‘It will certainly be a challenge, but we’ll do it, Mama. We’re the experts.’
Chapter Forty-One
They had begun to search for the straight-sided pieces that would make the puzzle’s frame when the door flew open once again. This time, though, it was not Joshua, angry and red, but Henry Fitzroy, white and shaken. Alice tensed immediately.
‘You have to help me,’ he began. ‘I don’t know what to do. Where to go.’ He was an altogether different man from the one she knew.
She sat up straight in her chair but made no move towards him. ‘It would be best that you stay calm, Henry, and tell me what has happened.’
‘I don’t know where to start.’
She could have retorted that the beginning was usually a good place, but she could see that he was in a state of shock and she tried to sound compassionate. ‘Tell me what has brought you here.’
‘Lister heard a conveyance in the night,’ he said. The butler’s night-time observations hardly seemed relevant, but she waited patiently for her brother to continue. ‘There was a storm, you know.’ She nodded encouragingly. ‘And Lister got up to make sure the front door was secure. Then he heard the noise. He was sure it was a horse and carriage driving past the gates of Amberley – it was unusual enough for him to report. Do you know anything about it?’
‘No, indeed. It seems a strange time and even stranger weather to be venturing out.’ She looked as blank as she was able and was glad to see that William’s face, too, was expressionless.
‘I had thought you might know, but if not…’ He wavered on his legs and looked likely to fall. For the first time in her life, she was seriously concerned for him. ‘Sit down,’ she said, trying for a friendly voice. ‘You look unwell.’
He slumped into the nearest chair. Then gave a loud groan that startled both his listeners. ‘She’s gone,’ he said. ‘She’s gone. Louisa.’
‘Surely you must be mistaken. She will be in the village. She will be visiting a tenant. There is fever among the cottagers, I believe.’
He shook his head with a despairing violence. ‘That can’t be so. She left a message.’ He fumbled in his breast pocket and brought out a folded sheet of paper, but when he tried to spread it out, his hands were shaking so much that he was forced to give up and let the white oblong sit in his lap. ‘It’s for Gilbert, you see.’
‘But—’Alice began to say when he cut across her in a voice drained of all life: ‘Her woman tells me her clothes are missing.’ Then, ‘Where has she gone, Alice?’
She had a good idea where, or at least with whom, but she kept the thought to herself. ‘I’m sorry I can be of no help. It would be best if you sent one of your servants to make discreet enquiries in the village – and maybe beyond. By now, your staff will know there is something amiss and there is little point in pretending otherwise.’
He seemed hardly to hear her, returning again to the night’s events, as though unable to think beyond that one crucial moment. ‘It was certainly a carriage that Lister heard, and she was in it, I am quite sure.’
That was another thing she had ideas about, but again she said nothing.
‘Why would she leave?’ Henry wailed. ‘And why travel alone?’
She had no intention of enlightening him. It was clear to her that Louisa had made off with her doctor and in due course Henry would discover it. But two elopements in one night! That was scarcely believable.
‘How could she do that?’ he continued. ‘How could she bring such shame on me, such shame on the Fitzroys?’
She could not find it in her heart to blame her sister-in-law. For months she’d noticed how happy Louisa had looked in the company of Frank Daniels, happier than she had ever known her. Not that she had been surprised. She could only guess at the life the woman endured at Amberley. For all her faults, she should not have to suffer her remaining days tied to a man like Henry Fitzroy. Even now, he was most concerned with his family’s honour. Love, true love, was a foreign country to him. A social manner that was easy, a charm that was shallow, friendship that was manipulative, all these he could do, and far, far worse, but not love.
She went over to his chair and gently urged him to his feet. ‘I’m afraid we cannot help you, Henry,’ she repeated. ‘You must go back to Amberley and start enquiries.’
He stumbled towards the door as though asleep and walking through a nightmare. Then on, to vanish from sight without a word of goodbye.
When he’d gone, she said, ‘You will not speak of this, William?’
‘No, Mama,’ he said, wholly undisturbed. ‘But shall we go on? I think I may have found sufficient pieces to make the frame.’
