by Jane Jackson
‘So you’re not ill. But you want my professional opinion?’
She raised her head. Her eyes narrowed and the furrow between her brows deepened. ‘I’m looking at you, John. But I can’t see you clearly.’
‘Ah.’ Turning to his desk he reached across books and papers for the velvet-lined wooden case containing his ophthalmoscope. ‘How long?’
‘A few weeks. I should have come sooner. I suppose I hoped – I thought perhaps eyestrain, or tiredness.’ He saw her take a deep breath. ‘That’s only partly true. I put off coming because I’m afraid.’
‘Well, let’s have a look.’
After a few moments he pushed his chair away and swivelled once more to his desk to make brief notes. Fitting a heavy frame over her nose he slotted in lenses and asked her to read different lines on a chart at the far side of the room. After she had done this several times he removed the frame and picked up his pen.
‘I want the truth, John,’ she said as he finished making more notes. ‘It’s obvious from my difficulties with the chart that something is wrong.’
‘Dorcas, I advise you to seek a second opinion.’
‘Oh dear.’ She tried to laugh. ‘That sounds ominous.’
He surprised them both by taking one of her hands. Her fingers closed tightly on his as she leaned forward to see him clearly.
‘I can prescribe glasses. They will make a considerable difference.’ He forced himself to go on, to say what had to be said. ‘For a while.’
‘What exactly is wrong with my eyes?’
‘A condition called malignant myopia.’
‘And?’
‘It’s progressive and irreversible.’
Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘I’ll go blind?’
‘In the sense that you will lose acuity, yes. Though you will still be aware of light and shade, and you will still see colour.’
He waited for the question he could not answer: How long? But it never came. ‘I meant what I said, Dorcas. You really should get a second opinion.’
‘Do you think you could be mistaken? Or you may have overlooked something?’
‘No.’
‘Then what purpose would it serve? John, in all the years we’ve known each other you have never given me reason to doubt you. Why should I start now?’ Withdrawing her hand she began to rise.
He could not let her go so soon after such news. ‘Will you join me for some tea? I usually have a cup about now and would enjoy it much more with company.’
She relaxed. ‘Thank you. That would be most welcome.’
‘I won’t be a moment.’ As he opened the door his housekeeper emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray.
‘I put an extra cup on, doctor. You and Mrs Renowden being friends and all.’
As John poured the tea Dorcas removed her hat and dropped it on the floor beside her chair. ‘Does it take long to make spectacles?’
Handing her a cup and saucer he picked up his own. ‘It depends. I’m going into Truro tomorrow. I’ll take your prescription with me. You should certainly have them within ten days.’
‘You’ll send me an account?’
He nodded as she sipped tea. Then she lowered her cup, placing it carefully on the saucer.
‘I shan’t stop painting. Obviously I won’t be able to continue in my present style. But I won’t give up.’
‘Of course not.’ His tone implied he had never doubted it. Until this moment he hadn’t been certain she had understood the full import of his diagnosis. Though her courage would be tested to its limit, the fact that she was already contemplating life after was a good sign. ‘However, there will be difficulties. Have you heard from Hal lately?’
‘I had a letter a fortnight ago. Why?’
‘He’s happy? Doing well?’
‘Both, I’m delighted to say. Speak plainly, John. What are you getting at?’
‘I wondered if he ever mentioned returning to Cornwall, that’s all.’
‘No. You know why he left. There’s nothing here to bring him back.’
‘Except you. So don’t you think …?’
‘I should tell him? No, I don’t. What could he possibly do in South America except worry? Hal has his life. I have mine. It would be wicked to burden him with knowledge he can do nothing about.’
He nodded. He had expected as much. ‘And Henry?’
‘Henry has enough to cope with right now. If I choose to tell him, it will be–’
‘When, Dorcas, not if. Dear God, don’t you think he would want to know?’
‘Perhaps, but not yet. Not until there’s no alternative. And I will decide when that is.’
‘Then there’s nothing more to be said.’ He smiled. ‘More tea?’
