Too Close to the Sun

by Jess Foley

  The question took Grace by surprise, and she found it a little shocking. How much did people know? she sometimes wondered. She was about to say, Yes, at times he is. But she simply said, ‘He doesn’t complain. He never has.’

  ‘No, I doubt that he would. He doesn’t strike one as that kind of a lad.’ A brief moment of silence between them, then Mrs Spencer said, ‘I was hard on you both on that first day when you came bringing my paintings in their new frames. And you know why, of course, don’t you?’

  Grace did know, but she kept silent.

  Mrs Spencer went on. ‘I’m sure you do – you’re a sensitive person. Well, it was because of my leg, wasn’t it? You and your brother – you just stared at my limping across the room. It made me angry, as you no doubt noticed. And then, of course, I saw that young Billy also had a slight disablement.’ She was silent for a moment, then she added, ‘My leg – my condition – it didn’t come from any accident. Not like Billy. Did you know that?’

  ‘No,’ Grace said. She had wondered often, but had never dared ask knowledge of it of any of the servants.

  ‘No, I had infantile paralysis,’ Mrs Spencer said. ‘I was just coming up to four. I remember hardly anything about it. All I really remember is lying about so much and then growing up with a game leg and a limp.’

  Grace was at a loss for words. She wanted to say how sorry she was, but did not dare, for fear such sympathy might be thought impertinent.

  Mrs Spencer went on, ‘So no dances for me, I’m afraid, when I was a young girl. In fact, very little of any kind of physical activity. But I should think Billy knows about that too. Oh, when I was growing up I saw the other girls going off to their soirées, going ice skating when the lake was frozen over, but not me. Ah, well.’ She pressed her lips together and then added with a sigh, ‘But it’s no good standing here talking about it. It’s all a part of history now. Nothing to be done about it, and I’m not complaining. I’ve had my share of good times in spite of all that.’ She turned and started to move away, then added, looking over towards the fireplace, ‘I must see to the fire before I go,’ and Grace said at once, ‘Leave that to me. I’ll look after that. Let me walk with you to your room first.’

  Mrs Spencer said, just a trifle defensively, ‘Well, I don’t need it, of course,’ then added in the same breath, ‘but at the same time I’m always glad of your company, my dear.’

  Grace walked with her to the door, opened it for her and followed her mistress out of the room.

  There was one little gas light palely burning in the hall, another on the first-floor landing, and a third on the second floor. Looking up, Grace saw that the top of the cupola seemed to fade into a hazy darkness above the rail that ran around the gallery, the three figures in their niches looking ghostly and half-formed in the pale light. Mrs Spencer, stopping at Grace’s side, followed the line of her gaze and looked upwards.

  ‘Dear God,’ she said, ‘this is such an ugly house.’

  ‘Oh,’ Grace said quickly, hardly able to believe what she had heard, ‘but there are so many lovely things here. The high, ornate ceilings, the tall windows …’

  ‘Oh, some of the rooms are all right.’ Mrs Spencer gave a grudging nod. ‘Some are quite attractive in fact. But the house itself – it isn’t beautiful – it’s ugly. There’s no other word for it. My husband loves it, though. In his eyes it’s the finest place on earth. I would never have chosen to come here. But that’s what you do.’ She gave an ironic smile. ‘Such things will a wife do.’

  They moved on over the carpet of the hall, Mrs Spencer seeming to limp a little more and to lean a little more heavily on her stick than usual. When they reached the stairs she stopped, her free hand on the newel post, looked about her and said with a sigh, ‘No, I don’t think this has ever really been a home to me. And if truth be told, I think I would have been happy to let it stand empty. I never wanted it in the first place. I didn’t even know my uncle – my uncle who left it to me. I never met him in my life.’ She gave a little shake of her head. ‘Look at this place. One doesn’t need a hundred rooms in order to be happy. And I certainly don’t need such a place in order to be happy with Mr Spencer. Sometimes I think it doesn’t make him happy either. In a way it does but – it just eats up the money. It’s like some monstrous hungry animal. No matter how much money is spent on it it’s never satisfied. And now my husband is talking of having electricity installed throughout.’