*
From his smoking room, Joshua had a view of the front drive. His mood had changed from sad introspection to outright fury and his own private space seemed best suited to his angry pacing. His daughter had gone. Gone for good. The girl he’d loved and cherished. She had refused the man to whom he had given his blessing and chosen to throw herself away on a poor working man, a good-for-nothing Irishman with little to offer but charm. She had left him without a word, except for these few. He snatched up the crumpled sheet and thrust it into a tight, hard ball. Then he threw it with force across the room.
She would find herself punished, he thought with satisfaction. Did she really imagine that young man would marry her? Could she be that foolish? She would come crawling back, contrite and weeping, seeking forgiveness. He might forgive her, he decided, forgetting his earlier words to Alice. He might, but she would have to grovel first. She would be spoilt goods, no man would have her; she would have to live the rest of her life at Summerhayes tied to her father. And that would suit him splendidly.
The sound of scattered gravel took him to the window. Henry Fitzroy, of all people, was walking towards the Summerhayes’ gates. Walking! That was the oddest sight. The man called for his carriage if he so much as wanted to visit his own lodge keeper. But the oddity didn’t end there. There was something about his posture that wasn’t right. He seemed smaller, shrunken, his shoulders bowed and his head bent. Something bad had happened to him. Joshua experienced a ripple of pleasure. It was poetic justice. The man had been behind the troubles at Summerhayes, he was certain. He would not allow his mind to dwell on whatever wickedness had been committed, but he was sure his brother-in-law bore responsibility for this summer’s evil.
He watched as his enemy trudged bare-headed towards the gates. There was something in his hand. A piece of paper. A letter? Another letter. Had he, too, received bad news? A surge of energy, sudden and compelling, suffused every one of his limbs. It was good to know that Henry Fitzroy suffered.
Chapter Forty-Two
Elizabeth had been frantic to board the ship as soon as they reached the dock at Southampton, frantic to squirrel herself away out of sight. Her anxiety was acute. At any moment, she expected to be discovered and a uniformed figure to leap up the gangway and drag her back onto the quayside. The liner would sail without her, and she would be forced to watch as Aiden slipped from her life for ever. But that had been foolish, a panic brought on by the ordeal of leaving Summerhayes and the fear of a new life ahead. When Aiden had said, reasonably enough, that no one could know where she’d gone, since even the farmer who’d hired him the pony and trap knew only that they were bound for Shoreham station and the railway line could have taken them anywhere, she scolded herself for her timidity and braved the open deck.
And there was plenty to keep her interest. The preparations for departure were frenetic and there were hours of hurryings and scurryings, around the decks and up and down the gangway. Late passengers straggled aboard, forgotten luggage was heaved onto trolleys, the crew scrambled across the ship, making last-minute checks, and case after case of food was delivered to the kitchens, sufficient to feed the ship’s company for the seven days they would be at sea. When the Mauretania finally cast its anchor and nosed majestically into the English Channel, she felt a frisson of anticipation. A heady
mix of nervousness and delight.
Her buoyant mood did not last. Once they had rounded Cornwall and were ploughing the peaks and troughs of the Atlantic, she wished herself safely back in port. The journey to and from Queenstown was not one she wished ever to remember. The seas seemed mountainous to her and the ship not at all steady. She knew her cabin was superior to the steerage of old, but it was as small and stuffy as Aiden had warned. For three days she clung to her bunk, a tin basin by her side, unable to move. Aiden was a regular visitor, bringing her weak tea and dry biscuits, but she was too unwell to take food or drink, and sent him away.
It was not until they were two days distant from the Irish coast that she dared to leave her bunk and try to stand unaided. Very gingerly, she shuffled to the porthole and looked out. The sea still seemed huge, but the waves were a little less choppy and the ship more solid beneath her feet. When Aiden made his morning call, she was persuaded to take a gentle walk. He led her along what seemed like a dozen corridors and up several companionways, all the time clearing a path for her through scattered chairs, mingling passengers and odd pieces of luggage that appeared to have been abandoned. Finally, they came out onto the open deck. She walked over to the rail and took a thankful breath. The wind was in her hair and the sun warmed her face; another deep breath of fresh, tangy air and she began to feel herself almost a new person.
For the first time since they’d left Southampton, she took notice of her surroundings. ‘It’s enormous.’ She waved a vague arm towards the Mauretania’s seven decks and four massive funnels.
