by Angela Arney
Eleanora managed to take Peter aside and hastily recounted the conversation she had overheard. ‘I can’t think why they are all so against him,’ she finally said. ‘The poor man has been in hospital. I suppose he is still having treatment for that leg. I think they are being horribly mean.’
Peter could not help but agree. ‘It’s certainly strange, and I can’t understand it either. I know my mother never got on with him. She let it slip out once that she had a brother called William, but then said “the less said about him the better,” and that was the end of that! But you know what families can be like. They have a terrible row and then they all remember it for ever afterwards, carry a grudge and never forgive each other.’
‘Our family will never be like that,’ said Eleanora firmly. ‘We shall never row with our children, and I shall never allow them to quarrel with each other.’
Peter laughed affectionately. ‘It’s a problem we don’t need to worry about just yet.’
‘I mean it, though.’ Eleanora was serious. ‘I want a happy family. In the meantime let’s be extra nice to William, make certain he really feels one of us.’
Christmas was the time for family traditions, and usually the family went to Midnight Mass at Longford Parish Church. But the snow was falling more heavily than ever when the time came to leave and, after considering the weather, they stayed at home. Even Peter and his parents decided not to go to the little Catholic church in the village for the midnight service.
‘It will be the first time we have ever missed the Mass since Peter was born,’ said Anne, very reluctant to give it up. ‘I think we should go. A little snow shouldn’t put us off.’
Richard, however, was more practical. ‘I’m no expert on the English weather,’ he said, looking out of the window at the blizzard which had now set in, ‘but this seems more than just a little snow to me.’
Nicholas agreed. ‘If you venture out now you’d probably get stuck somewhere. The roads must be well-nigh impassable; you’d probably end up spending Christmas night in a snowdrift.’
That settled it, even for Anne. ‘Oh, I should hate that,’ she said shivering at the thought. ‘A white Christmas is wonderful when viewed from inside a warm house but the discomfort of being stuck outside, actually in the snow, is quite another matter.’
The news on television was that worse weather was to come. The whole of Europe was frozen solid, temperatures plummeting to unheard-of levels and heavy snowfalls predicted throughout the entire continent.
‘You arrived at Broadacres just in time, my dear,’ Margaret said to William. ‘Another few hours and you would have been stranded somewhere else.’ She quickly stifled the uncharitable thought of how nice it would have been if he had been delayed. This was Christmas, she reminded herself, a time for loving, a time for forgiving.
‘Yes, Mother, I know,’ said William giving a slow smile. ‘I knew I had to get here tonight. Something told me to hurry.’
The words were innocent enough but had a horribly familiar ring. Nicholas felt a barb of uneasiness catch in his throat. He turned to look at William, searching his face, afraid of what he might see. ‘Who told you?’ he did not want to ask, did not want to hear the answer; but he had to.
For a long moment, or so it seemed to Nicholas, William looked at him but the planes and angles of his face were in shadow, masking his expression. ‘Who?’ he queried, then laughing he turned away and looked into the flames licking up around a new log someone had thrown on the fire. ‘I heard the weather forecast,’ he said.
Nicholas let out his breath in an inaudible sigh of relief. What was he worrying about? His imagination was working overtime. Of course, William must have heard the weather forecast; it would have been hard for anyone to have missed it. The newscasters had been talking of nothing else but the freakish cold weather for the past week.
Because of the snow, Peter and his parents were easily persuaded to stay the night. The bitter freezing weather of the previous two weeks had necessitated the sheep being rounded up and penned in the sheds already, something normally done after Christmas. So there was no problem with the animals. Daniel, the head shepherd, could easily feed and water the animals with the help of his lad.
Richard went off to telephone him. ‘Daniel says there’s enough feed to last for nearly a week,’ he said on returning. ‘After that, we’ll need to go down to the barn in the bottom pasture. Let’s hope the snow has gone by then.’
