Seven for a Secret

Homecoming

The novelty of the voyage out had been a great adventure to Tamarisk and me and therefore a source of interest; now I had seen it all before. Sibyl was a seasoned traveller, well acquainted with shipboard life which, there was no doubt, she enjoyed.

She had travelled with the captain before and knew several of the officers. As she remarked to me, she knew her way around and that was always a help.

We had separate cabins, side by side.

“Starboard side,” Sibyl explained to me.

“Port out, starboard home. Otherwise the heat in the tropics is unbearable.”

She was the best possible companion for me. She would not allow me to brood. She wanted to engage in all the shipboard activities. She played deck games, whist and danced in the evenings; she would take me off on excursions when we were in port and make sure we had attractive male escorts. She was deservedly popular, carried on a few light-hearted flirtations, chattered continuously and was always good-humoured.

When the weather was rough she kept to her cabin and so did I. I would lie on my bed and think about arriving home. I wondered what had happened during my absence. Had anything come to light? There must have been a great deal of speculation when I left Harper’s Green so suddenly after my engagement had been announced.

I would lie listening to the buffeting of the waves and the protesting creaking of the ship, as though she were moaning in agonized protest at what the sea was doing to her.

Then we would pass through the storm to calmer waters.

And so the days went by.

We sailed out of Lisbon our last port of call. I had been out with Sibyl and some friends. We had explored the city, visited the Jeronimos Monastery and the Carmo Church, inspected the Tower of Belem, taken coffee and watched the people passing by, returned to the ship and stood on deck while she sailed out of the bay. Mar de Palha, as we looked back on the hills on either side of the Tagus.

Home was not far away.

The next days sped by. We packed. We were in readiness. The last night had come. Tomorrow in the early hours of the morning we should sail in to Southampton.

There was, as always, a little delay before we were allowed to disembark and the frustrating minutes seemed like hours.

Sibyl had said that we would take the boat train to London and would then go to Harper’s Green. She herself would be staying in London and I told her there would be no need for her to accompany me; but she was insistent. She had told Ronnie that she would take me to my aunt, and that was exactly what she would do.

There was no need for this, as waiting on the dock were Crispin and Aunt Sophie.

Aunt Sophie called my name with glee and Crispin’s face lit up with an indescribable joy. I rushed to them and Crispin reached me first. He lifted me up in his arms. I had never seen him look so happy before.

And there was Aunt Sophie smiling at us.

“You’re home, you’re home, my love!” She was talking incoherently and the tears were on her cheeks; they were tears of joy.

I was aware of Sibyl standing there, beaming and delighted.

This is Mrs. Fraser,” I said.

“She has brought me home. My father asked her to.”

“We know,” said Aunt Sophie.

“We’ve just had a letter from him. We’ve been arranging to kill the fatted calf ever since we knew you were coming. Letters come a little quicker than people, it seems. Oh, it is wonderful to see you!”

Crispin was grasping my arm, pressing it against him. Aunt Sophie had the other.

“I am so glad,” said Sibyl.

“I hope I get a welcome like this from my family.”

Crispin and Aunt Sophie seemed to drag themselves away from their contemplation of me and turned their attention to Sibyl.

I said: “Sibyl has been wonderful. She is such an experienced traveller. She has made everything so easy. She is coming to England to visit her son, you see.”

They thanked her with sincerity and asked what she wished to do. She explained that she wanted to get to London and from there she would go direct to her son.

It was not until we were seated in a tea-room on the station that I heard the great news.

At Paddington we had to wait an hour for the train which would fake us to Wiltshire. Sibyl had been put in a cab and had said her farewells, promising to visit us some time, and while we were waiting for our train we sat down to talk.

I could never be on a railway station after that without recalling that day.

Crispin sat close to me. Occasionally he would stretch out a hand and touch mine, as though to reassure himself I was really there.

As soon as we sat down and had ordered tea. Aunt Sophie said: “Isn’t it wonderful! Who would have thought it would have worked out like this? All the time …”

I said: “What is it? I know something has happened. I can see that by the way you look and … everything. But what? Tell me!”

“I wrote,” said Crispin, ‘as soon as I knew. It was the first thing I did. “

“You wrote? But when did you write?”

“As soon as I heard.”

“You don’t say,” said Aunt Sophie, ‘that you haven’t had the letter? ”

“Which letter? They take a long time, you know.”

“The one telling you. Crispin wrote and I wrote. And when we heard you were coming home … we thought that was why. Come to think of it, there wasn’t all that time. Our letters must have crossed in the post.”

“But we thought you were coming because-‘ began Crispin.

