She thought for a moment. She was trembling. She had been prepared for Rudy but not well enough for me.
“I can’t just leave here without saying goodbye to Samuel or Rudy. You can’t expect that Rudy will accept what you say. That I left. He will question everything.”
“It is precisely for that reason you can’t be here when he returns in a week. You will rewrite your letter to say that you wish to return to your life, that you do not love him, but that you wish to leave Edgar’s boy. And I will take care of everything from there. And no one will know the dark secrets of my brother.”
She bit her lip hard. I guessed to stop herself from crying.
“And you promise me that you will look after the boy.”
“You have my word. Lakeland will always be his home.”
Of course I had no intention of keeping the child.
“I will drive you to the station.”
I looked at my watch, anxious that dusk was soon to fall, and Bert would return any moment.
“Let me go and collect my things,” she said.
She took some time before she finally stepped into the foyer, wearing a black dress, carrying her travel bag and a little velvet money purse at her wrist. I knew we had only minutes before Bert appeared on the horizon.
I reached for my wallet and pulled out a ten-pound banknote, which she accepted without question. She then climbed into the passenger seat and placed her bag on her lap, and I shut her door and walked around to the driver’s side. The plan was to take her to the station, but I’ll admit I wanted to be rid of her forever, and thoughts and doubts entered my mind, wondering if the plan was permanent enough. And it was this that perhaps she picked up on.
“I believe you are not a good person, Master Watts,” she said as I climbed in next to her. “And I like to do things my own way.”
Suddenly she had unlatched the door to climb out, and I knew instinctively she was planning to run. I leaned across to grab her as she fled, but the cheap lace from the bottom of her skirt tore away in my hand. She ran then toward the house and into the foyer and through the doors of the great hall, turning at this point to see how far I was away, and as she did so, she bumped into a stand that held a statue, causing it to topple and smash to the floor. She had reached the French doors at the rear of the hall by the time I had entered, abandoning her travel bag behind her. I was about to follow her down toward the trees near the lake when I heard Bert at the front door.
I stood for a moment to watch Mariette run out of sight and into the darkness. I could explain this if she returned. I would say that she stole my money and was planning to flee but I caught her. I walked back into the house to face Bert. He asked if everything was all right, and I told him that Mariette had run off into the night and I needed to search for her. He looked concerned and had to tear himself away to fetch Mother from the station and made the decision to take Samuel with him. It was clear from this that he didn’t trust me. But with both of them gone, it would give me time to find her.
I looked for her in the places we’d been the night before, the dark spaces under tree canopies, and called for her in neighboring fields. I came back to the house, found the letter she’d left for Rudy, and set fire to it. A con artist did not leave letters of apology. I even took Mother’s jewels to make it look like she was there only for the money. I would sell them of course to pay for debts that were waiting for me back in London. Then I threw her bag far into the lake. As I came around the side of the house, I met everyone back from their day away and was surprised that Rudy was there, too. Of course he accused me of something devious and attacked me unsuccessfully. I had no time for any of them.
Mariette might resurface, but I would be ready for that fight when it came to it. I didn’t have to worry, as fortune would have it. She had left of her own accord and had no one but Rudy to fight for Samuel’s claims to the estate if it came to it. And certainly Rudy did not have the courage or resourcefulness.
But even then I couldn’t rest. I couldn’t be certain of anything. Back in London sleep did not come as easily as it had. The boy’s recognition of Edgar and the question of whether my eldest brother was alive haunted me in the weeks ahead, with visions of Edgar back from the dead, or wherever else, to claim the house, alongside Mariette. The society parties, whiskey, and opium silenced these thoughts briefly; however, these came with a heavy cost. Mother’s jewels were traded quickly for cash that dissolved into loans that exceeded their value. Soon my debts were mounting, creditors hounded my door, and friends were falling away. And while Samuel sat at the house at Mother’s whim, Lakeland’s debts were also growing.
I woke one night sweating from an opium-filled dream about Edgar rising up from a battlefield on fire, with fear that I had not done enough to protect my inheritance. I remembered the will that Rudy spoke of and wondered whether it might still be in the house. The thought of it terrified me. A scrap of paper that might ruin my future.
I left to do what I should have finished earlier.
RUDY
1922
CHAPTER 32
Edgar had spent all night at my side, occasionally helping me sip water, while I drifted in and out of sleep. I had been unwell, dehydrated, dazed, and exhausted, before eventually falling deeply into sleep. When I woke many hours later, with my condition much improved, there was no sign of my brother, but the man who had evicted me from the hotel sat nearby.
He nodded in my direction before moving to a pot on top of a wood burner and ladling some soup into a bowl to bring to me. I sat up stiffly. My fingers were red and swollen, and my face felt burnt. I took the bowl shakily.
The meaty broth reminded me that I’d had nothing to eat the previous day. I wolfed it down and was grateful to have it refilled.
