There is another thing. A man has appeared, with rough manners but a charming nature. He courts me as though his very life depended upon it. I know his face – I have seen it before, I’m sure of it. But I cannot think where; he is not from Bathampton. He begs to marry me, to take me away to Bristol or wherever I choose to live. I have done all I can to dissuade him but still he comes again and again to visit me, and says he will die without me. I thought – my darling, I must confess it – I thought for one moment, one dark day, that I should go with him – that I should vanish, and be sure you never had to set eyes on me again. For one moment, I thought it. Lord Faukes has not visited here since I went to Box. I feel some judgement coming, hanging over me like the sword of Damocles. So for one moment I thought I should go with this charming charlatan. For charlatan he is. But I could never do it, my love. I could never let you think I had forsaken you, for once I had gone they would surely tell you lies about me. Oh, how can I write such things about your family and about the man I have known and loved all my life as my benefactor? That seems a cruel joke now. My life has been a cruel joke, from the very beginning.
I am an abomination, my love. But I can call you that no more. Our love is an abomination. I feel my heart breaking, Jonathan. It is tearing in two, and I do not know if I will survive it. But you and I must remain apart, now and for ever. I will stay here and await my fate, once they have decided it. And if we never see each other again then let me swear it now – I loved you truly, and will love you ever.
One who is always, but can never be, yours.
Alice B
Starling read the letter right through twice; she held the paper to her lips, and breathed in any last lingering traces of her sister. All these terrible things she knew, and never told me. All this she bore alone. After the lovers’ tree Alice had promised to keep no more secrets from her, but this one she had kept. Did she think I would love her less? If she’d asked me to run away with her and live in a cave, I’d have done it. Starling sat in her chair and wept quietly for a while. Then, as dawn seeped its grey light into the room, she felt a flicker of urgency. He had to wake, so that she could speak to him before Josephine returned. He had to hear what she would say without interruption, or denial. The house was silent; not even Dorcas was up yet, clonking the shutters or riddling cinders from the ashes. Starling leant over the bed, and reached out to touch Jonathan’s uninjured arm.
‘Sir,’ she said, her voice a dry whisper. ‘Mr Alleyn, you must wake.’ She shook the limb gently. It was warm and limp. What if they are wrong, and he will not wake? She grabbed up his hand and shook harder, then leant forwards and slapped her fingers against his cheek, fear making her rough with him. ‘Wake, Jonathan! Alice needs you! I need you!’
Jonathan’s brows pinched together. Without opening his eyes, he spoke.
‘Peace, Starling! Your voice is like a hammer to my skull.’ He was groggy and hoarse, but he didn’t sound confused; he knew her. Starling exhaled in sharp relief.
‘You’ve hurt your head, Mr Alleyn,’ she said, as softly as she could. ‘And your wrist. You fell, up on the common.’
‘On the common?’ Jonathan’s eyelids fluttered open, and he gazed up at the swags of the bed canopy in thought. ‘Yes. I remember. I was trying to find Mrs Weekes. She… I said something, and only afterwards realised how it must sound to her. She ran off into the fog…’
‘I know. She is quite well. That is – well, there is much to tell you.’
‘You know? How do you know?’ He turned his head to face her and winced at the pain of movement.
‘We have become friends, she and I. I think. But listen now – can you listen? Are you awake? There are things I must tell you.’ She stood and looked down at him, and Jonathan met her gaze with eyes full of apprehension.
‘I am awake,’ he said carefully.
So, in a quiet voice, Starling told him all of it. She told him about Dick Weekes and the lovers’ tree; about Duncan Weekes and what he had seen and told to Alice the day she went to Box; about Rachel Weekes and why Dick had married her; and then everything Dick had said before he went into the river. Jonathan listened to it all without moving a muscle or making a sound; almost without any reaction at all, other than a look of pain that built like gathering clouds. When she finished she held her breath and waited.
‘Am I to be happy at these tidings, Starling?’ he said, at last.
‘Who could be? I speak only as one who has mourned her, and yearned to know of her fate, as you too have mourned and yearned. But this is the truth; we have it now, however black and bitter it may be.’
‘And the man who killed her. Rachel Weekes’s husband. He is dead. You’re sure of this?’
‘He is dead. Worthless wretch that he was.’
‘Worthless wretch perhaps, but one who also mourned her, it seems, in his own inadequate way. A puppet of my mother’s. I should disbelieve you at once, and cast you out.’
‘You know I speak the truth.’
‘For years you accused me, and were wholly convinced of my guilt.’
‘I know. I… am sorry for that.’
‘And now you are convinced that my mother was behind it all instead.’
‘Your mother, and your grandfather – who I know was a bad man, and not at all what he seemed from the outside; though you loved him, and Alice did too.’
‘You know he was bad? How do you know?’ Jonathan said angrily.
‘Because… because he had knowledge of me, sir, against my will. The day he came to tell me I would see Alice no more, and times again after that, before he died. I swear to you by the air I breathe, this is the very truth.’ Jonathan turned away as though he couldn’t bear to look at her; Starling saw a tear streak from his eye and vanish into the pillow. ‘You don’t know the full story of how he died, do you, sir?’
‘He died of apoplexy,’ Jonathan intoned. ‘A sudden fit, and painless.’
‘He died on top of Lynette, the new upstairs maid. She put up a good fight, and his heart gave out in his chest. And, Lord love you, sir, you were the only person in that house to mourn him.’ If he does not believe me, I will go from here and never see him again. ‘And… we would have known it all far sooner – we would have known that Alice was Faukes’s child, if Captain Sutton had only given you back this letter at once.’ She handed Alice’s letter to him, and when he took it there was a tremor in his hand. ‘It confirms all we have learned.’
She waited while he read it, and watched the muscles of his jaw moving under his skin, alive, and playing out the fight of his feelings.
‘My mother has lied all her life; this I already knew.’ His voice was forced out through clenched teeth.