“The winners get half a case of champagne!”
Everyone but I clapped at this extravagant prize, and I wondered if Laurence was expecting to take this from our meager stash in the cellar. I made a note to remind Laurence to foot the bill for the alcohol already consumed by his friends and another note to keep what we had guarded.
I did not like the idea that as adults we would do this hunt in the night. If perhaps anyone else had suggested it, I might have been more receptive, but whenever Laurence suggested an activity, there was the potential for someone to be grossly disappointed. And in times gone by, it was often myself.
Laurence summoned Peggy to bring him and his guests each a lantern, then told everyone to bring with them their wineglasses, and he picked up a bottle of champagne to carry. As we headed through the hall and toward the rear terrace, I reached for Mariette’s arm to pull her back from the group to talk privately.
“You can retire if you wish,” I whispered. “He’s sending us on a wild goose chase if you ask me. You don’t have to do this.”
She smiled at me, condescendingly I felt, as if I were a sulking child.
“But I want to!”
“And Samuel?”
“He is fast asleep, but of course you are right. I must check on him before we leave.” She asked me to wait for her and squeezed my hand. She also gave me a look to remind me that what we had was not a figment of my imagination.
By then the rest of the group had left through the French doors to reach the lawn, chatting excitedly as they headed toward the copse of woolly trees that stretched beside the lake. Laurence stopped and called to me once he’d caught me waiting behind on the terrace.
“Come along, Rudy!”
“I’ll wait for Mariette.”
“I’m sure she’ll find us all right without your chaperoning,” he said with amusement in his tone. I ignored the comment, and he turned back to continue toward the lake.
“Is everything all right?” I asked when she appeared again, this time with her shawl.
“Yes, Samuel is fine.”
Her eyes were wide with excitement. She reached for my hand as we followed the others into the darkness of the woods, following Laurence, who had assuredly taken the lead, seemingly relishing the position with his confident stride.
Mariette dropped my hand as we walked into the circle of lantern light by the group ahead of us. While Laurence organized the search parties, I scowled and clenched my teeth, watching Fred, Elizabeth’s brother, throw back the remains of his champagne, then pitch the flute into the lake. I was paired with Elizabeth, Fred was paired with Mariette, and Laurence was paired with the other guest, whose name I’ve forgotten. I did not like to lose sight of her in the dark with a strange man, but she appeared untroubled by the arrangement, if not delighted to participate in such an event. And then for the next half an hour, Elizabeth and I wandered aimlessly, occasionally tripping or stepping on each other, for I admit I had no interest in the game whatsoever. I spied the silhouettes of several clandestine birds that flew silently and teasingly low across the lake’s silvered surface, wishing I still held Mariette’s hand and could point these out; all the while Elizabeth talked somewhat vapidly, relaying London gossip and plying me for information about Laurence. She may have been pleasant company under other circumstances, but I was anxious about Mariette’s whereabouts, and my sole thoughts were of returning to the house and somehow having some time alone with her later that night.
We bided our time, then returned to the meeting point empty-handed, each of us wishing for different company. Two other lanterns approached us, the light growing larger, and I hoped it was Mariette. But emerging from the dark were Fred and Laurence’s colleague, announcing loudly that they had failed to find anything and were convinced there were no such eggs, that it was all a Laurence ruse and some kind of prank. I wondered why the pairs had changed and looked beyond them to the patches of woodland in the distance and saw no spots of yellow from a burning wick, just a barely visible mass of trees beneath distant deep-blue hills.
“I thought you were with Mariette,” I said to Fred.
“Laurie met us, and we swapped. He felt certain that he would find what he was looking for and wanted to make sure the foreign girl would see.”
I worried then, quietly panicked, and felt a sudden coldness slither up my spine. There was a silence across the shallow valley that unnerved me, and five minutes later, when I could wait no longer, I began the descent toward the clumps of trees.
“I’m sure they will return soon,” said Elizabeth, calling after me, though I sensed some alarm in the strain of her voice. She did not like the idea of her potential suitor in the dark with a woman as lovely as Mariette.
I tripped once and cursed and kept walking through thick shrubbery, my eyes peeled for movement. A light appeared in the distance, an area much further than Laurence had first suggested, and I walked toward it.
Laurence and Mariette emerged gradually into view, and as I approached them, she seemed shocked to see me.
“Where did you go? Much further, it appears,” I said to Laurence, his expression deceivingly innocent as always.
“I took our dear sister, as from past experience I was her best hope at finding them. Unfortunately, we’re too late for them. What did you think we were doing, Little Brother?” I was so irritated by the term, the way he would always highlight me as younger and not with any affection.
“I thought something had happened,” I said.
“Come on then,” said Laurence. “You always cluck about nothing!” It was condescending and suggestive that I was regularly of such unnecessary fuss, and he departed us quickly to give me no chance to defend myself.
We merged again with the rest of the group, and Laurence suggested they were all worthy of more champagne anyway, though Mariette did not react with the same pleasure as the others. She said not a word as we returned to the house. As we entered the foyer, greeted by the softly chiming grandfather clock telling us it was midnight, she bade us good night.
