Winter Rose, The

by Jennifer Donnelly

  Fiona felt blindsided. She turned to Joe, reaching for his hand. He took it and held it.

  "Does he know?" she asked India. "Does my brother know?"

  Seamie answered that question. "He does, Fee. It's what made him break out of jail. He'd given up. He had no fight left in him at all until Maggie Carr told him she was sure Charlotte was his daughter."

  "How do you know that, Seamie?"

  "I ...um...well, I sort of helped him do it."

  "That figures," Joe said.

  "Does Charlotte know?" Fiona asked.

  India shook her head. "She doesn't. She just thinks Sid Baxter is an awfully nice man. And that Freddie is--was--her father. I will tell her one day, but not now. She's been through a lot recently. Too much."

  Fiona turned to Joe again. "Did you know?"

  "Yes, Fee. I've known for weeks."

  "So I'm the only one who didn't know. Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, feeling betrayed.

  "I couldn't," Joe said. "I'd given my word that I wouldn't."

  "I don't understand."

  Joe explained how he'd gone to talk with Ella Moskowitz--Ella Rosen now--and what she'd told him.

  "She didn't want to tell me," he said, "but I pressed her, and she finally told me about Sid and India and their child, but she swore me to secrecy. She was worried about what would happen if Sid found out Charlotte was his. I wanted to tell you, Fee, it was killing me that I couldn't, but I couldn't break my word to Ella. So I had to find a way to tell you without telling you myself."

  Fiona sat back in her chair. Her head was spinning.

  "Are you all right, luv?" Joe asked.

  She nodded. "I will be, I think. Blimey, will somebody pour me another cup of tea?" she said, trying to take in all that she'd just learned.

  There were many questions after that. Fiona wanted to know everything. How India and her brother had met. How they had lost each other and found each other again. Why she had married Freddie Lytton. India, saying she was tired of living lies, held back nothing. She also told them what Sid had told her about his life in Kenya. Seamie was then able to tell them how Sid had escaped, and that he'd been determined to get to India, regardless of the risks involved, to find out for certain if Charlotte was his.

  After India told them how Sid had found them and brought them back to Lady Wilton's bungalow, Fiona asked the question that was in all of their minds: "Where is he now?"

  "I don't know," India said. "He brought us back to the house, then left. Without a goodbye. Without anything." Her eyes filled with tears as she said, "I think he's very angry with me. For not telling him. I had the chance when we met again. At Mrs. Carr's farm. And I didn't take it. I didn't want to hurt him, you see. But I don't think he understood that. I think he doesn't want anything to do with me now. Anything to do with us."

  Fiona's heart went out to India Lytton. She was suffering terribly.

  "I can't accept that, India," Seamie said. "I was there when Maggie Carr told him Charlotte was his. I saw his face. He was on fire to get to you. To get to Charlotte. Why would he take the risks he did to see you, then stalk off in a huff? It makes no sense."

  "Seamie's right," Fiona said.

  "Then why did he leave?" India asked.

  "He was afraid of being caught," Joe said. "That's the only explanation. When he escaped from the Nairobi jail, word hadn't got out yet about Betts's statement. He had no idea that Freddie Lytton was going to be questioned. As far as he knew, he was still going to hang for Gemma Dean's murder."

  "But why didn't he leave me any word about where he'd gone?" India said. "There was nothing. Not even a note."

  "Are you certain?" Fiona asked.

  "I'm positive. He left me nothing. Nothing at all."

  "Perhaps he didn't have time. Maybe something spooked him," Joe said.

  "Yes, maybe that was it," India said, but Fiona could tell from her expression that she didn't believe it.

  The adults sat together talking for another half hour or so and then India, looking exhausted, said that she would have to be going. Fiona asked Foster to bring a carriage for them. She called the children to her and told Katie and Charlie that they would have to say goodbye to their new friend. But only for now.

  "I'm so pleased to have met you, Charlotte," she said, kneeling down to take her niece's hand in hers. "I think you're a very special little girl."

  Charlotte blushed. She put her arms around Fiona's neck and hugged her. And Fiona hugged her back tightly and then kissed her cheek, before reluctantly letting her go.

  Please, Charlie, she thought, watching her and her mother get into the carriage, please come back to them. They need you so.

  When the Lyttons had left, Fiona closed the door. Anna whisked the children away to the nursery for a nap, and it was just the three of them-- herself, Joe, and Seamie.

  "I'm off for a kip, too," Seamie said. "And a bath. I'm knackered. I'll be back down in an hour or two."

  "Take your time, Seamie, luv. It's good to have you home."

  "It's good to be home," he replied. He started up the staircase then stopped. "Fee?" he said.

  "Yes?"

  "Did you go to see the Aldens? Did you tell them about Willa?"

  "Of course. We went right after we got your telegram."

  "How did they take the news?"

