by Jess Foley
When the doctor returned an hour later he found Mrs Spencer writhing in the bed, plucking spasmodically at the sheets while her eyes rolled in her head and unintelligible words stammered from between her dry lips. The doctor was able to do nothing for her, and fifteen minutes later she was dead.
Chapter Seventeen
On a cold and damp November afternoon, Grace and Billy stood side by side at Mrs Spencer’s grave in the yard of the local church. The newly erected stone at the grave’s head bore the simple legend:
DEARLY BELOVED
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
ELEANOR ALICE SPENCER
2 MARCH 1837 – 31 OCTOBER 1888
It was a Saturday, there was no one else about, and the place was silent. Billy carried flowers, chrysanthemums from the gardens of Asterleigh House, kindly cut by the gardener. The flowers left on the grave at the time of the funeral were dying, and Billy stood silently by while Grace discarded them and refilled a pot with fresh water. When the new flowers were in place she straightened and bowed her head and said a silent little prayer. At her side, Billy did the same. Afterwards he opened his eyes, turned to Grace and said:
‘She was so nice to me, Grace.’
‘Well, she liked you.’
‘She gave me her second-best watercolour set.’
‘I know she did. She admired your talent, too.’
‘And she gave me pocket money.’
‘She was a very kind lady.’
Grace bent and adjusted one of the blossoms in the pot, then, straightening, said with a sigh, ‘Well, I don’t know how much longer we shall be able to come here.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Billy said.
She didn’t answer his question, but took from her pocket a sealed envelope. ‘We must go back by way of the letter-box,’ she said. ‘I have this to post.’
They made their way out of the churchyard and set off along the lane to where the post box was set in the churchyard wall. Billy held out his hand and Grace gave him the letter and he ran off and slipped the letter into the slot.
‘I’ve written away for a position,’ she said when he returned to her side.
Throughout the autumn days since Mrs Spencer’s death, Grace had pored over the classified advertisements in the newspapers searching for a suitable post. Ideally, as she had wished before, she would have liked a resident position where she could also take Billy, but she knew that such a place was an impossibility. The next best thing would be to find one where she would be employed on a daily, visiting basis, and find rooms for Billy and herself somewhere not too far away from her place of employment.
Now Billy was looking at her in surprise. ‘To go and work somewhere else?’
‘Yes.’ They walked on along the lane, back in the direction of Asterleigh House.
‘But – but why should you want to do that?’ Billy said.
‘Because I no longer have a job here. My job was as companion to Mrs Spencer. But now that she’s gone …’
‘Did Mr Spencer say you have to get another job?’
‘No, he’s hardly ever there, and when he is he’s so busy, anyway, what with one thing and another. He’s so distracted – he probably doesn’t even notice that we’re around half the time. But it can’t continue like it.’
‘You could ask him.’
‘No, no. You must realize, I’ve been paid some of my wages in advance but after that I can’t go and ask for more. Ask for more for doing what? It’s all right for you, you’re going to school and working at your lessons, but I don’t have any work to do. Oh, I find things to keep me occupied, but it’s not what I’m paid to do.’
‘But Grace – if you get a new position it’ll mean we have to leave the house.’
Grace was silent at this.
‘Oh, Grace,’ he said, ‘don’t say we have to leave Asterleigh. If we leave we might have to go and live in that place where all the bugs were in the bedding and –’
‘No,’ Grace said sharply, ‘we shan’t be going back there, have no fear of that.’
‘Or some place even worse, perhaps.’
‘I won’t allow it.’
‘I don’t want to go away from here, Grace.’
‘We haven’t got a choice, Billy.’
He said nothing to this and, turning, she saw that tears had filled his eyes. She stopped in the middle of the lane, put out her arms and drew him to her. ‘Oh, Billy, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’
‘Grace, we don’t have to move again, do we? I like it so much at Asterleigh. Everyone is nice to me. And at school, too. Oh, Grace –’ he turned to her now with a pleading look, ‘I’ll work really hard, I promise I will. I really will. I’ll do better at school, and I’ll help in the house more and the stables. I shall –’
‘It’s not a matter of your having to do better; you’re doing very well. Everyone thinks so. It’s just that – we can’t stay here.’
‘But I shall have to find a new school.’
‘Please don’t cry, Billy.’
‘I – I’m sorry. I’m being silly.’
‘No, you’re not. I understand how you feel.’
After a while his tears dried. He took Grace’s hand, and together they walked back to Asterleigh House.
A few days afterwards Grace saw Mr Spencer – which was not a frequent occurrence given his busy schedule. She was in the library when he came into the room, clearly not expecting anyone to be there. Following the funeral he had kept away from almost everyone. Further, he had been away from the house so much. Standing at the shelves with a book and a duster in her hand, she turned at the sound of the door opening and saw his tall figure enter the room. It was three weeks after the funeral.
‘Mr Spencer, good morning.’
He looked around at the sound of her voice. ‘Hello, Grace … I just came in for a book. I won’t disturb you for long.’ He moved to one of the shelves and took down a small volume. Turning back to her, he registered the duster in her hand, and said, ‘What are you doing?’
