Could Justin have been right?
And Lizzie had been in the way. And now … so was I.
I wanted to think of everything that had happened.
I rode out alone. Memories of the past crowded into my mind and when I remembered the past there was one incident which must always be there. The encounter by the pool … a child murdered … and Ben, younger than he was now … a little uncertain … acting in such a way as was to affect the rest of our lives. I could not help it. I found myself making my way to the pool. There was the cottage where crazy Jenny Stubbs had held Rebecca captive not so long ago. I was thinking of the dragging of the pool, the discovery of the watch and the remains of the man whom Ben and I had thrown in all those years ago.
Violence had come into our quiet lives and it had had an effect on me which was never forgotten.
I slipped off my horse and tied him to the bush just as I had on that other occasion. It was quiet … no sound at all but a sudden sighing of a gentle breeze in the weeping willows trailing into the water.
Thus it had been on that fateful day. There was the spot where he had come upon me—the piece of wall exposed now as it had not been on that day before Gervaise and Jonnie had done their excavating; and Jonnie and Gervaise now both dead.
There was so much to remind me.
The eeriness seemed to surround me. I should not have been surprised if I heard the bells—not Jenny Stubbs’s bells but the real ones—or the fantasy ones perhaps I should say—and perhaps the sound of monks’ singing as they went into their ghostly underground chapel to pray.
I stood by the pool. It looked swollen. There had been a good deal of rain recently, and as the ground about it was flat it had advanced at least a foot.
No sound at all. Nothing but memories and the feeling that here anything might happen.
Someone was coming towards me. I saw that it was Grace. She walked purposefully.
“Hello, Angelet. I guessed you’d be here. Two minds with one thought. I want to talk to you alone. It’s why I have come to Cornwall really.”
She came and stood very close to me. The ground was slippery. I was aware of her … very near to me.
“This pool fascinates you,” she said. “It’s because of what happened.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“You’ve never forgotten. How could you, after what you did with Ben’s help?”
I said: “I believe you know a great deal about that man.”
“Yes,” she answered. “I want to talk to you about it.”
“Why to me?”
“Because it concerns you. I knew Mervyn Duncarry. He was a tutor in a house where I was a governess.”
“Perhaps I should tell you that I know that.”
“Through Justin? I thought he would tell you. He is the reformed character now. Who would have believed it? And he wants to protect you. I know Justin. I know how his mind works. I know how yours works, too, Angelet.”
“I should like to know how yours does,” I retorted.
“I believe you are afraid of me. There is no need to be.”
“What should I be afraid of?”
“That is what you have to tell me. I’ve just come here to talk to you. I told you that is why I have come to Cornwall. I don’t know what is going on in your mind, but I am sure that whatever you are thinking is wrong.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because there is something you have to know and I am going to tell you. I’m fond of you, Angelet. I’m fond of your family. I remember what they did for me. I don’t know what would have happened to me but for them. Let me tell you all about it. Imagine a rather frightened young woman who suddenly has to go out and earn her living. I had looked after my mother for many years. My father had died and from then on I had cared for her. My parents had educated me well and I was said to be clever, so when she died and there was only a small income left to me I had to become a governess. I went to a house where there were two children—a girl and a boy. There was a tutor for the boy and a girl for me.”
“I know that,” I told her.
“I fell in love with the tutor. He was charming but there was this flaw in his character. It was like two personalities. There are people like that. They can be cured … with the right treatment, I believe. One night he went out and killed a girl.”
“He was the murderer,” I said.
“I loved him. I wanted to help him. You can understand that, I know. I visited him in prison. We planned to escape together. He chose a place near the sea where I would stay until he was ready to go. That’s why I came to this neighborhood. I stayed at that inn for a few nights, but I wanted to save as much money as I could for we should need it … so I decided to find a sort of post … where I need not spend money and that’s why I came to you. I went to see him in jail. I smuggled in the knife he asked for …”
“But you knew he could kill again.”
“I was desperately in love with this man. In spite of everything I wanted our future to be together. I believed I could take him away … right out of this country. I believed I could cure him. You see, it was because I refused him that he went out and did that dreadful thing. I had left clothes for him in a broken-down old hut on the moor. I put the watch there with the clothes. It had belonged to my father and I had scratched our initials on it. It was meant to be a sign that I was with him whatever happened. Then he met you.”
“And he tried to murder me.”
“I could have cured him. I was sure of it. I cannot tell you what I suffered. I thought he had deserted me. If I had known that he was lying at the bottom of the pool I could have borne it more easily. You lied. You said you found the ring near the boathouse. The boat was missing.”
“I remember. We gave it to one of the fisher boys.”
“I thought he had escaped without me and that I had helped him to do that. That was the most unhappy time of my life. I was so bitter … so angry.”
“You threw the ring into the sea.”
She nodded. “And when they dragged the pool they found the watch … they found his remains … and I knew that he had not deceived me. I hated you then … you and Ben … for all the years that I had suffered when I thought he had deserted me. He had not. He would have been faithful to me. I told myself that we could have got away together. We could have found a new life overseas. And you killed him … you and Ben.”