In a way the snow is a blessing, thought Margaret, listening to the conversation as it became less and less stilted, more relaxed and friendly. Everyone was making an effort to welcome William. Even Liana, once she had got over the initial shock of seeing him again, felt that William was no longer the threat he had once seemed. He was different. The time away had changed him for the better.
Christmas Day passed as it always did, the only difference being that instead of a pre-luncheon walk down to the lake to feed the ducks crusts from the previous night’s party, this year they stayed in. Any possibility of walking was ruled out – the snow was still falling, the sky dark and heavy, burdened with even more snow yet to fall. The lights in the house needed to be on all day. Nicholas and Richard Chapman went out briefly with Wally and Bruno, making certain that all the livestock were fed, warm and sheltered.
‘Wally has got the snow-plough ready,’ said Nicholas when they returned. ‘He reckons we’ll be needing it soon.’
‘Snowed in,’ said Eleanora to Peter. They had sought refuge from the others and were alone for a few moments in the Grey Room. ‘How romantic it would be if we were snowed up all alone.’ She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘Not long now before we tell my father.’
‘Ask your father,’ corrected Peter, always a stickler for accuracy.
‘Ask, tell, it’s all the same,’ said Eleanora. She rubbed herself sensuously against him. ‘Isn’t it hell being under the same roof and in different beds?’
Peter untangled her arms from around his neck. ‘Not nearly as much hell as it would be if they found out we were already lovers!’
‘Oh, why are people so stuffy?’ she said irritably. ‘Girls used to be married at the age of twelve in the Middle Ages. I don’t see why we should have to pretend.’
‘Oh, Eleanora, you know very well why. Don’t be difficult. They will think you are too young, and besides you are still living at home. And what is more, this is not the Middle Ages. This is the twentieth century.’
‘OK. OK. You win, darling. You always do. Officially engaged this year, to get married later at a date as yet unspecified. I agree to that. But I’m telling you this. I’m moving in with you when I come up to London next September, and don’t try to put me off.’
‘Who said I was going to?’ Peter laughed at her furious expression and pulled her into his arms. He nuzzled the satin smooth skin of her neck and felt himself weakening. ‘Maybe I’ll try to sneak along to your room tonight. You are very difficult to resist!’
*
It snowed for three whole days and three whole nights. Europe was in chaos, Britain more so than anywhere else. Power lines were down, telephones out of order, roads blocked, trains stranded and the temperature consistently plunged downwards. On the fourth day it stopped snowing, the sun shone, the sky was a brilliant azure blue and the temperature started to creep up. Long icicles formed, hanging like frozen fingers from the roofs of all the buildings. The snow, pristine and blindingly white, sparkled and glistened in the sun.
Eleanora and Peter went out before breakfast and cleared a narrow path down to the lake then came back demanding bags of grain and bread to scatter on the edge of the frozen lake for the hungry birds.
‘Never mind the birds,’ said Nicholas. ‘You will have to come with us. We’ll need every able-bodied man and woman we have on the estate today. We must move the animal feed from the central store down to the barns nearer the house. If we have more snow, the cattle will starve.’
‘But we can’t let the bi
rds starve,’ protested Eleanora.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll feed them,’ said Liana. ‘I’ll be able to take James down now that you’ve cleared a path. We’ll go after breakfast. He can do with some exercise.’ She looked fondly at James, covered in strawberry jam from ear to ear, pushing a woolly donkey on wheels around the breakfast room at breakneck speed. ‘He’s bursting with energy.’
Nicholas and Richard gulped down a hasty breakfast and set out first, following Wally who was driving the snow-plough. ‘We’ll be gone all day,’ he told Margaret and Liana, the only two women besides Meg remaining behind. ‘When we’ve cleared the roads in Broadacres, we are going on over to Richard’s place.’
The rest of the family left soon afterwards, taking flasks of hot coffee laced with brandy, meat pies and sandwiches all prepared for them by Meg.