‘Oh, I’m just – trying to make myself useful. As well I can.’
‘You’re dusting books?’ His tone was a little incredulous.
‘Well – Jane and Annie have enough to do between them. And it has to be done.’
‘I suppose it does. But I didn’t expect to see you doing it.’
‘I have to do something, sir.’
He nodded. ‘No doubt.’ He stood there in silence for a moment, as if considering the situation, then said, ‘I suppose many things around here have changed now.’
Grace said nothing, and at a loss, put the book on the shelf and took down another one. And almost at once Mr Spencer said with an irritable wave of his hand, ‘Oh, Grace, put the books down for a moment, please.’
She did so, and stood there, silent.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just that – oh, I can’t stand all the – the changes that have taken place. Everything is so different in so many ways. Now that my wife is gone I – oh, I don’t know – it’s just all so different.’ He turned his face away and stepped to the window overlooking the fore-court. ‘I miss her so,’ he added gruffly.
Grace nodded.
‘I can’t describe it,’ he added after a moment. ‘She was always here. We came into this house together. We first set foot in it together. Not that long ago. But long enough for her to make her mark, to be a part of the whole place.’ He turned to face her. ‘She was a lady, Grace. She had no title, but she was a lady, through and through.’
‘There’s no doubt about that, sir.’
‘No. And thank you.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not the same without her, I don’t mind saying.’ He looked from Grace’s face to the feather duster she had put down on the shelf beside her. ‘And here you are dusting books in the library, because you can’t find anything better to do.’
‘As I said, sir – I must do something.’
‘Yes. What is the good of being a companion, if there’s no one to be
a companion to? – is that it?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Yes. But you were not meant to be a lady’s companion at any rate, were you? Not that you didn’t do your work very well, I’m sure. With your intelligence you’re much more suited to being a governess. You wouldn’t want to go as companion to any other woman, would you? I’m sure it must be a tedious job, and have few rewards. I’m never sure of a companion’s place in the hierarchy of a household. Perhaps something akin to that of a governess. It’s commonly said that they’re between places – neither a part of the family, nor one of the servants. Have you had difficulties like that?’
‘I can’t say I have, sir.’
‘Well, that’s all to the good, then. Though I don’t doubt it can be hard at times, being a companion. And particularly to some women. Always having to be agreeable, so many times having to bite your tongue, never to have a contrary opinion.’
‘If I may say so, sir, it was always very easy being with Mrs Spencer.’
‘Was it?’ He put his head a little on one side, considering her. ‘Was it really?’
‘Yes. I think we had a – a good understanding.’
He nodded. ‘Doubtless you did. I know that my wife could have her difficult side at times, but get past that and you saw the real person there. Which was what you no doubt did. Well, she liked you, Grace, I know that much. And my wife thought a great deal of your brother too.’
Grace smiled. ‘Yes, sir, I know. She was very kind to him. Very kind. And he misses her too.’
‘Mmm. And Billy hasn’t had the easiest time of it, has he?’
‘He’s been a lot happier over recent months, sir – apart from the – the loss of Mrs Spencer. Since coming here he’s been getting on well at school, and he’s made friends in the area. It’s done so much for his self-confidence. And Mrs Spencer – she helped him.’
‘That pleases me,’ he said with a little smile. ‘And it would have pleased my wife too, to hear you say such a thing.’ He gestured towards the duster. ‘Though I doubt she’d be pleased to see you doing this work.’
‘I often did work like this, sir, when the mistress was alive. Mrs Spencer didn’t always want help from me. I don’t like to be idle, and it’s a big house to care for.’
‘I know that.’ He looked off into the distance beyond the window.
Grace said after a moment: ‘I’m looking for a new position, sir, though I don’t suppose that will come as any surprise to you.’
He turned to her. ‘Well, it shouldn’t, should it? As I said just now, how can you be a companion if there’s no one to be a companion to? What have you done about it – going after a new situation?’
‘I’ve been answering advertisements in the papers.’
‘And have you had any promising responses yet?’
‘Not yet, sir, but it’s early days.’
‘What are you going for? A governess, I presume.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Of course.’ A brief pause. ‘It’s a shame you lost your little pupil, Mr Fairman’s daughter.’
Grace turned her face away, and he quickly added: ‘But that’s not something you wish to be reminded of, I know. I never had a chance to say it before, but let me say now that I’m very sorry things happened there in the way they did. Have you heard anything of Mr Fairman and his daughter?’
‘No, sir.’
‘No word at all? No, I haven’t either. But there you are – that’s the way things go sometimes – sad to say.’ He sighed. ‘But anyway, that’s all in the past. What is pressing for the present,’ he said, ‘is that you have to find some employment you’ll enjoy. Unfortunately I don’t know how I can help you.’
‘I shall manage, sir, somehow. I don’t have any choice.’
‘How does Billy feel about it, the likelihood of your leaving?’
