by Helen Magee
‘I understand,’ she said. ‘Lachlan spoke to me too. I shall be here each day.’
I thanked her but at the back of my mind I was thinking, and what about the nights? What if someone comes again to his room? Lachlan had not known of that.
She was still speaking.
‘When I met Charles out riding this morning and he told me the news I came at once for this very reason. I would do anything to help Lachlan and Alexander.’
I looked at her shining brown hair, her kind eyes, her sweet smile and I felt a sharp pain that she should take my place with Alexander; then I pushed the thought away as her words struck me.
‘Charles told you?’
‘Yes, he was coming back from Greenholm when we met. He must have left very early this morning. Still, it seems to have been worth it. He was in high spirits.’
Had he said he had only just heard or merely implied it? I could not remember.
There was a tap at the door and a maid stood there.
‘The carriage is ready to take you to the station. Miss,’ she said.
I stood up. ‘I’m ready.’ Then, turning once more to Alison, ‘You will take care of him?’
She pressed my hand. ‘I promise,’ she said, ‘and Lachlan will be back soon.’
‘You have heard from him?’
She nodded.
‘This morning. He expects to be back within the week.’
I felt a great sense of relief but it was tinged with anger. Only a few more days and Lachlan would have been home. Only a few days, but during those days Alexander would be here, alone.
And so I left Dryford Keep, my mind so occupied with thoughts of the child that the carriage was half-way to the station before I remembered that I had not seen Araminta; but surely Araminta would not believe that I had done such a thing? That was the irony of it all. No one seemed to believe that I had taken the pendant, no one but Vida. As the carriage trundled its way to the station the sky was low and threatening and when I alighted the first drops of rain began to fall.
‘Aye, it’s set for a storm,’ said old Redpath. ‘I’ve seen it before. It’ll last for days more than likely.’ And I thought how fitting it was that even the weather matched my mood.
* * *
Once again I was going to the only place I could. The Larkins were, as always, kindness itself. I did not tell them why I had been dismissed. It would have been too distressing for them, and they, to their credit, did not ask. Mrs Larkin only remarked,
‘Why we got a letter from you only the other day and you said nothing of leaving.’ Her kindly face was puckered in concern.
‘The child’s mother came home,’ I said, ‘and I was no longer required.’
It was not a lie. It was simply not the truth. She gave me a long look and pursed up her lips but I could not tell what conclusions she had drawn and I did not much care. My mind was going round in circles wondering who had implicated me. Who had put the gold chain in my room? Was it Vida? She had wanted rid of me from the moment she had set eyes on me, I knew that. But to go to such extremes. Then Charles’s face swam into mind. He had a plan he had said only a few days before, a plan that would clear his debt – but he had also said that it would mean the end of his money worries for ever. One diamond pendant, no matter how valuable would not do that. Then in my mind’s eye I saw him look at Alexander and heard his words, so bitter, ‘all this will be his and he will never see it’. Alexander. I worried constantly about him but he was safe with Alison. She had told me she would do anything for Lachlan and I believed her. The thought came unbidden. Had she wanted me out of the way so much that she had thrown suspicion on me? I could not believe that. The faces swirled in my mind. Vida, Charles, Alison until I thought I would go mad then Mr Larkin’s voice broke in.
‘You know you’re welcome here, my dear.’
I felt close to tears as I thanked him.
‘I’ll help in the hotel again,’ I said. ‘I must do something to earn my keep.’
Mrs Larkin clucked again,
‘Now don’t you think of such a thing after the kindness shown to us by your Ma and Pa.’
I did help in the hotel however, though I never set foot in the gaming room again. I had been there two days before I asked about my stepfather.
‘He’s been around a couple of times,’ Mr Larkin said, ‘but I can handle him, don’t you worry.’
‘He’s been bothering you,’ I said, feeling guilty.
He was silent for a moment,
‘He’s a strange creature. I’ll speak quite plainly, my dear. That man hates you and if he can hurt you he will.’
He leaned across and took my hand.
‘If ever he should come around and I’m not here you promise me you’ll not let him in. If need be you bar the door, guests or no guests. You promise me now.’
I promised and a shiver of fear crept up my spine. Mr Larkin would not extract such a promise from me unless he felt it was necessary. After that I was on my guard. I would sometimes think I caught sight of him as I came back to the hotel after doing some errand for Mrs Larkin, then I would see that it was only a man in a black coat, a harmless stranger. If I did not take hold of myself I would become fanciful.
I had been there almost five days and was becoming obsessed with thoughts of Alexander. Was his father home? Was the child all right? I had left the hotel that morning to go to market. The little maid was turning the Larkins’ room upside-down for they had gone to visit an aunt of Mrs Larkin’s in the country who was sick, and would be gone all day. It was the perfect opportunity for a ‘good turnout’ as Mrs Larkin called it. I rounded the corner and again I noticed a black-coated figure. My heart began to beat painfully and I told myself I was imagining things. He was too far away to be identified. Then all thought of my stepfather was banished from my mind, for there entering the hotel was Lachlan Grant.
