Too Close to the Sun

by Jess Foley

  Grace put a hand to her head. This was a question she had not wished to deal with. ‘Then you must wait for him.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Wait for him. If he’s expected back, then wait for him. However long it takes.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And, Effie –’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘Not a word to anyone else about it – do you understand? Don’t mention it to anyone – Mrs Sandiston or anyone, all right?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Can I trust you? I can, can’t I?’ Grace’s heart was thudding violently, while at the same time she was trying desperately to sound calm.

  ‘Of course, ma’am.’

  ‘You bring the answer back to me – but no one is to see you do it, all right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ll remember that, won’t you?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Right, then, thank you. If you leave now you’ll be in time for the train at twenty past. Off you go, then.’

  She stood watching as the girl moved to the door and let herself out onto the landing.

  Later that afternoon, after Billy had got in from school and had had his tea, Grace went to his room. She knocked at the door, called out, ‘It’s me – Grace,’ and he called out, ‘Come in,’ and she went inside and closed the door behind her.

  ‘I was coming to see you in a few minutes,’ he said. In the pale light of the lamp and the last of the daylight he was sitting on the floor making a kite. The diamond-shaped body of the kite had already been made and now he was attaching its tail, a long string with paper bows attached at intervals.

  ‘You’ll strain your eyes,’ Grace said. ‘This light isn’t good enough for such close work.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ he said. He looked down at his handiwork for a moment, then turned to Grace. ‘I want to get this done for Saturday. Roland and I are going onto the heath. I’d like to take it into school tomorrow and show him if it’s ready.’

  ‘I wanted to see you about school,’ Grace said. ‘You won’t be going in tomorrow.’

  He gave her all his attention now. ‘What d’you mean, I won’t be going into school?’

  ‘You mustn’t mention anything to anyone, but some-thing’s come up, and I want you to stay at home.’

  ‘What for? What d’you mean? What’s come up?’

  ‘I can’t tell you right now. But I’ll tell you in due course. This is why I came to see you now – while there’s no one else about. Please – trust me.’

  ‘Of course.’ He frowned. ‘But I just don’t know what’s going on.’

  ‘I told you – I’ll let you know later on. I can’t tell you yet.’

  ‘All right.’ He nodded. ‘So what d’you want me to do? Just stay here in my room in the morning?’

  ‘Yes. After breakfast just come back to your room and stay here. I’ll come and get you.’ She backed to the door. ‘I shall be in the drawing room for a while now if you need me. But don’t mention anything about what I said in front of anyone else.’

  ‘Not even Mr Edward?’

  ‘No, not even Mr Edward. No one at all.’

  ‘All right. Is Mr Edward going to be there in the drawing room?’

  ‘Well, not yet awhile. He’s not due back from the mill yet.’

  ‘He’s back. He’s been back ages.’

  ‘Surely not. I haven’t seen him.’

  ‘I have. When I came in from school I saw him coming out of the stable and crossing the yard.’

  On leaving Billy’s room, Grace went to the drawing room, and forty minutes later Billy joined her there. He had washed his hands and combed his hair. ‘Did you finish the kite?’ she asked him, looking up from her book.

  ‘Almost.’ He took a seat near the fire and opened the book he had brought with him. He was reading Gulliver’s Travels. Although he sat reading in the room, and Grace was reading also, it was sufficient comfort for each of them to have the other’s company, silent though it might be.

  A sound came at the door, and then Edward came into the room. He looked at Grace and said, ‘Why that sideways glance? Am I not allowed to take time off from my work now and again?’ He crossed to the fire, picked up the tongs and adjusted one of the burning logs. ‘Yes, I’ve been in the house some time.’ He turned and looked at Billy. ‘And how are you, young William? Are you well?’ Their paths did not often cross during these winter evenings.

  ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

  ‘And you’re keeping out of mischief?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Edward put back the tongs, stretched his hands out to the flames for a moment then straightened. ‘I think I shall eat in my study tonight,’ he said to Grace without turning. ‘If you’d be so kind as to ask Mrs Sandiston to send up a tray.’

