When I had said goodbye to them, I felt very melancholy and went to the nursery to see Tristan.
It brought me comfort to hold him in my arms. Nanny Crabtree stood by watching. We were her children…myself as well as Tristan, and she knew what the loss of Dorabella meant to me.
She said: “He knows you. Look at his little face. You and me, Miss Violetta, we’ll see that he’s all right.”
A few days after my parents returned I received a letter from Richard.
My dearest,
I have been talking to your parents. What a terrible tragedy this is! I have heard that you intend to stay with the child. Your mother has explained to me.
I hope you are thinking about our marriage. It is what I want more than anything on earth. Do write to me. I shall come down to see you there as soon as I can arrange it. Then we can talk of the future.
I am feeling this with you. I have heard from Edward, as well as from your mother, how close you and your sister were, and I know what you must be suffering. I wish I could be with you to show you how deeply I feel for you.
Please write to me. I want to be in constant touch.
All my love to you,
Richard
It was a comforting letter. I was reminded of how kind and understanding he was.
It amazed me that, ever since I had heard that devastating news, I had not given him a thought.
I was surprised when Jowan Jermyn called at the house. One of the maids came to tell me that he was in the hall and had asked to see me. I noticed the look of surprise and excitement on her face.
Surprise, of course, that he had the temerity to call, and excitement at the thought of what a stir this news would create when she released it.
It was true that he had been invited to the house for lunch, but that was some time ago, and since then there would have been plenty of rumors. I had no doubt that Dorabella’s death would be attributed to some uncanny connection with the feud.
I went down to the hall, and there he was, standing with his back to the fireplace, his hands clasped behind him.
He came forward and took my hands, holding them firmly in his.
“I am so sorry,” he said earnestly.
I found it hard to speak and he went on: “I had to call. Perhaps I should not have done so. But there is no other way of getting in touch with you.”
“Thank you for coming,” I said.
“I should so like to talk to you,” he went on. “I heard you were staying here for a while, although your parents have left.”
“That’s so,” I said. “There is the baby…”
“Could you come and have lunch somewhere?”
“Do you mean today?”
“If that is possible. I have a car outside.”
I hesitated. My spirits lightened a little at the prospect. I could leave a message for Matilda that I should not be in to lunch today.
As we drove through the country lanes, he said: “I know a quiet place close to the moor. We can talk in comfort there.”
“I suppose you know everything that has happened,” I said.
“I don’t know about everything, but there is no talk hereabouts of anything but this tragedy.”
“It seems incredible to me still.”
I was staring blankly ahead, seeing her face, laughing at me, scorning me because of some priggish sentiment I had just expressed. I would have given anything to hear her laugh like that again.
He took his hand from the steering wheel and placed it over mine for a moment.
“So,” he said, “you have stayed on though your parents have gone.”
“Yes. I am helping with the baby.”
“Yes, with the nanny whose name is Crabtree.”
“She was nanny to my sister and to me. Mother procured her for Tristan.”
“Her name is often mentioned.”
“You mean by the gossips.”
“Oh, yes, she’s something of a dragon by all accounts. At least she hasn’t much time for the people around here.”
“I think she despises most people who weren’t born within the sound of Bow Bells.”
“Ah, I see.”
We were silent for a moment. I sensed that he wished to talk about the tragedy but was not sure what effect it would have on me.
We were seated opposite each other in the small hotel on the edge of the moor, when he regarded me gravely and said: “Do you mind talking about it?”
“It is uppermost in my mind,” I confessed.
“Do you think it was all a little strange…?”
“Yes, I do,” I replied.
“Do you believe in coincidences?”
“I suppose there are such things.”
“Yes, I suppose so, but…”
“You mean the way she died?”
“Yes. Two in the same way. Doesn’t that sound a little odd to you?”
“Yes.”
“You know what they are saying here?”
“I can guess.”
“That it is the revenge of the Jermyns on the Tregarlands, of course.”
“Oh, they can’t really believe that.”
“They can. They seize on this as a proof that the feud is as firm as ever; and the attempt to break it has not pleased my unfortunate ancestor.”
“I suppose it could have come about naturally. Dorabella was not a strong swimmer. Dermot’s first wife was, according to her mother. I cannot understand why Dorabella should have suddenly decided she wanted to take an early morning swim. If only I had been here…I should never have left. She did not want me to. In fact, she pleaded with me to stay. I said I would come back soon and she would be able to come home to us when the baby was older…and this happened when I was not there…”
“Do you think if you had been here you would have been able to prevent it?”
“I just have a feeling that it might not have happened then.”
He was silent for a while.
“It is odd,” he said. “Two of them to die that way. People here naturally put their own construction on it. Of course, it could have happened quite naturally. My ancestor did not want to live and she walked into the sea, never intending to come back; Annette…she could have had a sudden attack of cramp…and your sister, well, that could have happened to her, too. It is just an extraordinary coincidence that a man should have two wives who die by drowning at the same spot.”
“What are people suggesting?”
“I don’t quite know. But…I am a little uneasy. I think…you should be watchful.”
“What do you mean? That you…suspect something?”
“I don’t know what I feel. I just don’t like the thought of your being there…in a place where two such events could take place.”
I looked at him in surprise. He had always struck me as being a practical man who would scoff at fancy.
“What on earth do you think could happen to me?”
“I don’t know. I merely think that you are there where extraordinary things happen. That’s why…I want you to be watchful.”
“What am I to watch for?”
“I don’t know. That’s just it. I have this vague uneasiness, though. If it were anyone else…it wouldn’t occur to me.
I looked at him questioningly and he returned my gaze steadily.
“I care what happens to you,” he said. “Perhaps that is why I am particularly sensitive.”
“That is very kind of you,” I replied.
He shook his head. “It is something over which I have no control. All this seems too contrived to be natural, and I am uneasy because you are in the midst of it.”
“Would you feel better if I went home?”
He smiled at me ruefully. “I was not at all pleased when you stayed away so long. In fact, I was definitely displeased. I had rather you came back for reasons other than this one.”
“How I agree with you on that!”
“Get in touch with me…at any time if you need anything. Telephone me. Do you have the number?”
I said I did not and he gave it to me and I put it into my handbag. I felt an uplifting of my spirits such as I had not known since I heard of Dorabella’s death. I was so gratified that he was concerned for me.
I told him then that I had promised my sister that I would look after Tristan if she were unable to be there.