by Jess Foley
The next morning, Saturday, Billy brought Grace a letter that had just arrived in the post. It was from Stephen.
Dear Grace,
I learned from Mrs Tanner where you are now living.
You might have heard that my circumstances have changed. I would like to see you. Please write and let me know if we might meet. I have to be in Berron Wick on Thursday the 3rd May, and with your permission I’d like to see you then. I could either come to Asterleigh House or meet you somewhere nearby. Whatever is agreeable to you I’ll fall in with. I should be grateful if you would let me know your response as soon as possible so that I can make any necessary arrangements. I need hardly add that I am aware that in many eyes perhaps I don’t deserve your consideration. But I hope you will at least see me and let me speak to you – for old times’ sake if nothing else.
Yours,
Stephen Cantrell
Grace read the letter through several times, sitting in her little chair beside the window in her room. Billy, standing nearby, watching her, as always sensitive to her moods, looked at her expression and said, ‘What is it, Grace? Who is it from?’
She turned to him as if coming out of a dream. ‘What? Oh – it’s from Stephen. Mr Cantrell. You remember him, don’t you?’
‘Yes, of course. We haven’t seen him for a long time.’
‘No, we haven’t.’
‘Why is he writing?’
‘He – he wants to see me.’
‘What for?’
Grace paused, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know, Billy. I don’t know.’
Grace went back to Stephen’s letter repeatedly over the weekend, so many times that in the end she had learned most of it by heart. The questions came silently over and over. After all these months, why was he writing? Why did he want to see her?
Freed from the schedule of teaching Sophie, who, she surmised, was occupied with their London visitor, Miss Lewin, Grace spent more time with Mrs Spencer over the days immediately following. In part, it seemed to Grace that Mrs Spencer was aware that she, Grace, might be somewhat at a loss without the responsibility of her teaching post and perhaps called upon her now out of a sense of kindness. But Grace also had the sense that Mrs Spencer, with her husband being so much away from the house, was truly glad of her company. So they spent their time sketching together, playing the odd game of chess, working on their embroidery or general sewing, and chatting in a desultory fashion. On one occasion Grace joined Mrs Spencer at the piano, where they worked – not altogether satisfactorily, but with good humour – on a piece for four hands.
So often Grace thought of Stephen’s letter, and tried in her mind to compose a reply. But she was never able to. She simply did not know what to say. And so she left the words unformed and unwritten.
On Thursday, it being market day in Corster, Grace decided to go into the town to buy some things for Mrs Spencer, Billy and herself.
As Rhind was off with Mr Spencer, and Mr Johnson appeared to be well occupied with the horses, Grace walked to Berron Wick and took the train.
Arriving in the town – busy as usual for a Thursday – she consulted her list and set about her errands, buying for Mrs Spencer coloured silks and a couple of paintbrushes. While passing along the busy street from the small draper’s she encountered Mr Timmins, who had come into the market to sell some of his livestock. They stopped to talk for a minute and he asked after her welfare and that of Billy. Afterwards she went on her way.
At one point in her shopping she saw the back of a tall man’s form, and was reminded at once of Stephen. It was not he, but the likeness was sufficient to bring him into her mind. And through her mind ran once more the contents of his letter. She must reply to it. But what should she say? What did she want to say?
When at last her shopping was done she decided she would drink a little tea before starting back to Asterleigh. She was crossing the street when she heard over the noise of the people a child’s voice calling her name, and, turning, she saw Sophie come dodging through the crowd towards her.
‘Sophie, what a surprise!’
Grace bent to her and Sophie, smiling broadly, pressed Grace’s arm. ‘We came to the market too, miss,’ she said.
Looking over Sophie’s head, Grace saw Mr Fairman standing near a stall on the edge of the milling crowd. Their eyes met and he smiled at her through the moving heads. She saw his mouth shape a greeting, and murmured some words in return. Then Sophie was pulling at her arm, saying, ‘Come, Miss Harper, come and see Papa,’ and Grace allowed herself to be drawn across the cobbles to where Mr Fairman was standing.
‘Miss Harper!’ he said. ‘How nice to see you here. Though I suppose it shouldn’t be seen as so much of a surprise, since it seems that all of Wiltshire has come to market today.’ He looked down at Sophie. ‘And Sophie loves to come here. She likes to see the animals in the cattle market.’ He grinned, smiling down at his daughter. ‘Even the smell doesn’t put her off.’