‘He’s not happy about it. He loves it here. He has his school nearby, his friends. He has his own room here in the house.’ She smiled. ‘He never had such a room before.’
‘He helps out too, I know – in the stables and the scullery, when he can.’ He smiled. ‘He’s like you, Grace – he doesn’t like to be idle.’ He hesitated a moment longer, then moved back to the door. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to your work – whatever you choose to do.’ In the doorway he turned. ‘But please bear in mind – that you don’t have to go. I’m sure we can find a way.’
When he had gone, closing the door behind him, Grace thought back on his words. It would be so good to be able to stay on in the house, she thought. Not to have to uproot Billy from all that he had become familiar with. But what alternative did they have?
On a Saturday just before Christmas Grace achieved positive results from her endeavours and found employment with a family in Little Berron, less than three miles from Berron Wick. Her employment was to begin early in the new year.
At Asterleigh House she told Billy of her success – which she had learned of that morning by letter.
‘Grace, I don’t want to leave here,’ he said.
‘I know you don’t. But we don’t always have choices. We can’t stay on when I have no work to do here.’
Billy remained silent. She had come upon him in the stable yard as he came back from the woodland beyond the paddock. Over his shoulder he carried a sack containing bits of dead wood, kindling for the kitchen stove and copper.
‘Billy,’ she said, ‘try to understand, will you? If we could stay I would love it, for your sake. But as things are we just can’t.’
He nodded and sighed. ‘All right. But it won’t be till after Christmas, will it?’
‘No.’
He nodded. ‘Good.’ A little pause, then he added, ‘I’m sorry for making a fuss, Grace.’ He hitched the sack more securely in place and turned away. ‘I have to put this stuff in the stables so it’ll dry out.’
In the house Grace made her way to the drawing room and tapped on the door. Mr Spencer’s voice called for her to enter, and she pushed open the door and went in.
He had been in the house for most of the week and, so Mrs Sandiston said, was to remain there over Christmas. Grace found him sitting by the crackling fire, some papers spread out on the low table at his side. The smell of pipe tobacco hung in the air. He looked up and smiled as she came into the room.
‘Grace, hello. To what do I owe this pleasure?’
‘Do you have a moment, sir?’
‘Of course I do.’ He set down the paper in his hand. ‘Come in and sit down.’ He gestured to the sofa, the place where Mrs Spencer had been wont to sit. Grace sat down.
‘I won’t keep you but a minute, sir,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I’ve had a satisfactory response to one of my applications.’
‘So you’re going off as governess somewhere, are you?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve been offered a place in Little Berron.’
‘I see. Well, that’s not too far away. What sort of a job is it? Whose brat are you to teach? Or are there more than one?’
‘There are two children, sir. A boy of seven and a girl of eight. Adam and Frances Kellas. They’re the children of Mr Kellas, a barrister.’
‘I’ve heard of him. And I believe he has a fine house. Well, barristers are wealthy men, so I hope he’s paying you well, is he?’ He waved a hand. ‘Don’t answer that; it’s none of my business.’
‘I’m happy to tell you if you like, sir.’
‘I just told you, it’s none of my business. Have you met the children?’
‘Yes, I have – when I went for my interview with Mr Kellas.’
‘And are they misbehaving monsters?’
Grace shook her head and smiled. ‘No, sir. They are – spirited children, but they seem no worse than others of their age. I’m sure we shall get along perfectly fine.’
‘That’s something, then. So, what does this mean?’
‘What does it mean?’
‘Yes. I mean, so what are your immediate plans?’
�
�I’m due to begin work in the new year – as soon as the Christmas school holidays are over.’
‘And?’
‘So –’ she shrugged. ‘So I must look around for rooms for the two of us.’
He nodded, picked up his pipe, leaned closer to the fireplace and tapped the bowl against the side of the coal scuttle. Then he took tobacco from a pouch and packed it into the bowl. He looked into the packed bowl, pressed the tobacco down with his forefinger, then said, ‘Of course you don’t need to go anywhere, you know.’
‘Sir – ?’
‘I mean to say, why the devil can’t you stay where you are? Why on earth d’you need to go scampering off like this?’
‘But – but sir, I have no place here.’
‘Of course you have a place here. And Billy has a place here.’ He looked again at the pipe in his hand and then set it down on the papers on the table. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘why don’t you have a place here?’
‘Well, as you said yourself, how can I be a companion if there is no one to be a companion to? I’m redundant in the very truest way.’ She spread her hands, palms up. ‘What else can I do, sir? I have to find employment and accommodation elsewhere. We spoke about this some weeks ago.’
He nodded. ‘And since that time I’ve been thinking more about the situation. And now, now that you’ve brought the matter to a head, so to speak, you’re concentrating my mind. And I’ve come up with a solution. And I have to ask, why in the devil’s name do you have to go and find rooms somewhere else in order to teach a pair of children? Why on earth to do you have to tear your young brother away from all the security he knows in order to stick him in some ghastly rented room? Will he be able to keep on at Culvercombe school?’
‘I don’t know, sir. It depends on where I find rooms for us.’
