Star-Crossed Summer

by Sarah Stanley

  ‘Will you accept? The truth now, Miss Bellamy.’

  Harriet looked at her. ‘The truth? Probably, especially after this morning.’

  ‘What happened this morning?’

  There was a long pause. ‘I had a falling out with my father when I discovered that he intends to follow the North Devon Staghounds tomorrow. He isn’t as young as he once was, and I’m afraid he’ll break his foolish neck. So we had words. I’ve begged John to go too, to keep an eye on him.’

  ‘I’m sure you and Mr Bellamy will soon be fast friends again,’ Beth said reassuringly, not convinced she’d been told the whole truth. She hoped Harriet did accept her cousin, if only to alleviate Beth’s conscience over Landry.

  ‘You’ll meet John in a while, for he’s already gone into the church,’ Harriet explained. ‘He’s tall and thin, with a pale square face topped by a shock of spiky blond hair that simply will not obey the comb. You’ll like him, for he’s very kind and charming.’

  At last everyone began to file beneath the lych gate toward the church porch. Once inside, Harriet drew Beth down the aisle to the Bellamy pew at the front to introduce her to John Herriot, who proved to be exactly as described, but with thick freckles too. Beth liked him, and thought he and Harriet went well together. Or was that another instance of wishful thinking? Taking a discreet glance at the gallery, where Landry stood alone, as he always did, Beth smiled and he smiled back. She was still looking at him when his eyes moved slightly to her right and his smile became awkward. Harriet had also glanced up at him, her face unsmiling, and her eyes almost sorrowful. Beth concluded that something had happened between them, and it was only a small leap to conclude further that Landry, not John Herriot’s proposal or Mr Bellamy’s penchant for stag-hunting, was the real cause of Harriet’s tears.

  The hymns, which were suitably doleful in a week when a traveller had been found apparently robbed and murdered, were clearly not the ones the congregation had expected for this particular Sunday in August. As the organist commenced the opening bars, those with hymn books made much fuss about turning their pages, and the singing was a little off-key and ragged until everyone settled. Harriet’s father had also composed his sermon around the Sixth Commandment, Thou shalt not kill, and delivered it as if he suspected the entire congregation of having had a hand in Topweather’s demise. Mr Bellamy was a tall, heavily built man of about fifty. Everything about him was heavy, even his voice, which rang through the church like a tolling bell. He was balding, his hair little more than a monk’s tonsure, and he had a rather gloomy face, which went well with the mood of the service.

  When everyone eventually left, greeting the clergyman as they emerged from the porch, Harriet and her cousin paused to stay with him, but Beth slipped on by to linger in the shade of one of the two ancient yew trees that had stood in the churchyard for 700 years, or so it was believed. She hoped that when Landry emerged he would come over to speak to her. He lingered only a few moments with the group by the porch, and then came to join her. Fearing to appear too intimate in public, he and Beth strolled openly around the churchyard, being very proper and not doing anything to arouse comment from the many watching eyes. Beth could tell he had something on his mind, but he seemed set upon not coming to the point of it. She halted at last.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked for the second time since leaving the Dower House. ‘Is it something to do with Harriet?’

  ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Because I’m not a fool. She’s been crying, and tried to convince me that it concerned proposing cousins and stag-hunting fathers, but there was something very false about it all. Then I saw how your face changed when she looked up at you in the gallery. What is going on?’

  He sighed. ‘Very well, I’ll tell you. I called at the rectory after breakfast, to tell her how I feel about you. I couldn’t leave it any longer. She has a right to know.’

  ‘I thought she had no rights.’

  He looked at her. ‘Just the rights of an old and dear friend.’

  Beth felt rebuked. ‘Did you tell her everything?’ She sincerely hoped he hadn’t!

  ‘Well, no, of course not, although I think she guesses. She’s heard the whispers too, and can hardly imagine we play cards up on the cliff. I needed to tell her, Beth, because I know how she feels about me. I live in hope that she will get over me and find someone else. I pray she accepts her cousin.’ Landry glanced at the porch, where Harriet and John were laughing together about something.

  ‘Maybe she will. She hinted as much,’ Beth said.