Sophie spoke up, saying, ‘We’re just going to have some tea, miss.’ She looked up at her father. ‘Papa, can Miss Harper come and have some tea with us?’
‘Oh, no, really,’ Grace began to protest, ‘I really couldn’t dream of intruding –’ But Mr Fairman said quickly, ‘Of course – what an excellent idea. Although perhaps you have other appointments, Miss Harper …?’
‘Well, no,’ Grace said, ‘I have not,’ and had she continued she would have had to admit that she herself had been on her way to get a little refreshment. ‘Then you must come with us,’ said Mr Fairman, and as she half-heartedly protested again, added: ‘Oh, come on – you have time to join us for a little cup of tea, surely.’ And Grace, feeling that she had protested quite enough, could only give a nod and murmur words of acquiescence.
Grace expected then that they would all three move off, but Sophie said, ‘We have to wait just a minute for Miss Lewin. She’s gone to buy some lozenges from the sweet-shop.’ And Grace felt her spirits sink. She should have remembered that Mr Fairman and Sophie had their guest from London, and should also have realized that Miss Lewin would in all likelihood be accompanying them to the market. For a moment she felt words of protest and excuse coming to her lips but she forced them back; it was too late to do anything about it now, and Mr Fairman was smiling, gazing off into the crowd and saying, ‘Ah, here comes Miss Lewin now.’
Miss Lewin came to them out of the throng, a tall, slim young lady wearing a grey cape trimmed with sable over a dark blue dress. She carried her reticule and umbrella in one hand, and in the other two small packages. On her head she wore a neat little toque trimmed with ribbons and a bird’s wing.
Reaching the little group who stood waiting for her, she took in Grace’s presence with an interested glance, then turned, smiling, to Mr Fairman, as if asking for information on the newcomer. Mr Fairman at once produced the introductions: ‘Miss Harper, this is our friend from London, Miss Lewin. Miss Lewin – Miss Grace Harper, Sophie’s teacher.’
As Grace murmured ‘How do you do,’ Miss Lewin gave a wide smile and said, ‘How do you do, Miss Harper. How very nice! Sophie has been telling me all about you.’ Her face, Grace thought, was strikingly beautiful with fair skin and finely arched eyebrows framed by black hair.
‘I just suggested,’ Mr Fairman said, ‘that Miss Harper joins us for some tea, and I’m happy to say that she’s agreed to come.’
‘Well, that’s splendid,’ Miss Lewin said, adding with a little laugh, ‘The more the merrier.’
Mr Harper said to Grace, ‘When we’ve settled on a place, I’ll leave you ladies having your tea while I complete a little business with my solicitor. It won’t take me long.’
They went to a little teashop in a side way leading from the high street and, looking in, saw that they could get a table without having to wait. At once Mr Fairman turned to Miss Lewin and Grace, saying, ‘If you’ll excuse me, then, ladies, I’ll just pop back into the high street. I’ll join you here in ten minutes.’
&nb
sp; ‘Well, don’t you dare make it any longer than that,’ Miss Lewin said, ‘or we shall send the search party for you – not to mention the Bow Street Runners.’
Mr Fairman laughed, touched Sophie’s cheek, put fingertips to his hat, and turned and started away.
The two women and the child went into the teashop and sat down at a table, Grace and Sophie on one side, Miss Lewin on the other. When the waitress had come over with her notepad Miss Lewin said, ‘Now, ladies, you must tell me what you’d like,’ and after ascertaining what was required said to the waitress that it would be a pot of tea for three, and one lemonade. ‘And any little treats?’ Miss Lewin asked. ‘Perhaps a pastry or some sandwiches?’ Grace declined, but Sophie, seeing at the next table a youth eating some sponge cake confection with cream, whispered to Miss Lewin that if it was all right she would like some of the same. Miss Lewin gave the order to the waitress, then turned to Grace. ‘Are you sure, Miss Harper,’ she said, ‘that you wouldn’t also like some cake or a pastry?’ and before Grace had a chance to refuse again, said to the waitress, who was already turning away, ‘Bring two of the cream sponges, please.’ Grace raised a hand in protest and opened her mouth to speak, but the waitress had already gone.