She touched his hand. ‘You’re a dear. Most men in your position couldn’t have resisted criticising Henry and condemning me. You never have.’
He shrugged. ‘Henry should never have married Louise. But he did, and has done his best by her, which he could not have done without your love and support. But you, why?’ He shook his head. ‘Forgive me. I’ve no right to ask.’
‘Why Henry? Because I love him and because he needs me.’
‘Have you never wanted to remarry?’
‘Henry isn’t free. Besides, I prefer things the way they are. I was perfectly happy being Zander’s mistress. Marriage was his idea, to give me legal protection. Wise and unconventional though he was, Zander treated me differently afterwards. I was a Bending to pick up her hat she slanted a smile at him. ‘I’m independent and enjoy my solitude. Why change something that has worked so well for so long?’wife.’
‘Why indeed?’ Returning her smile he stood as she rose to her feet. But change was coming and it was beyond her control.
Laughing over her shoulder at Bryce, Grace urged the cob into a faster trot. Determined to master her bicycle he was wobbling all over the road. Beside her in the trap Richard rested one arm along the back of the wooden seat.
It was cooler today and the fresh breeze had persuaded Grace to wear a short jacket over her navy skirt and pale blue shirt-blouse. Towering white clouds fringed the horizon, piled up like scoops of ice-cream. But overhead the sky was vivid blue and in the shelter of the high hedges the sun’s warmth held a promise of summer.
‘Hey,’ Richard clung to the side with his free hand. ‘What’s the hurry?’
Her smile teased. ‘I had this notion that you would be anxious to get to Polwellan as quickly as possible.’
He grimaced. ‘I’d rather arrive in one piece. Do you always drive this fast?’
She raised her brows at him, laughter lurking at the corners of her mouth. ‘Whatever happened to the intrepid adventurer? This isn’t fast. At least, Sophie has never objected.’
He reddened slightly as he shook his head. ‘She must have nerves of steel.’ There was a short pause. Grace hid a smile and waited. She knew what he was about to say, knew it had been on his mind ever since he and Bryce arrived home.
‘I don’t suppose – Would you happen to know –? I certainly wouldn’t blame her if – I mean, three years is a long time, and the mail – well, it just wasn’t possible to –’
‘For goodness’ sake, Richard!’ Grace burst out laughing. ‘How am I supposed to make sense of that? And how can I answer if you never finish what you’re trying to say?’
He rubbed a thumb across his forehead beneath the rim of his flat tweed cap. Both he and Bryce were wearing tweed suits. Bryce had teamed his with a checked shirt with a soft turned-down collar and long tie. But Richard had opted for a slightly more formal look with a white shirt and a stiff collar. Grace bit the inside of her lip, amused and touched by his visible nervousness.
‘I couldn’t say anything to her before we went. It wouldn’t have been fair. She was barely sixteen.’
‘Ah,’ Grace said softly. ‘So it’s Sophie you want to know about?’
‘Of course it’s Sophie! Who else?’
‘Alice?’ Grace suggested.
Richard shook his head. ‘No. It was always Sophie. I know she’s three years younger than Alice. Too young: that’s what the colonel would have said. Too young to know her own mind; too young to consider herself bound to someone going abroad for three years. He would have called me selfish, and he’d have been right. So I had to hold my tongue. No one knows how hard – Grace, I’ve thought about her so much. You would know, is she …? Has she …?’
‘While you were away I’ve seen quite a lot of Sophie. Each time we’ve met the first thing she does is enquire after Mama’s health. She really does have beautiful manners, Richard. Her second question was always the same. Had we received a letter from you? She was thrilled with those you sent her.’ Grace darted a sidelong glance. ‘She rereads them every night. In fact they have been unfolded and refolded so often they are beginning to fall apart. Don’t tell her I told you. She didn’t say it was a secret, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass her.’
‘I won’t say a word. She really said that? About my letters?’ He beamed with delight and relief. ‘It was so difficult. I mean, I didn’t know if she would be interested in what we were doing. Yet there wasn’t much else I could write about.’
