Chapter 21
AUbrEY
Aubrey had been looking forward to All Saints’ Day.
He, Agnes, Florence, Imogen, Callie and Brodie had attended a marvellous church service at All Souls, where Amelia had given a most beautiful sermon and led prayers commemorating all the dearly departed, with special mention to those from Rowan Vale and particularly the ones held in the Intermediate State.
Hymns had been sung, including one of Aubrey’s favourites, ‘For All the Saints’, which he had performed with gusto.
Afterwards the church bells had rung out, which always filled him with joy. There’d been poppies on sale in preparation for Remembrance Sunday the following week, and Aubrey had been gratified to see all the living members of the congregation wearing them.
Then they’d all had tea and biscuits in the nave, and Mia’s soul cakes had been handed out by Callie to all the living present.
It wasn’t only those at the church who received one, though.
Soul cakes had been baked and made freely available at both Mrs Herron’s teashop and Blighty’s Bakery, with the estate covering the costs.
Then, while Agnes went home to check on her beloved Lawrie, who was being kept company by Mia, there was a gathering of volunteers in the churchyard, and any untidy or neglected-looking headstones were cleaned and tidied, and fresh flowers laid on every grave with love.
Naturally, Aubrey couldn’t do anything to help in that endeavour, but he patrolled the church grounds checking all was going well and reporting any particularly neglected graves to Callie so she could direct volunteers to them.
It was an odd experience, seeing the names of so many people he knew inscribed on the various headstones.
He rarely took the time to look at them but today had forced him to focus, and he’d been rather moved to see the dedications for people he’d known when he was alive – some of whom, he was ashamed to admit, he’d quite forgotten about.
Not to mention other ghosts like Polly, Walter and Isaac.
Not all the ghosts were buried in Rowan Vale. Danny and Brooke, for example, had been taken back to London to be close to their families.
Even those whose bodies remained on the estate weren’t all in this churchyard. He and Agnes, for instance, were interred with their family members in a burial vault beneath the chancel, where there were memorial plaques for the Wyndhams, the Ashcrofts and the Davenports on the wall.
There were no Harlings at All Souls, however, despite there being an elaborate marble monument to them within its walls.
Of course, that particular family’s ownership of the estate predated even the church.
There had been Harlings on this land before any of the current buildings were constructed.
Harling Hall had been built in 1588 by the Harling family, on the site of a far older dwelling, and it was they who had commissioned the construction of All Souls itself back in the thirteenth century.
Some of the later members of the family were entombed in a family vault in the grounds of the Hall, though no one knew where previous generations lay.
Details of the earliest Harlings were lost in the mists of time.
Pondering all this, Aubrey realised he was now looking down on Silas’s grave. He read the inscription on the headstone, shaking his head slightly. Poor Silas.
‘Leave it, Wyndham!’
He looked up, only half surprised to find Silas himself hurrying towards him. The old vicar hadn’t been at the church service, which wasn’t like him.
Aubrey was rather concerned about Silas lately. Even by his own standards, Reverend Alexander’s mood seemed to be sinking fast.
‘It does rather need tidying,’ Aubrey pointed out kindly. ‘A bit of weeding wouldn’t go amiss, and the headstone could be cleaned. I’m sure—’
‘I don’t want anyone to touch it,’ Silas barked. ‘I mean it!’
‘Very well, I’ll make sure Callie knows,’ Aubrey said, taken aback at Silas’s attitude. ‘But surely you wouldn’t object to some fresh flowers being laid?’
‘Fresh flowers!’ Silas gave a bitter laugh. ‘What for? What would be the point? So they can wither and die, too? I hate all this picking of flowers business. Leave them alone, I say. Let them stay where they take root. Let them die in their own time, in their own piece of land.’
‘But they do brighten up the graves,’ Aubrey said.
‘And why should graves be brightened up? Are they happy places? Should they be celebrated?’ He shook his head. ‘Flowers don’t brighten up the graves for long, Wyndham. Death claims the flowers. That’s all that happens there.’
‘Are you all right, Silas?’ Aubrey asked gently.