‘It was the world’s largest ship until recently. But are you feeling a little better?’ He bent down and kissed her lightly on the top of her head.
‘I might just survive.’ She felt well enough now to poke fun at herself.
‘Then we must cross our fingers the weather continues calm and speeds us on our way. The Mauretania is still the fastest ship across the Atlantic and we should be in New York in four days.’
Another four days at sea. She hoped fervently that she could remain upright for that time. Aiden lifted his hand to shade his eyes and she followed his gaze, out across the expanse of ocean, mile after mile of undulating sea, to the smudgy blue horizon and beyond. ‘Think of it,’ he said. ‘We’ll be landing in the New World – and soon. It’s hard to believe. I would love us to see New York City but we don’t have the money to linger. We’ll need to be on our way, once we disembark.’
‘I don’t mind not lingering.’ She had become eager to reach her future home.
He gave her a hug. ‘We’ll take a hansom from the port to Grand Central Station – it shouldn’t be too expensive. The trains leave from there twice a day.’
‘And when do we arrive in Toronto?’
‘The journey will take the rest of that day and most of the night, I’m afraid. It will be a tiresome business for you, especially travelling straight from the ship. But Niall will be waiting at Union Station for us.’
‘Your family have been very kind.’
‘They’ll make us welcome, for sure, and we can stay with them for as long as we like. Take things slowly for a while.’
‘Not too slowly, or we’ll overstay our welcome.’ The wind was turning fresher and the coolness of autumn was in its touch. She nestled into the shelter of his arm. ‘We should find a lodging of our own as soon as possible and that might take some time.’
He pulled back and held her at arm’s length, smiling as he did. ‘There is the small matter of a wedding first, or had you forgotten? But perhaps you were thinking of flouting convention completely?’
She took a while to consider, then pulled his arms around her again and buried herself deep within them. ‘Do you know, I don’t think I really care.’
‘Elizabeth Summer!’ He put on a face of pretend shock.
She smiled at his teasing but then shook her head and said seriously, ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever cared. Not about convention. Not for myself. I’ve always said what was expected of me and always acted in the way I was supposed to – more or less – but that was for my family’s sake. I was what they wanted me to be. It was easier than being in a constant quarrel with them. But if I’m truthful, following social rules has never had much meaning.’
‘And you’ve just discovered that?’
‘I think I discovered it when I met you,’ she said lovingly. ‘You taught me to recognise the person I really am.’
‘And who is that?’
‘A braver spirit than I thought. A person who can do what she wishes with her life, be what she wants. Have impossible dreams and try very hard to make them come true.’
‘If I have anything to do with it, they won’t stay impossible.’ He dropped another light kiss on her head.
Those dreams, though, were taking her far from Summerhayes, and without notice, a swell of sadness flowed across the ocean and caught her unawares. Her mother and brother would be all right, she told herself. They would go on better without her. But her father? She would not think of her father, not right now.
She clutched Aiden’s hand hard. ‘I may not have liked my old life but I can’t forget it.’
‘Why should you?’
‘I must write home as soon as I can.’
‘You will, I promise, as soon as we have a home to write from.’ He smoothed her cheek. ‘I think you’re getting cold – we should walk a little.’
She allowed herself to be guided along the busy deck to the rear of the ship. It was a fair distance and, by the time they reached the stern, she was feeling tired. She was still weak from the three days of sickness. She stood close by Aiden’s side, both of them leaning against the white-painted rail, and watching the waves furrow and cream in the ship’s wake. A flight of gulls screamed and dipped overhead.
‘Some day, we’ll return,’ she said wistfully. ‘When this war finishes.’ She loved him more than she could express, but a part of her would for ever dwell at Summerhayes.
‘We will, and I guarantee your family will greet us with open arms. Even your father. As long as I’ve made my fortune by then!’
‘A mere trifle,’ she said gaily.
‘A trifle,’ he agreed. ‘Compared to this.’ He put his arms around her and, taking no heed of a passing sailor, kissed her long and tenderly.
Copyright
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017
Copyright © Merryn Allingham 2017
Merryn Allingham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © December 2017 ISBN: 9780008193843
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