24 Lemons
Cal kept himself busy. There was always plenty to do.
The garden was coming along beautifully, and he had fenced off the orchard so that he could keep chickens there.
He still had his days at Frickham Wood, tracking the untamed wilderness and finding endless surprising treasures.
He was beginning to know the forest’s ways quite well.
He generally took Timmy with him on those days, so that he could see his mother and grandmother, and help Cal in the garden there.
In the village, the number of people wanting help with their gardens had grown to five, and since they paid him with fruit or vegetables or home-made wine, he did rather well from it.
The shopkeepers still frowned at him if he entered their premises, but since he offered cash for any purchases, most overcame their scruples to supply him.
He could not quite forgive them for their treatment of Cora, however, so he seldom visited the village shops, preferring to make most of his purchases in Brinchester.
At the Dog and Duck, he was treated as he ever was, his friendship with Ben Lovell allowing him ingress to the circle of regulars.
He was not concerned about Cora. The light had gone out of his own life temporarily while she was at Staineybank, but he had no doubt of her return, in time.
If he had ever wondered if perhaps the lure of her old life might be too great, her long letters expressing how much she missed him in the most heartfelt terms would have reassured him.
Not that the certainty of her return in any way diminished his joy when the moment arrived. It was hard to say which of them was smiling more widely as she stepped down from the duke’s carriage, with a beaming Souter behind her, bearing the inevitable cake from Georgie Hammond.
Souter tactfully disappeared into the kitchen, while Cal drew Cora into the parlour. At first, he just held her tight, and she snuggled against his chest with a sigh. Was that contentment? He hoped it was.
“I have missed you so much,” she murmured into his waistcoat. “Remind me never again to go away without you.”
“It was all in a good cause,” he said, releasing her momentarily so that he could untie the strings of her bonnet. “Mary is well again, Sophia is reassured that you will come if she is in dire need and at least Richard was not there.”
She gurgled with laughter, her face lighting up. “Oh yes! That was a blessing, although I saw no one at all until last night when I was finally released from the sick room. He would not have troubled me, even if he had been at Staineybank. He will return next week.”
“And how is the old gentleman?”
“The duke is on the mend at last. Dr Percival was somewhat concerned, given his age, but he is out of danger now, apart from a persistent cough. Lily has been taking excellent care of him, and Hester has spent hours reading to him.”
“Not the Bible, I hope, or sermons.”
She chuckled again. “Nothing so dispiriting to a sick man. Novels of some kind. Lily said they were rather shocking, but the duke liked them. They made him smile, anyway. Hester knows him better than anyone, I dare say.”
He wrapped his arms around her again, and she settled against him with another sigh. For a while they were silent, both deep in thought, but one question burned in his mind and would not be denied.
“What were they like with you? Was it awkward at dinner?”
“A little. There was a certain constraint — not from Sophia, but the others had not seen me since that day I walked out and came here. But nobody said or did anything to make me feel unwelcome. It was as if they had all agreed to pretend nothing had happened… or perhaps that I had suffered a wobble, but now I was back where I belonged, redeemed by returning to the family in its hour of need, and somehow the wobble had gone away. The wobble being you, of course. Froggett even greeted me with the words ‘Welcome home,’ as if I still lived there and had just been away visiting. They were surprised when they realised that I planned to come straight back to my wobble… to my home. I suppose I shall not be given another chance. Cal…”
“Yes?”
“Are we doing a very bad thing?” Her face had turned anxious suddenly.
“Is anyone hurt by it?”
“Well… no, not really.”
“Then where’s the harm? Are you happy?”
She smiled. “How can you even ask!”
“Can you still fly?”
“Yes! Although it was difficult at Staineybank, but yes, I can still fly.”
“Then let’s not worry about other people. You’ve proved you’re available when they need you, so the rest of the time surely you’re free to live your life as you please.”
She sighed, and rested her head on his chest again, only to spring away when a knock sounded on the parlour door.
“Enter!” Cal called out.
Souter’s head appeared round the door. “Meg’s had the kettle on the fire all afternoon, ready for your homecoming pot of tea. I’ll just pop it on the table, shall I? Do you want any cake, madam?”