  She stood there for a moment in silence then turned to Grace as if having just remembered her presence. ‘Take no notice of my meanderings, Grace. Sometimes I talk to myself, and sometimes I talk too much. I shouldn’t complain, I know. I’ve nothing to complain about.’

  She took the first step and side by side they moved steadily up the wide stairs together to the first-floor landing. There Mrs Spencer turned towards her room. ‘Thank you, Grace,’ she said. ‘And now you go on to bed. I’m sure you must be tired.’

  ‘I’ll see that the fire’s safe first.’

  ‘Yes, put the guard up.’

  ‘Good night, Mrs Spencer.’

  ‘Goodnight, Grace.’

  Mrs Spencer turned away and opened the door to her bedroom. As Grace made her way down the stairs the hall clock struck twelve.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following week Sophie was brought to and fetched from Asterleigh House by hired cab. The lessons proceeded as usual; the child worked hard and still seemed happy and contented with the arrangements. On three of the evenings Grace went to see Mrs Spencer. On the Tuesday they began a game of chess, but Grace could see that Mrs Spencer’s heart was not in it, and before long it was abandoned. For most of the rest of the time they chatted and worked with their needles, Grace sewing and mending clothes either for herself or Billy, and Mrs Spencer at her embroidery. Most of Grace’s evening time, however, was spent with Billy. During the whole week she saw nothing of Mr Spencer.

  Then, on the Friday, Mr Fairman himself brought Sophie for her lessons. On this occasion, having seen their arrival from the library window, Grace expected to see the carriage drive away again. But it did not happen. Going to the library door she got there just as Sophie came along the landing towards her. Sophie wished Grace a good morning, then added that her papa had gone to call on Mrs Spencer for morning coffee. Forty minutes later there drifted up the sound of a horse and carriage moving on the gravel, and Sophie got up from her chair at the table and ran to the window. ‘It’s Papa, driving away,’ she said, and waved, trying to attract his attention. ‘Ah, he doesn’t see me,’ she sighed. ‘Still, he’ll be back soon.’

  A minute later came a tap at the door and Jane was there, asking if Grace could go and see Mrs Spencer in her studio.

  Grace left Sophie working and went along the landing to her mistress’s studio where she found her standing with her face to the window. She turned as Grace entered, and Grace could see at once that it was one of her better days. She was not, however, dressed in her smock for painting. Beside her on the tall easel was the unfinished portrait of Grace.

  ‘Hello, Grace,’ she said as Grace entered, then with a gesture towards the canvas, ‘I’ve been showing your portrait to Mr Fairman. I mentioned to him that I’d begun a painting of you, and he was most insistent that I show it to him.’ She looked back at the painting, head a little on one side, studying it. ‘He seemed quite taken with it, and said I should set about finishing it.’

  Grace stood beside her mistress and looked at the picture, seeing herself gazing out from the canvas frame.

  ‘Edward has said often that I should finish it,’ Mrs Spencer went on. ‘He says it’s one of the best things I’ve done,’ and corrected herself with a little laugh, ‘ – or rather, one of the best things I’ve almost done.’ She turned to Grace. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, I like it very much, ma’am. And you know I’ll be happy to sit for it again whenever you like.’

  ‘Yes, I have no doubt of that, my dear. And an excellent sitter you wer
e, too.’ She sighed. ‘But do I have the energy right now? That’s the question. When I work on a canvas this size it’s a different matter. I can’t sit down to it at the smaller easel, the way I do when I paint one of my still lifes. For something like this I have to be able to walk to and from the easel. Not so easy with my leg.’ She stepped back from the painting, eyes narrowed, studying it. ‘Well, we shall see.’ She turned then, almost full circle, looking about her at the room. ‘I haven’t worked in here in – oh, it seems ages,’ she said a little wistfully. ‘For years I couldn’t wait to get to my painting every day. But these past months – I don’t know – I don’t seem to have had the urge that I once did.’ She moved to her painting table on which stood her jar of brushes, the little container of linseed oil, the larger one of turpentine, the old rag that she used to wipe her brushes on, and her palette – the latter covered with different hues of paint smears, just as she had left it. Seeing it all, Grace reflected that when she had first come to the house eight months earlier it would have been inconceivable that such a thing could happen. Time had changed things.