“So soon?” queried Laurence, but she turned and left without explanation.
“We can continue the festivities,” said Laurence, calling after her. “There is no reason to stop now!”
I left the group to their drinking and felt a little sorry for Elizabeth, who looked solemn, keen for the night to be over. I blamed it on my imagination at the time, but I felt a slight distance between Mariette and me during our return, not unlike the first days together in the house. I vowed that before the night was finished, I would find out if there was anything the matter.
I waited to hear the revelry die down, listening to the scrapings of furniture and the clunks and clatters of their shoes on the stairs, down the hallway, past my room. There were whisperings, perhaps too loud to call it such, as they parted ways. Finally the click and thud of heavy bedroom doors and the muted snoring of drunken slumber. I hoped Elizabeth had been catered for in a room of her choosing, and I felt some comfort that her brother was here hopefully to look out for her. My mother would be horrified to learn anything different.
The house now creaking from the stillness, I stepped quietly along the corridor to knock on Mariette’s door. There was no answer at first, and thinking she was fast asleep, I turned to leave.
“Who is it?” came the whispered reply.
“Rudy,” I said, my lips at the seam of the door and the wall.
She opened it to allow me in and was careful to close it again softly behind me.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I’ve just been lying here. Samuel has a cough. I thought that I would stay awake to make certain he is all right.”
“I just wanted to check to see if you were feeling all right.”
“It has been a long day,” she said, looking past me to the door. “I am dreadfully tired.”
I had been hoping for some reassurance on her part that what had happened earlier that day was the beginning of something wondrous, but I sensed that s
he wished only for me to leave her.
“Very well,” I said. “Sleep well.”
She leaned forward to kiss me good night but pulled away when it became more ardent on my side.
As I commenced to turn the doorknob, she asked me a question that I did not give much consideration to at the time.
“If something happens to me, will you promise to take care of Samuel?”
I had already promised myself that regardless of what I uncovered about the past, both the boy and she were firmly in my heart and my life. But the timing and strangeness of the question would not be something I would think about again until several nights later.
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Rudy, for everything.”
I left feeling confused and slept poorly that night; then I woke late the following morning. In the kitchen Peggy and Mother were discussing some plans. They were taking the train to Manchester the following day to see Mother’s medical specialist for her bimonthly checkup. They were also planning to make a day of it, seeing a show, lunching, and shopping. I had expected to see the others having breakfast on the terrace, but there was no sign of anyone.
Despite the fact that she was in her bed coat, Mother looked very well. I was beginning to believe that the child and Mariette had something to do with her improved health. Perhaps relying on the idea that she might have some living piece of Edgar installed in the house again. I knew in my heart she wanted to believe as much as I did that Samuel was Edgar’s son.
“I am just going over the budget with Peggy. It seems that last night’s dinner took some money.”
“He should have let you know.”
“Yes, I agree. But we must entertain, as dreary as it is. We must at least appear to have money for such events.”
I understood. Mother came from an era, that still existed in certain circles, where just the whiff of a decline in fortune kept one out of society, and in that strange way she was looking out for her sons rather than herself.
“I will speak to Laurence,” I said. “He needs to cover that expense. Where is everyone?”
“Laurence left for the station,” said Peggy.
I was relieved. I wanted much time alone with Mariette.
I noticed that Bert was walking with the boy in the gardens, something that had become a morning ritual.
“Has Mariette eaten yet?”
“Yes, she has,” said Mother. “She has also gone with Laurence for the drive to drop the others at the station.”
My heart sank. Every bad childhood memory returned in those moments: Laurence always taking something from me, a new toy, undoing a compliment by whispering something of the reverse effect to me in my ear.
“When did they leave?”
“An hour ago.”
I was frustrated and anxious, awaiting Mariette, and I searched for any occupation to distract me. I put Samuel on top of Sheriff and walked them around the paddock. The child was less nervous this time riding, holding the reins like he had seen me do. Then for the rest of the morning, I pottered about the house to keep busy, tightening hinges, nailing wonky chair legs, checking railings, anything, while all the time listening out for Laurence’s car.
Mariette entered the drawing room where Mother was relaxing and I sat feigning interest in a book. Mariette wore the yellow dress and looked flushed from the drive, hair escaping a bun at the base of her neck. Laurence entered several moments after her, as if the pair arriving at separate times was less incriminating. He looked shiftily between Mother and me.
“Good morning,” he said, his eyes bloodshot from the night before. “Don’t mind me. I think I’ll take a nap.”
Mariette avoided my stare, and before he left, Laurence passed her the hat she had left in the car, too casually, as if there was now a certain familiarity between the pair. I didn’t like it.
“Laurence took me on a tour to the villages around the lake,” said Mariette, obviously aware that I was miserable. “We stopped for tea. I did knock on your door this morning, but you were fast asleep.”
She seemed genuine. There seemed no reason to doubt her, and I felt some confidence returning.
Peggy entered to say that Samuel was calling for his mother, and Mariette left us quickly to remain in her room for the afternoon.