‘Well, that’s done,’ Miss Lewin said, and gave a little sigh, as if she had accomplished a feat. ‘Now we can relax.’ Taking off her gloves, she addressed Sophie. ‘And if your papa doesn’t take too long he might get back to have a cup of tea before it gets cold.’ Putting a slim hand up to check on her hat and hair, she looked around the crowded interior of the teashop. ‘Well,’ she said, lowering her voice to a murmur, ‘what a quaint little place.’ Then she added, ‘And how – unusual. I have to say that I’ve been here in Corster a few days now, but I’m sure if I stayed a lifetime I’d never get used to living in such a place.’ She turned to Sophie. ‘Do you like living here, Sophie? Right down here in the country?’
‘Oh, yes, I do, miss,’ Sophie replied. ‘It’s very different from Kensington, but it’s lovely. There’s so much to see. There are foxes and squirrels and rabbits and – oh, all kinds of creatures. The other day when we were out with Papa we bought some birds in cages, a song thrush and –’ Here she quickly turned to Grace. ‘What were the other two, miss? I’ve forgotten their names.’
‘One was an oriole, a golden oriole,’ Grace said. ‘The other was a skylark.’
‘That’s right – a golden oriole, a skylark and a thrush. Oh, they were lovely.’
‘Oh, caged birds can look beautiful in the right setting,’ Miss Lewin said, ‘though I don’t think of thrushes and skylarks as being particularly attractive. They might have a nice song, but I don’t think they’d set off a room to any great advantage. Give me a pretty little parakeet or bird of paradise any day. They might not be able to sing, but they look beautiful. I’m rather surprised at your papa buying such dreary-looking creatures. I should have been with him; I’d have talked him out of the purchase.’
‘Oh, but we didn’t buy them to keep,’ Sophie said. ‘We bought them to set free.’
‘You did what?’ Clearly Miss Lewin did not understand. ‘You bought them to set free?’
‘Yes.’ Sophie giggled, still thrilled at the memory. ‘Papa bought them from the gypsy woman, and we opened the cages and let the birds fly away.’
‘You opened the cages and let the birds fly away.’ Miss Lewin repeated the words with some deliberation, as if weighing them up. ‘How very bizarre.’
‘Oh, Miss Lewin, it was lovely,’ Sophie said. ‘We watched them fly up into the trees. They were gone in a trice.’
‘Is this so?’ Miss Lewin turned to Grace with the raising of a finely arched brow. ‘I’m sure Sophie wouldn’t – couldn’t – invent such a thing – but it just seems so very odd.’ There was no humour in the rather perplexed smile that touched at her pink lips.
‘Yes, it’s just as Sophie says,’ Grace said, and added, smiling, ‘It was a wonderful moment. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’
‘No, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything, either,’ Sophie said, happy to agree with Grace. ‘It was wonderful.’
‘Wonderful, eh? Well –’ Miss Lewin gave a little shrugging smile, ‘to each his own.’ And now she gave a little laugh. ‘I can see that your papa has let the country air go to his head.’ She paused a moment, and the smile on her mouth became one of indulgence. She put her hand across the table and briefly touched Sophie on the tip of her nose. ‘I think it’s splendid that you’ve taken to country life so well. And you deserve to have some pleasure, you dear thing.’
Sophie said, ‘When we move into our house Papa’s going to buy me a pony.’
‘Ah, when you move into your new house. Yes, your papa told me of it. And he’s taking me to see it tomorrow. D’you think I shall like it?’
Sophie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh, yes, it’s a lovely house. It’s right in the country – with only trees and meadows around. You’ll love it.’
‘Shall I indeed?’ Miss Lewin’s light little laugh came again. ‘I’m not at all sure that I’m suited for a life in the country.’
‘Oh, yes, miss, yes! You could be,’ Sophie said. ‘You just haven’t been here long enough yet.’
Miss Lewin gave a little nod and a smile. ‘Well, perhaps. Perhaps the place could grow on me, though at the moment it doesn’t feel so much like a hundred and twenty miles from London, but more like a thousand. It’s like a different country.’