Having had a long talk with the old vicar just before Christmas, he’d become aware that Silas was struggling with his faith, unable to accept that, after a lifetime of serving God, he had somehow been abandoned and denied access to the Kingdom of Heaven, as he believed he had been promised.
Aubrey had tried to console Silas, but the vicar wasn’t one for emotional chats, and since that talk at Christmas, he’d seldom spoken at any length to Aubrey, or, as far as he was aware, to anyone else.
Silas had rare moments when he did something unexpectedly kind, such as marrying Agnes and Aubrey in the church last Christmas – even coming up with his own amended marriage service to make it suitable for a bride and groom who were no longer living.
And of course, he’d taken over the running of High Spirits – the village band formed to celebrate Callie and Brodie’s engagement.
However, once the engagement party was over, Silas had resigned from his post, leaving the band to run itself. Most of the time he was disagreeable, argumentative and increasingly alone. Aubrey wished he knew how to reach him.
‘Why don’t you come back to the Hall with me?’ Aubrey suggested hopefully. ‘I’m sure Lawrie would love to see you. He can’t get out of the house much these days and you’d be company for him.’
‘Me?’ Silas gave a snort of laughter. ‘I’m company for no one.
I even drive myself mad. No, I don’t need or want company and I’m quite sure that I’m the last person Lawrie needs to see.
I only came here to make sure no one touches that grave,’ he added, nodding down at the headstone.
He fell silent for a moment, staring at the inscription, then cleared his throat.
‘You may go back to the Hall, Wyndham. I shall stay and guard this plot, thank you.’
Aubrey opened his mouth to protest but closed it again. He knew Silas too well. There was no shifting him when he made up his mind.
‘Very well,’ he said sadly. ‘I’ll let Callie know your wishes.’
Silas didn’t reply. He stood, gazing down at the grave, his hands clasped behind his back in silent contemplation.
Aubrey found Callie and told her what had been said, and she sighed, clearly exasperated.
‘Can’t he, just for once, see the good in something?’ she said. ‘Why does everything have to be a battle with him?’
‘He’s not a happy man,’ Aubrey explained.
‘So that gives him the right to make things difficult for everyone else?’ Callie rubbed her forehead and steadied herself. ‘Okay, fair enough. I’ll make sure no one touches the grave.’
‘I’m going back to the Hall,’ Aubrey informed her. ‘I’ll take Florence back with me, if that’s all right.’
‘It might be best,’ she agreed, and they both looked over to where Florence was angrily kicking a headstone with what looked like increasing force, even though she could make no physical connection with it.
‘What on earth is she doing?’ Aubrey gasped.
‘Don’t be angry with her,’ Callie urged. ‘I think she’s feeling a bit left out. Immi and Ash have struck up a real friendship lately, and they’ve spent the last twenty minutes sending each other memes and gifs on their phones and laughing their heads off.’
‘Memes and…?’
Callie sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I’m very much afraid that Immi is outgrowing Florrie. She’ll be a teenager next June and, well…’
‘She’ll have no time for Florence at all,’ Aubrey said flatly.
‘Yes, Agnes and I had realised that already. It’s very worrying.
Agnes has even decided that it might be wise to invite Robert and John round to spend time with us in our suite.
Florence spent a lot of time with the boys before Imogen arrived here, but I’m afraid Agnes wasn’t very happy about that at the time.
I think perhaps she has softened her attitude towards them.
The last thing we want is for our daughter to be lonely. ’
‘I think that’s a really good idea,’ Callie said, clearly relieved. ‘And John and Robert are good boys. They’ve come on in leaps and bounds since Walter started teaching them in the schoolroom.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Aubrey sighed. ‘Even in the afterlife everything changes. You wouldn’t imagine it could be so, would you? Yet nothing stays the same, no matter whether you breathe the air or not.’
‘Perhaps,’ Callie said gently, ‘that’s a good thing. If nothing changed, you and Agnes wouldn’t be married, would you?’
Aubrey brightened. ‘Well, quite. You’re right, of course. I think Silas’s gloom has rubbed off on me. I will take Florence back to the Hall and tell Lawrie all about the splendid church service this morning – if Agnes hasn’t already done so.’
