Finally I slept.
I was awakened early next morning by a knocking on my door.
I called: “Come in.” It was Jenny, one of the maids. She looked white-faced, disbelieving and scared.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, starting up.
“Oh, Madam, will you come … at once. It’s the master. James said to tell you he wanted to see you.”
“Where is he?”
“In the master’s bedroom.”
I leaped out of bed snatching my dressing gown. I ran downstairs to Edward’s room. He was lying back in bed, unnaturally white and very still.
I felt myself turn cold and I started to shiver.
I murmured: “Oh God, please don’t let it be …” I went to the bed and took his hand. It was cold and fell limply from my grasp.
“James?” I cried.
James came to me and shook his head. “I’m afraid …” he began.
I murmured: “Dead. Oh no, James … not dead.”
“I’ve sent Toby for the doctor.”
“When … ?”
“I came in this morning to see about breakfast as usual. I did not notice at first. I drew back the curtains and said good morning. There was no answer. Then I came to the bed and I saw … I couldn’t believe it. Then I sent Jenny for you.”
“James … how… ?”
James looked at the glass which was on the top of the cabinet—the very one which I had handed to Edward on the previous night.
“Oh … no,” I said.
“We won’t know until the doctor comes.”
“But there was nothing wrong with him … apart from his injuries … nothing that would be fatal?”
James shook his head. “Sit down, Mrs. Barrington. You look faint.”
“It can’t have been …” I went on.
“He was worried about himself… being so incapacitated. We’ll have to see what the doctor says.”
Clare came running in. “What is it? They are saying …”
She looked from Edward to me. “Oh no. It can’t be true …” Her eyes came to rest on me. They were dark with misery and suspicion.
“How I wish the doctor would come,” I said.
There was a terrible silence in that room. The tick of the clock seemed unusually loud. I thought: I’m dreaming. This can’t be. Edward … dead!
At last the doctor was with us. We left him alone with Edward and when he came out he was very grave.
“Mrs. Barrington,” he said, “this is most distressing.”
“I cannot believe it,” I said. “Why … Doctor … what…”
“I am certain it is the sleeping dose. How much did he take?”
“James always prepares it for him.”
James said quickly: “It was the usual dose, doctor.”
“I think it was more than that last night.”
“So it was that,” I murmured.
I thought of our last meeting when I had sat by his bed and he had kissed the eternity ring. He had wanted the best for me. A horrible thought struck me. Had he deliberately taken that dose … to make me free? Oh no, he would not do that. I had never allowed him to think for a moment that I wanted to be free. But did he know?
Clare was looking at me with horror in her eyes.
The doctor said: “Was the bottle within his grasp?”
I knew that question was fraught with meaning. Had Edward taken the strong dose himself or had it been given to him?
James hesitated. “It was in the cupboard beside his bed. I suppose he could just have managed to get the door open and take out the bottle.”
The doctor nodded. “There will have to be an autopsy, of course.”
A terrible fear had started to race round and round in my mind. I was trying to remember all that had happened last night. Jake had helped Toby carry Edward in. The glass had been beside his bed when I entered the room. I had actually given it to him.
How much of the drug had been dissolved in that water? One small dose was all that must be taken. It was dangerous to take more. That was clearly stated and the doctor had warned us many times that more than the prescribed dose could be fatal.
Jake had been there. He had helped Toby to bring Edward in. He had killed a man once and he had said only this night: “I will find a way.”
I was desperately afraid.
The doctor had just left and we were seated together in the drawing room—myself, Clare and Jake with James. A terrible silence had fallen on us. I dared not look at Clare; I could see the accusation in her eyes. I dared not look at Jake. I was terribly afraid of what I might read in his eyes.
At length James spoke: “How could it have happened? I did not think he would ever attempt it. He was a man who believed that life had to be lived to the end no matter what tribulations had to be faced. It would have been all against his nature … as I knew it.”
Jake said: “Where was the stuff? Could he have reached it?”
“Yes … just,” said James. “The little cabinet served as a table. It wouldn’t have been easy for him to reach the bottle but he could have done so.”
“He would never have done it,” burst out Clare. “I know he would never have done it.”
“What alternative is there?” asked Jake in a curiously quiet voice.
There was silence and I felt Clare’s eyes on me accusingly. I raised mine and looked at Jake. For a few moments his gaze held mine. I did not know what I read there. But the thought would come to me. He killed a man once. He had done that in the heat of anger. If one had killed once did it come easily to do it a second time?
No, I thought. Not that. There had been a barrier between us before. That would be an insurmountable one. I must know the truth. I should not have a moment’s peace until I did.
I heard myself saying: “What actually happened last night? When could it have been put in the glass? Was Edward alone for any time?”
James said: “Sir Jake and Toby helped him out of the chair. We got him into bed between us. I poured out the water and put in the sleeping draught. I put it on top of the cabinet. We talked as we always did. He was in good spirits but of course he always did hide his feelings. What happened then? I think we all went out.”
“I believe I lingered to say a few words to him,” said Jake.
My heart began to beat very fast. Oh, Jake, I thought, were you alone with him … even for a few minutes?
“Well, Mr. Barrington was by himself until you came in, Mrs. Barrington.”
“Had he taken the sleeping draught then?” asked Jake.
“No. He usually took it while I was there… just as I was leaving actually. He didn’t want to feel sleepy while we were talking. I stayed a while. We talked as usual. He drank it while I was there. Then I took the glass from him and put it on top of the cabinet.”
“I can’t understand it,” said James. “And on Christmas night! If he had contemplated doing it he would surely not have chosen Christmas night.”
“You think the time is important?” said Clare harshly.
“Well,” explained James, “he would think of people enjoying Christmas. He was always one to think of other people. No. It was a mistake. He would never have killed himself in the first place … and certainly not on Christmas night.”
“Then,” said Clare, and I noticed how her eyes glittered, “someone else must have done it.”
There was silence with none of us daring to look at each other.
Suddenly I knew I could endure no more. I stood up and said: “There will be things to do.” And I went out of the room.
I cannot remember much of the rest of that day, except that it was like a bad dream. Messages were sent to Mr. and Mrs. Barrington. My father and mother came to Grasslands. They were deeply shocked. Amaryllis came over with Peter.
Amaryllis was deeply moved; she embraced me with great affection. “Dear, dear Jessica, this is terrible. Poor Edward! But it is those who are left who suffer. He was such a good man, and he loved you so much.”