  ‘Anyway,’ Mrs Spencer turned back to Grace, ‘ – I didn’t ask you come here just to hear me go on about my painting. I had another reason.’ She paused. ‘You left Sophie at work, did you?’

  ‘She’s doing some arithmetic. Simple addition and subtraction.’

  ‘Well done.’ She gestured towards a wicker chair standing nearby. ‘Please sit down. I won’t keep you long.’

  Grace sat, and Mrs Spencer sat in the old grandfather chair, the one that Grace had sat in for her portrait.

  ‘Now …’ Mrs Spencer said, ‘as I said to you just now, I didn’t drag you out of your lesson with Sophie merely to ask your opinions on my painting. The reason I asked you is because I’ve just been having a little chat to Mr Fairman, and he’s asked me if it will be possible for you to go to his house and teach Sophie once he’s moved in.’

  ‘Well – yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Good. He’s going to speak to you about it when he comes back to collect her this afternoon, but I thought I’d mention it to you first. He says he also would like your assistance in another way.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He would like you to help, so I understand, in the placement of all the ornaments and pictures and such things in the house.’

  ‘But – but why me?’

  ‘He says he wants someone with an artistic eye. Going by what Mr Spencer tells me, Mr Fairman’s wife would have revelled in it. An artistic woman, by all accounts. But, Grace, you don’t have to do it. I merely told him that as far as I was concerned you would be perfectly free to help out. But of course you’re not obliged to.’

  Grace would so much rather she had not been asked. But how could she refuse? What reason could she give?

  ‘If you’d rather not,’ Mrs Spencer said. ‘If you have some reason not to, then it’s better you say so.’

  A pause, then Grace said, ‘If there’s some way I can help Sophie and Mr Fairman then I’m happy to do so. So long as it’s perfectly all right with you.’

  Mrs Spencer smiled and gave a little nod. ‘Yes, of course. Thank you, my dear. Mr Fairman will be very pleased.’

  It was not easy for Grace to concentrate on Sophie’s lessons after the meeting with Mrs Spencer, and she was a little anxious when the time came for Sophie’s lessons to come to an end.

  She was so attuned to the sounds of Mr Fairman’s arrival that she could not have missed hearing them. First came the sound of the horse-drawn carriage on the forecourt and then the ring at the front doorbell.

  ‘It’s Papa,’ Sophie said. ‘He’s a little early this afternoon.’

  When Sophie was dressed in her light cape and hat, Grace escorted her to the stairs. There was no longer any point in trying to avoid Mr Fairman. She had already agreed to help him at his new home, so she must face him and get used to the situation. And she comforted herself with the knowledge that it wouldn’t be for much longer, for once they had settled into the new house Sophie would be enrolled in school and would no longer have need of a governess.

  As she and Sophie walked down the stairs Mr Fairman turned from looking at a painting on the wall and started towards them. He met them at the foot of the staircase, his hand coming out towards Grace in greeting.

  ‘Ah, Miss Harper, how nice to see you again. It’s been some days.’

  ‘How do you do, sir.’

  Mr Fairman turned to address his daughter. ‘Sophie,’ he said, ‘would you be a good girl and sit here in the hall for a few minutes while I have a private word with Miss Harper? We shan’t be long.’ He gestured to a bench beneath the window. ‘Sit over there, if you will.’

  Obediently Sophie moved to the bench and sat down, hands clasped in front of her. Mr Fairman turned to Grace. ‘Miss Harper, could we go somewhere and talk for a minute?’ Then without waiting for an answer he added, ‘I’d suggest we walked outside, but you’re not dressed for it and the day is not overly warm. What about the conservatory? I’m sure Mrs Spencer wouldn’t object if we went in there for a while.’

  ‘We can go outside,’ she said, drawing her shawl more closely about her shoulders. ‘I shan’t be cold.’

  He smiled. ‘As you wish.’

  Grace moved to a hook beside the door and took down the front door key that hung there. Fairman moved to the front door, opened it, then said to Sophie, ‘I’ll come back for you in a minute.’