  Landry removed his hat in order to run his fingers through his dark hair. ‘Beth, I haven’t confessed all about Harriet and me. Once, over ten years ago, we became lovers.’

  Beth was thunderstruck. ‘Lovers?’ she whispered. More feet of clay?

  ‘It’s not something of which I boast, and I’m only telling you because I want everything to be open between us.’ She glanced away. The thought of confiding her past had been difficult enough before this week, but Topweather’s death made it utterly, absolutely and completely out of the question. Oh, what else did this star-crossed summer have in store for her? Landry took her silence for condemnation. ‘Don’t censure me without hearing it all, Beth. It happened the afternoon I heard of my elder brother Gerald’s death. We were both in the army. I was about to rejoin my regiment when news arrived that he’d been killed in an accident while his regiment was embarking at Cork for Gibraltar. Harriet was with me when I received the tidings, and she could see how devastated I was. She tried to comfort me, and one thing led to another. It was a moment of extreme emotion, Beth, and I’m ashamed to say that the following morning I rather skulked away to my regiment.’

  Beth lowered her eyes. ‘Do you expect me to commend you?’

  ‘No. No, of course not, but I don’t want you to despise me either. Letting my emotional and physical needs rob me of gallantry is not something of which I am proud. On returning a year later I was uneasy, not wanting to hurt her, but at the same time needing her to understand there would not be a resumption of physical intimacy. She and I were meant to be good friends, not lovers or spouses. So I behaved as if nothing had happened, and to my relief she didn’t say anything about it, and seemed as anxious to forget as me. I’ve always wanted to marry for love, Beth, not duty. Maybe by the strict rules of our society my duty was to marry her as soon as I’d robbed her of her virginity, but as my wife she could never enjoy the sort of fulfilment she needs, because I could never give everything of myself. Do you understand that?’

  Did she understand? Oh, yes, she did. Only too well. She also knew that there were now two women with a prior claim to him, Carrie Markham and Harriet Bellamy.

  At that moment Harriet hailed them. ‘Landry? I have decided that you and Beth must be the first to congratulate us,’ she declared happily, and they turned to see her approaching on John Herriot’s arm.

  Landry bent forward to kiss Harriet’s cheek. ‘I’m delighted for you.’

  Her eyes closed as his lips brushed her skin, then opened again with almost dazzling brilliance. ‘I couldn’t be happier, Landry. How could I have dithered so long?’

  Next Landry reached out to pump John’s hand. ‘Congratulations, sir! I vow that you have snapped up one of the two most splendid ladies in the whole of Devon!’

  ‘That would appear to be so,’ John replied, beaming.

  Harriet turned to Beth. ‘I’ve been such a fool, not seeing the happiness that was right under my silly nose. As I was talking to John just now I suddenly saw what a dear thing he is. He makes me laugh so, and can be so tender that I knew I would always regret not accepting him. So I decided there and then.’

  Beth hugged her. ‘I’m so glad, Harriet.’ She smiled at John too. ‘I wish you and Harriet every joy, Mr Herriot.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Mannacott.’

  For a second Beth’s mind went utterly blank. Mannacott? She was on the point of correcting him that her name was Tremoille when
wit returned and she bit back the traitorous words. Harriet looked curiously at her. ‘Beth?’

  ‘Mm? Oh, nothing, I was just remembering something.’

  The four exchanged the usual pleasantries and small talk, and then Harriet murmured about it being time for lunch at the rectory. She and John took their leave and walked off, heads together as if in tender conversation.

  ‘Do you think Harriet is truly happy about this?’ she asked Landry.

  ‘Yes, of course. Why? Do you doubt it?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just that it follows on the heels of your visit this morning.’

  ‘Does it matter?’ he asked softly. ‘She has made her choice and is to marry her cousin. He is clearly considering jumping over the moon, and she seems, well, relieved to have come to a decision.’

  Beth watched Harriet and John disappear beneath the lych gate, and then heard the tinkle of Harriet’s laughter from the roadway beyond. Her doubts faded and she smiled a little sheepishly. ‘You’re right. Guilt is making me unsure of everything.’

