The Snow Rose

by Lulu Taylor

  ‘Arise, my love, my fair one

  And come away.

  For the winter is over and the rain is passed and gone.

  Flowers appear on the earth;

  And the time of birds is come,

  The voice of the turtledove is heard in our land . . .’

  The voice is a man’s, beautiful, gentle. I am sure it is Archer’s voice and I close my eyes to listen better. The things he said today resonated with me. He pulled together so many disparate things in the world and gave them sense and a pattern. The vision of the world outside my own experience and my own trials has put everything I’ve suffered into proportion: millions of parents will lose children in the coming disasters, through sickness, hunger and war.

  We ought to try and stop it. Or at least work out what to do about it.

  Archer has shown me a nightmare vision and yet, he has also given me the first glimmer of hope, the first will to survive, I’ve felt in a long time.

  I want to know what the plan is.

  Chapter Thirty

  The next morning the door is unlocked by a tearful Kitty, her eyes red-rimmed and her nose shiny, carrying Letty’s breakfast tray with shaking hands.

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong, Kitty?’

  ‘Oh, miss . . .’ Kitty’s eyes well up with fresh tears. ‘It’s the mistress.’

  ‘Arabella?’ Letty says, anxious at once.

  ‘No . . . no, the old mistress. Mrs Sarah. She’s . . . dead.’ Kitty chokes on a sob.

  Letty gasps. ‘How terrible! Poor Sarah. Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Tears spring to her eyes. She hasn’t seen much of Sarah since the Beloved married Arabella, no one has except her faithful Angels. But it is said that Sarah refused a doctor, or any relief for her pain, but suffered slowly and without resistance. ‘Do you think she willed it, Kitty?’

  ‘She didn’t fight it, poor lady,’ says Kitty with a sniff.

  ‘Poor, poor Sarah.’ Letty blinks but a tear escapes and runs down her cheek. Sarah was never anything but gracious and kind, and Letty is sure the house has lost something precious. ‘God rest her soul.’

  She wonders if Sarah’s giving up on life was caused by the Beloved’s decision to marry Arabella. Perhaps he even told her it was time for her to make way for a proper marriage, a legal marriage, to enshrine the Beloved’s right to the estate in law, and the heir Arabella is carrying. After all, the Beloved can talk people into doing almost anything. Why not dying, in order to make his life easier?

  It is a horrible thought. It makes Letty more determined than ever to get away. ‘Can I come out?’ she asks.

  Kitty shrugs. ‘I have no orders. The Beloved went off early on business. Miss Arabella’s still abed. Come out if you wish.’

  Letty emerges to quite a different house. The mood is sombre and depressed. She goes downstairs to the dining room to find that it hasn’t been set for breakfast, for the first time since the Angels began ministering to them. A pair of ladies pass her, both sobbing into lace-edged handkerchiefs.

  ‘Maud, Thomasina, I’m sorry . . .’ Letty says, wanting to offer comfort, but they don’t answer her, just head towards the drawing room from where the sound of crying emerges. I’m still in Coventry then. Just then she spies Paula trailing along the corridor and also weeping plaintively. She hurries towards her. ‘Paula, please don’t cry so! You’ll be ill. The mistress wouldn’t have wanted that.’

  Paula howls. ‘Oh, our sweet lady! How we’ll miss her! Oh!’ She throws her apron over her head and weeps noisily.

  Letty puts a hand on her arm. ‘Yes, poor Sarah. Poor lady. We must offer prayers for her. Be brave, Paula. It comes to us all.’

  ‘But that’s not so,’ cries Paula, muffled under the apron. Then she pulls it off, to show tears flowing down her face. ‘The Beloved said that we’d none of us die. We’d live here in bliss and harmony till the Day came. But the sweet lady – his own wife before the mistress – she’s gone from us before the Day. What can it mean? She can’t have been taken by the Devil, like Emily, can she?’

  ‘I’m sure she wasn’t taken by the Devil. She was a good and kind person, and never less than holy. She’ll be in heaven now, I’m certain of it. The Beloved will explain everything.’