‘They will need it all,’ said Meg. The three women stood together on the steps, Liana, holding James, Lady Margaret and Meg, watching as the party set off through the path cleared by the snow-plough. Everyone went, even Meg’s youngest, Alice, who was only twelve.
‘Mind you stay with someone all the time,’ Margaret admonished Alice, who was prancing about like a young pony, excited to be included. ‘We don’t want to lose you in a snowdrift.’
‘I’ll look after her,’ Eleanora shouted, fashioning a snowball and hurling it at the watching group. ‘Don’t worry, we shall be quite safe.’
Margaret snorted with affectionate laughter as the three in the doorway scattered to avoid the missile. ‘How is it Eleanora can manage to look like an elegant young lady, have some very sensible and mature ideas, yet persist in acting as if she were only six years old?’
‘I don’t know.’ They turned to go back into the house, Meg to her kitchen, Liana and Lady Margaret back to the Arcadian drawing room. ‘Sometimes,’ said Liana, ‘I think I don’t know my own daughter at all. She only allows me to see the part of her she wants me to see.’
‘Like mother, like daughter,’ said Margaret dryly but Liana did not hear. She was too busy pointing out the icicles dripping and glistening in the morning sun. ‘If you are going to feed the birds, you’d better go now while it is thawing a little. Once the sun goes in, it will start to freeze again.’
Liana took her advice. Wrapping James up in so many layers of clothing that he looked like a tiny Eskimo, they set off together into the wonderful new white world. Broadacres had suddenly assumed a new dimension – the familiar shapes had changed into mysterious mounds softened by the fleecy white blanket spread across the land. Silence was all-enveloping. The snow deadened all noise, soaking up sound like a sponge. Liana made for the Palladian bridge, intending to go to the far side where the punt they used in summer was moored in a boat house. At the side of the boat house was a culvert where the overflow water from the lake drained into a stream. It was there, in a little patch of ice-free water stretching out into the lake, that the birds always congregated in winter.
James ran on ahead, his sturdy little legs remarkably steady for his age. Screaming with delight, he picked up handfuls of snow, laughing as the sunlight caught the snow crystals on his woollen mittens. Turning his hands this way and that, he held them up so that they sparkled as if covered with a thousand diamonds. Darling joy of my heart, thought Liana watching him. She put down the heavy bags of grain and bread to rest her arms for a moment, and James, seeing her stop, scampered back chuckling with happy glee. His fair hair had escaped from beneath his bobble hat, fringing his rosy cheeks in soft waves. Liana always put off getting it cut; it was such beautiful hair. He held up his pink cheek for a kiss, and she willingly complied before he dashed off again.
All the brightness of the sun seemed to stream around his small form, enclosing him as if he were the most precious thing in the whole universe. And he was. Because of him there was a completely new reason for Liana’s existence, and it had nothing to do with the previous relentless quest for money and power. Instead a key had been placed in her hands, a key to emotions she had despairingly thought would elude her for ever – peace of mind and real happiness. For the past year and a half she had trodden Elysian fields, saturated to overflowing with a glowing love that surpassed anything she had ever dared dream of.
James had brought all that love into the world with him, and yet he had not been a love child. A quirk of fate again, always the unexpected, taking her down yet another road of life. But this time, this was the final road. Liana was sure, she felt it in her bones. In spite of the past, in spite of cheating with Eleanora, even in spite of Raul’s still having a special place in her heart, she was supremely happy with her husband and family. And Nicholas was happy too. The whole pace of their life had changed. Their love-making now was different, more mature, not so erotic, but much more tender. They were gentle with each other, and that satisfied her. It felt right, and she knew Nicholas felt the same. By giving birth to James she had repaid her debt and in return gained peace of mind.