  ‘You have no just cause to feel guilty.’ He drew the back of his fingers softly down her cheek. ‘Before Harriet and her cousin joined us just now, I told you that I didn’t love her and could never marry her. I say it again now. You’re my other half, the lover I have always sought, Beth Mannacott, and I want you to be my wife.’

  Her green eyes widened. ‘Marry you?’ she repeated.

  ‘You told me you’ll never have the man you really love, so why not accept the man who loves you? I don’t care what secrets you have, but I can help you face them. I want to look after you, protect you and love you, and I think that you already know we will do well together. I can be content with being second in your heart, provided I am first in your life. So Beth, make that possible by becoming my wife.’

  She couldn’t speak. The things he’d said made it all so very tempting. She was afraid of her past, but with Landry at her side, she— Her thoughts halted. She had to be practical. Yes, she could marry him, and maybe they’d be happy for the rest of their lives, but she couldn’t tell him everything about her past, not when two deaths were involved. And what if Guy were to trace her? What then? Better it was Beth Tremoille who faced the consequences of her actions, than Mrs Landry Haldane, with all the shame it would bring to her husband.

  He’d been watching her face. ‘Beth, when I say I don’t care about your secrets, I mean it. I need to be at your side, and I really do mean it. Being with you is infinitely more important than anything else. Anything else. I want you as my wife, and I will keep on asking until you accept.’

  She gazed at him. ‘Landry, I can’t have children.’ She hadn’t even realized she was going to say it.

  ‘Children? Damn it, Beth, I don’t want you to ensure the next generation of Haldanes, I want you for yourself!’

  He didn’t ask her how she knew she was barren, nor had he asked about the man she really loved, and her secrets were hers to keep if that was what she wished. So great was his love that he wanted to overlook everything. Under those terms she could give enough of herself to be fair to him, and in return she would be loved and cherished. Temptation spread enticingly before her.

  ‘Beth? Let me provide you with security and a loving marriage. Believe me, my reward will be eternal happiness. Accept. Please.’

  Suddenly the summer seemed less star-crossed as she was swept along by new emotions. For once, Guy was nowhere in her thoughts as she flung her arms around Landry’s neck. ‘Yes,’ she breathed, ‘yes, I accept!’

  He gave a jubilant laugh and caught her around the waist to swing her up into the air. ‘Oh, Beth, Beth, you’ve made me the most blessed man on God’s own earth!’

  Late that evening, during another dramatic sunset, Harriet slipped out of the rectory with a basket of fresh-baked cakes for Carrie Markham at the lodge. She walked quickly, her eyes downcast, her shawl clutched around her shoulders. Her heart should have been light and happy because of John, but instead she felt low and depressed. There was no going back, and in due course she would become Harriet Herriot. Oh, what a mockery of a name! Reaching the gates, she wondered if Landry was at the hall, or down at the Dower House with Beth. Salt tears pricked her eyes. She had loved him all her life, and would never stop loving him, but Beth Mannacott had won him with a single smile. Fate was so cruel. She knocked at the lodge door, and Carrie answered, holding a lighted candlestick and wearing a long-sleeved grey muslin dress, unadorned and simple. ‘Miss Harriet? Come in, do.’

  ‘I’ve brought some of Katie’s favourite cakes.’ Carrie’s deteriorating health was plain to see, and she’d wasted away visibly in the week since being given the medallion. Even her voice, still so pleasantly Devonshire, was frailer. Harriet stepped straight into the little parlour, which was furnished with items from the big house. They looked unlikely in such a small dwelling. Katie had been playing with a wooden doll, but was allowed one of the cakes before being despatched to bed. Then, when they were alone, Harriet came to the point. ‘Carrie, have you heard of the two betrothals that—?’

  ‘Two? I’ve heard that you are to marry your cousin. Is it true?’ Harriet nodded. ‘Well, it’s not the wisest decision you’ve ever made.’

  ‘Wisdom is not my greatest asset,’ Harriet observed wryly, ‘and now it’s time to get on with my life.’

  ‘Not this way. You should be marrying Mr Landry.’

  ‘Well, that brings me to the second betrothal: he is to marry Miss Mannacott.’

  Carrie was appalled. ‘That cannot be so!’

