be buried. Nat’s sons, and the Tolson families, had brought flowers picked from the gardens of the farms, and from the lanes and hedgerows. The daffodils were long over, but the bright flame of tulips was there, and the scent of wallflowers; there were small bouquets of pansies and bunches of pale primroses, and bluebells, already wilting. Some had sacrificed the scarlet and white bloom of azaleas to dress that grave with the flowers of the English spring, to which Robert Birkett had returned.
I looked at the faces about me – at Gerald, with Jeffries behind him, at Tolson and the faces of his sons which now, seen together, had a startling likeness, at the fairy-like Jessica who had grown up so swiftly, at all the faces of the Tolson grandchildren gathered here to witness the end of one era and the beginning of another.
‘We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain that we can carry nothing out.’
That was what it had all been about – and why it was continuing. We had all, all of us standing here close by his grave, been concerned with the property of a gentleman known as Robert Birkett. Vanessa had unwittingly died for it; Ro
bert Birkett had died in the anguish of knowing what she and others had risked to preserve it, had died knowing that Vanessa had been willing to serve this legacy because she had borne a child to him; Tolson had endured years of punishing doubt and worry to hold this property intact. Up there, on the mountainside, last night another woman had died because she had sought to take away that property. Gerald and I had come to cast a coldly commercial eye over it, and had stayed to become as enmeshed in its saving as any of those standing about us. How much hate and greed and struggle had gone into the amassing of these lands, from the humble beginning in the now ruined pele tower which rose above us, to the farther shimmering beauty of the stone frieze that surmounted the house of the Birketts, splendid in the morning sun. The spirit of the little Spanish Woman had marched with their history through the centuries, and the dark spell of the great jewel she had brought to them. Caveat Raptor – Who Seizes, Beware.
And I thought also of the other man who had loved Vanessa once, who had given to me his name; I thought of Jonathan Roswell. I thought that one day he also would be buried in a private family burial ground, beside a ruined chapel, and young, dark-eyed children would gather the brilliant tropical flowers that grew around to place on this grave. It would not be a grave among the English rains and mists and green grass, but in the hard, baked earth of Mexico, and the sun would warm his bones, even in death. And the children and the women would weep because they loved him, as we, this correct and controlled English gathering, would not let ourselves weep.
Thinking this, it was all the more surprising then, on that bright, rainless morning of the English spring, to find the wetness on my face, to look across and see George Tolson’s head bowed, as if he did not know how to handle his grief, and then to see on the face of Jessica the tears that would make her whole and human. The full realisation of what I must take on with Nat, the responsibility for the lives and loyalties of all these people came fully to me then. Perhaps I wept for myself as well as for my father, Robert Birkett.
III
That same day the priest came out from the Catholic Church in Kesmere and talked with Nat and myself. ‘I don’t know why it should not be done,’ he said. ‘Every Christian soul deserves Christian burial – and she has waited a long time.’ He looked at the burial ground of the Birketts, noted the date set in the arch above the roofless chapel. ‘I doubt that it ever was deconsecrated,’ he said. ‘Of course I’ll telephone the bishop, but I can see no reason why it should not be used. After all, we haven’t always had our great churches. So often it was Mass under the open sky – and especially in her time. You’re certain of her identity?’
‘We examined the monogrammed ring she wore very carefully. I don’t think there could be any doubt that it is she.’
He nodded. ‘Well, then, we’ll go ahead. Let’s hope it doesn’t rain.’
In what remained of that day we set the Tolson grandchildren to clearing the floor of the chapel, to clipping at the worst of the briars that grew against its walls, but we left alone the young birch tree that had sprung up close to where the marble fragments told us the altar must have been. Mrs Tolson provided a table that could be covered with a white cloth. Jessica brought great masses of flowers in big vases to set about on the sod-grown ground. At the end of the day young Thomas, Nat’s son, brought me white violets wrapped in damp paper. ‘They’re for her,’ he said. ‘Dad says it’s very private, and very early, and I should not come. He said not to think too much about her – but I do. My mother told me the story of the Spanish Woman. I’m sorry she’s been up there in that place all these years alone. It must be sad to be forgotten, like that. But she won’t be lonely any more. It’s a pity she can’t be beside her husband. But he was beheaded on Tower Hill – wasn’t he? – and he never came back to Thirlbeck.’
I shook my head. ‘I suppose the third Earl, his brother, must have been afraid to claim the body of a traitor.’
