From A Distance

by Gloria Cook

  The company sat in the appropriate seats on either side of the desk. Ernest cleared his throat. ‘Are you ready, Emilia?’

  She nodded. In between Ben and Tristan, she felt as if she was shrinking, in some horrible dream. Her brothers-in-law reached for her hands but she kept them grasped together.

  Ernest read the will. It didn’t take long.

  Emilia was so shocked she couldn’t move or speak.

  Tristan gazed down at the Wilton carpet.

  Ben stayed quiet but fidgeted.

  ‘Are you sure that’s right? That it was what Alec wanted?’ Emilia rammed her hanky to her eyes and flooded the cloth with tears of bewilderment and shame. She felt broken and disorientated and so full of remorse, for her love for Alec had in no way matched his for her.

  ‘It was. Can I get you anything, Emilia?’ Ernest asked in soft, slow words.

  ‘He’s left the farm to me? He’s left everything to me?’

  ‘It was Alec’s very clear wish that he left everything to you, Emilia. He trusted you totally,’ Ernest explained, glancing down at the document in his hands. ‘As it states here, he’s leaving it to you to best distribute anything of his to whom you see fit to have it.’

  She felt as if she had been ripped in half. She couldn’t bear to stay still and shot to her feet and flew to the window. She didn’t see the domed Anglican St John’s Church just across the street. Alec had done this almost certainly on the day he’d got his results at the infirmary. He knew he’d die soon and he had loved her so much he’d given her every last tiny bit of himself. Every memory of him, from the time as a schoolgirl when she had first become aware of him as the village squire, then his dairymaid and then his lover and then his wife, flashed through her mind. And standing behind every memory of him was Perry. She had been unfaithful to Alec. Alec had thought he’d had all her love and her total commitment and he had rewarded her for it. He had been ill, dying, in pain and distress, and she had lost her patience with him and put Lottie before him. And Perry. When he had got those test results and knew he was under an imminent death sentence she had gone to Perry and made love with him. There was a lot of Biblical and legal and slang names for a woman like herself, but first and foremost she was a betrayer.

  ‘I don’t deserve it! I don’t want anything!’

  The three men were on their way to her. Ben jostled to reach her first. He placed his hands on her rigid shoulders. ‘If you’re worried about Will’s reaction, don’t be. You can leave the property to him. You can give Tom and Lottie and anyone else anything you’d like.’

  ‘It’s what Alec wanted,’ Tristan said gently. ‘You’ll cope, Em. You’ll know what to do in a few days when you feel settled again. You’ll go on as before. And you have us, we’ll help you.’

  ‘You’ve had a shock, Emilia. I’ll get you some brandy,’ Ernest said, retreating to the little drinks cabinet.

  ‘But it changes everything!’ Emilia cried, throwing back her head. Since Alec’s death she had allowed herself a vague idea that after a year or two Perry and her would marry. They would help to run the farm until Will was twenty-one, then move to a house in the village and support him from there. Now she was trapped. She could never bring herself to marry Perry and have him at the farm as her husband, usurping Alec in his own bed. She had been strong, so strong since that morning she and Selina had gone to Long Meadow, everybody said so, and said they admired her for it, but now she was falling apart.

  She came to on Ernest Rule’s couch.

  A voice said, ‘Drink this, Em.’

  ‘What?’ She waved a hand in front of her face.

  ‘Try to take a few sips. You fainted.’ It was Tristan who was holding a glass of water near her lips. He’d felt it was time he took charge, not trusting Ben to have the sort of sensitivity required here. ‘I’ve been expecting you to be overcome. You’ve rather too much on your plate, my darling. You’ve taken the Bosweld tragedy to heart as well, and I’m sorry about that. When we get back to the farm I’m going to suggest they move out. If they don’t fancy going back to Reggie’s house they’re welcome to stay at Roskerne. Actually, it might help if they spent some time where Libby was lost, until her funeral. Em, you need to rest, to have peace and quiet for your own and the children’s sakes.’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was weak and wrung out. ‘Perry must go, and Selina.’

  ‘I’ll be relieved when that woman’s left Cornwall for good,’ Ben said harshly. He was lurking behind the couch, peeved it wasn’t he giving Emilia comfort.