‘Not –? How on earth you could imagine she wouldn’t be interested? She has grown up with her father’s passion for rhododendrons. She has lived her entire life aware of his determination to amass the largest collection of specimens and hybrids in the British Isles. She couldn’t help but know how much your travels from north India to Tibet would mean to him. Of course she was interested, for him as well as for herself.’
‘So she’s not walking out with anyone, then?’
‘She has had several serious suitors.’
He jerked round, his smile wiped away by frowning anxiety. ‘Who? No, don’t tell me. Yes, you must. I have to know what competition–’
‘Richard! Before you get yourself all knotted up, let me finish. Apparently – and this is what she told me herself – she thanked them for their interest, told them that she was very flattered, but that it would not be fair or kind to encourage an interest she could not return.’
For the second time relief spread in a slow relaxing smile across his face. ‘She did? Sophie said that?’
Grace nodded, envy and longing tugging at her heart. If only. ‘She’s a sweet girl, Richard.’ He nodded agreement. ‘There’s just one – Look, please don’t think I want to spoil things for either of you. But –’ she stopped, uncertain how to continue.
‘What? It’s all right, Grace. Just tell me.’ It was his gentleness that gave her the courage to voice her worry.
‘It’s just … three years is a long time to be apart. It’s obvious your feelings for Sophie haven’t altered, nor have hers for you. That’s wonderful. But you have lived very different lives during this separation. You will both have changed – especially Sophie. As you said, she was barely sixteen when you left. What I’m trying to say is that the image you have of each other – it’s out of date.’
Lifting his arm from the back of the seat, Richard put it around her shoulders and squeezed. ‘You’re a dear. You need not worry. I had realized.’
She slowed the dogcart and they turned in through the open wrought-iron gates set on tall granite posts that marked the entrance to the Polwellan estate. On one side, behind a post and rail fence a herd of black and white dairy cattle grazed on lush grass. On the other an ocean of bluebells lapped the bases of trees that followed the gentle curve of the hillside down towards the house.
Withdrawing his arm Richard sat up straighter. Grace glanced at him, sympathetic, envious. ‘Nervous?’
‘Me? Nervous?’ He laughed and his voice cracked. ‘Whatever for?’ He pulled a face. ‘In a forest near one of the villages in Tibet I came face to face with a Himalayan black bear. I’d been painting and was on my way back to camp. I hadn’t taken a gun. I don’t know which of us was more startled. Anyway, we stared at each other for a moment then he spun around and loped away. It happened so quickly. It wasn’t until I told the others that I realized the danger I’d been in. Then I started shaking.’ He held out his hand, palm down.
‘Look at that.’ He mocked the fine tremor. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’
‘No, it isn’t.’ She could imagine only too well what he was feeling right now. ‘You’ll be fine. Don’t forget, Richard, Sophie will be just as uncertain, just as nervous.’ She glanced over her shoulder as Bryce drew up alongside the dogcart.
He blew a soundless whistle. ‘This is a lot harder than it looks.’
‘Try not to run over the colonel,’ Grace warned straight-faced as she followed the drive between tall rhododendron bushes vivid with pink and purple blooms that screened the house from the prevailing westerly wind. She drew the cob to a halt on the gravelled circle in front of the house. Bryce skidded to an undignified stop, muttering under his breath.
Chapter Five
Built in the Georgian style with an additional wing set back from the main block, Polwellan had two long windows on either side of a pillared porch. The narrow flowerbed between house and drive contained dwarf rhododendrons with shiny dark leaves and bell-shaped flowers that shaded from marble-white through pale pink to cerise. Behind them the granite stonework glittered as the sun struck tiny quartz crystals.
‘Richard, look!’ Bryce was pointing at the bushes as Richard jumped down.
‘They look like arboreum,’ Richard frowned. ‘Yet they can’t be. The young plants don’t produce flowers.’
The front door opened and a tall thin figure emerged. Hatless, his greying hair trimmed short, he wore a dark double-breasted suit of superb cut. A thick beard almost obscured his stiff collar and silk tie.
