Too Close to the Sun

by Jess Foley

  ‘Jane said you wanted to see me, Mrs Spencer.’

  Mrs Spencer smiled at her. ‘Ah, Grace, yes. Thank you for coming down at such short notice.’ She held out a hand, palm up, and gestured for Grace to sit beside her.

  Grace sat down on the sofa, wondering what was the purpose of the impromptu summons.

  ‘The reason I asked you to come down,’ Mrs Spencer said, ‘is because I think you are in a position to do a great service – if you would be kind enough to do it. And at the same time find something a little more interesting to do with your time.’

  Grace waited.

  ‘I thought this would be a good opportunity,’ Mrs Spencer went on. ‘We were at dinner, talking, and it suddenly came to me. Grace, I said to myself – she’s the answer to this. So I thought, while the men enjoy their brandy and smokes I’ll have a quiet word with you, and see how you feel – then they can join us for coffee.’ She paused, adjusted the shawl about her shoulders, then went on: ‘Our guest, Mr Fairman,’ here she gestured vaguely in the direction of the dining room, ‘is an old friend of Mr Spencer’s – I hadn’t met him myself before tonight, actually. He used to live in London – but has now come to this part of the world. He’s taken rooms in Corster while he looks for a suitable house. He has a small daughter, did I tell you? They’ve been here just a couple of months or so.’

  Realizing that she had been sent for in order to join the Spencers and their guest over coffee, Grace became more conscious of her appearance. Had she taken enough trouble with her hair? And her dress … should she have worn the mauve poplin? It was all too late now; she must just sit and go through with it.

  Mrs Spencer was continuing: ‘It’s his little girl I wanted to have a word with you about. Mr Fairman is a widower. His wife died a few years ago, leaving him with his daughter to bring up alone. She – Sophie – is now seven years old. And, so he tells us, is in need of a teacher. She’s had one in London for two years, but now of course he wants to find one for her here. He says ideally he’s looking for a temporary governess for her – just for two or three months, until he gets settled in his new home and is able to make more permanent arrangements.’

  ‘And you think I would be suitable …’

  ‘Oh, indeed yes. Absolutely. As I say, it wouldn’t be permanent. Once he’s found a suitable house I don’t doubt he’ll want a full-time, permanent governess for his daughter or will send her to school. But at least, if you’re there in the meantime he won’t have to hurry into anything, you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mrs Spencer sat in silence for a few moments, her eyes trying to read Grace’s expression. ‘So,’ she said at last, smiling at her, ‘what do you think about it?’ And adding before Grace had a chance to reply: ‘And I do think it would be good for you also.’

  ‘Good for me?’

  ‘My dear, you were never brought up to be a companion, were you? And I have to tell you that there have been so many occasions when I’ve wondered what you are doing with your time. Oh, I know we draw together and paint together, and there are times when you help me with my hair, and we go shopping together, and visit the museums and galleries. But I often have the feeling it’s not enough for you. You were trained by your mother as a teacher, and I’m sure you have a lot to offer a child. Don’t you get bored sometimes here, with so little to do, and so little call on your intellect? I’m sure you do.’

  Grace was not sure how to answer this question. There were indeed times when she was less occupied than she would have wished. Though perhaps it would not be politic to admit it at present. She kept silent.

  Mrs Spencer went on: ‘I have felt for a good while now that you need more to occupy your time, Grace – and this seems to me an ideal opportunity. It will give you a little more variety in your life – heaven knows there isn’t much in it right now. And we shall still have time for our painting and our little excursions.’ She gave an ironic smile. ‘And if the weather today is a portent of what’s to come it’ll be a long time before we’re able to get outside – and you’ll have more time on your hands than ever. So …’ She came to a halt, waiting. ‘Well, Grace? What do you think about it?’

  Grace had already decided that she would accept. For one thing she did not see how she could possibly refuse. Mrs Spencer had already acknowledged the fact that Grace’s time was not fully utilized, and in doing so was not telling Grace anything that she did not already know. Besides, Grace could not forget the great kindness that Mrs Spencer had shown in taking her and Billy in in the first place.

