Everything to Gain and a Secret Affair (35 page)

Was my imagination playing tricks again?

“She never paid me any mind, Mrs. Andrew didn't,” Wilf grumbled. “I allus told her not to come up on these 'ere moors, Joe. I did that. Dangerous they are.”

“Let's just try and find her,” Joe said. “Stop yakking.”

When I heard their voices nearby, I managed to push myself to my knees. “Help!” I shouted weakly. “Help! I'm down here! Joe! Wilf! Down in the hollow!”

“That's Mrs. Andrew calling us, Joe,” Wilf cried excitedly. “She's tummeled in yon gully, I bet she has. Come on, Joe.”

A fraction of a second later Wilf and Joe were peering down at me, relief spreading across their weather-beaten faces.

“Whatever's happened to you, Mrs. Andrew?” Joe cried, clambering down into the hollow.

“I fell, rolled down the moor, and ended up in here. I hurt my ankle,” I explained, “I'm not sure how well I can walk, Joe. I think I can only hop or limp.”

“Don't you worry, we'll have you back home in two shakes of a lamb's tail,” Joe said. “Now, come along. Put this barbour on, it'll keep you warm. By gum, you're as white as a sheet, and you must be frozen. You're shaking like a leaf.”

“I be warning you afore, Mrs. Andrew,” Wilf said. “But you never paid me no mind.”

“I'm sorry, Wilf, I should have listened. And you're right, the weather is unpredictable up here.”

“It is, by gum. Many a poor soul's been lost on these moors, not found till it was too late. Dead as a doornail, they was,” Wilf intoned in a dolorous voice.

“That's enough, Wilf,” Joe said. “Now, Mrs. Andrew, just put one arm around my neck, and let's see if I can help you up out of this gully.”

J
oe and Wilf half walked me, half carried me back to the house.

We made slow progress because of my ankle; I felt ill, frozen through to my bones, and I had a raging headache. But at least it was no longer raining, and the wind had dropped considerably.

When we finally arrived at Kilgram Chase, Parky, Hilary, and her husband Ben were all waiting for us in the kitchen, their faces anxious.

“Oh, dear, Mrs. Andrew, what happened to you?” Parky cried. “Have you hurt yourself, then?”

“Sprained her ankle, she has,” Joe answered.

“I'm all right, Parky,” I reassured her, although I didn't feel it at this moment.

“Found her up near yon ghyll, we did, she'd tummeled in a gully,” Wilf said. “And I—”

“It could have been worse,” Hilary exclaimed, cutting him off sharply. Taking charge with sudden briskness, she went on, “There's no point standing around here nattering. Now, Mrs. Andrew, let's get you upstairs, get those wet clothes off you. A hot bath is what you need, and something hot inside you.”

Hilary came to me, put her arm around my waist, and helped me across the kitchen.

“I'll ring up Dr. Gordon, ask him to come, shall I?” Ben said, looking at Hilary.

“Yes, you'd better,” she replied.

“I'm okay, honestly I am,” I interjected. “I'm just cold. Very cold. A bath will do the trick.”

“I think the doctor had better look at your ankle. Best to be on the safe side,” Joe said as we went out into the corridor.

I heard Parky say, “I'll put the kettle on.”

And then Joe replying, “Nay, Mother, what yon lass needs is a shot of good scotch whiskey, not tea.”

Hilary tightened her grip on me as we started up the stairs. “Can you make it all right?” she asked worriedly.

I nodded.

Once we were in my bedroom, she went to run me a bath.

I stripped off my muddy clothes, threw them on the floor, and put on a dressing gown. I limped into the bathroom.

Hilary looked around as I came in and said, “Shall I put some of these Epsom salts in the bath? They're good for aches and pains.”

“Yes, that's a good idea,” I answered, sitting down on the bathroom stool.

“I'll be back in a few minutes with the tea and the whiskey,” Hilary said, walking over to the door. “I'll leave it in the bedroom for you. Oh, and I'll put a bottle of aspirin on the tray.”

“Thanks, Hilary. Thanks for everything.”

“You're welcome,” she murmured and closed the door behind her.