‘My dear boys, what a pleasure it is to see you both again.’ He gave each a hearty handshake. ‘Welcome home. Good morning, Grace.’
‘Good morning, Colonel Hawkins. Isn’t it a lovely day?’
‘It is indeed, and all the better for seeing these two.’ A broad smile deepened the creases around his eyes. As word of their arrival reached the servants’ quarters a boy ran round the side of the house.
‘Morning, Miss Damerel.’ Knuckling his forehead he grasped the cob’s bridle.
‘Good morning, Ned.’ Dropping the reins Grace climbed down and walked towards the open front door.
‘Colonel,’ Bryce indicated the bushes beside the porch. ‘Are these arboreum?’
‘They are. I told Percy you’d spot them. Don’t they look well? We want to breed both the palest and the deepest of the colours.’
Grace reached the porch as Sophie and Alice flew down the elegant staircase. Though Alice was the elder by three years, both wore identical day dresses of white muslin trimmed with lace and satin ribbon. Cream kid shoes with low curved heels peeped from beneath the frilled skirts. Glimpsing white silk stockings and light petticoats of finest silk edged with cobweb lace Grace was acutely aware that her triple-flounced petticoat of navy glace silk – recommended for its durability – was definitely out of date. Worse, it rustled. This, according to her mother’s copy of The Lady, was totally unacceptable to ladies of quality.
Grace’s inward sigh gave way to a smile as Sophie and Alice slowed in their headlong dash to welcome the travellers.
‘Grace, it’s lovely to see you.’ Taking Grace’s hands, Alice leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Then Sophie took her elder sister’s place.
‘Oh Grace, I’m so glad you came too.’ Sophie’s complexion was pink and her eyes shone with nervous anticipation as she whispered, ‘Do I look well?’
Grace pressed the quivering fingers. ‘You look absolutely beautiful as always. Richard talked of you all the way here. He’s been looking forward so much to seeing you again.’
‘Really?’ Sophie’s transparent joy wrenched Grace’s heart. ‘Oh Grace, he’s been away such a long time. I was so afraid he might have met someone else.’
‘In the jungle? Up a mountain?’ As Sophie’s eyes widened in confusion Grace squeezed her
hands again. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease. The truth is Richard has been equally afraid that you might have–’
‘Oh surely not? How could he even imagine I would–?’
‘You were only just sixteen when he left, Sophie. Three years is a long time.’
Looking past her, Sophie gave a tiny start. Her blush deepened. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, it is. Oh dear. I feel–so–'
‘Nervous?’ Grace whispered back. ‘No more that he, I promise you.’ Turning she saw Alice staring at Bryce who was talking to the colonel. Though Richard appeared to be listening his eyes constantly flickered towards the doorway.
‘Oh Grace,’ Alice breathed. ‘Bryce is so brown. I swear he’s taller.’
Grace looked at her brother. ‘No, but it might appear so because he’s lost weight.’
‘It really suits him.’ Alice clasped her hands to her bosom, her expression dreamy as she watched Bryce. ‘He’s very handsome.’
Grace hid her surprise. She could not recall Alice ever indicating a particular interest in Bryce. But they had all changed during the past three years.
‘Do you think so? Richard has always been considered the better looking.’ Grace confided. ‘He favours our mother. Bryce is more like Papa.’
‘Come, girls,’ Colonel Hawkins turned suddenly. ‘Come and welcome these brave young men.’
Watching Richard clasp both Sophie’s hands Grace wished with all her heart that Edwin Philpotts might hold her so, and look into her face with such warmth, such hunger.
‘Sophie, it’s good to be back.’
‘It’s wonderful to see you again,’ Sophie blurted, her cheeks now deep rose. Impulsively Richard leaned forward and brushed her cheek with his lips. Though her lashes dropped shyly her smile was radiant.
As Sophie turned to welcome Bryce, Richard was beaming. Turning from Richard to Bryce, Alice held out both hands. ‘We’ve really missed you.’