Chapter 37
SILAS
Silas wished that he’d allowed Callie and her volunteers to tidy up the grave.
As he’d gazed around the churchyard earlier, he’d realised with great shame that the plot belonging to him and Grace was a disgrace in comparison to the others.
Why, he wondered, had he been so stubborn? It was typical of him.
Now, as the church clock struck midnight, he gazed up at the dark sky and sank slowly to his knees beside the headstone.
Grace would be on her way to wherever she had come from. It was over.
He covered his face and sobbed, and even though no tears could fall, he felt as if they were choking him. Once again, he was alone.
Despite his promises to his beloved wife, he simply wasn’t sure that he was strong enough to obey her wishes.
How could he put on a smile and join in with the village activities?
His heart, although it had ceased to beat many years ago, ached so much he was certain it was about to break.
There was no recovering from this grief.
All he could see ahead of him was an eternity of pain and loneliness.
A hand on his shoulder made him look up, and he realised to his shame that Aubrey Wyndham was standing beside him, watching him with compassion and understanding.
That anyone should see him in such a state was mortifying, yet somehow Silas had no energy to pull himself together. He simply had no fight left in him.
‘She’s gone,’ he said bleakly, as he slowly got to his feet. ‘Grace has gone.’
‘I know, old friend,’ Aubrey said sadly. ‘That’s why I came to be with you. I thought you might need someone to talk to, or simply to be with you, even if you want to remain silent.’
Silas sighed. ‘You’re a good man, Aubrey,’ he said at last. ‘I haven’t been very kind to you and I’m sorry for that.
I never had the strength that my wife possessed.
Part of me died when my son was killed, and another part of me died when Grace left.
How do you go on living your life when you’re already half dead? ’
‘I don’t know,’ Aubrey said, gazing around him at the myriad gravestones, which were merely shapes in the darkness. ‘Somehow, we find a way. And now we must face our afterlife with the same fortitude.’
‘And what if I don’t want to?’ Silas asked. ‘What if I’m tired of it all?’ He gave Aubrey a desperate look. ‘I promised my wife that I would find a way to be happy. That I would let you all in and find joy again. I don’t think I can keep that promise, Aubrey.’
‘You will,’ Aubrey assured him, his own eyes gleaming with tears. ‘We’ll help you, Silas, I promise. We’ll be there to lead you through this darkness. We won’t let you flounder – not this time.’
Silas simply couldn’t imagine that there was any way through the utter desolation he felt, yet he knew that it would break Grace’s heart if she could see him surrender so easily. He had promised her. It was the last thing he could ever do for her.
‘Would you like me to accompany you home?’ Aubrey enquired kindly. ‘Or perhaps you’d like to come back to the Hall with me? I know Agnes would be pleased to see you. She’s been most concerned about your welfare.’
Silas managed a faint smile. ‘She’s a good woman. You’re a lucky man.’
‘I know it, believe me.’ Aubrey frowned suddenly. ‘Silas, is it me, or is it suddenly getting very foggy?’
Silas looked around, noting with some alarm that a surprisingly heavy mist was spreading rapidly across the church grounds. He looked up, noticing that only the top of the church steeple was now visible against the night sky. The rest of the church was completely shrouded.
He glanced down at the gravestone, but it was lost in a swirl of mist. He and Aubrey shuffled closer together, not sure what was happening.
‘This isn’t a normal mist, is it?’ Aubrey murmured.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Silas confirmed.
‘Nor will you ever again,’ came a voice like music behind him.
They spun round and Silas gasped as he saw Grace standing there, smiling at him. But… But it wasn’t Grace. Was it?
This person – this person was young and beautiful, her skin smooth, her chin firm, her eyes large and clear, her hair long and chestnut as it had been so many years ago.
She wore a dress of lavender muslin, its bodice fitted, a bustle at the back.
He knew that dress. He remembered it like it was yesterday.
He recalled that day on the River Cam in 1878, when they’d hired a rowing boat and he’d proposed to her. He remembered being so taken aback when she immediately said yes that he’d dropped an oar. He remembered the boat drifting without him even noticing and another boat bumping into them.
Most of all, he remembered the look of love in Grace’s eyes, and how they’d laughed together that the proposal hadn’t gone exactly to plan and joked, with all the optimism of youth, that it would be something to tell their grandchildren one day.
‘Grace?’ he whispered.
‘Good Lord,’ Aubrey murmured. ‘Can it be?’
‘Carrots, my darling,’ she said softly. ‘I remembered what it was I came here to do.’
Shimmering in the mist, she reached for his hand. ‘It’s time for you to leave this place. You’ve waited long enough. I’m here to take you home at last.’
‘Take me… home?’
She laughed, the youthful sound shining through the thickness of the mist like a bright light. ‘Take my hand. Edmund is waiting to greet you.’
‘Edmund?’ Silas staggered at the mention of his son’s name. ‘Is this – is this a dream? A trick?’
‘Look at yourself, Silas,’ she urged.
He looked down and realised he was dressed just as he’d been that day on the boat, and his hands were no longer gnarled and veined, but smooth and clear as they’d been when he first fell in love.
‘Your hair is red again,’ she told him. ‘You are the most handsome man I have ever seen, but Edmund is beautiful, Silas. Come and greet him. He’ll be so happy to see you again.’
He glanced round at Aubrey, who was standing with his mouth open and a look of utter amazement on his face.
‘Goodbye, Wyndham,’ he said, realising that his voice was stronger, younger. ‘Thank you for being such a good friend to me. I will never forget you.’
‘Silas, I—’
Silas took his wife’s hand, and the mist enveloped them, making whatever Aubrey had to say impossible to hear. It didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
He was going home.