I stood rooted to the spot for a moment then a great joy filled me. He was back and I hardly knew how my feet carried me to the door of the hotel. He was there in the hallway holding out his card to the terrified maid of all work, who was standing quaking in front of him. His back was towards me and little Rose was saying,
‘ . . . to see Mrs Larkin’s old aunt who’s sick with her chest, sir.’
She saw me and relief flooded her little face.
‘Oh here’s Miss Felicia, sir, and she’ll attend to you I’m sure.’ And she fled.
He turned, the scrap of pasteboard fluttering to the floor, and with a shock I realised what had made Rose quake. I took a step backwards as the full force of his fury struck me like a blow.
‘There are matters to be settled between us, Miss Grainger,’ he said. ‘Is there somewhere we could talk in private?’
I looked towards the parlour in confusion. It was in total disorder, buckets and brooms strewn around and the furniture in chaos.
‘There is only my room,’ I said diffidently, still shocked by his evident anger.
‘Then that will do,’ he said.
‘But it is hardly proper,’ I protested.
‘There are more important things than propriety,’ he said stonily, and stood aside to let me pass.
I led the way to the little room I had on the first floor and, as I mounted the stairs, so my anger mounted. What right had he to treat me this way?
He closed the door behind him and I turned to face him.
‘You left him,’ he said, and I almost reeled at the barely-contained fury in his voice.
‘I was accused of theft.’
He waved a hand dismissively. ‘No one believed that. You did not even protest your innocence.’
‘I was a servant in your house. Does a servant protest innocence and expect to be believed?’ My anger was beginning to match his.
‘And had you been treated as a servant?’ he asked.
‘Since you left, yes.’
‘By whom?’
‘By your wife.’
Again that impatient gesture. ‘You had
friends in the house.’
Charles. How could I tell him that I suspected Charles of taking the diamond? Or his wife or Alison for that matter? I said carefully,
‘If I had refused to take the blame someone else would have been implicated not only of stealing but of casting suspicion on me.’
‘The diamond was not stolen,’ he said shortly.
I felt as if I had been struck.
‘What do you mean?’
It was as if the matter were of no importance to him.
‘It was merely hidden and the chain put in your room to make it look as if it had been stolen.’
My head reeled. Then it had not been Charles. Who then? Vida? Alison?
‘By whom?’ I whispered.
‘Araminta.’
I looked at him in disbelief. ‘Araminta,’ I repeated stupidly.
‘She was jealous of you.’
‘But why?’ I was totally confused.
‘It seems your relationship with Charles had given her cause,’ he said with distaste. ‘I believe it began to irritate her on the night of the ball.’
I sank onto the bed. My legs would not support me.
‘But she has no cause to be jealous,’ I said.
‘I wish I could believe that,’ he said.
I looked at him, anger rising in me once more.
‘And why should you not believe it?’ I asked.
He shrugged.
‘This is beside the point. The point is that you left when I had trusted you, depended on you, to stay.’
I was on my feet again facing him.
‘I had to go!’ I cried. ‘I was dismissed. I did as you asked. Alison is looking after Alexander. What more could I do? Surely you understand. You told me to go to Alison if I needed help.’
‘It is not Alison that Alexander needs,’ he said softly though his voice was still hard, ‘it is you.’
I spread my hands in despair then my voice rang out.
‘Your wife told me to go.’
His eyes had a strange light in them, then he said quite deliberately, ‘She is not my wife.’
For a moment I took his words quite literally and felt myself sway on my feet, then my common sense reasserted itself and I looked at him coldly.
‘Perhaps you do not live together as man and wife,’ I said. ‘It is certainly true that you do not behave towards each other as a man and wife should. If you did then Alexander would be a happier little boy; but she is still your wife . . . ’
His hands were on my shoulders, shaking the breath out of me.
‘Do you think I do not know how unhappy my son is? Do you think it does not torture me to see him so? But believe this, she is not my wife.’
I looked at him and believed. The floor tilted beneath me and at once his arms were all round, steadying me.
‘Felicia, Felicia. I did not mean to tell you so abruptly. Forgive me.’
I reached out and touched his cheek with my hand.
‘I do not understand,’ I said, bewildered.
He ran a hand through his hair.
‘I barely understand myself,’ he said, ‘all I know is that I came here today to tell you the truth, to bring you back to Dryford to Alexander and to me for ever, if you are willing to take us on.’
He smiled wryly and I smiled back.
‘You have never given me cause to think . . . ’ I began.
He interrupted me,
‘I know, I know. I have been fighting against it ever since you came but I thought it was Charles that you loved and then when I came home and found out what had been going on, I spoke to Charles.’ His eyes were on mine, searching. ‘He said you were one of his few failures. Tell me it’s true, Felicia.’
I laughed.
‘It’s true,’ I said. ‘It is not Charles that I love.’ Then he was kissing me and all the hurt and bewilderment was gone. We drew apart and I said, ‘But you must explain.’
‘Later,’ he said, ‘on our way to Dryford. There is no time to be wasted.’ He tilted my chin and his eyes were dark and impenetrable as he said,
‘Will you trust me, Felicia? Will you come back to Dryford with me now and trust me?’
