by Luccia Gray
The stink and grey of London had given way to clear skies and green meadows, dotted with the occasional scattering of woodlands. Unfortunately, the best doctors and lawyers were to be found in that forsaken hell, so my journeys there had been frequent. Neither had offered me much consolation, which I had warned them I did not require. A doctor or a lawyer has no place assuming the role of pastor. I wanted answers and earthly solutions to practical problems, and happily, I had encountered them.
I smiled, not all was lost. Luck would have it that a solution had crossed my mind, quite by chance in the shape of the alluring Mrs. Stewart, or Kirkpatrick, as she now called herself. They had apologised for their deception and informed me regarding their change of name and the ordeal they had endured.
I could tell when I met her at the school that she was an extraordinary woman, not a normal schoolteacher at all. Although I realised at the time that she was obviously lying to me, I would have married her and left everything in her hands, on the condition that she would look after my son after my death, oversee his marriage, and make sure our surname withstood another generation. Unfortunately she was already married and was not prepared to be lured away from her possessive husband as quickly as was required, so I had to employ a different approach.
My lawyer had advised me how I should proceed in order to safeguard my interests, and my doctor had informed me of the amount of time at my disposal. I was confident that I could accomplish my objectives if I acted quickly and astutely.
I was exhausted on my return to Manderley, but I did not hesitate. A message was dispatched immediately and I begged Mr. and Mrs. Kirkpatrick to visit me, on a matter of the utmost urgency, the following morning. I had hardly slept due to the expectation my plan had aroused in me, but I was convinced the circles around my eyes and my fatigue would only inspire her pity. Her husband would do whatever she decided, of that I was quite sure. She was my target.
I greeted them warmly at the door myself. I had asked Fritz to leave us alone throughout our conversation. I did not want anyone to suspect until after the transactions had been completed.
“Mr. and Mrs. Kirkpatrick, it’s so good of you to come at such short notice.” I led them into the drawing room. “Please be seated.”
They obliged, but Mrs. Kirkpatrick made sure I understood their impatience. “We are very busy, Mr. de Winter, because we are preparing for a long journey to Eyre Hall.”
“I hope the urgency is not for a serious reason.”
“Not at all. My son is getting married.”
“Congratulations. I hope that doesn’t mean that you’ll be leaving Cornwall and returning to Yorkshire.”
“We’re not making any definite plans yet, but at the moment we’d like to stay in this area, wouldn’t we, Michael?” She handed the conversation over to her husband skilfully. Her ability to wrap such a headstrong and commanding man around her little finger was admirable.
“We’ll be staying for a while. I’ve made Mr. Blains an offer for his fishing business,” he said.
“Blains, the pilchard man?” Kirkpatrick nodded. “Excellent. It’s a lucrative business, although old Blains never had his heart in it. He wanted to keep it small, just the family. I suppose now that his family’s left, he’s no longer interested in keeping it.” That was excellent news. “I presume you’ve thought of expanding, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
“I’d like to can and bottle the pilchards and sell them in London.”
“I admire your ambition, Mr. Kirkpatrick, and it will bring jobs and prosperity to the area.”
“I hope so.”
“If you need any assistance, please let me know.” Mr. Kirkpatrick nodded, but his expression was of curiosity rather than gratitude. He didn’t trust me, probably because he had noticed my interest in his wife. Soon he would realise that, much to my chagrin, I would pose him no threat.
“And Mrs. Kirkpatrick, I trust you will continue your work at our school?”
“Of course. I’d also like to find a good school for Helen. She’ll need more than piano, needlework, and French soon.”
“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of teaching her all she needs to learn, but I agree that a good finishing school would be an excellent idea. May I suggest Cheltenham Ladies College? It’s an excellent institution, near Bristol.”
“Thank you Mr. de Winter. We’ll look into it when the time comes.”
“Helen is such a lovely child. I’m very pleased that Max has found such an agreeable friend. He’s a shy and difficult child, but he has a good heart.”