  He’ll have to, Letty thinks grimly, as she goes about making a breakfast for those who want it. The atmosphere is grief-stricken, but also full of shock and confusion. The usual trusting, confident happiness that the community members carry about with them is completely gone.

  Letty herself does not feel it, and she wonders why. Perhaps it’s because I’m young. I never expected to die very soon anyway. She’d always imagined the plan would be resolved within her lifetime, and certainly within that of the Beloved. But perhaps, for some of the older people, the Beloved offered a comfortable cushion against the fear of encroaching old age, illness and extinction. Sarah’s death has proved that there is no bulwark against it after all.

  Arabella is nowhere to be seen. No one will speak to Letty at all. It is obvious that they’ve been warned about her.

  She is in the hall, taking down an arrangement of flowers that seem far too celebratory now that Sarah lies dead upstairs, when Mrs Kendall comes in, her eyes red and tiny from weeping. When she sees Letty, she stops still, then comes striding as purposefully as she can in her long white skirt. ‘You!’ she shouts, pointing at Letty. ‘You were supposed to save him for us!’

  ‘Mrs Kendall . . .’ begins Letty, turning to face her, flushing. ‘Arthur—’

  ‘Is lost . . . because of you! We had such hopes. The Beloved assured us you would bring him to the fold. And yet you’ve failed, failed us all!’

  ‘Please, Mrs Kendall, there was nothing I could have done. Arthur never wanted to be here, you know that. He only did it to please you.’

  ‘Oh, I suppose you now know my son better than I do!’ Mrs Kendall’s eyes flash with anger. ‘You will have nothing further to do with him.’

  Letty stares at her and then says sweetly, ‘But, dear mother-in-law, we are married.’

  Mrs Kendall narrows her eyes, aware that if she disputes this, she will be going against the authority of the Beloved. ‘We know you are a pernicious influence, Miss Evans. We’ve heard that it is probably you who is spreading vile nonsense full of sordid lies around the village! You have truly been taken by the evil one, and the Beloved will cast you out like the viper you are! Any holy union with my son will be dissolved.’

  ‘Mrs Kendall,’ Letty says slowly but firmly, ‘this will not bring Arthur back. He’s gone and he will not return, not to live here at least. You must respect his decision and his faith.’

  Mrs Kendall turns brick-red and spits as she talks. ‘He’ll regret listening to your blandishments! He’ll be disinherited if he does.’ She comes up close to Letty. ‘You were supposed to save his soul. You have done the opposite.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Letty replies with a smile. There’s nothing they can do to hurt her or Arthur, she is sure of that. ‘You’re wrong. I haven’t done anything at all. He has saved me.’

  No one attempts to lock her back in her bedroom, she notices. With the Beloved absent, she is treated with a kind of reluctant respect, as though no one has forgotten, deep down, that this is her childhood home.

  By midday, the shock and grief have worn off to the extent that the Angels are able to go about their work again, and the comforting routine of meals is re-established. Ladies huddle in corners, talking about where the Beloved has gone and what is to be done with Sarah, lying cold in her bed upstairs.

  They really are lost without him. All of them relinquished control of their lives to him. Now they don’t know how to take a decision.

  She remembers her own sense of loss when the Beloved went away just before the opening of the church, the day the Kendalls came here. When he was defrocked by the bishop. So she can well understand their dependence on him. And the power it gives him.

  Arabella remains in her room and is not to be seen, perhaps out of delicacy
with Sarah’s death uppermost in everyone’s minds, or perhaps because she is not well.

  Letty suspects that it is something to do with the pregnancy, which is becoming more visible daily, although it has not yet been publicly acknowledged. She hopes Arabella is all right. Despite everything, she still loves her sister.

  I will go and see her if she doesn’t come down before tea time.

  Letty goes to her room and packs her soft carpet bag with everything she thinks she might need for a few days. The rest of her things she piles neatly for Kitty to pack in a trunk and send on in due course. She feels a thrill of excitement at the life that awaits her: the cottage in London, Arthur to share it with. But before that can happen, she must make sure all the business is taken care of. She sits at her desk and writes to the family lawyer, outlining everything that has happened so far, as she feels, obscurely, that it is important to be a witness to what has taken place in the house. She tries not to be emotional or judgemental, but to let the events she records speak for themselves. Anyone reading it will see the extent of the Beloved’s manipulation and his breath-taking blasphemy – there is no need to say what is so obvious. This letter takes two hours to write, and when it is done, she folds it up and puts it in an envelope. She takes it downstairs to put on the tray for posting, and is surprised to see a letter there addressed to herself in Cecily’s handwriting. She scoops it up and opens it, reading as she walks slowly back up the stairs to her room.