  ‘I – I think it would be very interesting – and very enjoyable,’ Grace said. Not only did she want to please Mrs Spencer, but she truly did feel that it would be something she could enjoy. ‘I think I’d like to do it very much,’ she added.

  ‘Good. That’s splendid. I thought that would be your reaction. And you’ll also have the satisfaction of knowing that you’ll be helping out Mr Spencer’s friend. It’s all in a good cause.’ As Mrs Spencer finished speaking she got up and moved to the bell pull beside the fireplace. Soon after she had sat down again there came a tap at the door and the maid entered.

  ‘Oh, Jane,’ Mrs Spencer said, ‘would you bring the coffee, please, and also be so kind as to tell Mr Spencer and Mr Fairman that you’re about to serve it?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  As the door closed behind the girl, Grace said, ‘But what about Mr Fairman? Are you sure this is all right with him? He hasn’t seen me yet. I might not be quite what he has in mind.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, you will be,’ Mrs Spencer said. ‘And you’re being presented to him on our recommendation –’ she smiled here, ‘so he wouldn’t dare cast aspersions in that respect, would he? And as for your liking him as an employer, I’m sure you will. Anyway, you’ll be meeting each other in a minute, so then there’ll be no further need to wonder.’

  Soon afterwards the maid was back, bringing in the coffee and setting it down on the low table before Mrs Spencer. A minute after the maid had left the door opened again and Mr Spencer and their guest came into the room.

  To her great astonishment, Grace recognized him at once.

  And as the necessary introductions were made, so it was that Grace found her hand being taken by the man who only two days earlier had intervened to save her purse.

  The visitor was in his early to mid-thirties, Grace guessed. His hair was very dark, and against the fashion of the time for moustaches and sidewhiskers he was clean-shaven. Like Mr Spencer he was in formal day wear, sporting a winged collar and double-breasted frock coat. As he took Grace’s hand he bowed slightly over it, and she felt a little frisson at the strangeness of encountering him again so soon and in such surprising circumstances.

  Invited to sit beside Mrs Spencer, Grace sat down on the sofa. Pressed by her employer she said yes, she would like a little coffee. As she sat there while the coffee was poured she felt very much at a disadvantage. The man, Mr Fairman, had given no sign of recognition either by word or action, and for a moment she found herself wondering whether he remembered her from their encounter. And then, turning slightly, glancing in his direction, she found his dark eyes upon her and knew without doubt that he did. There was that same look – what was it? – sardonic and slightly mocking perhaps? If it was, then bearing in mind her humiliating memory of the scene in the market square, she could hardly wonder at it. She shifted her glance at once and turned to Mrs Spencer who was pouring out the coffee.

  Directing her words to the visitor, Mrs Spencer said, setting down the coffee pot, ‘I’ve spoken to Miss Harper about your little girl, Mr Fairman. She seems to find the idea quite agreeable. Isn’t that so, Grace?’

  Grace was having second thoughts now, but did not think she could very well express them at this moment. However, she was saved from finding an answer as Mr Fairman spoke up.

  ‘I wonder if perhaps we’re not moving a little too fast for Miss Harper,’ he said. His voice was deep, somewhat flat in tone – as
if its owner was careful to give nothing away. ‘Perhaps she would like to think about it for a while before she commits herself.’

  Mr Spencer spoke then, saying with a smile, ‘Well, what do you think, Miss Harper? As you can see, he looks fairly normal. And I can recommend him, I promise you. My only criticism is that he’s kept out of our way for the past few years.’

  ‘In that case,’ Mrs Spencer said to him, briefly pausing to hand Grace her coffee, ‘let’s hope you find a suitable house soon, so you’ll want to stay. I’m sure London must be a wonderful place, but I can’t help but think that a country town might be a better spot in which to bring up a child.’

  ‘Oh, I have no doubt you’re right,’ Mr Fairman said.

  ‘The things one reads in the papers,’ Mr Spencer said, ‘ – the amount of crime that goes on in the cities. London in particular, I’m sure. It isn’t a spot where I’d care to raise a child.’