“We did not kill him. He killed himself. He fell and struck his head.”
“But you hid him. You gave me all those years of anguish. I hated him for what I believed he had done to me, and all the time he was lying there in that pool. He was faithful to me and I had believed him faithless.”
“So you hated us for that.”
“It was difficult to hate you, because I had grown fond of you. You and your family had been so good to me.”
“You married Jonnie. Had you forgotten your murderer then?”
“I’ll never forget him. I loved once. Some people are like that.”
“After all he did! After all he was!”
“Love such as I had for him does not take count of things like that.” She seized my arm and pressed it, and for the moment I thought she was going to attempt to throw me into the pool.
I jerked myself free. I said: “You married Jonnie for his money, I suppose.”
“I liked Jonnie. Jonnie was a good man. I worked hard in Scutari. You simplify things too much, Angelet, and people are the least simple of all things on earth. I was a good nurse. I liked Jonnie … I liked him very much. We were happy for the little time we were together. But there was one I cared for more than anyone else … and would go on caring for.”
“And Ben? You wanted Ben, didn’t you?”
“I thought I would be a very suitable wife for a politician.”
“I am sure you would. And Ben?”
“Ben was looking in another direction, wasn’t he? He was always besotted about you. I think that adventure you had toge
ther did something to you both. You wanted Ben and he wanted you and he was married to Lizzie.”
“And what of you? You wanted Ben, too.”
“Yes. I thought I might make it, too. Ben is a powerful man … the sort who was a challenge to me. He was rich … thanks to Lizzie’s gold mine. I wanted to be rich.”
“Tell me what happened on the night Lizzie died.”
“I only know what happened on the morning after. I went in and found her dead.”
“Who killed her?”
She looked at me and her lips curled faintly at the corners. “You think I might have done it, don’t you? Or was it Ben? We both had our reasons, didn’t we? It would have been rather silly of Ben to kill her just then because it would inevitably lose him that seat he so much wanted. On the other hand it would be a master stroke. People would say, If he was going to kill her why do it at such a time? On the other hand you suspect that I may have done it. Why? Because I wanted Ben for myself. But he is in love with you. I’ve always known that—so what chance have I? You wouldn’t expect me to kill a woman to make way for you, would you?”
“Grace, why are you saying all this?”
“Because I want you to see it clearly and I want to see it that way myself.”
Then I said: “Why should you kill her?”
“Because … you would not many Ben if you suspected him of murder, would you? I was ready to help and look after Mervyn, but perhaps your feelings do not go as deep as mine. I wasn’t sure. And then, you see, there was the nice kind Timothy Ransome … the pleasant life in the country, the waif living there to remind you of your virtue. You had a choice. I might have thought that if you suspected Ben of murdering his wife you would have turned to Timothy. Then the field would be clear for me, wouldn’t it?”
“Grace … I don’t understand.”
“Do you believe in reformed characters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look at Justin … card-sharper, blackmailer, adventurer … and now good business man, the perfect husband and father. What a transformation!”
“I really believe that Justin has changed.”
“So do I. He was lucky. I wonder what would have happened to him if he hadn’t found Morwenna and his accommodating father-in-law. Justin is one of the lucky ones.”
“And he’s turned his good fortune to advantage.”
“Nobody is entirely virtuous, you know. Not you … nor Ben … nor any of us … and some are worse than others … Mervyn, for instance, who had that terrible affliction … if affliction it was. Justin the adventurer … and I suppose you would call me an adventuress. Even Gervaise was a gambler and died owing money, didn’t he? People have to be accepted for what they are. We should not judge them too harshly.”
“Once again, Grace, why are you telling me all this?”
“I am pleading for myself.”
“Why do you have to plead with me?”
“Because I have lied and cheated. I came to your family under false pretenses. I have watched Justin and I have been to the Mission. I have been down to see that child Fanny and I feel that whatever one has done in the past, one could find a certain salvation in a place like that. Do you believe that?”
“Are you serious, Grace?”
She took my arm again. “I am deadly serious,” she said. “I am going to work in the Mission. When I have set the accounts to rights I am going to do active work. I have talked to Frances and Peterkin. They are willing to have me there. I think I can forget my bitterness, my ambition, everything … there. I think I have learned that there is more contentment to be found in trying to comfort others than in seeking it for oneself.”
I looked at her suspiciously.
“I have been wicked,” she said. “When I thought Mervyn had deserted me, I said to myself, I will never love anyone again. I will work for myself. I will take all I can get. I might have loved Jonnie if he hadn’t died. He was very good to me. He made me independent but not content. I wanted power. And there was Ben. I did a terrible thing, Angelet.”
She put her hand in her pocket and drew out a letter.
She said: “I held this back. I wanted Lizzie to stand between you and Ben. The letter was there by her bedside that morning. I read it … and I held it back. I am giving it to you now. I think it will make all the difference to you … and Ben.”
