The Sapphire Widow

by Jefferies, Dinah

  ‘Are you all right?’ Margo said, and the sound of her voice brought Louisa back.

  She took a few deep breaths and after she had regained her self-control, she told Savi she’d be delighted to display his own work and the landscapes too, though it would be some weeks before the conversion of the building from a printer’s to a shop would be complete.

  ‘I’d be happy to make some pictures especially for you. Maybe some smaller, more easily portable ones? Next time I’m back in Ceylon.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that would be perfect.’

  As they walked away from his place Margo turned to her. ‘Are you really okay?’

  ‘I think so. I saw similar paintings when I went to the plantation.’

  ‘But it must have been a shock. It was for me.’

  ‘I’d seen pictures of him with the child, but not with her. And I didn’t think these paintings were for the open market. I don’t know why, but I imagined she just kept them all. That they were somehow private.’

  ‘She must have needed the money.’

  ‘Yes. Though I suspect some of Elliot’s debts were because of her. I don’t imagine he would have wanted her selling any portraits of him. To be honest, I felt like buying them all and burning the lot.’

  ‘They’re a bit too graphic.’

  ‘It brings it home.’ Louisa swallowed hard and then she spoke again in a low voice. ‘I thought they looked happy together, didn’t you?’

  ‘So, if they were so happy, why didn’t he leave you?’

  ‘Why didn’t your married man leave his wife?’

  Margo shrugged but looked sadder than before. ‘It was never on the cards.’

  ‘I suppose people must fall in love with the wrong person all the time.’

  ‘It happened to me, but that doesn’t excuse Elliot.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Margo sighed. ‘I can’t justify what he did, but I can’t justify what I did either.’

  ‘Did you try to stop it?’

  ‘At first, but then it seemed to become a compulsion. I found myself thinking of William all the time and, in the end, I got in touch again.’

  ‘It’s not really even the fact that Elliot fell for someone else. Well, it is, of course it is, but it’s the deception that cuts me.’

  ‘I can’t forgive myself, you know. Maybe Elliot was sorry for what he’d done too?’

  ‘Well, he had every reason to stay with me, didn’t he? Plenty of money, a nice big house, his job. My father would hardly have kept him on if he’d abandoned me. I’ve been such a fool to give my heart to someone who treated it so recklessly.’

  ‘He was always careless of other people’s feelings, but he loved you. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Are you?’

  25.

  Louisa paced her bedroom, glancing from time to time at Elliot’s chest of drawers. She chewed her fingernail and, wanting to finally be done with him, decided the only thing to do was to be rid of his things. Out. I want all of it out, she thought. If everything was gone then he might be gone too.

  In an over-bright and determined tone, she instructed one of the houseboys to help her build a bonfire in the garden, but not to light it yet. They both carried old newspapers out and dragged across branches that had been pruned and left to dry. When the stack was tall enough, she went back indoors to their bedroom where she gazed inside the wardrobe for a minute, then took out all Elliot’s suits and shirts, leaving them piled up on the bed. After that she opened his chest drawer by drawer and heaped the contents on the floor. She felt as if her heart might stop as she ran her hands over the familiar shirts. She held one to her nose to see if she could catch a trace of the familiar cedar scent of him, and then she tried another, but they had all been laundered and so there was nothing. She went through the pockets of his suits and jackets and then, from an old pair of corduroys, she fished out an envelope. It was sealed but not addressed, and so she ripped it open and removed a single sheet of paper. She read:

  My darling,

  I can’t tell you how distressed I am that you feel you must end it. As you know, I haven’t been able to see you as much as I’ve wanted since Louisa lost the baby and I have had to remain close by her side. It hasn’t been my choice. You do see that, don’t you? Please will you reconsider? I will try to come to you again soon and you must know I love you. You have to believe it and I promise the time will be right for us very soon indeed. I’m sorry it has taken so long, but I can’t wait to be with you and am not far off being able to look after you both permanently.

