“Emilie”—Sebastian sighed—“we’ve been through this before. It’s very sweet of you to try and help, but I just don’t think you understand how volatile Alex is. What if he goes on another binge? Or has an accident getting in and out of his chair?”
“We threaten him with another full-time carer if he does. Perhaps”—Emilie persisted—“if he had more independence, he wouldn’t get so frustrated. And if we installed a panic button in the main house, at least we would know he was safe.”
“So, actually, you’re saying you are prepared to take the responsibility for his welfare? Because”—Sebastian sipped his pint—“I’m simply not going to have time in the next few months to pander to my brother’s every whim. And let me tell you, from past experience, there’ll be many.”
“Alex has asked me for nothing so far. In fact, he’s helped me paint the kitchen and cooked me supper.”
“Has he, indeed? Well, he’s obviously launched a full-scale charm offensive on you. Sorry, Emilie”—Sebastian shook his head—“I’ve seen it a thousand times before. I’ve warned you how manipulative he can be. And he certainly seems to have won you over completely. Perhaps he’s aiming for you to take care of him. Alex has always enjoyed stealing anything that was mine,” he said, pouting like a child.
“Really, Sebastian!” Emilie was shocked at her husband’s childish reaction. “I sometimes think that you two are as bad as each other. Of course it isn’t like that. I know it’s not for me to interfere, but can I suggest we try it Alex’s way for a while? He craves independence, and maybe he’ll be easier to handle if he gets it. Should we not give him at least a chance to prove himself?”
After a long pause Sebastian said, “All right, I surrender. If that’s what you want, then fine. But don’t you see, Emilie? He’s managed to win you round already, and I’ll look like a curmudgeon if I refuse.”
“Thank you.” She placed a comforting hand on his and squeezed it. “I would simply like for things in the house to be calmer than when I arrived. Especially for your sake, because I love you. Now, do we have time to drive across to Haworth? I would so love to see the vicarage where the Brontë sisters lived.”
• • •
That evening, while Sebastian was sequestered in his study on his computer, Emilie went to see Alex, who was eating his supper in his kitchen.
“Sebastian has agreed to my suggestion.”
Alex’s face showed his relief. “Then you’re a miracle worker and I salute you. Thank you, Em, really.”
“I’ll try to find you domestic help in the next few days, but if there’s anything you need me to do in the meantime, then please, you must ask.”
“Sit down and keep me company for half an hour?”
“I can’t, I’m in the middle of cooking dinner for Sebastian and me.”
“Of course. Well then”—Alex turned his attention back to his own supper—“have a nice evening.”
“Thank you. And you.”
Sebastian was already in the kitchen when she entered it. “And where have you been? I was calling you.”
“To check on Alex, and he’s fine.”
“Good.”
He was unusually quiet all through supper. “Are you all right, Sebastian?” Emilie asked as she cleared away the dishes. “You seem … unsettled. Is there anything wrong?”
“No, nothing. Well, to be honest, yes. Come and sit here.” Sebastian patted his knee.
Emilie did so and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Tell me.”
“Okay … this will sound churlish and juvenile, I know: the fact is, I don’t want to share you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look what’s already happened. Alex has managed to charm you into convincing you he doesn’t need anyone to care for him. As he’s on his own now, you’ll feel dutybound to check in on him, like you have this evening. He’s already luring you in, getting your attention, probably complaining about his cruel big brother and telling you all sorts of lies about me.”
“Sebastian, that’s simply not true. Alex never talks of you to me,” Emilie said firmly.
“Well, I’m not comfortable with it at all, Emilie. I’m not always going to be here, and I can imagine the number of cozy tête-à-têtes he will coerce you into having with him. I know you think I’m overreacting, but you have no idea what he’s like. As I said earlier, he might try to steal you away from me.”
“That will never happen.” Emilie stroked Sebastian’s hair. “It’s you I love. I’m only trying to help.”
“I know you are, sweetheart. And I also know how stupid I sound, but Alex is so manipulative. And I don’t want him to destroy our wonderful relationship.”
“He won’t, I promise.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a good idea bringing you back here”—Sebastian sighed—“but given the circumstances, I can’t see that at present we’ve got any other choice.”
“You know I—we can afford an apartment in London, Sebastian. Then we could be together there and—”
“Emilie, you said it: I.” Sebastian’s face was taut with tension. “I’m fully aware that my wealthy wife could buy and sell a small country without denting her fortune, but give your husband his pride. I need to do this for myself, however hard it is on us.” He tipped her face up toward his. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry to be difficult, but I never want anyone to think I married you for money.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Good. Bed?”
• • •
Sebastian left on Monday morning to go to London and then on to France. As the morning was bright, Emilie found an old bicycle in the barn and decided to cycle down to the village shop. Parking her bicycle against the wall outside, she went in and waited in the line of locals to speak to the woman behind the counter.
“May I place this on your advertisement board?” Emilie handed over a postcard, advertising for a cleaner.