“He seems a generous and thoughtful child. He must miss his mother and grandmother,” said Mrs. Kirkpatrick.
“He cannot miss his mother because he never knew her. My mother, his grandmother, was like a mother to him. She meant well, but perhaps she made him melancholic, as she was herself.”
My mother’s memory always made me feel mournful. After some silent moments, Kirkpatrick spoke.
“What is it you would like to speak to us about, Mr. de Winter?” I looked into his amber eyes, shrewd and predatory, like a wolf’s. I wondered if he would ever be considerate to my son. I had already noticed he was protective with Helen and wary of Max. I didn’t mind. Max was wayward and needed a firm hand, but he also needed guidance.
“We do not wish to be rude, but we have many matters to arrange before we leave. We only have a few days left to prepare if we are to arrive at Eyre Hall before Midsummer,” Mrs. Kirkpatrick added apologetically. It was obvious that she was a master at controlling the beast that so evidently resided in her husband.
“Naturally, please forgive me for beating about the bush. This is not easy for me, but I have no alternative. I’m afraid I have to open my heart and soul to you both and ask you for an invaluable favour.”
I stood and paced the room, no longer able to control my anxiety.
Mrs. Kirkpatrick spoke. “We will assist you in any way we can, Mr. de Winter. Please tell us how we can help.”
I decided to place the facts before them plainly. “I am dying. In fact, according to my doctors, I only have some months left.”
Mrs. Kirkpatrick’s face twisted painfully, yet it did not detract from her beauty. “I’m sorry to hear such bad news, Mr. de Winter. How tragic for your son.”
I wasn’t a sentimental person, but I noticed my eyes fill with tears. I had not uttered the words aloud to anyone. I had known there was something seriously wrong when I spat blood frequently. I wondered if it might be tuberculosis, although I had no fever and there had been no cases in the area recently. I had listened patiently when my doctor informed me that there was a growth in my throat, which would soon make it impossible for me to eat, speak, or even drink. I realised I could hardly utter a word due to the emotion.
Mrs. Kirkpatrick approached me, resting her hand on my arm. “Do you have any relatives, Mr. de Winter?”
“None,” I managed to answer, but I could not pronounce any more words.
“Please sit down and tell us how we can help.” She pulled me towards an armchair and I dropped into the seat, covered my face with my hands and cried.
Seconds later, a glass of brandy was thrust in my hand by her husband. The burning sensation calmed my aching throat and my nerves.
“I don’t expect an answer today, but I beg you to consider my petition and tell me your decision as soon as possible.” They both nodded and observed in absolute silence.
“Max will be entirely alone in the world, and you will agree that he’s too young to look after himself. He needs a family, affections, love and guidance, from good, honest people such as yourselves.” I could see they were both in a state of shock, but as I had summoned the courage to speak, I had to complete my request. “I’m asking you to look after my son, as if he were your own.”
Mrs. Kirkpatrick held her husband’s hand as if she were pacifying him. I could tell he was feeling unease while she was feeling pity, but at least they were listening, so I continued.
“I h
ave been thinking about my son for some time, and I have been discussing matters with my lawyers in London. Something could be arranged, which would be beneficial to all of us. If you agree, I will authorise you both to take over all matters pertaining to my son’s future until he is twenty-three. You will take care of his income and authorise his marriage settlement.”
“That is a great responsibility, Mr. de Winter,” said Mr. Kirkpatrick, with a far kinder tone than his expression suggested. “Are you sure there’s no one else you’d like to contact?”
“I don’t expect you to help my son at your own expense. I would like to sell you Manderley.”
Mrs. Kirkpatrick spoke. “I’m afraid we couldn’t possibly afford Manderley.”
“I could sell you half of Manderley at a very reasonable price. You would be joint owners of the house and the property with my son.”
“You forget we have a daughter,” said Mrs. Kirkpatrick. As I guessed, she would negotiate financial matters; an assertive and intelligent woman, well ahead of her time. If her daughter were only half the woman her mother was, my son would be a very fortunate man.