Laurence rose later that day to join me outside to check the horses, then sauntered around the property, pretending to be interested and supervising Bert on various improvements, even though I had never seen him lift a finger to the work himself. I asked him if he was returning that night, and he said that he would not be returning to London until Tuesday.
“And your work?”
“It can wait,” he said dismissively.
The idea of him staying bothered me since he rarely stayed longer than one night. If Mother and Peggy were coming with me early tomorrow morning on the train as they had earlier proposed, then it would mean Laurence would be left alone with Mariette for the day.
I left him quickly to call on Mariette. She looked a little pale and less jovial than she had on previous days. She declined my offer of horse riding, with the excuse that Samuel was unwell, his stomach sore and still with a cough, and she should stay in her room for the rest of the day.
“I am returning to Manchester early in the morning.”
“I know,” she said, and looked down to avoid questions perhaps. “I don’t know what I will do without you here.”
“Then come with me,” I said, suddenly not thinking of anything else.
“I have the child,” she said. “I cannot bring him there. Where would we stay?”
“Then marry me and stay with me.”
She smiled and touched the collar of her dress unsurely. She appeared indifferent, much altered from the girl I had lain with on the cold sand, clinging to me as if the day would disappear far earlier than she wanted.
“You have been so kind to me,” she said. “But it won’t fix anything.”
“There is nothing to fix. I love you and you love me.”
She looked at me for a moment, lips parted as if she would say something, before turning her attention to outside the window.
“I will see you at dinner then,” I said.
She nodded, still unturned in my direction, and I reluctantly withdrew from her room to seek out Peggy to tell her the boy was feeling unwell. She was surprised, as she had seen him earlier and heard no cough.
In the drawing room I found Mother and Laurence. Laurence looked a shade of angry, a different sight from the day before.
“So, Little Brother, back to work tomorrow so we can all eat since this house is hopeless and is costing us more than it needs.”
“You have said enough!” said Mother. “I take your point.”
“What point?” I asked.
“Oh, you know your brother, Rudy! At every visit he talks about selling the property.”
“But what will your fancy friends think?” I said. “Don’t you want to show it off?”
“I prefer to have my own fancy place to show off.”
I could sense that Laurence was worried about something that he had been discussing with Mother, and I suspected it had something to do with Samuel and the future of the estate. But this I will admit was not my primary concern at the time.
Neither Laurence nor Mother nor Mariette came to dinner that night for various reasons. Laurence didn’t give his, Mother was tired, and Mariette was still concerned about Samuel’s health. I did not feel hungry and left most of my meal, then cleaned the last of the plates in the kitchen to save Peggy from doing it since we had an early start.
I went to bed that night and thought frequently about visiting Mariette one last time, but the possibility of rejection prevented me from doing this.
I reflected on my bizarre marriage proposal in a desperate moment and ruminated on her confusing response. I was naive. With hindsight, I know that now.
CHAPTER 12
The next morning very early, I wrote a note for
Mariette and left it under her door, telling her that I looked forward to seeing her in a week. I departed then with Mother and Peggy, with Bert driving us to the station. Without the chance to see Mariette again, I was feeling utterly glum. I kept dwelling on Laurence alone in that huge house with her. It must have shown on my face.
“Bert will keep an eye on things,” Peggy whispered reassuringly as we climbed into the car.
Peggy had prepared meals for those remaining, even though we had learned by then that Mariette was capable of taking care of herself, and more worldly than anyone assumed. Mother and Peggy would get the afternoon train home again, and I would come back the following Friday night. Once we alighted from the train, I saw Mother and Peggy off in the direction of the medical suites before walking the several blocks to work. My boss seemed pleased to see me and briefed me on the projects I was required to complete urgently for the week ahead.
There was a letter arrived from Roland, and for tactful reasons he had preferred to send it here. Inside the envelope was a copy of “the missing” from certain pages of the book of recorded war casualties, now supposedly with the addition of Edgar.
I wondered if Edgar was perhaps watching me from afar, and feelings of guilt and loss arose. I had fallen in love with his wife, yet I had not found my peace with the loss of my brother. I questioned myself then and wondered what he would say if he arrived back now. I scanned down quickly to his name in print, then returned it to the envelope to examine at length later. I did not need any other distractions, certainly not until I finished my work.
I worked without a break, catching up on much of it before walking home while there was still daylight. I sat in the two-room second-floor apartment, which smelled stale from being closed for several weeks and was noisy from the factory machines in the buildings opposite. I would have to alert the landlord that there was water damage down the wall near the kitchenette. I boiled a saucepan of water and focused on the tasks I would need to commence the following morning, anything to distract me from thoughts of Laurence and Mariette. I paced with a cup in my hand before finding myself writing her a letter with some difficulty since I did not feel I could express myself quite as well in my limited written French. I screwed up the piece of paper and threw it away. I needed to talk to her face to face. I stood up anxiously and viewed the train tracks from my window, then made a decision to catch the same return train as Mother and Peggy, to spend the night at the manor and return by train again early in the morning. I was desperate to see Mariette. We’d hardly had a private conversation since the event at the beach, and I could not have gone through another week without the reassurance of seeing her. It was mad and desperate love.
In a Field of Blue Page 11
