-----
While Peter Talbot was conversing with the spirit of his wife, Alyce Standford was having a mental conversation with herself. Perhaps argument was a better way to describe her mental ruminations. She berated herself for not being more specific with Sir Randal. She had tried to tell him that she found it disconcertingly curious that William hear about Lady Sweet’s trip, disappear the very day she left the county, and then reappear the day following her death. Even as secretive as William was about his affairs, he usually told her where he was going when he went out of town. This time he did not, and when she had asked if he was going to London, he merely said no.
Then there was the matter of his complete lack of surprise when she told him the news of Lady Sweet’s death. Even if he felt no real friendship for the Sweets, Alyce was convinced there should have been some aspect of disbelief at the revelation that such a relatively young acquaintance of theirs should have passed away. Even Edward seemed to be bewildered by the news, although this quickly turned to distain when his father has ordered him to go immediately to Talbot Hall to comfort Dahlia.
The Lady Sweet had been kind to her. She was so beautiful, like Alyce’s sister-in-law before her ill-fated marriage to William. Alyce wondered about little Randy, and hoped that Sir Sweet did not turn into a bitter tyrant to ruin his son the way William had tainted Edward. Randal Sweet was a good man to begin with, thought Alyce; William, on the contrary, had been bad since birth.
Alyce smiled momentarily, proud that she had had the courage to say anything at all to Sir Randal. It really had taken a lot of gumption on her part to do such a brazen thing. She had seized the opportunity when William said his perfunctory condolences and steered Edward to seek out Dahlia Talbot straight away. This had left her alone without the scornful watch of her brother. Then, she had done it! She remembered how she had tried to act like a simpleton to disguise her direct accusations of her brother. Surely Sir Randal would think on her words – if not immediately, then in the coming days.
Her triumph faded, however. What if Sir Randal did take heed, and come to question William? William would know that someone in his own household had told of his unplanned absence that coincided with Lady Sweet’s trip. He would lie as artfully as ever and have some excuse of his whereabouts to dispute the charges laid upon him. Sir Randal would go away, mollified, and she would be left alone to suffer the fury of her brother – a fury that no doubt she would feel on her whole body for weeks afterwards. Her elated mood turned to terror and she felt a cold sweat develop on her brow and at the base of her spine.
On the other hand…a tendril of hope crept back into the recesses of her mind. What if Sir Randal did not come to question her brother, but to exact retribution? She had heard snippets of multiple conversations at the funeral about how much Sir Randal and Lady Sweet had loved one another. If that were indeed so, perhaps Sir Randal would come and shoot William!
The coldness in Alyce’s body dissipated as the delightful thought of Sir Randal killing her brother set a ray of warm sunlight on her soul. Alyce giggled like a schoolgirl. ‘There is a reason for everything’ was another phrase she had heard numerous times today. Maybe this was the reason for Lady Sweet’s death – to free her from the tyranny under which she had lived for more than twenty years! For a moment, Alyce wondered what life would be like without William. She sat up suddenly and clapped her hands. “For one thing,” she said aloud into the darkness, “I shall buy myself a fashionable new dress with no sleeves and not have to worry about the bruises showing!”
She clapped her hand over her mouth, ashamed she should be so delighted at the prospect of a new wardrobe at the expense of Sir Randal’s misfortune. She lay back down, but continued thinking of a new life without William until her thoughts turned into dreams.
Chapter 55
James and Miss McElroy worked together to ensure that conversation at Talbot Hall remained far from current events. James recounted his studies and the great advancements that were occurring in the world of architecture and construction. It appeared as if the secret of physical structures came as easily to him as building compositions of music came to her. Dahlia noticed that when he became animated in his descriptions of bridges, cathedrals, and castles, his Scottish brogue crept back into his speech. This was indeed his passion and his eyes sparkled. This, along with engaging manner and enthusiasm, made her smile.
Between them, James and Josephine were able to commandeer the thoughts of the Talbots away from their pain. By noon, Dahlia was amazed to realize she had not thought of Lady Sweet for several hours. This awareness caused a thin mantel of guilt to envelop her. James noticed a change in Dahlia over lunch, and he knew what she felt. Every time he had laughed out loud in the days and weeks following his father’s death, he felt as if he were betraying him. His countenance would transform from mirth to shame in an instant, and he would be sullen for some time afterwards. It was his mother who noted this in him.
“Your father would want you to laugh, Jamie. Do you think he wants to spend eternity in heaven looking down at you frowning?” she had said.
“Won’t he think I didn’t love him enough to be sad longer?”
“He loved you enough to NOT want you to grieve too long.”
James had gone away and thought about what her mother had said. He had loved his father – loved him still. He also knew how much his father had loved him. He tried to imagine the situation reversed. If he were in heaven looking down at his father crying for him, it would break his heart. What his mother said therefore had to be true. After that, the guilt at his finding happiness and joy in a world without his father came less frequently and lasted a shorter duration each time. Six months after his father’s death, James reminded his mother of her own advice when he found her in her room clutching one of her husband’s shirts and crying.