  ‘That might not happen,’ Tristan said. ‘Libby’s going to be buried in Hennaford churchyard. Selina might want to come back from time to time to pay her respects.’

  ‘What?’ Ben nearly exploded. ‘When was this decided? It’s hardly appropriate.’

  ‘It’s what Perry wanted,’ Emilia said, regaining her full senses. She stayed slumped, utterly dejected.

  ‘Why, for goodness sake?’ Ben demanded. ‘I thought the girl hated Hennaford.’

  Ernest gave a small, forceful cough. ‘I don’t think here is the time and place to discuss that.’

  ‘Do you want to go home now, Em?’ Tristan gently removed her hat, knowing she hated wearing anything on her head, to give her a sense of freedom.

  ‘No. No. I just want some fresh air.’

  ‘Do you think you could manage a stroll down to the Red Lion?’ Ben said. ‘A drink and a light meal might help to fortify you.’

  ‘No! I don’t want to be indoors.’

  ‘Where do you want to go, my love?’ Ben reached a hand down and caressed her hair, his voice was full of tenderness. ‘How about going somewhere quiet for a little while, somewhere where we went as children?’

  ‘That’s sounds like a good idea to me,’ Ernest said. ‘Best thing to ease your mind, Emilia.’

  ‘Shall I drive us back, Em?’ Tristan offered.

  She nodded.

  Ben was concerned for her, but he was jubilant. The situation was playing straight towards his ends. ‘I don’t think you should be alone, Em. Tris can tell the family that you need some time to think before you give them the news.’

  * * *

  ‘I’m fascinated about this trip you’ve got in mind, Brooke,’ Winifred said. ‘But will Ben approve of it in your condition? Aren’t you worried? About, you know…?’

  The sisters-in-law were strolling around the front garden of Ford Farm. They had come outside to get away from Selina. In no way was Selina behaving untowardly, mostly she was keeping to her room, but her presence in the house made the atmosphere bad.

  ‘I’ve every confidence, Winnie, that I’ll carry this baby to full term. The gynaecologist isn’t totally happy about the journey but he says he can’t think of a reason why anything should go wrong now I’ve completed my first trimester. I’m determined to take Faye to see the one-hundred-and-two-storey Empire State Building in New York City. It was only in the planning stage when we were there last year.’

  ‘I’d quite like to see it myself, this tallest edifice in the world. Call such a thing a skyscraper, don’t they? I still think you’ll find it hard to convince Ben that you should go. You know how keen he is that this latest pregnancy doesn’t end in tears.’

  ‘Ben doesn’t have full sway over me. I don’t stop him going anywhere he chooses. I shall be glad to stay close to home when I have two children to care for. Don’t worry, Winnie, I shall take things very easy. There’s no way I’m going to risk harm to this precious child inside me.’ She looked sideways and stared at the house, then turned towards the farmyard. Not long ago all this had belonged to her baby’s father. ‘I wonder how long they’re going to be? Oh, no, here comes that ghastly woman.’

  Selina was making her way across the lawn to them, her hands in the pockets of her loose trousers, which suited her so well, her tawny head slightly down. ‘Tristan’s back on his own and he’s looking very grave.’

  * * *

  ‘Everything will fit in eventually, Em.
Just give it time.’ Ben stood beside her at the outer reaches of the woods. She was gazing up over the buttercup-strewn valley at the sprawling buildings that made up the farm and her home. She didn’t speak, so he made another attempt to break through the gloomy silence she had fallen into since leaving Truro. ‘You must simply accept Alec’s loving gesture for what it was.’

  ‘It means so much more than you could possibly know,’ she said, the tightness in her throat making the words difficult to say.

  ‘I’m sure it does. I wouldn’t dream of leaving Tremore to Brooke if she gives me a son. Alec was unconventional in many ways and he loved you with all that he had in him. It makes him a far better man than me.’

  ‘He was better than most people. And you could never understand what this means to me.’

  ‘Try me. We always understood each other until that time we fell out over the accident to my eye. I want to help you, Em. I’d do anything for you, you know.’