“Because what?” I cried in exasperation.

“It is like this,” said Crispin.

“I got one of those detective agencies working on it. Kate had said she was going to Australia, but I did not believe that. I had to be rid of her once and for all. I think I knew her plan was to go on making me pay.”

“Of course,” I said.

“She would not stop the first time.”

“There is no need to worry about anything any more. I was never married to her. She was already married, and had been for three years before I met her. She only went through a form of the ceremony with me.”

“Is this really true?”

“Proved without a shadow of a doubt,” said Aunt Sophie triumphantly.

“Crispin has proof, haven’t you, Crispin? There are such things as records, you know.”

“We have indeed the indisputable proof,” said Crispin.

“There is no impediment,” went on Aunt Sophie triumphantly.

“I am so happy. I felt so guilty about seeing her and telling you. I asked myself why I had opened my mouth.”

“It’s over,” said Crispin, taking my hand.

“My dearest, it is all over. There is nothing to stop us now.”

“I can’t believe it,” I said.

“It’s too … neat.”

“Life isn’t always untidy,” said Aunt Sophie.

“What I don’t understand,” said Crispin, ‘is why you came home now? ”

I looked at him steadily.

“I came home because I could not stay away any longer.”

“In spite of…”

“In spite of everything. I could not stay away from you. My father knew it, too. He said I should never be happy away from you. So I came back.”

Crispin was gripping my hand tightly.

“I shall never forget that,” he said.

“You came back to me before you knew.”

Aunt Sophie sat there smiling at us benignly, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was living through one of the happiest moments of my life.

What a triumphant return!

Harper’s Green looked just the same as I remembered it. We took a cab to The Rowans where Lily was waiting for us. She rushed out and embraced me. Her voice was husky as she stated the obvious.

“You’re back!”

“Yes, Lily, I’m back.”

“About time, too.”

“I missed you all.”

“And don’t you think we missed you! Gadding about all over the place.

Come on in. Don’t want to stand about on the doorstep all night. “

We went into the sitting-room.

“What a wonderful homecoming!” I said.

“We’ll go ahead with our plans now,” said Crispin.

“There’s no need for us to wait. We’ve waited too long.”

Aunt Sophie talked about weddings.

“We want it quickly,” said Crispin.

“We don’t want to be bothered with lots of preparations.”

“I reckon your mother will want to have her way,” said Aunt Sophie.

“She will have to do it our way. And where shall we go for our honeymoon?”

“We’ll consider it,” I said.

“I’m too happy to think of anything but that I am home and it’s all going to be all right. And I did not know this until I was sitting in a railway tea-shop amid the clatter of crockery, people hurrying about and trains shunting outside!”

“What does it matter where you heard it?” said Aunt Sophie.

“You did . and it’s the best news in the world.”

It was wonderful to be back. The nightmare which had begun when Aunt Sophie came back with the news that she had seen Kate Carvel in Devizes was over. There was nothing but happiness ahead.

When Crispin had left us with assurances that he would come next morning. Aunt Sophie wanted to hear about my father.

She was deeply shocked to learn that he was blind.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” she demanded.

“He knew you would be upset, and he didn’t want you worrying about him. He’s like that. He’s very philosophical.”

“But how does he manage to look after himself? And what is he doing on that faraway island?”

I hesitated and then told her about Karla.

“Oh,” she said.

“A woman. There was always a woman.”

“She is half native and very kind and warm-hearted. You would love her. Aunt Sophie. She cares for him very much and does everything for him. She writes those letters to you at his dictation.”

She nodded.

“I knew the writing had changed. Not much, but it wasn’t quite the same.”

“He didn’t want you to know. Karia is very understanding. She is a sort of power in the island. She owns a plantation there.”

“What adventures he has had! If he had told me …”

“I know. You would have tried to bring him home. He is very fond of you, and he doesn’t want to use you. Aunt Sophie, you are his greatest friend, he said. He loves you, but he wouldn’t want to prey on you now that he is helpless. I understand how he feels. I got to know him very well.”

“He is a wonderful man.”

“He would laugh at that. He calls himself a sinner, and I suppose a lot of people would agree with him. But I love him and you do too, and so have a great many people throughout his life.”

She was subdued, but would not allow anything to cloud my happiness.

She talked about the change in Crispin.

“He seems like a young boy now. Oh, Freddie, how lucky you are to be loved like that.”

“I know,” I said.

“And to come back without knowing … I’m glad you did. It shows, doesn’t it? Did you see his face when he realized that?”

“I did. I had to come back. Aunt Sophie. My father understood that.”