I shivered slightly at the note in his voice but I said,
‘Yes, I will trust you.’
I hastily packed some things and left a note with Rose to give to the Larkins. In it I gave what explanation I could and promised to write more fully soon. Little Rose stood in the doorway, too frightened still of Lachlan to speak. She muttered something to me as I came down, something about a guest, then Lachlan appeared with my bags and she stumbled to a halt. I did not know what she thought and I did not care for I was ablaze with happiness and it must have shown. It was not until we were ensconced in a first-class carriage, mercifully alone with the countryside flashing past the windows, that he turned to me and took my hands in his.
‘And now I will explain,’ he said.
6
His voice was low but clear as he began his story and a strange story it was too.
‘You know of course that I met Vida in Italy, in Venice where she was staying with friends of her family. Her own family home was in the north of Italy. I was on the Grand Tour. I was young, no more than a boy and she was so sweet, so gentle and at the same time exotic, foreign, different from anyone I had ever known. I fell in love with her immediately, head over heels. She told me little of her family at first. It was as if there was some sorrow there that she could not bear to speak of. It was only after I had asked her to be my wife that she told me and asked me to accompany her home before she would give me an answer. That was when I met Carla. It was an extraordinary meeting. At first I thought I had gone quite mad. She was an exact replica of Vida, my Vida.’
His head dropped into his hands for a moment and I reached out to him but already he was speaking again.
‘They were identical twins, she and her sister, but that was not the secret that weighed so heavily on Vida; oh no, it was much more than that. At first I did not notice and then odd little things began to strike me. Carla was rarely left alone. She did not go on visits to friends as Vida did. It was when I came across Vida in the garden one day, crying, that she finally told me. Carla had found out that Vida and I were planning to marry. Vida had a little pet bird that she loved, a finch I think it was. She had found it that morning dead in its cage. It was then, as I comforted her, that she told me what she had been afraid to tell me before, but by that time I was not unprepared for what she was to say.
‘Carla was like her only in looks. In everything else they were as different as night and day. Carla was unstable. Her parents knew this and that was why she was kept at home. There had been other incidents like that of Vida’s little bird. She was not mad, not raving, nothing like that – but she was a strange creature with moods and fancies and her hold over Vida both fascinated and frightened me. Vida was very fond of her sister. There was a bond between them, the kind of bond I believe only exists between identical twins. But they were so different, like light and dark, good and evil, two sides of the same coin. Vida was gentle, perhaps too gentle. It was as if her sister drew the energy from her and in her way Carla loved Vida. She could not bear anyone else to possess her, and so of course she hated me, for I was taking Vida away from her. I think it was the hardest thing that Vida ever did, to come away with me as my wife. Her guilt was terrible and I have never known till this day whether I did the right thing in insisting that we marry. But as I have said I was young and headstrong and very much in love, and to me it seemed ridiculous that a woman should not marry the man she loved for fear of upsetting her sister.
‘That was how I looked at it then – upsetting Carla – but of course it was much more than that. Vida was never truly happy at Dryford. There were times when she would forget about Carla and then when Alexander was born I thought that surely now with a child of her own she would settle, but that was not to be. She loved me and doted on Alexander, but it was as if there was a thread tha
t plucked constantly at her, a thread that bound her to Carla. I would come across her sometimes in the room I made for her in the Keep where she was at her happiest and it was as if only her body was there, her mind was far away in Italy with her sister.’
He stopped for a moment, lost in thought, and I made no move to speak for I too seemed to see her sitting at her window and stitching at her tapestry, thinking of the home she had left and Dorcas’s words came back to me with all the implications that she had left unsaid – ‘aye, she were happy enough with the Master’. He began to speak once more.
‘It was because Carla hated me so much that Vida and Alexander went alone to Italy. She seemed to have some strange premonition for she clung to me the night before she left and made me promise that if ever anything should happen to her I would look after Carla at whatever cost. I remember her words ‘we are so alike – but for an accident of birth it could have been me’. So you see, it was not Carla that was killed, it was Vida. My Vida.’
His voice was very low now and his eyes far away. ‘I did not realise at first that it had not been an accident. By the time I got there my wife had been buried as Carla. I had been told that it was Carla who had been killed. I arrived to find Carla bordering on a state of madness. Her parents were terrified of what she might do. It seems that since she had killed her sister, and she had killed her quite deliberately, she had been unable to live with the knowledge. It was as if she had killed herself and I suppose that in a way she had, and so she became Vida. For all I know she may still believe she is Vida. All I know is that I arrived to find my wife dead, my son blind and Carla believing herself to be my wife. Her parents were elderly and very frightened. They could no longer cope, that much was obvious. I was hardly sane myself and over and over in my head I heard Vida’s words as she asked me to look after Carla. It seemed to me at the time only right. In a way I felt myself to blame. If I had not taken Vida away, had not married her, none of it would have happened. There was only one thing to do, only one way to ensure that I should always have the care of Carla. I brought her home as my wife, as Vida, and she has never spoken the name Carla since.’