  ‘Thanks, Ben. I don’t want to talk about it any more. I never will. I shouldn’t have come here. My place is at home with the children.’ She started up the valley, her stockings being pulled on thistles and rough grass, her high heels making the ascent clumsy. She could swear with frustration. By now, Tristan would have asked Perry and Selina to leave. What was Perry thinking? He’d now have to face his daughter’s funeral at home with only the company of the insidious witch, his sister. She would have to explain to Perry why he must leave Alec’s home. It was all going to be unbearable for them both.

  She stumbled, her foot turning to the side, and she lost her balance and tumbled to the sloping ground. She sat down and cried, wept angry, bitter tears. Ben dropped down beside her and gathered her into his arms. He was the first man to have ever held her and she clung to his consoling familiarity, her head bowed against his chest.

  He kissed her hair. ‘Don’t worry, Em darling. I’ll make sure that everything will be all right from now on.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A few days later, Selina made her way to Ford House. To see Jim Killigrew’s ready-made family, the weak spot in his carefully assembled armour. Hearing about Jim’s intended bride had been more surprising than discovering he had his own small business. To most, Elena Rawley was belittling herself by marrying Jim – many villagers and the Methodist friends of her father were openly against the association. Those worried over her future also thought Elena wasn’t Jim’s type of woman, but Selina knew that, after her experiences with Jim, the plain young virgin was just the sort of wife that would appeal to Jim – as well as the big house and money Elena had. The orphans? Well, they went with the package and he wouldn’t mind that too much. Thankfully, the orphans did not appear to be about anywhere. She was to learn they were away, playing with the children of the daily help.

  Elena was displeased to find who was knocking on her door but she was too charitable not to offer hospitality, and the Bosweld woman had just been to lay fresh flowers on her niece’s grave. She was going to receive some more fiercely given well-meaning advice for allowing this scarlet woman to step over her threshold. But Selina Bosweld had said she had something important to say, so how could she send her away?

  Selina sat down in the parlour and waited, with her handbag set demurely on her lap, until Elena carried in the tray of tea. ‘I must say you’ve done wonders with the place. You and Jim. It was quite old-fashioned when my brother and I lived here. Your little kitchen fire was a blessing in disguise. I’m sure you believe that sort of thing anyway.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Elena said firmly. Having Jim in her life had given her confidence and she wasn’t about to allow this woman to undermine her, as she had done way back, outside in the garden the day of their first meeting. ‘Do you take milk and sugar, Miss— I’m sorry, Dr Bosweld?’

  ‘Milk, yes – sugar, one lump.’ Selina produced a slim silver cigarette case and co-ordinating lighter and raised her brows. ‘Is one allowed to smoke in here?’

  Elena knew she was being challenged and mocked. She placed her second-best china in front of Selina. Only genuine people, no matter of what standing, were treated to her Royal Doulton. ‘Jim smokes outside.’

  ‘Forgive me, I shouldn’t have asked. People are more lackadaisical up in London, you see, and where I was in my last practice it didn’t bother them too much. Jim was always a thoughtful boy. I knew him very well in former days. He came here often, to do little jobs for me. Anyway, you must allow me to congratulate you on your forthcoming nuptials. What’s your dress going to be like? Do tell. I’m not likely to be here to spill the beans and ruin your big entrance as you float down the aisle.’

  Elena was to wear her mother’s wedding dress and veil, a subdued but beautiful Victorian satin and lace creation, but this woman was the last person she’d divulge that to. ‘I haven’t decided yet. There’s been so much tragedy in the village, I haven’t given my own happiness much thought.’

  ‘Happy, are you? How fortunate. I hope it all works out for you. You and Jim are about to make some big changes, and sacrifices.’ At the personal remarks, Elena’s body stiffened. Selina wasn’t surprised, but rather than the boring little mouse becoming confused and whimpering, there was a spark in her, and undoubtedly the urge to protect those she loved. So she was in love with Jim, and whether Jim felt the same way or not, he’d considered himself to be on to a good thing. The wrecking of their engagement would make a fitting revenge. He wouldn’t be laughing this time when she took her last leave of this crummy village. Selina stretched her face to look serious. ‘Well, I really ought to say why I’ve come here. It’s quite simple, I wanted to thank you for attending my niece’s funeral.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Elena didn’t know what else to say. She had written to Mr Bosweld expressing her sympathy and had shaken his hand and muttered something appropriate after the burial. It had been the saddest funeral she had ever gone to. Many villagers had packed the front pews of the church, but it had been obvious most of them were only curious about why the tragic Elizabeth Bosweld’s final resting place was to be here among their forebears, where she didn’t really belong.