“He was never one for conventions.”

“It is like a miracle that it should work out this way.”

“Life has its miracles now and then. Oh, I am so happy. It is what I have always wanted. To see you happy and to keep you near me. It’s everything I ever dreamed of … almost.”

I went to see Mrs. St. Aubyn. I did have a twinge of uneasiness, for I did not know how she would feel about the marriage. She would surely have wanted someone from a higher sphere of society for her son.

However, she received me warmly. She said: “How nice to see you back, my dear. Well, this will soon be your home, and you will be my daughter-in-law. I am so pleased to welcome you into the family.”

She was lying on a sofa, and I wondered whether she had reverted to that invalidism from which she had retreated on the coming of Gaston Marchmont to St. Aubyn’s.

“Crispin is very happy now,” she said.

“That is a great comfort to me.

There has been such unpleasantness in the past and that had an effect on him. I shall be so glad to see him settled with someone I know so well. It is an immense relief. “

I smiled inwardly. I knew she had never been very concerned with her children’s welfare.

“It will be good for the household to have a mistress,” she went on, ‘and I am sure you will be a very good one. I myself have been so hampered by ill-health. “

I knew then that she was lapsing into the old ways. And, as Aunt Sophie would say, that was probably for the best, for I should have no interference from my mother-in-law.

“Dear Frederica,” she went on, ‘would you pull the cover let down over my legs? No matter how warm the room is, I feel a draught. Now tell me about my daughter. Why did she not come back with you? “

I told her about Tamarisk’s interest in the mission. I gave her an account of how she had filled the bleak hall with flowers, how the children had been attracted by her golden hair, and how popular she had been with them.

“How very odd!” she said.

“When do you think she will be coming home?”

“I dare say fairly soon. At the moment she is finding it all rather novel and amusing. She will be home some time, I am sure.”

“She ought to marry again.” Her face changed slightly.

“It was such a tragedy. You and I will see if we can find a suitable husband for her.”

“I think she would want to make her own choice,” I said.

She nodded her head sadly.

“As she did before. It was such a pity. He was a very charming man.”

I did not want to think of Gaston Marchmont.

I went to Grindle’s Farm where Rachel greeted me with delight. I could see that life was good for her. Little Danielle was quite a person now; she had her own small vocabulary and was running around, taking an interest in everything.

Daniel was well, Rachel told me. There had been no more repercussions about the murder and it seemed to be back in the past.

She wanted to hear about Tamarisk. She laughed over the flower incident and Tamarisk’s unexpected interest in the mission.

“It is the last thing you would expect of her,” she said.

“Well, Tamarisk was always unexpected.”

“Freddie, I’m so happy for you. It is wonderful that you have come back and are going to marry Crispin.” She looked at me searchingly.

“When you went away like that, I couldn’t understand it.”

“There was a reason.”

“Of course.” She did not ask what it was. Rachel had always been tactful. She had realized that this was something between Crispin and me, and our affair alone.

“But now you are back and everything is all right. Oh, Freddie, you are going to be happy, I know it.”

“If you know it and I am determined to be, it must be so,” I said.

“Poor James Perrin!” She smiled faintly.

“At one time I thought…”

That I would marry him? “

“It seemed suitable. He is very self-contained, a calm, efficient sort of man. I am sure he will make a very good husband.”

“He’ll always be predictable a good and faithful husband, I am sure.”

“There is a rumour that he is interested in a young woman in Devizes.

She is the daughter of a solicitor . very suitable in every way. “

“I’m glad.”

“They are saying that her family will help him out with the money to get a place of his own.”

Ideal,” I cried.

“It is wonderful how everything is working out right, isn’t it? It was all going wrong once and then suddenly it comes right. It’s like some sort of pattern. When I look back and think …”

“Rachel,” I said quickly, ‘don’t look back. Look forward. “

She smiled.

“It is good to think you are going to be here.”

I had a meeting with James Perrin. He looked very pleased with life.

He congratulated me on my coming marriage and told me he was thinking about getting his own property. He had been perfectly frank with Mr. St. Aubyn, for he thought it only fair to give him warning so that it would be possible for a new man to have some training before he, James, departed.

His congratulations were sincere enough, yet I fancied there might have been a few regrets. But James was a practical, serious-minded young man who had his way to make in life. He had at one time thought I would be a suitable partner and, as I had made that impossible, he was now finding a replacement. He was reasonable, philosophical; he was a man who would never plunge into the depths of despair and never reach the heights of ecstasy either. I was naturally eager to call on the Lanes, and when I did so I found it rather disturbing. But then, it had always been so.