  ‘Very well.’

  He gave a little nod, then walked across the room and out of the door.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ Billy asked, looking in the direction taken by his brother-in-law.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘I don’t know; he looked – strange.’

  ‘He’s all right.’ Grace could not pursue the subject. She was wondering now whether Effie was back from Corster, and if so, whether she had managed to see Kester and bring a message from him. Perhaps, the thought went through her mind, she had not seen him. Perhaps she was still waiting for him to return to his home. Perhaps he had gone away. In which case Effie would already have returned, empty-handed.

  Grace rang for the maid and the young girl Annie answered. Grace instructed her to tell Mrs Sandiston that Mr Spencer would eat in his study, and she herself would eat from a tray in the drawing room. Then as the maid moved back to the door, Grace said, ‘Tell me, Annie, is Effie back from Corster? She was going to get me some items from the art supply shop.’

  ‘No, ma’am, she’s not back so far. We expected her a while ago.’

  Grace thanked her, and the girl left.

  An hour later, Billy said he would leave and go to his bed. Grace, much preoccupied, did nothing to dissuade him.

  She ate alone in the drawing room, and close on 9.30 went upstairs to her bed. She had given up hope of hearing from Effie tonight. She could not imagine what had happened to her. The girl would surely have been back by this time.

  There had been no further word from Edward, or any sight of him, and, lying in the bed, she hoped that he would choose to sleep in the spare room and leave her in peace.

  She lay awake for a long time, through her mind darting myriad thoughts, thoughts of Edward, her meeting with the insurance agent, and pondering on why the maid had not returned.

  Without any word from Kester, what was she to do?

  Hours passed before she slept.

  She awoke to find herself alone in the bed. So, Edward had slept in the second bedroom.

  In her peignoir she went to the breakfast room where breakfast had been set out. Edward was already there, eating eggs and kidneys. He looked up as she entered the room and gazed closely at her, eyes slightly narrowed, as if he was studying her expression.

  He said, ‘Good morning,’ to her, still watching her as he ate, but she did not reply. She helped herself to some scrambled eggs and toast, and a cup of coffee, and sat at the table sipping from the cup.

  ‘I said, “Good morning,” to you,’ he said after a few moments.

  She inclined her head a little and murmured a good morning in return. Edward said, his face grave, ‘Did you sleep all right?’

  She gave a little shrug. ‘I slept eventually.’ The toast was like cardboard in her mouth. She ate because it gave her something to do, gave her some way of occupying her hands, and to a degree diminished the need for conversation.

  ‘I slept eventually also,’ he said, nodding, his mouth full. ‘I had a lot of things on my mind. I still do have, for that matter.’ He paused. ‘Aren’t you going to ask what it is that’s on my mind? What are my preoccupations? A dutiful
wife would surely do so.’ He smiled with this last, and she looked up and caught the smile and saw that he was toying with her. She lowered her head again and concentrated on the food on her plate.

  Taking up his coffee cup, Edward took a sip from it and shook his head in distaste. ‘Coffee’s cold,’ he said. ‘How’s yours?’ Without waiting for Grace to make any response – which she did not attempt to do – he rang the bell for the maid. Very soon Effie was there, slipping into the room and facing him as he turned towards her.

  ‘You rang, sir.’ She did not turn in Grace’s direction, though Grace kept her eyes fixed upon her. Grace wondered when she had got back; it must have been late last night after she, Grace, had gone to bed, or this morning before she had risen. Obviously it had not been possible for Effie to get word to her. Had her message been delivered to Kester? If so, what message had he sent back? And where was it? But perhaps it was only a verbal message … The questions went through Grace’s mind, and still she kept her eyes on the girl, willing her to turn to her and give some sign – a direct glance would suffice – but there was nothing; Effie kept her gaze intent upon her master. For a few moments Grace hovered on the brink of asking the girl whether she had bought for her the oil paint and linseed oil – something was needed; anything to get an acknowledgement of the errand – but she held back, afraid. And then Edward was speaking. The coffee was cold, he said, could she bring some fresh? And the girl nodded yes and withdrew. When she had gone, Edward looked closely at Grace, and said with a lingering frown:

  ‘Is anything wrong?’