  ‘Well, the newspapers do tend to exaggerate the scale of the problem,’ Mr Fairman said. ‘And criminal misdeeds aren’t confined to the metropolis. You have your rogues here – not nearly so many, of course – your share of thieves and pickpockets.’

  Without looking at him, Grace could feel the man’s eyes upon her now; and she was glad of the coffee cup and saucer, otherwise she would not have known what to do with her hands.

  ‘Anyway,’ Mr Spencer went on, ‘now that you’re here, old chap, maybe you’ll stay and put down some roots. And as for young Sophie, I’m sure Miss Harper will be only too glad to do what she can for her.’

  ‘I do hope so,’ said Mrs Spencer, turning to Grace, and added, ‘I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Mr Fairman’s daughter – though my husband has – but I’ve no doubt she’s a very sweet child.’

  Mr Spencer said, ‘Oh, by the way, Miss Harper, it was my idea to speak to you about this, so if it doesn’t suit, then I’m the one you have to blame.’

  A brief silence fell, and Grace was aware of the three pairs of eyes upon her. She did not know what to say. To form a working relationship with the visitor was not something she relished – but how could she refuse? She was employed by the Spencers, and clearly they wanted her to provide her services to the man.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if I can help at all, then I’ll be only too happy to,’ she heard herself say. Then she added, ‘Though I should mention that I’ve never worked with girls. I’ve only ever been governess to boys.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure that won’t matter,’ Mrs Spencer said. ‘I’ve no doubt that Mr Fairman’s daughter is a well behaved child.’

  As the coffee was drunk and the conversation continued, it was suggested by Mrs Spencer that Grace go the next day to Mr Fairman’s rooms in Corster, and there meet his small daughter and make arrangements for her tuition.

  And so it was left. Twenty minutes later, with Grace still feeling somewhat manipulated and less than happy about it – but at the same time doing her best to hide her feelings – she got up to take her leave of the small assembly. As she said goodnight to Mr Fairman he briefly caught her eye, and quickly she lowered her gaze. Another minute and she was out in the hall and heading for the stairs and her room.

  As was their wont, the following morning Grace and Billy went to church, the local church of St Matthews in Berron Wick, braving the discomfort of the April rain. But come the afternoon the weather had cleared and the sun was out, making a little less miserable the prospect of Grace’s visit to Mr Fairman’s lodgings.

  Before she went, however, she sat down at her little table and began a letter to Aunt Edie, bringing up the surprising possibility of teaching the small daughter of one of Mr Spencer’s friends. And without going into the details of her initial encounter with Mr Fairman she spoke of having previously met him, and at the same time of not being overly impressed. She would that afternoon, however, be going to see the child. She wrote:

  This is one chore I do not look forward to, for I can’t see a wonderfully happy teacher/pupil relationship developing. But anyway, the job being tendered is not something I shall be forced to take, notwithstanding that I might feel some obligation to Mrs Spencer. You can be sure that I shall do what I can to resist Mr Fairman’s offer.

  There was no time to write more; for soon she would have to leave for her appointment in Corster.

  To Grace’s relief it was Johnson the groom who was given the task of driving her to Berron Wick station that afternoon. Alighting from the train in Corster, Grace took a fly to the address she had been given. The driver pulled up his horse before a house which was situated on the western side of the town between the river and the railway station. The house was Georgian and rather nondescript in appearance, with red brick walls and a plain façade. As the coachman drove off, Grace rang the bell. It was answered by a maid who when Grace enquired for Mr Fairman, said, ‘I’ll show you up, miss,’ and led her up the stairs to the first floor. There she rapped on the door of a room off the landing. The door was opened by Mr Fairman who thanked the girl and invited Grace inside. Turning back to the maid, he said, ‘Julia, d’you think you could provide some tea and cakes for my visitor and me?’ He smiled. ‘And not forgetting Sophie, of course. She’ll be returning any moment. I think perhaps a glass of milk for her.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’ The maid smiled at him and bobbed, then turned and headed back for the stairs.