  "It was very hard on them. On Mrs. Alden especially. Luckily Albie was there to be with them."

  "Have they heard anything from her?"

  "When we first visited them, they hadn't. But Albie's been by since to tell us they've had a postcard from Ceylon. And another from Goa. She said she was going to work her way north. To Darjeeling--"

  "And then Tibet," Seamie said.

  "Yes. How did you know?"

  "Everest. She wants to see Everest."

  His voice was heavy, his eyes sad. Fiona could see that he was hurting over his friend's terrible accident and wanted to say something comforting to him, but he was already up the stairs, leaving herself and Joe alone.

  "More tea for you?" Joe said.

  "No, something a bit stronger, I think."

  They returned to the conservatory and sat down again. Joe said he was tired of his wheelchair and wanted something softer, so Fiona helped him ease himself onto the settee, then sat down next to him.

  Foster brought them a bottle of vintage port and two glasses. When he left, Fiona looked at her husband, her heart full of love for him. She took his hand in hers and kissed it. He had confronted the man who'd tried to kill him, Frankie Betts. He'd badgered the home secretary to see that justice was done. He'd even brought herself and India Lytton together-- so that he could make sure she learned the truth about Sid, and about Charlotte.

  "You did all of this, Joe. So much," she said softly. "For Sid. Even though you don't like what he was. What he did."

  "I did it for you, Fee. I wanted to give your brother back to you. Back to you and Seamie. I wanted you to stop grieving for him."

  Tears came to her eyes. Tears she'd held back all morning. "Oh, Joe. I was so wrong, all those years ago," she said. "I should never have looked for him. Never should have tried to see him. If I hadn't, none of these things would have happened. You wouldn't have been shot, you wouldn't be in a wheelchair..."

  "Ssh, Fiona, don't. I'm the one who was wrong. For trying to make you stop. Stop hoping. Stop loving. Stop believing."

  He took her in his arms and held her and they sat that way, close and silent, for some time. Until Fiona said, "Do you think he'll ever come back to us?"

  "I do."

  "But it's been more than five weeks, luv," she said worriedly. "Five weeks at least with no word. I didn't want to say anything in front of India. But I know she feels it, too. How can she not? He was all alone when he left her. All alone in Africa, and we all know what can happen there. We know what nearly happened to Charlotte when she wandered off from the campsite. And what did happen to Freddie."

  "He'll be all right, Fiona. I kno
w he will. Look what he's come through already. He'll come through this, too. He'll find his way back to them, Fee. He will." He took her face in his hands and kissed her. "Don't give up on him, luv. Not you. Not now. Not after all these years. All the heartbreak. All the pain. He needs you now like never before. Needs you pulling for him. You helped him once before. Help him now."

  "How, Joe?" she asked through her tears. "How?"

  "That's easy, my love. Just do what you've done all along. Believe in him, Fee. Believe."

  Chapter 133

  India sat in the drawing room of 45 Berkeley Square, sipping a glass of brandy. It was late, after midnight, but she'd lit no lamp. Moonlight poured in through the tall windows, washing the room in silver. She was alone. All the servants had gone to bed.

  She was weary after her long sea voyage, wrung out after visiting the Bristows, yet she could not sleep, so she'd stayed up gazing at the moon. It was full tonight and magnificent in its pale beauty. She wondered if it was shining down on Africa now. And on Sid, wherever he was.

  The Bristows had been her last chance. When Seamie told her in Nairobi that Joe wanted to see her, and that Fiona was his sister--and Sid's--her heart had leaped. She felt certain that he would have contacted them. They were his family. He would at least let them know he was all right. But he hadn't. Perhaps he'd known somehow that she would contact them. And he didn't want them telling her where he was. Or anything else about him. It was hard, so hard, to know that he wanted nothing to do with her now.

  A clock chimed the hour from somewhere in the house. Some damned antique that had belonged to her mother. She would sell it. She would sell everything. She would leave this place soon, she and Charlotte. It held too many bad memories, too many memories of Freddie.

  She would return his personal effects to Bingham. And the ghastly portrait of Richard Lytton, the Red Earl. It belonged to Longmarsh. It had never belonged here.

  "I never did, either, come to think of it," she murmured.

  She would put the house on the market by the end of the week. Consign its contents to an auction house. They would live with Maud--she and Charlotte--until they found a new home. She didn't know where they would go, or what she would do, but she would work it out. Slowly. One step at a time. By herself.

  "Mummy?"

  India turned around. Charlotte was standing in the doorway in her nightgown and wrapper.

  "What is it, my darling? Why are you up so late?"

  "May I ask you something?"

  "Of course."

  "When we were on the train to Nairobi, Lord Delamere said Mr. Baxter's name and it made you sad. I know it did. I saw your face. Did you know Mr. Baxter before you went to Africa? Did you know him in London?"

  "My goodness, Charlotte, what a question."