‘It’s interesting to have a traitor in the family,’ he said with the calm matter-of-factness of a child, and he went off, the future Earl of Askew, not troubled at all by the four hundred years that had passed since that time, not troubled by the thought of his inheritance.
Nat sat with me late that night as I rested in the bed of the Spanish Woman. All eight of the dogs were with us, lying before the two fires; they had attached themselves to Nat in the immediate fashion they had attached themselves to Robert Birkett and to myself. He was already growing used to being almost unable to move without them. He looked at them now. ‘They’re split up pretty evenly between you and me, Jo. We’ll have to breed some more of them, as well as some kids for ourselves.’
‘Yes ...’
He was sitting in the big chair where I so often had thought I saw the shadowy figure of the Spanish Woman. His body filled it to a comfortable degree. A candle burned on the mantel above him, and he had been trying, in a dazed and tired fashion, to make some notes of things needing to be done. He smoked, and there was a bottle of brandy on a silver tray on the table, and we each had a filled glass beside us. In the way we talked, we could have been married for a dozen years.
He was not completely reconciled to the idea of opening Thirlbeck to the public. ‘What the hell can we do with it, Jo? The National Trust – no, I suppose not. Can we somehow get rid of La Española? Even if they don’t find out about what Tolson and your mother have been doing, there’s still a hell of a lot of things that will be lumped into the estate. Are we going to be beggars because of this? Will they let us keep anything?’
‘Nat, they’ll be on to you – the Revenue Commissioners, in good time. They won’t put their hand on your shoulder tomorrow. There are things here ... well, we’ll just have to talk to them about it all – and keep quiet about what has already gone. I suppose Lord Askew – Robert – paid tax on his income when he had to. The proceeds from the paintings and other things all went to him. But there’s a million pounds sitting in a Swiss bank that should belong to Thirlbeck. I suppose we’ve all become conspirators in this, Nat. That’s the biggest worry – perhaps if we find it, it can be paid into Lord Askew’s Swiss account. Then you inherit – and pay the tax. No Swiss bank is going to give out information about where it came from. We’ll just have to face it out. There is a difference, though. Now the money will be coming back to England. The Revenue people will have their cut, and then the money can be spent as it’s needed. I don’t quite see yet how it’s all to be done – managed. But Thirlbeck is going to be saved, Nat. If you have to grit your teeth and let the public in, then grit your teeth.’
He managed a tired smile. ‘I’ve got good strong teeth.’
‘They’d better be. You’ll grind them a lot in the next few years when you discover how ill-prepared Lord Askew had left you to be heir to this estate. We might have to do as Gerald said and sell the El Greco to the National Gallery …’
I couldn’t see his face fully, but he seemed almost to be laughing when he spoke, ‘Yes, Jo – and what else?’
‘A lot of the French furniture could be sold. As beautiful as it is, it doesn’t belong in this house. It looks like a bow on the head of a middle-aged woman. We should try to keep the pictures. They’re a beautiful collection. A minor marvel of Dutch Old Masters. We could specialise ... Oh, yes ... and the legend of La Española.’
‘What about it? Damn, Jo, I’m only a farmer. These things take time to sink into my thick skull.’
‘Not so long for this one, Nat. The way I think about La Española. It’s been locked up for so many years. A fabulous jewel worth at least a million pounds – and yet worth nothing. Because it can’t leave here.’
‘Jo – Jo! I have to pay death duties on it. Can’t I just hand it over to the Revenue people? Let them take the risks. Let them get killed trying to sell it.’
I spoke softly. I was looking round the room, looking at the carving of the panelling, the dogs sleeping before the fires, the light that the candle cast on the side of Nat’s face. I looked at the doo
r of the cupboard behind which the Spanish Woman had dwelt for so many centuries.
‘It can’t leave here, Nat. You know that. The first accident, the first misfortune that strikes anyone who handles it, will half kill you. You’ll blame yourself. It stays here. We’ll have to make a deal with the Revenue people. You’ll pay the tax however and whenever you can manage it. And La Española will become the jewel it was always meant to be. If legend belongs to it – if people want to think there’s a curse on it – then let them come and see it. Put it in a secure glass casing. Relieve Tolson – oh, for God’s sake we’ve got to relieve Tolson finally of this hellish responsibility. Put in the best security system – and let people come in and see what the Spanish Woman brought to England. Tell the story – tell it as if she were telling it. Make them weep, Nat. Let them have their few sentimental tears. The little Spanish girl has been neglected too long. She lived here, she died here – no, she was murdered here. Tomorrow, she will be buried here.’
The Property of a Gentleman: One House. Many secrets. Page 39