He managed to persuade his daughter to accompany him by promising her that he’d ask Mia to put on one of her precious DVDs for her, and together they headed back to the Hall.
Florence, he noted anxiously, was rather subdued.
Hard times lay ahead for her, of that he had little doubt.
She would feel the loss as Imogen gradually pulled away from her, but there could be no blame attached to the living girl.
She was growing up. It wasn’t her fault that Florence couldn’t do the same.
This would be, he thought with sudden shock, his first real test of fatherhood.
He’d had little to do with his own son, James.
Not through choice, but rather through his wife’s choice.
And James had grown up adoring his mother and despising his father, whom he’d perceived to be weak. He’d had no time at all for Aubrey.
Florence, however, had all the time in the world for him. He was her Poppa, and she looked to him for love, comfort and guidance. He prayed that he wouldn’t let her down.
‘I was thinking, darling,’ he said as they began the walk down the drive towards the Hall and she slipped her hand in his, ‘that you might like to invite Robert and John round one afternoon after lessons.’
Florence looked up at him, her nose wrinkled in surprise. His long redundant heart seemed to melt at the sight of her little freckled face, those long black plaits, and her grey eyes. He would do anything to make her happy, because she had given him so much happiness despite her tender age.
‘Why would I invite them two round, Poppa?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘Anyways, Mother would ’ave a blinkin’ fit if I did. She ’ates ’em, don’t she?’
‘Not at all.’ Aubrey had long since ceased to be appalled by his daughter’s manner of speaking.
He considered it only added to her charm.
‘As a matter of fact, your mother believes that she was rather harsh towards Robert and John and wishes to make amends to them. After all, they did a splendid job of being our attendants at the wedding, didn’t they?
We thought perhaps you’d like to show them your rather lovely bedroom, now that Mia’s decorated it so beautifully for you, and you could watch those DVDs with them. I’m sure they’d be enchanted.’
Florence thought about it for a moment. Then she grinned. ‘They’d be proper jealous, wouldn’t they? Do you know, they sleep on the back seat of one of them vintage buses when it’s all locked up for the night? They ain’t got a room anyfink like mine.’
Aubrey was appalled. ‘Why are they sleeping in a bus? Weren’t they given a room in one of the cottages somewhere?’
Florence shrugged. ‘Fink they got overlooked. They’ve bin ’ere years ain’t they? Reckon people just fort they was sorted. And they are really. They move around but for now they quite like it on the bus.’
‘Oh no,’ Aubrey said, shaking his head. ‘This won’t do. This won’t do at all. Callie must be notified about this. I really think that—’
But what he thought would have to wait, as suddenly a loud scream erupted from within Harling Hall.
Aubrey and Florence looked at each other.
‘Was that—?’
At that very moment there appeared the most peculiar sight. Agnes, her curls bobbing under her night bonnet, her hands in the air as if fending off some demon, her nightdress flapping, came tearing out of the Hall, eyes wide with terror.
‘Aubrey! Oh, thank goodness you’re home. Oh, Aubrey, you’ll never believe…’
She grabbed his arm and he steadied her gently, although his own alarm was growing.
‘My dear, what is it? What’s happened?’
‘She’s in there,’ Agnes gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she pointed dramatically back towards the Hall. ‘I saw her, Aubrey, as plain as day. She’s there. She’s back!’
‘Who’s there, my dear?’ he asked, perplexed. ‘Please, Agnes, do try to calm yourself. I can’t understand what you mean.’
Agnes closed her eyes for a moment, and he realised she was trembling. He put his arms around her and held her tightly, soothing her with gentle words of comfort while Florence looked on, her eyes like saucers.
‘What’s ’appened, Mother?’ she whispered. ‘Oo’s there? Oo did you see?’
Agnes pulled herself together as best she could and stepped back a little as she looked from her husband to her daughter and back again.
‘Charlotte,’ she said, her voice shaky with fear. ‘Charlotte is here.’
Aubrey stared at her. ‘Charlotte? You mean…’
‘Yes, Aubrey. Lady Davenport. Lawrie’s mother is back!’