  Dear Lettice,

  Arthur Kendall has told us you have come to your senses at last. We are delighted to hear it, even if still deeply disappointed that Arabella has not yet seen the light. He says, however, that you insist on remaining among the gang of lunatics another day. I don’t know how you can stand another hour. Edward and I strongly caution you to leave at once. Come to us at High Hill Farm as soon as possible. There is the possibility of imminent trouble and I do not want you present. Please do as we ask and come immediately.

  Your sister,

  Cecily

  Letty stares at the letter. Trouble? What can she mean? Letty remembers the meeting in the village that is happening today. Can that be what she is referring to? It’s hardly likely, surely. But her instinct is telling her that Cecily is right. Come what may, it’s time to leave. The atmosphere here is all wrong. Sarah lies dead in her bed. No one is speaking to Letty; even Kitty is turning against her. But she must try, one last time, to help Arabella see the truth.

  Racing up the stairs, she passes no one and in a few minutes she is at Arabella’s door. She does not knock but goes straight in. Arabella is sitting on the stool in front of her mirror, brushing out her dark hair and humming to herself. She turns as Letty comes in, and Letty can see the bulge of her belly sticking out. How far advanced is she? Five months? Six?

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ she says coldly to Letty. ‘You’re not permitted in here anymore.’

  ‘But, Arabella, I have to speak to you. I have to try and persuade you, perhaps for the last time, that you’re mixed up in something terrible.’ She goes over and kneels down at her sister’s feet, clutching her hand. ‘Please, please listen to me!’

  Something in Letty’s dramatic pose seems to appeal to Arabella. She looks down a little more kindly and says, ‘I will listen to you if you like, but I warn you, it will make no difference. I already know that you speak with the Devil’s tongue.’

  ‘Don’t think about that for a moment, please, just listen.’

  ‘Very well.’ Arabella seems strangely calm, so different from her excitable self during the early days of the Beloved’s arrival. ‘Say what you wish.’

  Letty stares up at her. There was so much to say, but now she has her sister’s ear, it all seems hopeless. It won’t make a blind bit of difference, she can see that. ‘What the Beloved says isn’t always true,’ she says carefully. ‘He claims divinity, but really he’s as mortal as the rest of us. He’s no saint. He gives into temptations of all kinds. He lies. He’s taken your house, your money and made you pregnant, and you’re not even married.’

  ‘Of course we’re married,’ Arabella says indignantly.

  ‘Not in the eyes of the law. The child will be illegitimate.’

  ‘It really doesn’t matter, Letty.’ Arabella is evidently trying to sound patient. ‘All of that won’t matter soon. Long before the child is grown, the Day will be at hand. Property, legitimacy, all the rest of it, won’t matter a scrap.’ She looks sadly at her sister. ‘The Beloved is right about you, Letty. He says your heart is hardened to the truth. You’ve renounced the way. You cannot rid yourself of material concerns.’

  ‘That’s rich coming from him,’ Letty retorts. ‘He’s the one making sure he marries an heiress and has a child with her. He’s the one suggesting everyone hands over their money and belongings to him.’

  ‘He is acting for the good of us all, making a place where we can wait for the final judgement.’

  ‘That’s all he’s made – a comfortable bed where you can all luxuriate doing nothing, with the Angels to look after you unpaid, waiting for the day he says is nigh, but which he knows nothing of. What has he said that is true? That there will be no death? Look at Emily and Sarah. That he’s renounced the flesh? Arabella, you are pregnant with his child, and Emily was his mistress too! He has even claimed he is . . .’ She still cannot say it, it’s too blasphemous to utter.

  ‘He has explained it all. I understand it because of my spiritual gifts. You have not been so blessed.’