  ‘I know what people are thinking,’ Selina said, seizing her teacup. She was having trouble keeping her temper. Back at Highertown, after they had been – to Selina’s mind – contemptuously kicked out of Ford Farm, she and Perry had quarrelled long and hard about his intentions for Libby’s funeral.

  ‘She wasn’t happy anywhere for long,’ he’d yelled bitterly. ‘It’s something I’ll never forgive myself for, but at least she was happy living in Hennaford, where she’d got Casper, until you ruined it. I’m going to travel up and fetch the dog, and Mrs Nicholson too, if she’d like to join me, then come back to live in Cornwall where I can be close to Libby.’

  ‘Then why not have her buried at sea? It makes more sense.’

  ‘The sea’s already had her once! And I don’t want her in some public cemetery, so don’t come up with that idea either. My mind’s made up. Legally, I’m her father, I have the say and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

  ‘You might end up regretting your decision.’ She’d eyed him with mocking coldness. ‘It seems it’s not entirely cast in gold that your precious Emilia is going to have you.’

  ‘Em’s just badly shaken by the facts of the will, that’s all. It’s bound to make it sink in to her that Alec’s never coming back. It was Tristan’s idea that we move out. We shouldn’t have stayed there anyway, it was thoughtless of us.’

  Selina had laughed her most deadly laugh. ‘Don’t you see? The fact that Emilia’s not just passing through, as it were, at the farm before her son comes into it, means Alec is never going to go away. He’s made the most romantic, loving and adoring gesture someone ever could, he’s passed on his trust. She must be feeling as guilty as hell about you. It’s over for the pair of you, Perry. Finished! Kaput! You’ll never stop loving each other, but Alec’s loyalty and devotion to her and her betrayal of him will always be there between you. Sh
e knows that already. She’ll be the Widow Harvey for the rest of her life. And you’ll be nothing. It’s all such a hoot. Alec couldn’t have got his revenge any better if he’d actually known that his little dairymaid wife had a lover, one he’d had sleeping under his roof at his own invitation.’

  Pale and expressionless, Perry had listened to her stream of spite. When he spoke it was in a strangely quiet pitch. ‘My biggest wish now is that you were dead.’

  The echoes of those words were frozen inside her head because she knew he had really meant them.

  Selina explained to Elena the reason for Libby being buried at Hennaford and by the time she had finished she was weeping genuine tears. Watching the small white coffin being lowered into the ground had fragmented her heart for ever.

  Elena was moved by what she saw as real and lasting grief. ‘I wish there was something I could do for you.’

  ‘Actually, there is. I feel you’re the only person I could ask to do this. Everyone else round here has, shall I say, a very low opinion of me, and I can hardly ask this of Emilia Harvey; she’s her own grief to bear. When I go away I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. Would you, dear Miss Rawley, Elena, please place some flowers on Libby’s grave for me from time to time? Perry will do so regularly, specially on her birthday and Christmas, of course, but I’d liked to be represented too. Next spring, would you pick some violets from the hedgerows? Libby loved wild violets.’

  ‘And people would know they’re from you because of the colour of your eyes,’ Elena said. ‘Of course I’ll do that. I’d be glad to.’

  ‘Thanks. You’re such a good person. I suppose I’d better soon take my leave. You must be very busy.’ Selina passed a brittle smile above her teacup. As she’d expected, Elena relaxed. Selina was grateful for her kindness but it irked her how badly the other woman wanted her to go. She studied her. Her sweet face had released some of its tension and her shoulders had dropped. She was appealing. What a delicious prize she would be. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, that’s a pretty frock you’re wearing. I don’t recall you showing your bare arms before, and you’ve no stockings under your sandals.’