I sat soaking in the hot tub for a long time, enjoying the heat of the water, feeling myself thawing out. The Epsom salts did help my bruised body and my ankle; and even though this was badly sprained, I was now certain it was not broken.

But it was quite obvious that I had had a lucky escape.

When I had gone for a walk earlier this afternoon, I hadn't told anyone where I was going, and it was only by
chance that I had seen Wilf in the orchard as I had walked past. He had waved. I had waved back, and then I had gone on down the path into the woods. When the storm had started and I had not returned, he must have been the one to sound the alarm. I experienced a stab of guilt as I thought of the way Andrew and I had always characterized him as stupid—
gormless
, as Andrew said.

Andrew.

I closed my eyes, concentrating, picturing my husband in my mind's eye.

Had he really spoken to me this afternoon? Freezing cold, in pain from my ankle, frightened that I might not be found before nightfall, that I might easily be lost on the moors, might I not have simply imagined it? Might I not have conjured him up for comfort?

I did not know. Just as I did not know whether I had dreamed that Lissa had slept in my arms all those months ago at Indian Meadows.

Was there such a thing as an afterlife? Certainly religions have preached for thousands of years that there is. And if there is an afterlife, then there must be ghosts, spirits of the dead who come back to this physical plane for a reason. To comfort and calm those loved ones left behind grieving? To show themselves as guardian angels?

Suddenly I remembered a book I had seen the other day in the library. It was about angels and ghosts; I had leafed through it quickly. Later I would look at it again.

“You've been very lucky, Mrs. Keswick,” Dr. Gordon said, putting his stethoscope away in his bag. “Very lucky indeed.”

“I realize that,” I responded. “I could have broken something, not just sprained my ankle.”

“Very true. But what I meant is, you're fortunate you're
not suffering from hypothermia. You were out in that wretched storm for over two hours, and one's body temperature drops very quickly with that kind of exposure to the elements. And when hypothermia does occur, a person can be in serious trouble.”

“But Mrs. Andrew is all right, isn't she?” Hilary asked, her concern apparent.

“Yes, she's fine.” He glanced from Hilary back to me. “Your temperature is normal, and you don't seem to have suffered too much damage. Even the sprain is not that serious. A couple of days, you'll be all right. But do be sure to keep that ankle of yours bandaged.”

“I will, Doctor, and thank you for coming over.”

“I was glad to pop in, and if you have any problems at all, please don't hesitate to ring me.”

“I will. Thanks, Dr. Gordon.”

“Good-bye, Mrs. Keswick.”

“Bye.”

Hilary jumped up.

“I'll see you out, Doctor,” she said and hurried after him. Turning back to look at me from the doorway, she asked, “Do you need me for anything else, Mrs. Andrew? Shall I come back and help you get dressed?”

“Thanks, Hilary, that's sweet of you, but I can manage.”

Left alone, I took off my robe, put on a pair of gray flannels, a russet-colored silk shirt, and a matching wool jacket. Sitting down on the bench at the bottom of the bed, I pulled on a pair of white wool socks and slipped my feet into a pair of suede moccasins.

Picking up the walking stick Parky had brought upstairs for me, I hobbled out of my bedroom, went along the hall and down the staircase, taking steps very carefully, walking sideways.

The library had become my favorite room at Kilgram
Chase these past four months, and knowing this, Joe had turned on the lamps and started the fire earlier, whilst I had been with the doctor.

Even though it was May, the great stone house could be chilly at night, especially this room, with its high-flung ceiling and overscaled proportions. The fire blazing up the chimney and the warm glow of the lamps gave it a cheerful ambience on this rainy evening.

Once I had found the book about angels and ghosts, I went over to the fireplace and sat down in the wing chair. I would look at it whilst I waited for Diana. She was driving up from London tonight instead of tomorrow, so that she could spend the evening with me; she did not want me to be alone for my birthday. She was due in about an hour, and I was glad she was coming.

A memory of my last birthday insinuated itself into my mind, and I couldn't help recalling how happy it had been. My mother had given an early dinner at her apartment, and Lissa and Jamie had come with me and Andrew and Sarah. There had been champagne first and a cake after dinner, and the twins had sung “Happy Birthday” to me. Andrew had given me mabe pearl earrings; the twins had painted their own special cards for me and saved up all year to buy me a pretty silk scarf.