  Grace stood on the gravel while he closed the front door behind them. He was right, she thought, the day was not warm, and she pulled her shawl more closely about her. He came to her side and they set off slowly over the gravel, walking along on the forecourt with the house on their left. After they had moved just a few paces, Grace said, ‘Mrs Spencer’s already spoken to me about your moving. I told her I’d be happy to help in any way if I can.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said in a tone of disappointment, ‘I didn’t want the request to come from her. I wanted to speak to you myself.’

  ‘It’s quite all right. There’s no harm done. She was thinking of me.’

  ‘And quite right too. I didn’t know what to do for the best. I approached Mrs Spencer first as I didn’t want her to think me presumptuous. After all, you’re here to help her, not me and Sophie. I’m already deeply in your debt, what with all the lessons you’re giving Sophie. So much so that I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Sophie is an excellent pupil, and if I can help her with her learning then I’m happy to do it.’

  ‘Even so …’ He paused. ‘So – so you’re agreeable to coming over to Birchwood House to help us out a little, once our things are moved in?’

  ‘Yes. Though I’m sure I don’t know how much use I can possibly be.’

  ‘Oh, you can be a great help,’ he said, ‘a great help, make no mistake about that. We have so many things – paintings, sculptures, lamps, so many objets d’art. And it’ll be so useful to have another pair of eyes when it comes to the placing of the various bits and pieces.’

  ‘Well, as I said, if there’s any way I can help, I’ll be only too glad to.’

  They had reached the end of the house, and they came to a halt, standing on the gravel, a few feet away from one another.

  Mr Fairman said, ‘Our furniture and effects are to be delivered next Friday. The painters will be gone by then, and all the carpets will be down. I should think the following Monday would be a good time to begin putting the things in order. What do you think about Monday? Could you come then? Would that be convenient?’

  ‘Yes, I should think that would be all right.’

  ‘I thought perhaps Sophie could have her lessons during the day as well. She’ll get bored with nothing to do, so if she’s set some of her school tasks she can get on with them while we try to get the place in order. Sophie’s nurse will be there too, so she can help us out in various ways as well. I would guess it’ll take about a week. But you help out just a
s long as it suits you. I’ll send a fly to meet you at the station each morning, and take you back again at the end of the day.’

  Grace nodded. ‘Yes. That sounds fine.’

  They stood in silence. Then, increasingly conscious of their proximity, Grace made a move to turn and start back towards the house. At once Mr Fairman said, ‘Don’t go – not for a moment.’

  Grace stayed. After a second he said, ‘Why have you been avoiding me?’

  She could not bring herself to speak.

  ‘You have,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you have. Ever since the day when we saw you at the market you’ve avoided me. I bring Sophie here for her lessons and you’re nowhere to be seen. Neither when I arrive nor when I depart. Why is that? It’s not as it used to be. Why? Is it coincidence? Or have I done something to offend you?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she said.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that, at least. But then, why have you been avoiding me?’

  Now she remained silent. In fact, had she spoken and tried to speak the truth she would not have had much of an answer to give him. For she was still so much in the dark. All she was primarily aware of was a sense of turmoil, almost familiar now – and all connected with him. And somehow Miss Lewin was there in the picture too.

  A sharp, keen wind came around the side of the house, ruffling Fairman’s hair and blowing at Grace’s skirts. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘it’s too cold to stay out here,’ and he put his hand under her elbow in a gentle urging to move away. She needed no second such gesture. Side by side they made their way back to the front door where Grace let them back in with the key.

  ‘So,’ he said to Sophie as they entered the hall, ‘Miss Harper’s going to come over to Birchwood and help us with our moving. Isn’t that splendid?’

  When, nine days later, Grace arrived at Birchwood House she found it newly papered and painted and the carpets and furniture in place. After setting Sophie some school-work to complete at a little table in one corner of the drawing room, Grace set about helping Mr Fairman in the task of arranging the various artefacts that still remained packed away. They had help in the shape of Sophie’s nurse Nancy, a young maid from the village, and a general carpenter-cum-handyman. Other than a number of larger paintings, most of the items were still stored in several tea chests. As the time passed, the paintings were hung on the walls and the artefacts were taken out of their wrappings. Newly dusted, and polished where necessary, the clocks, the lamps, the ornaments, the silver, the glass and the china were set out in their newly chosen places.