The woman took it, read it, and then looked up at Emilie, interest suddenly alive in her eyes. “Yes, it’s a pound a week. So are you the new wife Mr. Carruthers has brought home from France?”
The Yorkshire accent was strong and Emilie struggled to decipher the woman’s words. News obviously traveled fast around these parts, and Emilie knew her own accent was clearly French.
“Yes, I am. I will pay for two weeks,” she said, digging the coins out of her purse.
“Right-oh.” The woman nodded and took the postcard from her. “Doubt you’ll be getting much response though. I’d try the local paper if I were you.”
“I will, merci—I mean, thank you.”
Emilie left the shop and was walking back toward her bicycle when a woman came hurrying out behind her.
“Mrs. Carruthers?”
Unused to being addressed by Sebastian’s surname, Emilie didn’t for a few seconds realize the woman was talking to her. “Yes?”
“I’m Norma Erskine. I was the housekeeper for many years up at Blackmoor Hall. I handed in my resignation just before you arrived.”
“Yes, Sebastian told me.”
“He came round the other day to ask me to come back, but I said I’d be having no more of it and he couldn’t persuade me otherwise.”
Emilie studied the woman: plump, short, with lively, warm eyes. “I’m so sorry Alex upset you,” she apologized.
“Hmmm,” was the reply. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about what’s gone on up at that house, and I shan’t be telling tales to you, neither. All I can say is that their grandmother would be turning in her grave. I stayed for as long as I could, like I promised her, but I couldn’t take no more. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I just hope you know what you’ve taken on, marrying him. None of my business though now, is it, love?”
“I’ve already learned it is a difficult situation.”
“And that’s not the half of it, I can tell you.” Norma rolled her eyes. “You settling in all right?
”
“I’m getting used to it, yes, thank you,” Emilie answered politely.
“Well, if you ever fancy a cuppa, my cottage is the last one on the left as you go out of the village. Pop down and see me sometime, love, let me know how you’re getting on.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you.”
“Right then, goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” As Emilie climbed onto her bike, she missed the glint of sympathy in Norma Erskine’s eyes.
• • •
In the following couple of days, Emilie painted the bedroom she and Sebastian shared a soft pale pink. She went off into Moulton and bought a thick duvet and sheets, finding the ancient blankets currently on their bed itchy and uncomfortably heavy. She’d taken down the old damask curtains and purchased lengths of voile to hang, which maximized the light that filtered in wearily from outside. Then she searched the house for less dreary pictures to hang on the walls.
She had checked in on Alex later that evening, giving him her mobile number and telling him to call her if he needed anything. Sebastian’s angst at the weekend had made her determined to stay as uninvolved with his brother as she could. Having put the finishing touches to the bedroom, Emilie went downstairs to find herself something to eat. The house telephone rang and she picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hello. Is that Mrs. Erskine?” asked a female voice.
“No, I’m afraid she has left.”
“Oh. Is Sebastian there?”
“No, he’s in France.”
“Really? In that case, I’ll get him on his mobile. Thanks.”
The phone went dead. Emilie shrugged and went back to eating her supper.
• • •
“I’ve found a very nice girl to clean for you,” said Emilie later in the week, finding Alex at his computer.
“Fantastic.” Alex looked up and smiled at her. “Who is she?”
“She’s called Jo and she lives in the village with her family. She’s taking a gap year before she goes off to university and wants to earn some extra money.”
“Well, at least it’ll make a change that she’s under sixty.”
“She’s coming in tomorrow afternoon to meet you. Please be nice to her, won’t you?” Emilie begged.
“Of course, Em.”
Emilie could see the different screens that were flashing up continuously on Alex’s computer.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trading.”
“Trading? You mean on the stock market?”
“Yes. But don’t you dare tell my brother. He wouldn’t approve at all. He’d probably accuse me of gambling and confiscate my computer.” Alex stretched his arms in the air and put them behind his head. “Fancy a cup of tea?”
Feeling guilty she hadn’t gone near him in the past few days, Emilie agreed. “I’ll make it,” she added, heading for the kitchen, which she noted with satisfaction was neat and tidy. “Do you take sugar?”
“One, please.”
While she waited for the kettle to boil, Emilie had a surreptitious glance in the fridge to make sure it was well stocked. And it was. So far, so good … Alex had been true to his word and was behaving. Emilie sighed in relief and put two mugs, the pot, the sugar bowl, and some milk on a tray.
“Take them through to the sitting room,” Alex indicated. “I could do with a break from this screen.”
Emilie did so and Alex wheeled himself through.
“How did you learn to trade?” she asked as she poured the tea and handed him a cup.
“Trial and error, actually; I’m completely self-taught. It’s the perfect way to earn a living if you don’t get out much. And for insomniacs, whatever time of the night, there’s always a market opening somewhere in the world.”
“Do you have success with it?”
“More and more, yes. I’ve been doing this for almost eighteen months, and I’m over what those in the trade would call beginner’s luck. I made some errors to start with, but as a matter of fact I’m doing rather nicely these days.”