‘Don’t you care for Corster?’ asked Grace. She herself had never thought to question anything about the place. It was there, and that was that. Like the Rock of Gibraltar, she might have said, or the Sahara Desert, some things are as they are; they are to be accepted and cannot possibly be changed. And being so it was more or less fruitless even to name a place’s values or lack of values.
‘Oh, it’s not that I don’t care for it,’ Miss Lewin said. ‘It’s just that, as I say, it’s so very different. This place, this little teashop,’ she waved a hand, taking in the crowded interior with its patronage of the usual townspeople, ‘it’s so – quaint. And the shops here in the town. I tell you, I brought money with me in the expectation of perhaps buying a new gown, but after seeing what’s on offer here I shall save my money till I get back to Bond Street. There’s nothing here that’s been fashionable in the last ten years.’
Grace could not help but feel a little affronted at the criticism of a place that was so close to her. ‘But if you went to Redbury,’ she said, ‘you would find fashionable shops. I wouldn’t necessarily expect to find high fashion in a market town. I doubt the townspeople would expect to find it either. In any case it suits them the way things are.’
‘Oh, it’s not only the lack of fashionable shops and stores in such a place,’ Miss Lewin said. ‘That’s just a part of it. It’s just all so –’ and here she dropped her voice almost to a whisper ‘ – parochial. I mean – wandering around this town centre. One can get all dressed up to make the excursion – but for what purpose? There’s so little to see that it’s all over in fifteen minutes. One’s covered the whole place before one’s taken a second breath.’ Here she lifted her hand and touched at the tip of her nose with the back of her forefinger. ‘And I have no wish to be indelicate – but the smell when one goes anywhere near the livestock – ! Dear God, I’ve never known anything like it. And I should never forget it, I can assure you of that. Oh, dear, no. And as for walking –’ she laughed again here, a gentle little sound amid the hum of voices and the chink of the china, ‘well, I’ve never before had to be so careful of where I tread.’ She shook her head. ‘You can’t tell me that you find such a thing attractive, surely?’
‘Well, of course not,’ Grace said. ‘But it’s a part of life here. It’s a market town, after all. Wiltshire is rural. This is what you get in a market town.’
‘But the smell. Is it like that all the time? Surely not.’
Grace allowed herself a little smile. ‘No. Only on market days.
But as I said, it’s a part of it. One accepts it.’
Miss Lewin put her head a little on one side now, looking curiously at Grace, as if Grace had said something quietly outrageous. ‘You accept it. I see. Well, rather you than me.’
Grace said nothing to this. She did not know what to say. She had never met anyone quite like Miss Lewin before, and although there was no denying that the young woman was beautiful, Grace also found her very proud and not a little unsympathetic and – and foreign.
Miss Lewin turned in her seat and with a frown gave an impatient glance over towards the door leading to the kitchens. ‘I wonder how long it takes people to make a pot of tea,’ she said. ‘I should have told the girl I’m only here till Saturday.’ Then, turning back, she said to Grace with a little sigh, as if putting behind her a rather dispiriting subject, ‘But anyway, enough of all that … How do you enjoy teaching our dear Sophie?’
Grace was on firmer ground here and she said without hesitation, ‘Oh, excellently. I enjoy it very much. In fact, if I told you how much I enjoyed it, Sophie might get a swelled head.’
‘You hear that, Sophie?’ Miss Lewin said to the child. ‘We wouldn’t want that, would we?’
Sophie laughed and shook her head, her straw hat shifting on her curls.
‘And have you been teaching long?’ Miss Lewin asked.
‘For several years now,’ Grace said. ‘Until last summer I spent some time teaching two little boys, the sons of a doctor in Green Shipton, the village where I was born, and where I lived before I moved to Berron Wick. Before that I was teaching a little boy who –’
‘Well, indeed you have been busy,’ Miss Lewin cut in, then added, ‘I can’t imagine the life of a governess. I’m sure it must be very trying at times, particularly if you have the wrong pupil. I have to say, I do sincerely admire you for it.’
Grace was not sure how to take this, but she was saved having to think of a response, for Sophie cried, ‘Oh, here comes Papa,’ and turning, Grace saw Mr Fairman coming in at the door. Weaving between the tables, he came across the room towards them.