  I need to make a little more money before I can offer you the life you should have and I’m best placed to do it if I stay here a little longer. I have bought a new business, an old print house, and after a little work, hope to sell it on at a profit. I did tell you at the very beginning that I still loved my wife. Do you remember? But of course that changed once Conor came into the world. Please look after yourself and him too. I shall send money via Leo if I can’t get to you soon and then I’ll take your next batch of paintings to Colombo to sell.

  But whatever else you may feel, please reconsider. Don’t end it, my love. I just can’t face that.

  Always your

  Elliot

  Louisa read it through twice and felt sick. Then she ripped it into tiny fragments and hurled them at the wastepaper basket, feeling as if she was ripping up her whole life. Not only had Elliot never intended to make the emporium a reality, he had been planning to leave her too. It seemed like the final nail in the coffin of their marriage and she felt as if her heart was separating from her soul.

  As silence wrapped around her, a burst of anger surged through her. She took an armful of his clothes with her as she went outside to light the bonfire. Once she had a proper blaze going, she began piling on Elliot’s clothes, his suits followed his shirts, and his shirts followed his ties. She went back in to fetch more, watching as each item burned. Gone, she thought. All of it gone. That’s what she wanted. The houseboy observed all of this with a look of bemusement. It must seem incredibly wasteful to him, Louisa suspected, but she couldn’t bear for Elliot’s clothes to exist. She had loved him so much and now, as she listened to the crackle and hiss, she began to laugh wildly. As the flames caught at the edges of each piece of clothing and then devoured it, the fire was not simply feeding her anger – the destructive energy had become energizing.

  She felt exhilarated. Almost light-headed with relief.

  Suddenly she heard a voice, and twisting round, saw Irene standing there in the garden with a look of horror on her face. Harold stood beside her with an arm around her shoulders. And Ashan stood behind them holding their suitcases. ‘I’m sorry, Madam,’ he said. ‘I wanted to inform you of their arrival first, but they insisted on coming through.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Irene screamed. ‘What are you doing with my son’s clothes?’

  Louisa stood completely still. ‘I think, Irene, you may have worked out I am burning them, lock, stock and barrel.’

  Irene ran up to the fire and, grabbing a stick, attempted to rescue a partially burning shirt. It hung at the end of her stick as she held it aloft, charred and smoking. Louisa almost laughed again as she watched her mother-in-law’s futile attempt at rescue and Harold pulling her away.

  ‘Leave it!’ she commanded.

  Irene frowned. ‘But why? Why are you doing this?’

  ‘What do you expect me to do?’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit too soon?’ Harold said. ‘It’s as if you’re getting rid of him.’

  Louisa stared coldly. ‘Honestly? I wish I could. No, more than that, I wish I’d never even met him.’

  And with that she turned on her heels, went upstairs and locked the bedroom door behind her. Then she spent the remainder of the afternoon in her room nursing her anger whilst feeling she no longer lived in a world of her own devising. Ashan knocked several times with drinks for her, gently encouraging her to open the door, but she couldn’t bring herself
to see anyone.

  That evening Louisa decided to dress for dinner. She was expecting her father and would make an effort for him.

  Although she was furious Irene and Harold had arrived unannounced, she could hardly turn them away, and anyway the letter she had found overshadowed everything else. The euphoria from the effect of the fire hadn’t lasted and now, every time she thought about the letter, she struggled against a desire to rush to the bathroom to vomit. As for Irene, Elliot had been her only surviving son, and it would require a great deal of self-control on Louisa’s part not to spoil Irene’s illusions. Louisa didn’t know if she was up to the deception especially as, in Irene’s eyes, Elliot would have become even more saintly than he had been in life.

  Louisa sighed. Why did everything have to be so difficult? She took a bath and washed her hair to rid herself of the smell of smoke, then dressed soberly in a light grey silk dress, slipped on her pearls and made her way to the main sitting room downstairs, where Irene and Harold were already ensconced on one of the sofas. As she entered the room she glanced about. Irene had a habit of moving ornaments to where she considered more appropriate and, though Louisa had argued with Elliot about it, he had convinced her it was such a trivial matter there was no point causing a scene. Louisa saw it now as yet another sign of the woman’s interference.