“Where is he?” I asked halfway through my second helping, suddenly noticing the man was watching me carefully. Panic had also gripped me that Edgar might disappear from my life again.
“He’ll be here soon.”
“My name is Rudy,” I said as he took the empty bowl away.
He laughed. “I know who you are,” he said casually, and introduced himself as Joe.
My clothes had been removed, and I wrapped the blanket from the bed around my shoulders to stand up unsteadily. Joe moved to help me, but I put my hand up to decline his offer as I stepped toward the front window. His attitude of concern toward me was vastly different from that of earlier.
The cabin sat on a hill surrounded by spruce and fir trees, with sweeping views across a frozen lake framed by rolling hills and snow-covered trees. It was beautiful, and on a gold-and-gray-blue horizon, the sun was low and gliding sideways across its kingdom.
I was about to question Joe when Edgar stepped into the room, stamping his feet to shake the snow from his boots. He smiled in my direction, and my face gave my feelings away. I was a child again, and Edgar had come home for the holidays. It was those same feelings of relief and security, of knowing things will be all right. With sleep and warmth, I was returning to health. I went toward him, but he grabbed my shoulders firmly to lead me back to the cot.
“Sit down for a while. There is nothing to rush for.”
Edgar went straight into a description about his logging business before I had any chance to explain or question. He had finished working elsewhere and recently started his own business with the help of his friends. He had been given a land grant and had sourced local men who had no land of their own, to work with him and equally share the profits. They would work in the winters when some businesses were closed. He’d seen an opportunity and had made a success of it. He strangely didn’t ask what I was doing here, how I had found him, and he did not even ask after Mother, which at the time I did not see as odd, since I was just so happy to be there, to see him in the flesh.
“You gained a name here as ‘the fisherman,’” he said, smiling.
“Why’s that?”
“Rudy, you’ve asked after me since Calgary, fishing around. Y
ou’ve been spreading my name along the ranges. They thought you were from His Majesty’s government, come to take me back. It was known by many that I would not be welcome back in England. I made the mistake of telling them what happens to deserters. They’re a protective lot in these parts.”
I did not remind him that he was classified as missing, and, more recently, dead, which I presumed he would assume, nor did I tell him that no one was looking for him. I was about to quiz him further on this when he stood up suddenly.
“I have to check on something, and then I’ll return. There’s an outhouse behind the cabin if you need it.”
His casual acceptance of my arrival was unsettling. It was as if I had stopped by on the way to somewhere else. He left with Joe, and I sat there alone in the cabin to take in its snug, wooded surrounds: a small kitchen and storage area with a separate stove, a narrow bed in the far corner of the room, a wooden table with bench chairs, and stairs leading to another small bedroom. The other bed I sat on was close to the front door and placed near the wood burner, where water steamed from a pot above it.
There was still the question of Mariette. Some instinct had told me not to mention her yet, that it may be a sensitive topic, but I would build courage at the next opportunity. I entertained the notion that she had on purpose separated from Edgar and, no longer desiring the child, left Samuel at Lakeland. She may even have returned to France to continue her life as it was before the war.
With some difficulty from the stiffness to my back and fingers, I climbed into my trousers and shirt that hung across wooden stools to dry by the fire. The cabin felt too warm, and I was suddenly keen to find fresh air.
When I stepped outside onto a porch that faced the lake, the coldness hit me again, bringing back my near-death memories from the night before. But in stark contrast, the sky was clear.
I walked down the stairs and saw a large tray loaded with timber and a set of very small huts in the distance. Beyond that there was nothing but wilderness. It was a world of white surrounded by mountains of deep blue. The place was spectacularly beautiful. I was lucky to be alive, and my steaming breaths in front of me reminded me to be grateful. I found the outhouse before commencing an exploration of the area.
Down a track, I found several dogs chained beside the huts, and they greeted me excitedly. I had to meter out the pats and attention to be fair to each of them. Nearby I saw my trap, and Sadie wandering freely with other horses, and I was immensely grateful to the person who had brought her here. I was wondering where Edgar and the men had gone when I heard a voice in the distance and the sound of barking dogs. It was another sled, and I stood to watch the arrival. This person was covered in a fur coat and hat that blocked most of the face, but I saw it instantly against the white: a shock of red hair that spilled around her shoulders.
The sled jerked to a stop as she pulled back on the reins and called to the dogs, the arrival so smooth, as if it had been done a hundred times before. She turned to me briefly before jumping off the sled and taking away her face coverings.
My heart pounded with joy and relief. Even though it was everything I had hoped, to find both of them, her appearance was also bewildering. The sudden realization that she had abandoned Samuel to return to Edgar smothered the initial excitement I felt at the sight of her. I stood wordless and shocked as she approached the dogs nearby, but it was her reaction that confounded me further.
“Where is Edgar?” she asked, scarcely glancing my way as she gave a piece of food to each of the dogs.