“Da wouldn’t want to spend eternity watching you cry,” he had said in a small voice. She looked up at him, startled by his presence. He thought perhaps she would be angry with him. Then, slowly, her face had broken into a smile and she laughed and hugged him.
Watching the shadow fall over Dahlia’s lovely green eyes, he resolved to bring her spirits back to the light. As lunch ended, he asked if she would accompany him on a ride around the “mountain” behind Talbot Hall. Reluctantly, she agreed.
They walked to the barn in silence. He saw her hesitate as she chose her saddle. The first time they went riding together, she had chosen the side saddle knowing they were headed to the Sweet’s estate and Lady Sweet would not approve of her riding astride in the company of a young man.
“I think you should choose a saddle most appropriate to racing, Miss Talbot.”
Dahlia looked at him in surprise.
“Exertion is a tonic for anger caused by grief. I have this on good authority – my own experience.”
Dahlia looked away from him, but took the regular hunter saddle from the tack room. She went to Talisman’s stall, and James smiled. She must have made great progress with the young stallion since the spring. He chose the large chestnut, and before long the horses were saddled and ready to go. Talisman pranced excitedly as they entered the stable yard and he guessed that no one had exercised him much that week leading up to Lady Sweet’s funeral. Dahlia waited as James approached to give her a leg up. As she settled onto the magnificent black horse, he mounted quickly and they started off.
They trotted up to the path that encircled the large hill. As they reached the first long stretch of the path, he noticed the patch of green to one side where he had unintentionally spooked Talisman with his shirt. He saw Dahlia look at the ground, and then at him. They both smiled, sharing the memory of the incident. Then, Dahlia gave a decisive kick and Talisman broke into a canter. Dahlia threw a smile over her shoulder, and the race was on.
The size and speed of the young stallion was considerable, and he and his rider had a close partnership formed during more than a year training together. James was on an unfamiliar
mount who was slightly smaller than the Andalusian. However, he, too, had ridden all his life and he wagered that his lifelong equestrian pursuits had included many more races than Dahlia’s. He combined his experience with his horse’s agility and caught up to Dahlia as they rounded the north face for the first time. James had intended to let Dahlia win this race, which was a good thing. He would have been hard pressed to beat the black horse and it’s rider who seemed to be taking very seriously his advice of exercising the grief right out of her body. They arrived at the summit with the nose of James’ horse at the flank of Talisman. They pulled up the horses, who were blowing hard. Dahlia laughed at the joy of her victory.
“I would say you had let me win if it weren’t for the lather on your horse!” she breathed heavily.
James pulled up beside Dahlia and pivoted his horse so they faced each other. “And I would say a witty retort if I weren’t…completely out of breath.” She laughed again as he breathed deeply, and he thought she was genuinely pleased to have won on her own merit – not out of a competitive spirit but out of pride for the beloved stallion. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright, and James thought she had never looked more beautiful. He leaned over and kissed her. He heard a small sound of surprise in her throat, but she didn’t pull back. She leaned into the kiss until the horses fidgeted them apart. They stared at each other for a moment, then her eyes took on a look of astonishment. For the first time since they reached the summit, she started to breathe very shallowly and quickly and James knew it had nothing to do with either the race or the kiss. He dismounted quickly and took hold of Talisman’s reins. James helped her off the horse but as soon as her feet hit the ground, she pushed him away. He secured the reins on both horses and let them graze while berating himself. He had made her feel guilty. He knew she was thinking of how wrong it was that she could be enjoying the exhilaration of racing up the hill and kissing him the day after Lady Sweet’s burial.
“Dahlia,” he began, but she would not face him. He took her arm and pulled her gently around. “You cannot stop living.”
“You have no right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do at a time like this,” she yelled, and pulled her arm away, but continued to face him. She wanted to argue, to let loose her anger. He understood this, and was braced to let her focus her anger on him. “You come here and think that everything will be the same as ever,” the rail began. “It’s not the same and never will be again! Everything in my world is turned upside down and my family needs me. We need peace and quiet and solitude, not racing around mountains and behaving as if nothing were wrong!” She went on, building up her fury. Her eyes turned a dark green and her face flushed. Her rantings were general at first, then directed at him. “You are nothing to us!” At first the words bit, but he knew worse than that would come and that she did not feel the meaning of the words that spilled forth. As she ranted, he tried to focus less on her words and more on how she had changed since he had last seen her in the spring. Because she was so close to him, he could tell she had grown slightly taller. Her forehead now reached his chin. Her auburn hair was more golden – no doubt due to her time in the sun working with the horses – especially at the tendrils that escaped her coif and hung in wispy curls around her cheeks. “You’re not even listening to me!” she continued, pushing him with both hands on his chest. She might as well have been pushing against a huge oak tree, for he didn’t budge an inch. This exasperated her as well and she threw a fist at his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here, do you hear me?”
“Yes,” he said quietly, unmoving and unmoved. “I shouldn’t be here, but Lady Sweet should be here.”