  ‘It is so, Carrie. They came to the rectory after church service to tell us. It will be made official at a grand betrothal ball at Haldane Hall just before Christmas. The nineteenth of December, I believe, as it’s Miss Mannacott’s birthday. Anyway, he proposed to her just after I’d accepted my cousin. So you see, it’s all too late now.’

  ‘It won’t be too late until the wedding band is on her finger.’

  ‘Please don’t, Carrie, for it’s all settled.’

  ‘Miss Mannacott will need many midwinter lights if she is to fend off—’

  ‘Stop it!’ Harriet became agitated. ‘I’m the rector’s daughter, Carrie, and have no truck with pagan superstition.’

  ‘It is not pagan or superstition, but common sense. Everyone hereabouts knows it to be so. If you dance at midwinter, you need many lights to see your way. I do not think Miss Mannacott will ever have sufficient light.’ Harriet fell into a stony silence, and after a moment Carrie glanced at Katie’s doll, which lay where the little girl had left it. ‘And what happens when I go? What then? It’s no good, Miss Harriet, he must be told.’

  ‘No, Carrie. Leave things as they are.’

  Carrie suppressed a cough. ‘And – and you think all will be well? That the new Mrs Landry Haldane will welcome Katie into her home? Jealousy is a monstrous thing, Miss Harriet, and I believe Miss Mannacott to be no more free of it than anyone else.’

  ‘She would never be cruel to a child.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Carrie coughed again, more agitatedly this time. When it had subsided, she looked at Harriet. ‘What do you really know of her? What do any of us know of her? She’s come out of nowhere to take over.’

  Harriet lowered her eyes. It was true, what did they know of Beth? Even Landry hardly knew her, and yet intended to spend the rest of his life with her.

  ‘Miss Harriet?’ Carrie’s hollow eyes were upon her.

  ‘Miss Mannacott knows all about Katie, and would never be unkind.’

  ‘He should still be made to do the right thing by you,’ Carrie repeated.

  ‘No, Carrie. Promise me you won’t interfere. I beg you, let sleeping dogs lie.’

  ‘Very well, Miss Harriet, if that’s your wish.’ But Carrie’s face was shadowed.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was a fine mid-September morning in Frampney, and smoke rose from the forge as Jake and Matty went about their daily business. Phoebe was waiting
in the kitchen as Rosalind returned from the vegetable garden with potatoes and runner beans for the evening meal. Rosalind thought – hoped – that Phoebe had gone to the village store for some provisions, and could not hide her dismay on finding the older woman seated at the table. ‘Oh, Phoebe, I – I thought you’d gone out.’

  ‘Put those vegetables down and take a seat,’ Phoebe instructed.

  ‘But, I’ve things to do, and—’

  ‘Do as you’re told, Rosalind.’ Reluctantly the girl put the basket down and wiped her hands on her coarse brown apron before sitting down. ‘Now then,’ Phoebe said, ‘it’s been more than a month since that foolishness with Master Robert, and you haven’t washed any cloths from your monthly bleeding, so I have to ask if you’ve come on at all.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rosalind lied, ‘yes, I came on within a week. It wasn’t really heavy, and I used the cloths as usual.’ She spoke well, knowing it pleased Phoebe.

  ‘And washed them too?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Then where did you dry them? I saw nothing on the line.’

  Rosalind lowered her eyes quickly. ‘I – I get embarrassed, Phoebe, so I dried them by the window in my room.’

  ‘Did you now?’ Phoebe studied her closely. It might be the truth; on the other hand, it might be the lies of a girl too frightened to admit to anything. ‘I don’t know that I can take your word for it, Rosalind.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m lying?’ Rosalind leapt up.

  ‘No, I’m saying I’ve seen no proof that you’ve had your bleeding. Your word isn’t enough. I owe it to your father to let him know about all this.’

  Rosalind’s eyes widened with horror. ‘No! Oh, no, Phoebe, please!’

  Jake suddenly spoke from the doorway behind them. ‘Let me know about what?’

  Rosalind’s eyes waxed as round as saucers, and she whipped around with a dismayed gasp. ‘Nothing, Dad! Honest, it’s nothing!’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like nothing, Rozzie,’ he answered slowly, glancing at Phoebe and then at his daughter again. ‘Now, I’m not moving from here until I’m told.’