“He has gone to check on business. But it should be me asking the questions.” Her coldness was nearly as bad as the temperature I had experienced the day before, and she viewed me suspiciously.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I followed her as she chained each of her sled dogs to their kennel.
“What do you mean?” I said. “Why did you leave me? Why did you keep such a secret from me?”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“You should not have followed me.”
“It wasn’t just you. It was for Edgar. Why didn’t you tell me he was alive? You know how I felt about losing him. About you.”
She stopped then, softened perhaps, knowing how close Edgar and I had been.
“How did you find him?” she asked as she crouched to scratch behind the ears of one of the dogs.
I told her a very condensed version, as it felt as though at any minute she would walk away, which in fact she did. But still I kept following her.
“You should have told me,” I called to the back of her. She couldn’t just walk away now. I rushed forward to grab her arm.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said bitterly, elbowing my hand away.
“You think that you can leave and break my heart and steal my brother like you did, that you had the right to! That you can waltz into my life, then run out of it and let me believe the worst?”
She did something unexpected then. Yet when one knows her nature, one expects the unexpected. She rushed into my arms and sank her face into my neck. I could forgive her for everything and took pleasure in the moment of her in my arms. I loved her even then, without yet knowing the whole truth.
“You must be careful. He is not the same,” she whispered in my ear. “Don’t mention Samuel unless he raises him first.”
“That looks like a very friendly greeting,” said Edgar, appearing suddenly nearby.
She pulled away, leaving me with feelings of guilt and confusion at the sight of him. The situation was nothing if not bizarre.
“I see that you are well acquainted!” he said, brushing off our reunion. “Let’s go inside and talk.”
Mariette did not meet my eyes but picked up some bags that contained food supplies. Edgar took them from her and followed her into the house, and I followed them. I still had no idea why Mariette left, why Edgar didn’t write, and of course no idea where the three of us were ultimately headed.
Mariette had moved to the kitchen. She pulled out cups of flour and mixed these with water to commence making flatbread, and there was silence for a period. I’m not sure that either Edgar or I wanted to be the first to start the conversation.
My brother and I stared at one another across the table. He sat on a bench seat, his back against the wall behind him, his expression wavering between amusement and fervor. I could examine him better now that I was feeling recovered. His hair had grown long and was tied back into a ponytail. He had growth around his jawline, and there were cuts to the backs of his hands and several scars and scratch marks on his face. The scars I would learn were not only from France but from the heavy work and tree felling he had performed since arriving in Canada. Most notably he looked well, stronger and larger than I remembered, his skin aged from the sun to give him a harder look than I recalled also. Yet the intense blue eyes, the broad shoulders, and the half smile that he always wore so that no one could read him unmistakably belonged to my brother.
“How did you find me?”
I told him everything about the journey then, about France and how a part of me believed he hadn’t died, about the clue in his diary. I told him also that Mother had, since the telegram in the final stages of the war, been waiting for news of his recovered body, and about her more recent resurgence of hope with Mariette’s arrival. He bowed his head solemnly, and I looked across at Mariette, who continued working, seemingly avoiding being included in the conversation. I left out the emotional turmoil and the years that Mother had confined herself to her rooms, and I wondered how much Mariette had revealed to him. In any case I did not want to focus on that yet. That would be another regrettable conversation later.
“You are cleverer than most.”
“Then I must be the one to assure you I haven’t made it. I write lines of advertising for a newspaper, and the pay is low and prospects limited, I feel. There are many more talented than me.”
“You will succeed at it. I am certain. You would succeed at anything you do. You don
’t let the blinkered ideas of others steer your decisions.”
He sounded so much like the encouraging older brother I had grown up with.
“And you, Ed, you were afraid to come back, but why did you not write?”
In my side vision, I saw Mariette pause before continuing with her task.
“You can’t work that out?”
In my heart I knew the answer, but I needed to hear everything in his words.
“I deserted my post. I left the men. I failed.”
“You can’t look at it like that—”
He slammed down his fist.
“You weren’t there!” he said angrily, in a sudden change of tone. “You will never know!”
“Edgar—” said Mariette, who never got time to finish.
Edgar stood up suddenly and stormed from the room, leaving the door open.
Mariette followed to shut the door after him. From the front window she watched him go, and I stood beside her to watch also.
“I’m not sure what it was I said.”
“You have to be careful. He does not want to be reminded of certain things.” She turned to look at me and sighed, taking my hands that were trembling from Edgar’s sudden and dramatic change. “There is much I should have told you.”
“Obviously.”
“I presume you found the will.”
I nodded.
“How is Samuel?”
“He is well enough, but he misses you terribly.”
“And I miss him,” she said, unable to disguise her sadness and a certain measure of guilt I detected also from the way she could scarcely meet my gaze when she said this. “It has been lonely here without him.”
“Then you should be with him. You’re his mother!”
“I have survived under harder circumstances. I knew he would survive, too.”
“You must understand that I’m struggling with why you can’t just return.”
In a Field of Blue Page 34