  The man closed the door and then turned to Grace. He was dressed casually, wearing a woollen smoking jacket and a soft-collared shirt and tie, and held an open book in his right hand. He set down the book on a bureau and took Grace’s cape and laid it over the back of a chair. He thanked her for coming, then added with a smiling sigh, ‘We have a nurse and a maid, but I’m afraid both of them are out right now. Still, we shall manage all right.’ They were standing in a small vestibule and he gestured towards the room in front of them. ‘Please, come this way.’

  Grace stepped into a wide room, with windows overlooking the narrow street where the carriages trundled by. Briefly, passing a looking glass, she caught a glimpse of her reflection and saw herself, a tall girl wearing a dress of russet brown with a velvet bodice and draperies of lace. Her hand moved for a moment as if she would touch her chignon, but she did not, and took the seat that the man was gesturing to.

  She sat down on the sofa. He stood for a second looking down at her – he seemed enormously tall from this vantage point – then took a seat in a chair at right angles to her. ‘Mrs Simkin’s maid will bring our tea soon,’ he said.

  Grace nodded and gave a half-smile. She could think of nothing to say.

  ‘Did you have a good journey over?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’

  ‘And you had no difficulty finding the place?’

  ‘No, none at all.’

  She avoided his eyes when they fell upon her – though she could somehow sense that he himself was not totally at ease. She felt that he was making conversation just to fill the silence. She felt increasingly disconcerted, and wished fervently that she had not been placed in such a situation. There was no changing it, however, at least not for the moment.

  After staying silent for a few seconds, Mr Fairman said, ‘You don’t have to go through with this, Miss Harper. Really you don’t.’

  She did not look at him as he spoke, but even so she could feel that his eyes were not directed at her, but were looking elsewhere in the room. His words, so bluntly delivered, took her by surprise.

  ‘Do you mean,’ she said, ‘my being asked to –’

  ‘Precisely. I mean your being asked to come here – to be sent as governess to my daughter. I’m quite sure it’s the last thing you want. And I can’t say I blame you. I have no doubt that Mr and Mrs Spencer meant well, but I’m not sure that I myself would exactly welcome being thrust into such an unwelcome situation.’

  And now Grace spoke, lifting her face to him as he was looking at her. ‘Mr Fairman,’ she said, ‘I know we got off on the wrong foot – and I know also that it was as
much due to me as it was to you, and I –’

  He frowned at this. ‘As much due to you?’ he said. ‘Miss Harper, it was all due to you. I did nothing to you. I merely saved your purse from a casual thief – a young gypsy who had charmed you into thinking that he was merely an innocent young lad, and as such could do no wrong.’ He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and the cuff of his shirt and lifted his arm, exposing the discoloured bruise on his wrist. ‘And if you want evidence of his goodwill, you have only to look here,’ he said.

  ‘Mr Fairman, I don’t know why you have bring all that up,’ Grace said. ‘If I caused you embarrassment then I –’

  ‘No more than you brought upon yourself,’ he broke in.

  ‘ – As I was saying,’ she said evenly, ‘if I caused you embarrassment, then I regret it. But having said that, I’d as soon leave the matter forgotten and in the past, if it’s all the same to you. Of course, if you wish to dwell upon it, then I’m sure I can’t stop you.’

  ‘Miss Harper, I’m sorry.’ He leaned forward slightly in his chair, his voice rising a little in its pitch. ‘Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said that. I suppose neither one of us came out of that incident with any credit,’ and here, seeing her inhale, seeing her expression of displeasure, he quickly raised a hand, ‘ – and if I’m presuming too much in saying that, then forgive that too. I mean no offence, believe me.’

  Grace held her breath for a moment, let it out in a sigh, then said, ‘Sir – I would be so glad if we might simply – well – call a halt to this. Do you think we could?’

  ‘A truce?’ he said, his mouth moving in a smile. ‘I would be glad.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said with relief. ‘And I think, I must admit, that perhaps I came out of it better. After all, I came out of it with my purse, whereas you had a painful bite.’

  ‘True.’ He nodded, and looked ruefully again at his wrist. ‘But it’s mending.’