James had brought Eleanora closer, too, something Liana had always longed for but had never been able to achieve. James had been the unexpected catalyst, helping them to reach out to one another. Liana knew they were still miles apart in many respects but they were both trying and that was something. That is my fault, thought Liana now, picking up the bags of bird food again and trudging on towards the bridge, following in her son’s footsteps. However, instead of feeling depressed about the gap that still existed between herself and Eleanora, now she felt hopeful, sure in the knowledge that with the help of James she would be able to bridge the remaining gap. And it has to be me, she thought, because the gap is my guilt.
The last few yards sloped down to the lake, and Liana hurried after James who was rapidly disappearing from view. He had just discovered how to slide. Whooping with excitement, his rotund figure slithered helter-skelter down the path at ever-increasing speed. As they hurried their breath hung like incense in the frosty air.
Passing in the shadow of the Palladian bridge across to where the punt was moored, a dank, cold chill struck. Liana shivered; Margaret was right, the moment the sun went in it would freeze even harder.
The birds were there, hundreds of them, and they greeted the arrival of Liana and James with a cacophony of squawks and screeches. Surging forward, they tumbled over one another in their eagerness to gobble up the grain and dry bread. James gurgled and babbled baby talk, delighted when the ducks took bread from his hands. Soon the waterfowl were joined by hungry birds of the field. Liana had never seen so many together in one spot, finches, tits, blackbirds, thrushes, robins and tiny wrens. Daring in their hunger, the smaller birds even snatched grain from beneath the very beaks of the majestic swans. Liana let the happiness of the moment take possession of her, squatting besides James, blissfully watching his pleasure, careful not to let him run out on to the ice.
‘I see you have kept your word. That’s good.’
Startled, Liana looked up. William was walking across the ice. She realized that he must have started from the far side because he was in the middle. He had a boat hook with him and was leaning on it for support. Suddenly the sun went in, covered by billowing clouds racing in from the north-east, clouds with an ominous sulphurous tinge of colour. Another snowfall was imminent.
Afraid of being caught out of doors in a snowstorm Liana stood up. ‘It’s time for us to go.’ She reached for James’s hand.
‘Don’t go. I’ve only just arrived. Hey, James,’ William called, and before Liana could stop him James ran out across the solid ice to where William was standing.
‘James, come here.’
The loudness of her cry startled the birds. They swept, screaming harshly, up into the air, circling against the darkening sky. Running out across the ice Liana tried to catch James, but stumbled and slid to her knees. Giggling with naughtiness James ran on, and Liana watched, powerless to prevent William picking him up. As he did so, he looked straight into her eyes and smiled, and, looking up at him from her knees on the ice, Lia
na saw something which made her heart shrivel into a dead cold stone in her chest. The affability of the past few days was a cultivated front. He had fooled them all, for beneath the pleasant smile and friendly voice, and now openly revealed to her, lay the ugliness of spirit she had seen all those years ago in the stable.
‘I’ve been travelling,’ he said conversationally, as if they were sitting comfortably at afternoon tea. The very ordinariness of his voice was terrifying. The whole scene was unreal, the frozen lake the mournful cries of the birds, the dirty yellowish clouds overhead; it all took on the substance of a nightmare. Except that Liana knew there could be no awakening. ‘I went to Italy,’ William continued in the same tone of voice. ‘I went to your castello. It wasn’t difficult to find, and then I went to the village of San Angelo below.’
Liana clambered to her feet. She heard William’s words but they hardly registered. Her attention was focused on James, her son. He was the most important thing, and William had him. She had to get James.
‘I’ll take him now,’ she said, smiling pleasantly. I must try to act as if everything is normal she told herself, keep steady. Reaching out she tried to grasp the giggling baby. His fat arms were clasped tightly around William’s neck and his bobble hat had slipped sideways.
But William anticipated her move and evaded her, stepping smartly aside, keeping his balance with the aid of the boat hook.
‘I took an interpreter,’ William continued, as if she had not spoken, ‘and we found an old woman in the village who remembered the young marchesa. She said she was a very small, weakly girl and she died of consumption at the end of the war. She also told us that the marchesa had a friend, a tall peasant girl, whose name was Liana.’
