8 Love And Comfort #2
Without turning her head, she pointed downwards.
“There… just there is where he was found. Ben must have stood on this very spot, for he saw him in the water, face down, not moving. He was held fast against the stepping stones, otherwise the current would have washed him away and he might never have been found.”
“Ben pulled him out of the water, I understand.”
She turned to him then. “He did. He was distraught, poor fellow. ‘If only I had seen him earlier,’ he kept saying. ‘I could have saved him if I had been paying more attention and had seen him fall.’ But he was beyond earthly help, my poor little Richard.”
Silently, Cal handed her a handkerchief, starched as stiff as a board by Robert the footman.
“I beg your pardon,” she murmured, wiping her eyes. “It is almost three years, after all.”
“There is no time limit on grief,” he said quietly. “Would you prefer to return to the house, your grace? I would be happy to escort you if—”
“No, no. You are very kind, but… no. I have never been here before, you see. I had not realised how much one can see from up here. It is not so very high, yet almost the whole of the eastern lawn is visible, and the drive. Mr Payne’s bridge and orangery look very fine from here, do you not agree, Mr Garford? ”
“Aye, he’s a clever man.”
“And so is Mr Chamberlain, who is to paint the ceiling in the gallery just as soon as the plaster is dry. I shall go and see what the gentlemen are doing, I think.”
As soon as she had disappeared round the side of the building, Cal sat on the bench, trying and failing to find the tranquillity he loved about that spot.
Through the glassless windows, the voices of the ladies carried clearly, deciding where to put various items of furniture, attempting not very successfully to measure the dimensions with a string and, to his amusement, disparaging him in low tones, obviously unaware that he could hear every word.
‘Strange sort of gardener… not as deferential as he should be, if you ask me… mingling with the nobility as if he does so every day… an odd sort of man.’
He didn’t mind. None of the disparaging remarks came from Cora, and he cared nothing for the rest of them.
Effete aristocrats, the whole lot of them, but she was different.
She saw that she could change her life and be free, if only she could escape the suffocating cocoon of society’s expectations.
She could be free like the butterfly, to fly wherever she wanted to go, to settle on whatever flower took her fancy.
Or whatever man, perhaps. To bestow her love wherever she wished, even on a humble gardener, who had done nothing to deserve such a blessing.
He was thankful for it, all the same. At his age, after so many years of solitude, to be the recipient of such pure, unconditional love, given freely with nothing asked in return, was a matter of profound gratitude.
For a while, the men’s voices mingled with the women’s inside the hut, but gradually everything grew quiet within, and he heard the voices receding up the hill towards the main path. He closed his eyes in relief, giving a silent prayer that he was alone at last.
A head popped out of the nearest window. “They have all gone,” Cora said. “I am just making myself a cup of tea, and then I shall join you outside… if you do not object?”
“I don’t object,” he said, smiling.
“The big bucket — that is the fresh water, I take it?”
“That’s right.”
“Ah, good. I should not like to drink soapy water… or worse!”
He laughed and shook his head, but she had already vanished inside the hut. For a little while, there were only quiet movements within as she filled the kettle, stoked the fire and waited for the water to boil. And then there she was, cup and saucer in hand, smiling down at him.
“Enjoy the peace while you can, because within the hour there will be an army of maids arriving with dusters, mops and buckets, followed by another army carrying chairs and rugs and who knows what else.”
“A sofa for my visitors?” he said hopefully.
“A sofa for your winter reading, you mean. I am afraid you will have to have proper windows. The duke cannot imagine that anyone could survive such an abundance of fresh air, but you will be able to open them fully, so it will be all the same. Charlotte thinks that she can get a range to fit your chimney breast, if you would like that.”
“That would be perfect. I can cook well enough on an open fire, but there are more possibilities with a range.”
“I have no idea how to cook,” she said. “You could give me the most modern kitchen in the world and I would not be able to do more than brew tea.”
“You’ve never needed to,” he said. “Was there ever a time when you had no cook?”
“Once, not long after I married. Mrs Bramley fell down the cellar stairs and broke her neck, poor woman. Mind you, it might have had something to do with the restorative the apothecary had prescribed for her cough, which turned out to be mostly gin. Anyway, we were without a cook for several weeks until I could engage another, but we managed well enough with the kitchen maid, the scullery maid and one of the housemaids, whose mother had taught her to cook.”
“Exactly. You had more important things to do than being up to your elbows in flour.”
“Did I? Being a good daughter, wife and mother? For fifty years of my life, Cal, I have done everything that was expected of me. I honoured and obeyed my parents. I honoured and obeyed my husband. I taught my daughters to follow in my footsteps, and I tried — believe me, I tried — to find them husbands. And none of it made the slightest bit of difference. How many prospective husbands did I line up for those girls, and none of them came up to scratch? No, that is not quite true. Two years ago, I found the perfect match for Sophia — the son of a marquess! What could be better for the sister of a future duke? And he proposed, he actually proposed, and she turned him down. She wanted the penniless architect instead, and no one else would do. And last year, I made a match for Charlotte, and brought him up to scratch, too, and he never wanted it, not really, but I convinced him that her heart would be broken otherwise. I was convinced of it myself, so it was all done for her sake. But can you believe it, the foolish girl would rather be a glorified housekeeper than a respectable man’s wife? ”
“I suppose they both know their own minds best,” Cal said cautiously.
“Perhaps they do, but I never had that choice. I married where I was told to marry, and no silliness about love. I do not suppose that Roland particularly wanted to marry me, either, but we got on with it, and we were happy enough. We knew what we were supposed to do, we knew what our duty was and we did it without complaint. And a woman’s duty is clear — to make the best marriage she can, and teach her daughters to do the same.
But if they will not take my advice, then there is nothing more I can do for them.
They must be free to make their own happiness…
and so must I. If only I could escape from this cocoon,” she added in a low voice.
“You will… when the time is right,” he said, with more confidence than he felt.
“When did you escape?”
For a moment, all the air whooshed out of his lungs. What a question! And how could he answer it? His response was instant, a moment of pure instinct. With Cora, he must be honest, above all else.
“I was eight years old,” he said, and held his breath, waiting.
But she evaded the obvious question, saying only, “I dare say you were not a butterfly, though.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “A moth, maybe. Less dramatic than butterflies, as a rule. Or something useful, like a wasp.”
“Ugh! Nasty, stinging creatures. You would not sting anyone.”
“Not all wasps have stings, and they are very good at killing off pests in the garden. Ah, I believe I hear the army approaching. Do you want to beat a hasty retreat before they get here?”
“Certainly not. I shall stay to see that everything is done properly, and prevent Charlotte from making the place uninhabitable.”
“Could she do so?”
“She veers between rush lights and straw on the floor at one extreme, and at the other, Turkish carpets and bone china for your bit of supper. I am trying to steer a middle path.”
“You are very good,” he said, and to his amusement, she blushed crimson.
“I want you to be comfortable,” she said, lowering her eyes, “but you will not want too much luxury, I presume.”
“Exactly so,” he said gravely. “I believe the army is almost here. Shall we go and greet them?”