  Letty gazes at her helplessly. It’s quite clear that nothing will change Arabella’s mind. She is deeply, utterly committed to the Beloved, and it will be impossible to convince her that he is an imposter.

  Suddenly, Arabella smiles. ‘Don’t you understand, Letty? He makes me happy. I was so miserable before, and now, at last, I have a purpose and a meaning in my life. I have love as well. What I believe in has made my life good. Isn’t that enough for you? Do I have to be right as well? All I want is to be happy.’

  ‘But, Arabella, the belief has made you happy, if you say it has. But it is also powerful and destructive. It can drive others mad, drive them to their deaths. I think Sarah died of misery, knowing you were there to take her place. And look at Emily, thinking she was too wicked to live. Is your happiness worth it?’

  Arabella considers for a moment, picking up her brush and drawing it through her long hair again. ‘It is like wine,’ she says at last. ‘For some, one sip can lead the way to destruction. For others, they can drink the wine and never be mastered by it. Instead, they take what is good and make it enhance their lives. Can you blame the wine for that?’

  ‘I see,’ Letty says. ‘You must stay and drink the wine and see what happens. I understand that now. I’m leaving, but I wish you every happiness.’

  ‘And I you,’ Arabella says absently.

  Letty stands up and kisses her sister’s cheek. ‘Goodbye, Arabella.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  Letty turns to go. She will collect her things and leave. It won’t take so very long to get to High Hill Farm, even lugging her bags. But there, in the doorway of Arabella’s room, is the Beloved, and his expression is full of cold fury. She gasps.

  His eyes blaze with ire as he says loudly, ‘You, Miss Lettice Evans, are going nowhere, until you have answered to me.’

  ‘Let me pass,’ commands Letty, hiding her fear as best she can.

  He laughs. ‘After all this time, do you really think I will obey you? You’re a little fool, and a treacherous one too. I know your plans to destroy us, with the Kendall boy. It will not work. The evil one will never triumph over the chosen!’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I said, let me pass.’

  ‘Oh, you shall pass. You are to face this whole community to answer for your wickedness. You’ve brought sin and death into this house!’

  She sees suddenly how clever he is. Sarah’s death will be laid at her feet, not at his. ‘You can’t blame me for what�
�s happened to Sarah,’ she retorts.

  His eyes glitter dangerously and she knows that this is the kind of situation he most relishes. High theatre, intense drama, with himself at the heart of it, directing it like a maestro.

  ‘You shall be taken from here and tried,’ says the Beloved with a chilly smile on his lips. ‘The trial will be before us all. I shall be the judge. But you will be condemned by your own mouth. And I shall glory in your subjugation.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘Do you want to see around, Rachel? You ought to, if you’re going to be one of us.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that.’ I’ve guessed that this is more than the glorified and slightly odd holiday home it seemed at first. Archer is the lynchpin of the place; everything revolves around him and wherever he goes he’s surrounded by a kind of adoration. He reaches out to everyone he sees. I’ve already felt the power of his gaze on me, and the way he makes me feel like I’m the most important thing in the world to him. From the expressions on the faces of the young people around him, he does that to all of them.

  ‘There are two parts to our life here, Rachel.’ He greets everyone we pass cheerily, asking them what they’re up to and how they are, and then smoothly continues. ‘One part is striving to achieve the highest goal: perfect love and understanding of the Divine. The other part is preparing for what lies ahead. When the trouble comes, how do you think most of the population will cope?’ He leads me out through the French windows in the sitting room into the garden. It’s a bright sunny day. The season has certainly changed from when I arrived with Heather on that cold winter night. The winter has gone, and she’s gone. I hear the lilting lyric from the song last night again: The winter is over and the rain is passed and gone. Archer is taking away the winter – at least, that’s how it feels.

  He is talking passionately about his vision. ‘Most of the population, with their utter reliance on supermarket food, microwave meals, electricity and all the rest of it, won’t have a clue about how to cope. When the great shortages come, they won’t know what to do. That’s because they’ve been purposefully turned into soft morons by successive governments who rely on their dependence to keep them – the elite – in power. No one has the ability to do anything but what they’re told these days. We are different. We’re changing that. We’re taking back control.’