  Irene sat up a little straighter and sniffed, her grey eyes steely. ‘So, you have deigned to grace us with your presence.’

  Louisa gritted her teeth. ‘I’m pleased to see you, Irene. And you too, Harold.’

  He gave her a wan smile.

  ‘Maybe you might like to explain why you were burning my son’s clothes?’ Irene continued.

  ‘It was time.’

  ‘You didn’t think to ask if we might want some of them to remember him by?’

  ‘His clothes were nothing to do with you. You may have his pen, pipe or hairbrush. Take all of them, if you like. There are still plenty of items. Take your pick.’

  ‘But nothing he actually wore.’

  ‘I didn’t think –’

  Irene interrupted. ‘That’s exactly the trouble. It always has been. You don’t think of me, do you?’

  ‘Come now, Irene, I’m sure you don’t mean that,’ Harold said, attempting to take his wife’s hand, though Irene was having none of it and shook him off.

  Louisa turned her back and stiffly went to the decanter to pour three sherries. She took one across to Irene and offered it to her, then gave one to Harold. ‘Please let’s not squabble. I’m really just too tired.’

  Irene didn’t reply but took the glass.

  At that moment, the doorbell rang. Louisa listened as Ashan answered it and a minute or two later he brought Louisa’s father, Jonathan, into the room, followed by Margo.

  ‘I found her struggling from the train station with her case.’

  Margo laughed. ‘And so he did the gentlemanly thing and carried my case. I came on the train to try to catch up with Mum and Dad. Luckily it wasn’t a stormy day, or the train would have been deluged with sea spray.’

  Irene stood and held out her hands to Margo.

  Margo hugged her mother, who seemed to cling to her.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me descending on you like this, Louisa.’

  ‘Not at all, Margo. The more the merrier!’ she said, in fact intensely relieved to see her sister-in-law. ‘I’m sure Cook can be creative with supper.’

  After the new arrivals had seated themselves and had also been supplied with sherry, a strained silence descended. Perhaps sensing some awkwardness, Jonathan took it upon himself to get the conversation going.

  ‘So, how do you think the government is getting along, Irene?’

  ‘You’d have to ask my husband. I don’t bother myself with such matters, though I believe Harold is in full support of it, aren’t you, dear?’

  Harold nodded. ‘Broadly speaking, yes.’

  Jonathan inclined his head. ‘You don’t think the board of ministers should have control of the police and army too?’

  ‘He believes that keeping them under the control of the British is the better option,’ Irene chipped in, while Harold gave a resigned sigh. ‘After all, who wants these people to be in charge of ensuring law and order. No, that’s best kept in our own hands.’

  ‘These people, Irene?’ Jonathan said, his brows raised questioningly.

  ‘I think you know what my wife meant,’ Harold said.

  Margo stepped in. ‘You don’t always have to stick up for her, Dad. Now come on, Mum, shift up so I can sit next to you for a bit.’

  Irene moved and Margo took up her place next to her mother and father.

  ‘So,’ Louisa said, turning to her father and speaking softly while Margo and Irene seemed to be talking about the bus journey and how uncomfortable it was. ‘Did you go back to see the police? Do they know anything more about the break-in?’

  He raised his brows. ‘I’ve done what I said I would do. Fat lot of good it will do, though.’

  ‘Won’t the police take any action?’

  Jonathan shrugged. ‘They weren’t sure what they could do.’

  ‘Take action?’ Irene piped up. ‘Must you speak in riddles.’

  Jonathan glanced at Louisa before speaking. She in turn gave a brief shake of her head. ‘Just a spot of bother.’

  ‘Well, I found your daughter burning all of Elliot’s clothing today. What do you make of that?’

  ‘I’m sure my daughter is only doing what has to be done,’ Jonathan said. ‘She can’t hold on to everything, and nor should she.’

  ‘Anyway, it’s up to Louisa, isn’t it, Mum?’ Margo added.