“No cake, but tea will be wonderful,” Cora said. “Thank you, Souter, and thank Meg for me, too.”
Souter scuttled in, deposited her tray and scuttled away again, closing the door softly behind her.
“She expected us to be engaged in a passionate embrace,” Cal said.
“One should never disappoint one’s lady’s maid, should one?” Cora said, smiling up at him.
The room fell into silence, the tea forgotten.
***
The greenery of high summer slowly faded into autumn.
With the first tentative browning of the leaves came the rain, but Cora’s ability to sit in the garden was unimpaired, for Cal had built a summer house for her.
It was not finished, but there was a roof and by dashing out with an umbrella to its shelter, she was able to sit out in the fresh air watching Cal work at his vegetable garden, already showing neat lines of burgeoning plants.
Would she ever tire of watching him at work, his face solemn as he concentrated on his weeding or picking or planting out?
There was still a frisson of excitement when he looked up and smiled at her before turning back to the task in hand.
The wet weather prevented him from bringing his woodwork outside, but that went on in a new shed, which happily had been provided with an old sofa for Cora’s comfort.
She could not sit about all the time, however, so whenever the weather was fit and Cal was not around to be admired, she went for a walk, exploring first the bank of the Brin, but then, as she grew bolder, through the village to the eastern riverside and even crossing the bridge to the southern side of the river, and the Brinchester road.
At first, the villagers turned their faces away as she passed by, or even crossed the street to avoid her. Once, three women gossiping cheerfully outside the greengrocer’s shop scurried inside as she approached. As she walked past, she saw their faces peering out through the window.
She did not care. She walked on, head held high, with Souter beside her, looking neither to left nor to right. The villagers might despise her if they chose, as her own family did, but she had made her peace with her situation and no amount of contempt would turn her from her chosen path.
Not that she had much choice, now. After she had returned to Staineybank and then, as soon as the crisis was over, returned to her lover, the drawbridge would be pulled up to exclude her from society permanently.
A brief aberration could be explained away, but it was now three months with not a sign of remorse.
The very thought made her smile. No, she was not remorseful!
One day, however, in the first week of September, just as Cora was crossing the bridge to enter the village on her way home, two women passing in the opposite direction stopped, curtsied respectfully, then moved on.
Cora exchanged a glance with Souter, who looked as puzzled as she was.
But she did not recognise them, so perhaps they were newcomers to the village who knew nothing of her disgrace and, judging her to be a lady by her clothing, had made the usual obeisance.
Two days later, in a brief spell of sunshine, Cora happened to be passing the greengrocer’s shop, where the greengrocer’s wife was arranging apples in baskets outside the shop. Cora kept her head high and her eyes averted, as usual, but the woman turned and curtsied.
“Good morning, madam,” she said.
Cora was so astonished that she stopped in her tracks. “Oh… good morning, Mrs Hamilton.”
The woman licked her lips. “Pleasant day for a walk.”
“It is. Thank goodness the rain has stopped.”
“Um… we’ve a box of lemons fresh in.”
“Lemons,” Cora repeated, uncertain where this was leading.
“P’raps you’d like to see them? I’ll show you, if you like.”
“Oh… thank you, yes. One can never have too many lemons.”
Mrs Hamilton held the door open invitingly, and within a very few minutes, Cora found she had purchased a dozen lemons and several other items besides, in the heady experience of being a customer again.
When she pulled out her purse to pay, the greengrocer, who was fluttering round even more attentively than his wife, said, “No, no! We’ll put it on the account.
I’ll send the boy round with these right away. ”
“Thank you. Most obliging of you,” Cora said faintly, as the eldest son bowed and held the door open for her, and three younger sons stood in a line, bobbing up and down like jacks-in-the-box.
“What do you make of that?” she whispered to Souter, as soon as they were out of earshot.
“They have a whole crate of lemons to be got rid of,” she said with a shrug.
But several more women curtsied as they walked by, and the farrier bowed and doffed his hat.
Cal was at Frickham Wood that day, but Cora knew his usual hours and walked part way along the lane to meet him as he returned. Timmy was with him, but Cal sent the boy on ahead as he and Cora strolled slowly along, arm in arm.