  "You have to answer, Mummy. You have to. It's very important."

  "If I answer, will you go back to bed?"

  "Yes. Did you?"

  "I did."

  "A long time ago?"

  "Yes, a long time ago."

  "Is he my father?"

  "Charlotte!"

  "Is he? I heard Father say that I wasn't his. In the study. I heard him call me a bastard. Just before he took us to the plains and put us in the pit. I didn't know what the word meant so I asked Mary, but she scolded me for even saying it. So then I asked a boy on board the ship and he told me. I'm glad I wasn't my father's child. I never felt like I was his. Is Mr. Baxter my father? My real father? You have to tell me, Mummy."

  "Yes, Charlotte, he is."

  "Did you love him once?"

  "You are asking me some very grownup questions."

  "I have had to be very grownup over the last few weeks."

  India nodded. "Yes, you have. Fair enough, then. Yes, I loved him. Very much."

  "Do you still?"

  "Yes."

  "Is he good?"

  "He is."

  "Does he make you sad?"

  "Charlotte, why on earth do you want to know these things?"

  "Answer, Mummy! Does he?"

  India thought for a moment, then said, "He doesn't, no. He makes me very happy. It's not being able to be with him that makes me sad."

  "Mr. Finnegan, he's Mr. Baxter's brother, isn't he? That's what he said at Lady Wilton's house."

  "Yes, he is."

  "And he's also Mrs. Bristow's brother. So that makes him my uncle and Mrs. Bristow my aunt. And Katie and Charlie and Peter and baby Rose are my cousins."

  "Yes."

  Charlotte absorbed this, then said, "I think they are all very nice people and I like them very much."

  "I agree with you. I like them, too."

  Charlotte looked out the window at the moon, her brow crinkled in thought. Then she said, "I have something I'm supposed to give to you. From Mr. Baxter. I didn't want to for the longest time. Not until now."

  She reached inside her dressing gown pocket and pulled out an envelope.

  India gasped. "Charlotte, how long have you had this?" she asked.

  "Mr. Baxter gave it to me just before he left Lady Wilton's house."

  "Oh, Charlotte! Why didn't you give it to me then?"

  "Because I thought he made you sad and I don't want you to be sad anymore." She kissed her cheek. "Good night, Mummy. I hope whatever the note says makes you happy."

  "Don't you want to know what it says?" India asked.

  "You can tell me in the morning. I'm awfully tired. It's very hard work being a grownup."

  India opened the envelope. It contained a single sheet of paper with handwriting on it--Sid's handwriting. And a photograph that was folded in half and yellowed at the edges. India unfolded it and caught her breath. She recognized it. She'd given it to him. A long time ago. It was a picture of the land Wish had willed to her. Point Reyes. On the coast of California. The image was creased, it had faded a bit, but it was still beautiful. She opened the note with trembling hands.

  My dearest India,

  By the time you read this, I hope I will be miles away. I know the police will find me if I stay. I'm afraid I might've been seen riding out to the Wiltons' place. If I was, all of Nairobi will know by now. The Kikuyu are unholy gossips and word travels faster by bush telegraph than you can imagine.

  I wanted to stay with you. I wanted to see you well again. I wanted to begin to know the beautiful, brave creature that is our daughter. But I'm afraid that if I don't go now, I'll lose the chance forever.

  Although I told everyone at the Wiltons' house that I would head east, I am making my way west across Africa. With any luck, I'll make it to Gabon and Port Gentil, where I hope to find a ship. I haven't much money and will probably need to take work where I can find it.

  I think it will probably take me the better part of a year to get where I want to go. It will not be an easy journey and I know I won't come through it unscathed, but come through it I will. For more than anything in this whole world, or the next, I want to see you and Charlotte again. I want to live with you both and love you both and make up for all the sad, hard, hopeless years, the years without you in them.

  You taught me what love is, India. What faith is. You made me believe in those things. I still do. I always will.

  Believe in me now. Believe in us. The three of us.

  Meet me where the sky touches the sea.

  Wait for me where the world begins.

  Epilogue

  1907

  Juan Ramos, stationmaster at Point Reyes, crossed his arms and checked his wristwatch: 5:12 p.m. They'd be here any second now. He craned his

  neck, the better to see up the Mesa Road. He had a clear view. The streets, bustling during the day, were empty now. The farm wagons, laden with cans of milk and tubs of butter, and the fish carts, stacked high with crates of salmon, trout, oysters, and crab--all bound for San Francisco--had returned home hours ago.

  As his minute hand clicked to 5:13, he spotted them--two straight-backed figures in a trap--the English doctor and her daughter.


  Juan Ramos knew the lady doctor. All the locals did. She'd opened a clinic on the Mesa Road, and she never turned anyone away. Those who could pay, did. Those who could not brought her butter and cheese, fish, tortillas, eggs, and fiery pepper sauce.