I unfolded the sheet of paper and read:
My dearest Ben,
I hope you will understand and forgive me for what I am going to do. There is nothing for me but pain. I knew it … some months ago. It gets worse. I saw it with my mother. The pain is unendurable. It is exactly what happened to her and there is no stopping it. I have kept it from you all. Laudanum helps. It was good at first but it is no longer enough. I nursed my mother and this is exactly the same as what killed her. But the pain while I am waiting for death is too much. If I could have helped her out I would have.
I want to thank you for making me happy. I have always known that I was not suitable for you. You needed someone who could help you in your life. I was never good at that, but you were always so kind and never said how I disappointed you. I want you to know that I love you very much. I wish I could stay. But I know I could not hide my illness much longer and that would distress you … and everybody. I know I could not bear to suffer as my mother did. So this seems the best way. I wished there had been an easier way for my mother.
Don’t grieve for me. Try to forget me and be happy.
Lizzie
There were tears in my eyes and I saw that there were in Grace’s also.
“She was a very good woman,” said Grace. “An example to us all. Forgive me for withholding it. It was wicked of me. But you have it now. You have the truth. Ben must know. It is his letter. You must both forgive me, Angelet. Can you?”
I nodded. I was too moved to speak.
Grace and I returned to London that day.
I went straight to Ben.
I said: “I have something to show you, Ben. Grace gave it to me.”
He took the letter and read it.
It was as though a burden of guilt dropped from him. He turned to me and took my hands.
There was hope in his eyes; and I shared it.
Turn the page to continue reading from the Daughters of England series
The Last Summer
I WAS TEN YEARS old when my contented life was disrupted by my mother’s marriage to Benedict Lansdon. Had I been older, more experienced of life, I should have seen the inevitability of it. But there I was, happy and snug in my little world, my mother the center of my life—as I believed I was of hers—and it did not occur to me that there could be an intruder to disturb us.
It was not as though he were a stranger to me. He had been there almost as long as I could remember—a rather flamboyant figure in the background, and that was where I wanted, and expected, him to remain.
He had been present on the Australian goldfields when and where I was born. In fact my arrival had actually taken place in his house.
“Mr. Lansdon,” my mother explained, “was different from the rest of the miners. He owned a moderately successful mine and he employed men who had given up trying on their own. We all lived in shacks. You never saw the likes unless it was the hut in the woods where that old tramp stayed last winter. Quite unsuitable for babies! And it was decided you should be born in his house. Pedrek was born there too.”
Pedrek Cartwright was my greatest friend. His parents lived in London but his grandfather owned Pencarron Mine which was near Cador, my grandparents’ home in Cornwall—so we were often together both in London and Cornwall. If his parents were not going to Cornwall and we were going to see my grandparents, he travelled with us; and my mother was very friendly with his parents in London; so we were really like one family.
Pedrek and I used to play at gold mining when we were smaller. There was a great bond between us because we had both been born in a mining township on the other
side of the world—and in the house of Mr. Benedict Lansdon.
I should have guessed what was happening because when my mother spoke of Benedict Lansdon her voice would change, her eyes would sparkle and her mouth smile. But I did not attach any significance to that at the time.
Not that it would have made any difference. I should have hated it just the same, but if I had been prepared, it would not have been such a shock.
It was not until after the marriage that I realized how good life had been. I had taken so much for granted.
There had been my happy life in London not far from the park where I would go each morning with my governess, Miss Brown, to walk though the paths under the great trees-chestnut, oak and beech. We would sit with the other nannies to whom Miss Brown wanted to chat while I played with their children. We would feed the ducks on the pond and run about on the expanse of grass which was there for that purpose.
I loved the shops; there was a market some little distance from us and I was sometimes taken there on winter afternoons with Miss Brown. How exciting it was to wander among the crowds and watch the people at their stalls, particularly when it began to get dark and the naphtha flares were lighted. Once we ate jellied eels at a stall about which Miss Brown was a little uneasy because she thought it unsuitable; but I cajoled her. I loved to see the ladies in their wonderful clothes and the gentlemen in their top hats and morning coats. I loved winter evenings when we sat by the fire and listened for the muffin man’s bell when Emmy our maid would run out with a dish and buy some which my mother and I would toast by the fire.
They were happy days which I thought would go on for ever, because I was then unaware of Benedict Lansdon lurking in the background, just wailing for the appropriate time to change it all.
When the trees in the Park began to bud, and even the one in our little square garden showed signs of a few inedible pears that it might in due course produce, my mother would say: “It is time we went to Cornwall. I’ll speak to Aunt Morwenna. I wonder what their plans are this year?”
Aunt Morwenna was Pedrek’s mother, and my mother and I would go to their house which was not very far from ours and Pedrek would take me up to his room to show me his new puppy or some toy he had just acquired; we would talk of Cornwall and what we would do when we arrived there—he to his grandparents, me to mine.
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