Suicide was the verdict.
I sat in the garden of the old château in Burgundy. I could hear the shouts of Charlot’s children and those of Louis Charles as they played some ball game in the field near the old castle. I could look ahead to the vines with their ripening grapes.
In a few weeks the vendange would begin.
I had been here for eight months, and had left England with my mother and father soon after the inquest on Edward. They had said it was best to get away for a while.
My parents had sustained me during those months when I needed help. They knew that in my heart I did not believe that Edward had taken his life. He had always been stoical. He had accepted life. Even had he known of my love for Jake he would have accepted that, too, as inevitable. But he would never have taken that way out. I knew that someone had put that extra dose into the glass on that night.
My mother, with Mrs. Barrington, had made hasty arrangements. They had both agreed that I must get away for a while. For one thing I needed a change of scene, and for another there was the question of Jake.
Whatever the verdict, suspicions would remain. I could not go to Jake so soon. Nor could I see him every day. I was unsure of my feelings. There would always be a doubt in my mind. He had been there … alone. He had had the opportunity and I could not forget that he had said most vehemently: “I will find a way.”
All my life I would be haunted by those words.
So my mother had said: “We must get away. Why not go to Charlot? He has often said we should. You would like to see the place, Jessica. It is so interesting. And the children are fun. You will love it.”
I knew it was a great sacrifice for my father to leave England. He had always disliked the French and France, and I guessed that he must be longing for England, but his desire to be with my mother and me was greater than that; and he agreed that it was better for me to get as far away from Grasslands as possible.
I felt too listless to think for myself and I allowed them to make the arrangements.
Tamarisk went to stay with Amaryllis at Enderby; she was happy enough, I believe, because she saw a great deal of Jonathan who had said he would keep an eye on her. The Barringtons went back to Nottingham, taking Clare with them. They were going to stay in Scotland with Irene and her family.
Jake went to Cornwall. I had heard from him. In fact I had had several letters. I only had to say the word and he would come and get me, he reminded me. There was a convention that a widow should allow a year to pass after her husband’s death before she remarried. He did not care a fig for such conventions. He was ready for me now.
“You will come here,” he wrote. “You will be far away and on the other side of England. I am waiting for you, longing for you. I hope you are thinking of me. No one here will know what has happened; and when we pay our visits to London it will all have been forgotten. Who cares for conventions, anyway? True lovers never did.”
To read his letters brought him back to me so vividly. I thought of him constantly during the long hot days and dreamed of him at night.
If he came, I asked myself, how should I feel? Should I ever be able to see him without seeing also that room in Grasslands with the cabinet by the bed and the glass standing on it?
What had happened that night? Should I ever know? Could I love the man who had murdered my husband? Had he? Could I suspect the man I loved of such an act?
I was unsure of myself.
Perhaps that was why my mother had brought me here. That was why my father curbed his impatience and tried to suppress his longing for home.
I accepted their care of me. I leaned on them. I had to. I dared not go back … yet. I had to discover my true feelings.
If I went back it would be a sign to Jake to come to me. And if he did … what should I feel? What should I do? I would say: “Jake, tell me the truth. Did you kill Edward?”
He would answer No. And would I believe him? I was not sure. If I loved him, would I be unsure? Yes. But if I loved him truly would anything he had done make any difference to me?
Now the culmination of the season was upon us. I had helped with the vendange. I had seen the grapes gathered; I had watched the peasants who had come in from miles round to help with the wine harvest.
It was a warm night and they were celebrating the successful gathering in. I was in my room. There was a stone parapet outside my window and I could step out onto this, and leaning over the wrought iron rail I could smell the scents of the night. I could make out the pepper pot towers at the east side of the château which Charlot and Louis Charles had so lovingly restored. I could hear the strains of violins in the distance and the singing of the workers.
There was the sound of wheels on the cobbles of the courtyard. Then … I saw Jake.
He looked up and for a few seconds we were silent, gazing at each other. Then I turned and ran down to him. He caught me in his arms.
“I’m here,” he said. “No more partings.”
“Jake … Jake …” I gasped. He was holding me so tightly that I could scarcely breathe. “How … how did you get here?”
“On the wings of love,” he answered and laughed. “Actually it was by the usual tedious way. I wanted to be with you so much. I am not going… until you come with me. No more waiting. Nothing matters … except that we are together.”
I knew then that I did not care about anything. It did not matter what he had done. I only cared that he had come to me.
The Understanding
JAKE TOOK ME DOWN to Cornwall and we were married there. His house was like a castle, set high on the cliffs; it stood facing the sea, defiant and formidable as a fortress, and the gardens which wound down to the shore were a blaze of colour in the spring and summer; yellow gorse bloomed almost all the year round and in season there were the rhododendrons, azaleas and hydrangeas.
The house was almost feudal. I marvelled afresh that he had once left such splendour for a life with the gypsies. But that was Jake … unaccountable, the complete individual. It was one of the reasons why he was so exciting to be with.
I had no doubt that I loved him absolutely, that no matter what he had done I would follow wherever he led.
My parents had said it was right for me to go with him. It was the only way in which I could be cured of my melancholy. It was the only way I could forget the past and begin my life afresh.
That made the way easy for me.
My mother had decided that it would be best for Tamarisk to go to Amaryllis. She was rather fascinated by Jake, but Jonathan was the most important person in her life. She was a different girl with him—softer, more reasonable, humble, even biddable. “She reminds me of myself when I was a girl and loved Dickon,” said my mother. “We were separated because they thought it was best, but I never forgot him… all those years when we were both married to someone else. It was only when we came together that I knew fulfilment and complete contentment. I understand Tamarisk. Let her stay near us. She grows more mature every day and she is a precocious girl. I believe she will marry Jonathan one day. There is no need to worry about Tamarisk. She will always take care of herself. My dear Jessica, you have now to grow away from all that has happened. You have to put the past behind you. You have to be happy.”
The Barringtons had left Grasslands when we came to France. They said they would not want to come back for it could never be the same to them after Edward’s death. In time they would see what they would do about the house.
And when I married, my parents suggested putting it up for sale.
Jake and I did not go back to Grasslands. We left France with my parents and parted from them at Dover—they to go to Eversleigh, Jake and I to Cornwall.