“How could I forget your charming daughter? I would also ask you to name my son as your heir as well as your daughter, so in the future they will be joint owners of the property. In fact, I hope one day they will marry.”
Mr. Kirkpatrick broke away from his wife’s hold and loomed over me. I spoke quickly to pacify him. “Eventually Manderley will belong to both of them. They will be equal partners.”
“We will not force Helen to marry against her wishes,” said her protective stepfather. I trusted him. He would be a demanding yet fair father figure for my son.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t force Max either, but I’m sure they’re in love already.”
Mr. Kirkpatrick looked as if he wanted to hit me. His wife approached, leaning into his arm and saying his name softly. The effect was immediate. He unclenched his fists and let her take over the conversation.
“Mr. de Winter, my daughter is twelve and Max is sixteen. They’re children.”
“Age is irrelevant where love is concerned. You should know that Mrs. Kirkpatrick.”
Her husband’s answer came at once. “You will take care how you address my wife, Mr. de Winter. You have no business telling her what she should know.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Kirkpatrick, I meant no disrespect.”
She nodded. “I have noticed Helen is very fond of Max, but she hasn’t met any other young boys yet.”
“They have already pledged their love.”
She gasped at my revelation. “What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Benson overheard them at Cove Cottage. They carried out a ritual. They cut their thumbs, mingled their blood and promised to love each other forever.”
“Jane, I told you I didn’t like Helen spending so much time with Max. She’s too young.” He turned to me, “Helen will not be forced to marry against her wishes because of a pledge she made when she was a child. We will certainly not bargain with our daughter, Mr. de Winter.”
“I think you will find they are already falling in love. If he is under your custody you will make sure he will not overstep his mark, but I know my son is smitten. Max isn’t a child. He is almost seventeen. Are you sure he can’t have found the right woman already, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
He turned to his wife, squeezed her hand and closed his eyes as if he were in pain. I was sure he had fallen in love with his wife at that age. He understood the power of first love, yet he was worried about his step-daughter. His wife spoke.
“Perhaps your son is in love, Mr. de Winter, but Helen is twelve. You will agree with me that we must wait to see how their relationship develops before we make any decisions on their behalf.”
“In any case, Helen will not marry anyone until she is twenty-one, so your son had better respect her until that moment,” added Mr. Kirkpatrick.
“If you agree to my proposal, you will be able to oversee him and make all the necessary decisions regarding their future. I trust you both to be caring and sensible parents. If Max does not marry your daughter, I would like to ask you to make sure he marries someone he loves and respects.”
“If they don’t marry, what will happen to Manderley?” asked Mrs. Kirkpatrick.
“If they don’t marry, my son will pay you half of its value and you and Helen will be free to leave, once he is twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three,” repeated Mrs. Kirkpatrick thoughtfully, and I wondered if she had realised I had chosen that precise age because when my son was twenty-three, Helen would be eighteen, an excellent age to marry.
“A trust fund will be set up for my son to cover all the running costs of Manderley and the estate, which you will also manage, until my son is twenty-three.”
They sat down again and watched me in silence.
“Does that satisfy you?” I asked.
“Your offer is generous. Mr. de Winter. Your petition is unusual, but understandable. However, you must realise that I will need to discuss it further with my husband, before we come to a decision.”
“Of course. I am aware that my request is a challenge, but believe me, I have meditated carefully on this matter and you are my only hope.”
Mrs. Kirkpatrick took her husband’s hand and stood. “We will inform you of our decision when we return from Eyre Hall, Mr. de Winter.” As I had imagined, she would decide.
“I hope you are not too long. Unfortunately, my time is limited, and as you must understand, this matter is pressing.”
They promised to return with an answer in the first week of July. I was satisfied that the negotiations had gone better than I had hoped. My unexpected tears had no doubt softened their hearts. I was convinced they would look after this property and my son better than anyone else I knew.