  She looked at him sharply. Why had he asked such a question? Had she given herself away in some manner?

  ‘It’s just that you looked a little – a little tense when Effie came in,’ he said. ‘I wondered why you should look at her like that.’ He pushed his coffee cup away from him. ‘I shan’t want any more coffee, mind you,’ he said. ‘I haven’t got time for it.’

  ‘Then you needn’t have bothered to get more on my account,’ Grace said. ‘I shan’t want more either.’

  ‘Oh, you can speak,’ he said. ‘I thought for a minute there you’d lost your tongue.’ He studied her and she felt herself colouring under his gaze. ‘Tell me,’ he said after a moment, ‘what will you be doing with yourself today?’

  Her glance was cold as she lifted her face to him. ‘Are you remotely interested, Edward, in what I do?’

  ‘What? Of course I’m interested. You’re my wife, aren’t you?’ He put down his knife and fork, took a last drink of his coffee and wiped his mouth with his napkin. As he tossed the napkin down, he added, ‘I hope when this is all over we can get something – recapture something – of what we once had.’

  Grace thought, of what we once had? What did we have? We never had anything.

  Edward stood up. ‘I must get going. A very important meeting in Redbury. I can’t afford to be late. Rhind will have got the carriage ready.’ He stood in silence for a few moments then said with a faint smile, ‘I won’t give you a husbandly kiss, my dear. I somehow have the feeling it wouldn’t be welcomed.’ He put his head a little on one side. ‘And to tell you the truth, I don’t think I’m really so eager to start giving you demonstrations of a spouse’s affection. If you see what I mean. I’ve no doubt that that’ll change in time, but for the moment …’

  He let the unfinished sentence hang in the air. Grace looked down at her plate. She just wanted him to leave. As soon as he had gone she would call Effie to her and hear what the girl had to say. Then, if Kester was able to meet her – and she had no doubt at all that he would – she would get dressed and pack a few things for Billy and herself, and then they would get away. She would never have to breakfast with Edward again. She would never sit at this table again. She would never again set foot in this house.

  And now Grace could see on the rim of her peripheral vision that Edward had crossed to the door. She gritted her teeth, waiting. In just a few moments he would be gone.

  But no, still he hovered there, and then the next moment he was coming to her side. His hand came out towards her, and she flinched.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t do that. You moved as if I were about to strike you. Why should you do that? I merely wanted to give you this.’

  And a movement in front of her face drew her gaze to the envelope that he laid down beside her breakfast plate. It was the envelope addressed to Kester, the one she had given to Effie.

  She felt her heart lurch; it was as if her blood were stilled, cold, in her veins. She stared at the envelope with its gaping flap.

  ‘Yes,’ Edward said, ‘it’s come as a bit of a shock to you, I can see. I thought it might.’ He put out his hand, took up the envelope and withdrew the letter. Grace heard the rustle of the paper as he opened it up. Then she heard him say, ‘Quite touching, really, I suppose – for someone who is not me, of course.’ He began to read the words that Grace had written: ‘“Dear Kester, Billy and I are in need of your help. I cannot go into the reasons now, but I beg you to believe me when I say that our situation is desperate, and that we must get away from here without delay …”’ He paused, then said, ‘This is quite dramatic, you know. Anybody must agree with that. And quite heart-wrenching too. Unfortunately, it’s not going to happen. Your Mr Fairman isn’t going to be there under the church tower, is he?’ He paused. ‘Is he? No, he’s not. I can tell you that now. But there, now that you’ve seen this,’ he dropped the letter, letting it fall beside her plate – ‘you won’t be expecting him to be there, will you?’