This took all the energy out of Dahlia’s anger, and he could see her posture deflate and the angry tension flow out of her. The fury of her countenance vanished, replaced by a heartbreaking apprehension. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at him, finally recognizing and acknowledging that he did indeed understand how she felt to lose someone so dear to her. “Yes,” she answered in a small voice.
James stepped forward and when he took her in his arms, she did not resist. The resistance was gone. His arms enveloped her and his hand drew her head onto his shoulder where it fit perfectly, as he knew it would from observing her height. What he had not anticipated was just how perfectly the rest of their bodies would fit together, as if they were made for one another. He marveled at just how right it felt to hold her close as she cried softly.
After several moments, the shaking of Dahlia’s shoulders ceased. He felt her draw a deep breath, and she pulled away, almost hesitantly. She looked up at him and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
James wiped away the tracks of tears from her cheeks with his thumbs while holding her face in his hands. “There is nothing for which you need to apologize.” He kissed her forehead, then led her back to the horses. “Come, let us return to the house.”
They walked the horses down the mountain, and he told her about the very difficult time following his father’s death and how he had tried to cope with it. She asked him pointed questions and he answered her with the stark and agonizing truths. There was an intimacy in such a conversation between two people who had shared a painful experience.
As James helped Dahlia dismount, his hands lingered on her waist and he said the words to her that his mother had said to him, “Lady Sweet would not want to spend eternity looking down on you crying, Dahlia.”
Tears glazed her eyes, but did not spill over. She forced a smile and nodded. “I know you are right,” she said in a small voice.
He let go of her waist and turned to see to his horse, but Dahlia put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. James stroked her face gently and smiled at her.
-----
James left to take the train back to London that evening. Dahlia and Tom and Miss McElroy accompanied him to the station, then stopped by the Sweets to pick up Peter. Sir Randal looked haggard, and the house that Dahlia had always loved visiting seemed eerily quiet and dark without Lady Sweet’s presence. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t wait to leave.
Miss McElroy stayed another fortnight, when she deemed the Talbot family sufficiently past the worst of the grieving period. The household’s rhythm steadied again. The long, warm days of summer quickly shortened and the evenings started to have a cool nip in the air as September passed into October. The acute pain of Lady Sweet’s passing dulled to a chronic ache as Dahlia’s life continued without her friend. She missed Lady Sweet, she missed Miss McElroy, she missed the twins, and she missed James. To push aside her feelings and occupy her mind with other thoughts, Dahlia became quite industrious. To take advantage of the morning warmth and sunlight, she rode Talisman and the other horses. Miss McElroy and James had both prompted her to start writing down all the music in her head, and she spent each afternoon diligently transcribing the tunes catalogued in her mind. After dinner, she would play the most recently documented melodies while her father, brothers, and Matty would read or play games. Tom was teaching Matty to play chess. She had mastered the basic moves, and had progressed to picking up on winning strategies. Dahlia would smile each time she heard Matty exclaim as she recognized a great move by Tom, and Tom’s laughter when she would employ them against him.
Every Sunday, the Talbots would go to sup with Sir Randal and little Randy after church. Randal was likewise trying to focus his thoughts on two things: his business dealings and his son. He seemed to pour all his energy into these two activities to keep the demons of his grief at bay. Peter knew well that even a full 18-hour day still left plenty of time to cogitate on a love lost, but he felt assured that Randal had found a way to cope as he had.
For her part, Dahlia would regularly walk up to the top of the ravine where she had created a second cairn of stones near her mother’s for Lady Sweet. Unwittingly, she practiced her father’s method of feeling close to her friend by talking to her there. She would comment on how little Randy was doing, how he was growing an
d what new words he had learned. She would relate the news from London from the letters of Miss McElroy and James. When her musings mentioned Steven and Maripaz and the twins, or information about her other brothers, Dahlia would direct her thoughts to both small cairns. She would bring flowers in memory of both women, and leave around dusk feeling comforted by her one-sided chats with the two women who meant most to her and whom she had lost.
Dahlia’s life was not focused on looking backwards, however. She was making plans to travel to London at Christmas to stay with Miss McElroy and to perform at several events. She was excited to be with the ever-joyous elder singer at this first Christmas without her dear Lady Sweet. She had every confidence Miss McElroy would fill her visit with activities and people to ensure she didn’t dwell on her sadness. She would also see Mark and Leland, not to mention James. She marveled that her interactions with James had been so relatively sparse over the past several years, but how close she felt to him. She corresponded with him as a close friend, but more than that as well. Lady Sweet has said that her husband was her best friend as well as lover. At the time, Dahlia had not been able to appreciate this special bond. She had been too young to witness this between her father and mother. From the Gaggle, she had gathered that husbands were one thing, but all their most intimate thoughts and dreams seemed to be reserved for sharing with the other girls of their social circle. Dahlia reflected on how unique a relationship could be to want to tell someone all one’s most private feelings – and then kiss them afterwards.
Dahlia's Music Page 37