My throat tightened, and I felt the tears sting my eyes as the memories came rushing back. I pushed them aside, took hold of myself, leaned back in the chair, and closed my eyes. Eventually the pain of yearning for them passed.

I began to leaf through the book about angels and ghosts, and I soon found the section I was looking for, the references I wanted.

I read that angels were considered to be messengers of the divine, that they only ever brought good news and aid to those in need of it. People who had seen them said they were filled with goodness and warmth and were
surrounded by light, that frequently they were vividly and brilliantly colored, and that a special kind of radiance emanated from them.

Other people interviewed for the book said that when they had seen an angel, or several angels together, they had felt themselves filling with joy, bursting with happiness; some said they had filled with sudden laughter.

The section on ghosts came next, and I read that they were the spirits of the dead, and always took their own form when they materialized. The idea that ghosts did exist was apparently found in every country and culture, and that in general most people agreed on how they actually looked. They were misty, cloudy, transparent, and floating.

Usually, ghosts came to help their loved ones, according to the book. They brought messages of hope and love and frequently materialized in order to tell us that everything was all right. Seemingly, ghosts were attached to the physical world, our world, by their longing for those they had left behind.

The book said there were also bad ghosts, evil spirits who could do harm and who sometimes took demonic possession of a person. I began to read about the Roman Catholic church's attitude toward evil spirits, and the exorcisms which were performed by priests. I found this a bit frightening and closed the book. I did not want to know about evil spirits. I had experienced enough evil to last me a lifetime.

After returning the book to its place on the shelf, I went and sat in front of the mullioned window, staring out at the moors. They were a peculiar blue-black color at this twilight hour, rain-swept and formidable, and a shiver ran through me as I thought of being out on them in this weather tonight.

And yet, curiously, I had been close to Andrew up there
this afternoon in the storm, closer than ever, and at one moment I had felt his presence most acutely.

Was this because he had always loved storms? Because he had wanted to go out in them when he was a boy, had wanted to become at one with his ancestors riding out to fight their enemies?

I smiled inwardly, thinking of him with such love. My heart was full of him. Unexpectedly, I experienced a feeling of great calmness. It was flowing through me, suffusing my entire being; it was the kind of calmness I had forgotten existed.

I sat there for a long time, looking out the window, thinking about Andrew's words to me today. My birthday. Had he spoken to me
because
it was my birthday?

I sighed to myself. I was still not sure what had happened out there this afternoon, whether his voice had been real or simply inside me, conjured up because of my yearning for him.

“Here's to you, darling,” Diana said, touching her glass of white wine to mine. “I'm glad you're here. I'm glad we can spend your birthday together.”

“So am I, Diana.”

Placing her goblet on the coffee table, she picked up the small gift-wrapped package she had brought into the library with her a few minutes ago. Handing it to me with a smile, she said, “This is for you, and it comes with all of my love.”

“Thank you,” I answered, taking it from her and unwrapping it. The small black leather box I held in my hands was worn, a bit rubbed on one side, and when I opened it, I let out a little gasp. Lying on the black velvet was an antique cameo, one of the most exquisite I had ever seen. “It's beautiful, Diana, thank you so much.”

Rising, I went over to the sofa and kissed her on the cheek, and then I pinned the cameo onto the lapel of my jacket.

“My mother-in-law gave it to me years ago, for one of
my
birthdays,” Diana explained. “I thought it was a nice idea to pass it on to you, since it's a Keswick heirloom.”

“You're always so thoughtful, so loving,” I murmured, going back to the chair and sitting down. “You spoil me.”

“There's something else I want to talk to you about,” Diana went on. “And now is as good a time as any.”

She sounded suddenly rather serious, and I looked at her questioningly. “Yes, of course.”

“It's about this house, Mal.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're my heir now . . .” She paused for a moment, and I saw the emotion crossing her face. But she recovered herself immediately. “My only heir, and I just wanted you to know that I have had my will redrawn. I've left Kilgram Chase to you, and everything else I own, actually.”