  She could do nothing but sit there, listening, while her heart pounded in her breast and her pulse beat in her ears so loudly that she thought it must drown out all other sound. She could hear the faint smile in his voice as he continued:

  ‘So there won’t be any rush for you to go and get into your travelling clothes or start packing your bags. Do you understand that, Grace?’ And now he leaned over her. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Unless you go with me, or you go with my permission. How do you think I got where I am today? I got here in the house because I set my mind on certain things. And as I told you, I usually get what I want, and what I get I keep.’

  Her heart would not stop pounding in her breast. And through it all the questions poured through her brain. How? How had he got the letter?

  And then the answer came, as if she had spoken her thoughts aloud.

  ‘And don’t be cross with young Effie,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t her fault. I saw her as she was leaving. I was just coming in as she came out of the drive, and I stopped the carriage and asked her where she was going with such purpose.’ He paused. ‘Aren’t you curious to know what was said? Well, anyway, she said she was to go into Corster and buy you some oil paint. I couldn’t believe it. I have to admit that it sounded very strange. I mean you haven’t touched your painting in ages. So, I thought, how did it come about, this sudden desire to immerse yourself in your painting again? And when Effie told me of the few little items you wanted, I was even more puzzled. For so few things you were sending the girl all that way. Surprising? Yes, I found it somewhat surprising, I have to admit. But then, after more questioning of the girl it came out that there was more than one goal to her errand. And eventually I got hold of the letter. You mustn’t blame her, you understand? Once I’d read the letter I told her she was to come back late last night, to get the last train back. I’ve no idea what she spent her time doing. She probably went to see her family; she said she comes from Corster.’ He paused. ‘I hope you’re taking all this in, are you?’

  Grace did not answer. She was looking down now at the open letter lying before her.

  Edward said, ‘I told her she was not to tell you that she’d given me the letter. I told her on pain of my taking away her reference. So you can’t blame her. You don’t, do you?’

  Grace drew in her breath and tried to speak, but could not make a sound. Her lips moved, but no sound came.

  ‘No,’ Edward said. ‘She’s a poor simple gi
rl who was only doing what her master instructed.’ Now he turned and started away back towards the door. ‘Oh, and by the way,’ he came to a brief halt and turned back to her, ‘ – I saw Billy this morning coming from the kitchen after his breakfast. I spoke about your keeping him back from school. He seemed rather surprised that I should know about it, and was a little reluctant to speak of it. I soon persuaded him to, though.’

  Now Grace found her voice: ‘What have you done?’ she burst out, raising her head to him.

  ‘Now, now, there’s no need for panic.’ He smiled. ‘He just realized that I knew more about it than he’d imagined. Anyway, I told him he should go to school after all. So he went off. We can’t have his education suffer because of your foolishness.’

  He opened the door, then turned back once more.

  ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I’ve had second thoughts, and I’m going to have Johnson drive me about today. I’ll leave Rhind here – just to make sure you’re well looked after.’ Then he raised his hand in a sardonic farewell, turned away and was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Grace remained sitting at the table long after the door had closed behind Edward, long after his footsteps had faded in the hall. Before her the coffee in her cup grew cold, congealing with a faint cloudy skin on its surface. Near it lay the letter and the envelope.

  What could she do? she silently asked. She was lost. Her cause was lost. There was nothing she could think of that would help her situation.

  But the fact remained that she had to get away, and she had to take Billy with her.

  Somehow she would see Kester and get him to help them. For the time being Billy was safe in his classroom. Her first task was to see Kester.

  She sat there for another minute and then purposefully stood up and pushed back her chair. In one movement her hand swept up the letter and the envelope and then she was turning, moving away and out of the room.

  In her dressing room she changed into her outdoor clothes and boots and then took her purse and emptied it onto her dressing table. She had so little – just a few shillings and some coppers. It would suffice to take her into Corster. Scooping up the coins, she tipped them back into the purse.