I chose an afternoon the time I used to go and would find Flora sitting in the garden.

She was not there. I went round to the front of the house and knocked on the door. Lucy opened it.

“Oh,” she said.

“It’s Miss Hammond. Come in. Miss Hammond. I heard you were back.”

“I had to come and see you. How is Miss Flora?”

She took me into the sitting-room and bade me sit down.

“Flora is not very well,” she said.

“She’s resting.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“She has not been well for some time.”

“Is she very ill?”

“Well, I suppose it is a sort of illness. I get her to lie down in the afternoons. I hear you are going to marry Mr. Crispin.”

“Yes,” I said.

She was holding her hands together and I noticed that they were trembling.

“He is a good man,” she said.

“The best.”

“I know.”

“Well, I am sure you will be happy.”

“I am sure we shall. Is it possible for me to see Miss Flora? I shouldn’t like her to think I hadn’t come to see her.”

She hesitated for a moment before she stood up. She nodded and I followed her out of the room.

“She is changed,” she whispered as we mounted the stairs.

“Yes, you told me.”

The door of the nursery was open. We passed it and went into Flora’s room.

Flora was lying on her bed.

“Miss Hammond has come to see you. Flora,” said Lucy.

Flora half raised herself and said: “You’ve come back.”

“Yes, and I’ve come to see you. How are you?”

She lay back and shook her head. I noticed then that the doll was in the toy cot near the bed.

“It’s all gone,” murmured Flora.

“I don’t know … where are we?”

“We’re in your room, dear,” said Lucy, ‘and Miss Hammond has come home from foreign parts. She’s looked in to see you. “

Flora nodded.

“He’s gone now,” she said.

Lucy whispered: “She’s rambling a bit.” Then aloud: “It was good of Miss Hammond to come, wasn’t it. Flora?”

“Good to come,” repeated Flora.

“He came here … see.” She was looking at me.

“He took …” Her face puckered.

Lucy laid a hand on my arm.

“Not one of her good days,” she said quietly.

“She’s better left. I’ll give her a pill. That’ll quieten her.”

I sensed that she was eager for me to go, so I had no alternative but to do so. I passed the open door of the nursery as I went and I caught a glimpse of the picture of the seven magpies.

By the front door I turned to look at Lucy. I could see that she was worried.

“She’s changed,” I said.

“It’s one of her bad days. She wanders. She has these days now and then. Some days she’s just like she used to be. Well, of course, she’s been strange for a long time.”

“It must give you great anxiety.”

Lucy lifted her shoulders.

“I know her … she’s my sister. I know how to look after her.”

“She is very fortunate to have you.”

She did not answer that.

She opened the door.

“Well, congratulations, I’m glad you’re going to marry Mr. Crispin. He’s very fond of you. He deserves to be happy.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes,” she said.

“It’s nice … that’s what it is.”

I walked away smiling, though I was faintly disturbed; but I always had been after a visit to the House of the Seven Magpies.

Six weeks after my return we were married. Even so, Crispin chafed against the delay. It was a quiet wedding, as we both wanted it to be.

Mrs. St. Aubyn had raised objections but they were only mild ones. In the first place, it would be celebrated from the bride’s home, which was comparatively humble.

Mr. Hetherington performed the ceremony and I think most of the neighbourhood were present.

Crispin and I were blissfully happy as everyone crowded round with their well-wishing. Rachel was there. I wished Tamarisk had been. I often thought of her. I was sure her enthusiasm for the island would, like all those in the past, not be of long duration. I saw Lucy Lane in the church, and I was pleased that Crispin spoke to her and made sure she was well looked after. I wondered how Flora was, but I am afraid I had little thought to spare for anything but my own marriage and the future which awaited me.

Soon after the ceremony Crispin and I left for Italy and there followed weeks of perfect happiness.

Those were days of sheer perfection. I discovered new depths in Crispin. Never had I realized how joyous he could be. All reserve dropped from him. Now that had gone he was completely relaxed and perfectly happy. There was enchantment everywhere.

For most people Florence is a magical city. For us it was a paradise.

We bargained on the Ponte Vecchio with the jewellers and laughed over our attempts to speak the language. We visited fresco-lined churches and the galleries; we were enthralled by the Palazzo Pitti and the Boboli Gardens. We took a carriage and rode out of the city into the rolling hills of Tuscany. Each hour of those enchanted weeks was a joy. Never had I dreamed of such happiness and to share it with the one I loved seemed the greatest benefit that could befall anyone.

It had to end, of course, but it was a time which would live with us for ever.