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I clung to her. She kissed me and said: “Everything will be all right. Your father and I will see to that.”

Jake saw the point of staying at Eversleigh. I did not have a chance to speak to him alone before he went. I did not seek it. If I had been alone with him I should have had to ask him outright if he had killed Edward, and I was afraid of the answer.

Mr. and Mrs. Barrington arrived. Their daughter Irene and her husband came with them. They had left the children with their paternal grandparents. They were heartbroken. Mrs. Barrington clung to me and wept.

Later we talked together. She said: “He was so noble, my dear Edward. He was always such a good boy, so thoughtful to others … always. When you married him he could not believe his good fortune. Poor dear boy! That he should be the one to suffer from those wicked men! But then you showed your love for him as few would have done, and I shall never forget it. You made him so happy. I blessed the day when you came into his life.”

I thought: Clare will talk to her. Clare will produce the letters. What will she think of me then? What would she say had she known that I had broken my marriage vows? She would have a different opinion of me then.

My parents came to Grasslands. They did not talk a great deal about the tragedy. In fact my father scarcely mentioned it except once when he said: “Poor Edward, he could see no future for himself. I would have been the same. Better to get out than the way it was.”

He had made up his mind that Edward had killed himself and he was the sort of man who would make sure that everyone agreed with him.

It would be different at the inquest. I had never been to an inquest and was unsure of the procedure, but I did know that the verdict was all-important, and it would be decided whether or not this was a case of suicide, accidental death or a case of murder against some person or persons unknown. And if the latter a trial would follow.

It was the day before that fixed for the inquest. My mother sent a message to Grasslands asking me to come over to Eversleigh.

I went immediately.

It was late afternoon and the house was quiet. She was waiting for me in the hall. She said: “Jonathan has taken Tamarisk for a ride. Jake has gone with them.”

“What has happened?”

“Come up to our bedroom,” she said. “Your father is there.”

“Something has happened. Do tell me.”

“Yes. You can trust your father to act.”

He was there in the bedroom and to my surprise Mrs. Barrington was with him. She kissed me warmly. “I expect you are surprised to see me here,” she said.

My father put his arms round me and kissed me.

“Sit down,” he said. “Everything is going to be all right. The inquest is tomorrow and there is going to be a verdict of suicide.”

“How?” I stammered.

“I’ve talked to Jake. I know he had no hand in Edward’s death.”

“How can you know?”

“Because he said so. I know men. I know he would not have been such a fool as to do a thing like that. He was confident of getting Edward’s understanding and you your freedom.”

“He had not spoken to Edward!”

“No, but he intended to.”

“Then how do you know … ?”

“Toby has told me that Edward spoke to him two nights before his death. He said he thought there was little point in his going on living. He said, ‘I am sometimes tempted to slip in an extra dose. That would finish the job and I’d slip quietly away.’ That will be important evidence and Toby will give it. There will be no one who had the slightest reason for wanting Edward’s death.”

I said: “What of the letters?”

My father put his hand in his pocket and drew out two sheets of paper. I snatched them from him.

“Where did you get them?”

“I have them. That’s the important part. I wanted you to be here … to be sure. These are the letters?”

“Why yes. But I don’t understand …”

There was a lighted candle on the dressing table. I had vaguely wondered why it was there as it was not dark. He took the letters from me and held them out to the flame. We watched them burn.

“There!” said my mother, blowing out the candle. “That is an end of that.”

“Did Clare give them up?” I asked.

My mother shook her head. “I took Mrs. Barrington into my confidence. When I explained everything to her she understood …”

She smiled at Mrs. Barrington who said: “Yes, Jessica my dear, I understood. You brought great happiness to my son. He was never so happy as he was through you. I am for ever grateful. Your mother made me see that you loved this man, and he you… and I love you all the more for not leaving Edward but staying by his side. I want to help you. Clare can be of a jealous nature. She was always a difficult child, always looking for slights. Edward could manage her better than the rest of us, and she was very fond of him. I did think at one time that they might have married… but it turned out otherwise, and he was so happy with you. I wanted to help, so when I knew there were incriminating letters I was determined to find them.

“Clare has a very special box which Edward once gave her. It was on her fourteenth birthday. It was very precious to her. In it she kept her treasures. Clare is a creature of habit. She always kept the key to that box on a key-ring—another present of Edward’s—and it was kept in the third drawer of her dressing table. I guessed that the letters would be in that box and I knew where the key was. Poor Clare, she has always been an unhappy girl. She came to us when she was seven. She was a distant cousin’s child. Her parents had been poor. Her mother had died and her father had very little time for her. He was glad when we offered to take her. She was an envious child. Perhaps if her life had been different, she would have been. She always had to remember misfortunes and thought other people should suffer as she had. The only time she was really happy was when she was with Edward. It might well be that he would have married her if you hadn’t come along. People drift into these things. I think she would have been a different girl if he had. Well, I knew of the box and I knew of the key. I chose an opportunity when she was out. It was quite simple. I went into her room. I took the key and opened the box and, as I expected, there were the letters. I brought them to your mother.”

“You have done this … for me?” I cried.

“How can we ever thank you,” said my mother warmly.

“I knew in my heart that it was what Edward would have wanted. The last thing he would have wished would have been for you, Jessica, to be unhappy. So I am doing this for Edward as well as for you.”

My father said: “This will make all the difference. There will be no accusation now.”

My relief was so intense that I could not speak.

My father took my arm and led me to a chair. I sat down beside my mother and she put an arm round me.

“This will pass, my darling,” she said. “Soon it will be like some hazy nightmare … best forgotten.”

I went back to Grasslands. I should have been easier in my mind but the gloom had returned to hang over me. I felt as though I were groping in the dark and at any moment would come upon a terrible discovery.

I wanted to see Jake … desperately I wanted to. I wanted to talk to him … to ask him questions, to beg him to tell me the truth. I did not think he would lie to me. Did he hold life cheaply? Once he had killed a man and felt no remorse for that. What sort of life had he led on that convict ship? He must have seen death and horror in various forms. Did that harden a man? Make him hold life cheap? Make him determined to get what he wanted no matter the cost?