“It’s something I know nothing about.”
“Well, it keeps my brain active and it’s beginning to pay quite well too. So, how are you?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Not getting too bored all alone in your mausoleum?”
“I’ve been painting the house.”
“That’s good.” Alex nodded. “Thought I might see you occasionally.”
“I’ve been busy, that’s all.”
“Well, how about you stay for supper? I’ve just had some fantastic foie gras delivered from the farm shop.”
“I have many things to do …”
“So he has told you to stay clear?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Okay.” Alex sighed, putting his hands up in surrender.
“I’m sorry.”
“Emilie, for God’s sake,” Alex burst out, “it seems utterly ridiculous that here we are stuck out in the middle of nowhere together and eating alone in separate parts of the house.”
“Yes,” she agreed eventually.
“Good. I’ll see you at about seven thirty. And I won’t tell if you won’t,” he added with a wink as she stood up and walked toward the door.
• • •
Before she went back to Alex’s flat later, Emilie tried Sebastian’s mobile. It was on voice mail, so she left him a message, feeling guilty she wasn’t telling him about having supper with his brother tonight. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d left the house on Monday morning.
“Come in, come in!” Alex was stoking the fire in the sitting room. “I’ve just had some excellent news! One of the fledgling oil companies I invested in ages ago has just struck lucky off Quebec.”
“I’m very happy for you.”
“Thanks!” Alex looked elated. “White or red?” He indicated the two bottles on the coffee table.
“Red, please.”
“Where’s Sebastian, by the way?” he asked as he handed her a glass.
“In France.”
“You really are a bit of a grass widow, aren’t you? Perhaps you should suggest you travel with him?”
“I have,” Emilie said, sitting down on the sofa, “but he says he would be far too busy and I don’t wish to bother him while he works. Maybe next time.”
“Well then, have you given any thought to what you might do with yourself up here in Yorkshire while you’re stuck here waiting for hubby to return home?”
“Not really. I’ve been busy so far, and besides, this situation is only temporary.”
“Yes, I’m sure it is. Cheers.” He took a sip of his wine.
“And what about you? Will you always stay here, do you think?”
“I hope to, yes. I love this house, I always have.”
“Then why did you spend so much time running away from it when you were younger?”
“Now that, again, is another story.” Alex regarded her. “And one, given the circumstances, that we best avoid.”
“Please, at least tell me why, even though there seems such … animosity between you and your brother, you’re still prepared to share the house with him? And what if Sebastian can’t continue to keep it? The house needs so much work, and—”
“Emilie, don’t push me, please. I suggest we move on to neutral territory forthwith. We made a pact, remember?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. There are obviously many things I don’t know, and I find the situation hard to comprehend.”
“Well, I’m not the one to fill you in.” Alex gave a wistful smile. “Now, shall we eat?”
After the delicious foie gras, which reminded Emilie so much of home—it had been one of her father’s favorites—she made coffee and they retreated back to the warmth of the fire in the sitting room.
“Don’t you get lonely here, Alex?”
“Sometimes, but I’ve always been a bit of a loner, so I don’t miss company as much as others would. An
d, as I don’t suffer fools gladly either, there aren’t many people I would choose as a supper companion. Present company excepted, of course. But wouldn’t you agree you’re a loner too, Em?”
“Yes. I’ve never had many friends, but that’s because I haven’t felt comfortable in any circle. I found the girls I knew at my private school in Paris spoiled and silly. But at university, because of my surname, most people seemed to be uncomfortable with me there too.”
“I can’t remember who it was that said before you could love anyone else, you had to love yourself. It sounds to me as if we’ve both struggled with that knotty problem. I certainly have, anyway.”
“Well, as you pointed out to me once so accurately, I felt like a disappointment to my mother. It was difficult to ‘love’ myself, as you put it.”
“I didn’t have parents in the first place, so I can’t use them as an excuse,” Alex said with a shrug.
“Yes, Sebastian told me. Surely, the fact that you had none is partly to blame? Do you ever hear from your mother?”
“Never.”
“Do you remember her at all?”
“I have the occasional flashback, mostly to do with smells. A joint, for example, always makes me think of her. Maybe you’re right and that’s why I partook so wholeheartedly in drugs.” Alex grinned. “It was in the genes.”
“I can’t understand why anyone would wish to be out of control.” Emilie shook her head adamantly. “I hate it.”
“Emilie, all us addicts are doing is running away from ourselves. And reality. Anything that eases the pain of being alive helps. The sad thing is, some of the most interesting people I’ve known have been addicts. The brighter you are, the more you think; the more you think, the more you realize just how futile life is and the more you want to run away from the pointlessness. The good news is, I’m over all that now. I’ve ceased to blame other people for my problems. It’s a road to nowhere. I’ve stopped being a victim and started taking responsibility for myself. The moment I did that a few years ago, a lot fell into place.”
The Lavender Garden Page 21