I had made enquiries in London regarding Mrs. Kirkpatrick, who had been married to a wealthy Yorkshire landowner and had managed his large estate until her son had taken over. I had discovered she was indeed the caring and intelligent woman I had envisaged, as well as a shrewd businesswoman, and a respected writer. Mr. Kirkpatrick was no match for his stunning wife, but I could see the ambition and tenacity of his character, which would influence my son positively. I smiled as I drained my brandy. I had made a good choice for my son’s future. I prayed to God that they would accept the challenge.
***
Chapter XXV – Thunder Moon at Eyre Hall
The journey to Eyre Hall was long and tiring. We took a carriage to Bristol, where we had to spend the night because I was feeling weary, and Michael insisted I should rest. We spent the night at the same hotel we had stayed on our escape six months earlier. Michael told Helen an embellished version of the story over dinner. The next day we caught a train to Manchester, which took almost six hours due to delays and roadworks on the line. Fortunately, we were in a private carriage with padded seats and backs, so Helen slept for most of the journey, and I dozed, while Michael looked thoughtfully out of the window and kept asking me how I was every few minutes. He seemed to think I was as fragile as a snowflake in a blizzard, but apart from occasional dizziness, I had never felt better.
I had complained of tiredness a few days before the journey and Michael had said we should cancel it, but I reminded him that we needed to close this chapter in our lives, and it had to be done personally. We had to reach financial agreements with Mr. Smythe and John, and see the family one last time as a married couple instead of the fugitives they had last encountered.
The heavy gates were thrown open, and our carriage rolled along the drive to Eyre Hall. I viewed the familiar trees on either side with indifference. Michael was holding my hand and watching me anxiously, so I smiled reassuringly. Minutes later, the carriage stopped in front of the house.
Adele and Mr. Greenwood were having lemonade in the garden when we approached the front door. Adele rushed up to us and embraced me with such energy that Michael interrupted, pulling her away from me, complaining that I w
as tired.
“Don’t be so picky Michael; you’ve had Jane all to yourself for months.”
“Not long enough, Adele. She has only been my wife for a few weeks. I’m extremely possessive now that Jane is Mrs. Kirkpatrick, at last.”
Adele made a dismissive gesture with her hand and grabbed my arm once again. “Jane darling, I’ve never seen you look so well. You were always so slim, but now your bones seem to have melted under your flesh.”
“It was over a year ago when you last saw me.”
“Your face, it looks so round and happy. I’m sure I wouldn’t recognise you. And your hair.” She put her hand under my bonnet, “It’s curly and loose. Is it a disguise? You know you’re not in hiding anymore.”
I looked at Michael and smiled. “Michael likes my hair loose. It’s not curled, this is my natural wave. Worry not, Adele, tomorrow I’ll wear a suitable velvet gown with a matching headdress.”
“Would you like me to help you dress, like I used to?”
“Thank you, Adele, but I’ll be helping Jane with anything she needs,” said Michael, losing his patience.
Adele raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be a bully, just because you’re her husband.”
Michael’s expression darkened. I spoke quickly to avoid further discussion. “Adele, Michael is my husband.” I pulled my arm through his. “And I’m also his proud wife, and I forbid you to vex him.”
She looked at us both and huffed. “What’s Cornwall like?”
“Cornwall is a beautiful part of England. I feel very happy at Primrose Cottage. It’s like a primrose, a happy wild flower, which grows freely all over the meadow by our cottage. There’s an enormous pond, a natural one, very nearby, and there are plenty of bluebells, and giant rhododendrons and rhubarb. You must come and visit one day.”
“We will. Come, have some lemonade and tell us more about Cornwall.” Adele tried to pull my arm, but Michael insisted we needed to wash, rest and change. He suggested we could talk later. I noticed Adele didn’t even look at Helen, who had been standing by my side the whole time. I was saddened that Adele couldn’t find it in her heart to love her. I hugged and kissed my daughter as we walked towards the main door.