  ‘Exactly. This has to be Louisa’s decision. My daughter is having a tough enough time without us interfering.’

  A look of fury crossed Irene’s face. ‘Nobody thinks to consider my feelings,’ she said. ‘Nobody.’

  ‘Now, Irene, that’s not fair,’ Harold interjected. ‘I know we’re both upset but –’

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s not fair. Marrying a woman who couldn’t give him a living child. That’s all I ever wanted. Was it too much to hope for? You know Elliot would have been a wonderful father. So caring. So dutiful.’

  ‘Mother,’ Margo said in a warning tone at the same time as Harold shook his head.

  ‘A grandson was all I ever wanted.’

  In a flash, Louisa got to her feet, her anger over the letter she had found uppermost in her mind. ‘Well, you’ve certainly got your wish, Irene!’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  Louisa glanced at Margo, who was gesturing wildly at her to stop, but Louisa had already gone too far to draw back, and now couldn’t help herself. ‘You do have a grandson, Irene. A little illegitimate boy. I hope that satisfies you.’

  As Louisa got herself ready for bed, she went over what had happened. She felt mortified that things had come to this and knew telling Irene had not been wise. She would either deny all possibility of an illegitimate child, or she would want to take over. Either way Louisa would have to let Leo know. She picked up Elliot’s pen, the one he always kept on his bedside table, and began writing to the plantation owner. She’d give the pen to Irene in the morning and let her choose anything else she might want. As she rolled it between her fingers she pictured Elliot writing notes to himself just before he turned out the light.

  She thought back to the moment they first met. She’d been out on her bicycle and, despite early signs of rain, had decided to head for the coastal road. But after only an hour the monsoon had begun in earnest. After seriously misjudging the weather she’d been swept off the road, grazing her leg in the process. She had crawled and found a rock to shelter against, but by then was completely soaked through. Half an hour passed and she’d felt immense relief when a car finally pulled up and the driver jumped out to help her. He bundled her into the car and her bike into the boot and brought her back to Galle Fort. They each drank a mug of hot chocolate and her leg was ban
daged before he prepared to resume his journey. But with weather too wild for him to continue to Colombo he had stayed the night, and then the next day, and the one after that. She’d fallen for Elliot’s charm and good looks right from the start and been so full of hope for the future.

  She put the pen down and decided not to send the letter to Leo. She would go there instead.

  26.

  Louisa rose as dawn was painting the sky a subtle shade of lilac, reflecting in the sea as palest pink. It was her favourite time of day. She glanced through the window up towards the hills to the north, still shrouded in a mist, and even in her garden the leaves were dripping with dew. She might occasionally spot a civet cat tempted into her garden by the sweet palm seeds, but not today. Her durian and jackfruit trees attracted birds in large numbers, and she usually liked to watch them, though today just one solitary imperial pigeon with metallic-green wings strutted on the lawn.

  She didn’t have time to linger. With a house crammed full of people, she hoped not to have to mention where she was going. Even Jonathan had stayed the night, perhaps feeling his daughter might need moral support with Irene so likely to make trouble.

  After Louisa’s shock announcement, the questions had gone on and on. Who is this child? Are you sure he is Elliot’s son? How did you find out? Had you known all along? Why hadn’t I, as his grandmother, been told? And when Irene discovered Margo had already known about Conor, she turned puce with anger. She hadn’t, however, seemed the slightest bit concerned that the existence of this child meant Elliot had betrayed his wife.

  Louisa dressed quickly and then went down to the kitchen where the cook was still stoking the boiler, so no coffee on the go yet. As she got into the car she turned over a new idea she’d had for what was now her spice business. Her manager, Nihil, had said the business was ripe for expansion, so this might be just the thing to enable its growth. While driving along the coastal road, she considered what she might say when she got to Cinnamon Hills. First, she’d have to tell Leo that Irene now knew about Conor’s existence. It might not come to anything but, knowing Irene, Louisa couldn’t be sure; and, next, she would run her new idea past Leo.