Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy (17 page)

“Your first marriage was not happy, I
gather?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry I’ve upset you, please
forgive me.”

More silence. Max beckoned me to the
floor. We knelt by the keyhole. He peeped first then signalled for me to do the
same. My mother was standing by the window. I saw Max’s father standing behind
her.

“Are you unhappy now, Mrs. Stewart?”

She turned to face him and Max mouthed,
“I told you so.”

I suddenly wanted to burst in and take
my mother away from that horrible man. Then I heard him speak again.

“Does Mr. Stewart make you unhappy?”

“How dare you speak to me like that?
Make no mistake Mr. de Winter, I love Michael more than words can explain, much
more than you will ever understand. I love him to the depth and breadth and
height my soul can reach.”

“And your daughter?”

Max looked at me closely when his father
asked the question. I closed my eyes and held my breath for the answer.

“I love Helen dearly. Her wellbeing is
my priority, but Michael is everything to me. Michael is my world. Nothing is
possible without Michael.” 

I opened my eyes. Max was staring at me
as if he wanted to look inside my head and see my thoughts. He wiped my tears
with his fingers and I put my arms around him. I could feel his lips against my
hair and his breath warm my neck. “I’ll love you much more than your mother
does, more than anyone will.” Then his lips brushed mine, so gently it was like
a soft breeze, but my whole body vibrated. I jumped when I heard Mr. de Winter
speak.

“I wish I were Michael to be loved with
such intensity by someone like you.”

“Be careful what you wish for Mr. de Winter.
Love can be a heavy burden if it is not reciprocal.”

I looked through the keyhole. They were
very close, and then Mr. de Winter moved away.

“Come, Mrs. Stewart, let me show you the
library. I hope you will at least accept some of my books as a gift.”

“Thank you. I will certainly accept one
book as a loan for myself, but I will accept as many as you care to offer as a
gift for the school.”

“Excellent! You strike a hard bargain
Mrs. Stewart.” They were both laughing as they walked out of the room.

“Let’s go. Quickly,” said Max, pulling
my hand again. We leapt down the stairs, flew out the side door to the garden
and rushed round to the path leading to the cove.

“They’ll be going down to the library.
Let’s pretend we just came back.”

We walked slowly up the path. Max
stopped before we reached the front door. “I told you what my father would do.”

“And I told you my mother wouldn’t fall
in his trap.”

“So we were both right, weren’t we?”

I nodded and smiled.

“We’re best friends now, aren’t we
Helen?”

I nodded again and wondered why my heart
was thumping. We had stopped rushing, so I wasn’t tired, but I felt as if I had
run a mile.

When Max pushed the door open, my mother
was standing in the hall with Mr. de Winter, who turned to his son as we came
in.

“Maximilian, I see you you’ve met Mrs. Stewart’s
daughter.”

“Yes, Father. We just had tea and cakes
at the summer house.”

My mother looked surprised. I rushed up,
hugged her, and kissed her cheeks. “We met at the beach.”

“Mr. de Winter, this is my daughter,
Helen.”

I stretched my hand and curtseyed.
“Pleased to meet you Mr. de Winter.”

He held my hand and looked straight into
my eyes. I noticed they were exactly the same colour as Max’s, except the
eyelids were heavier and the whites were bloodshot. I wondered if he wasn’t
feeling well. “Charming,” he said, but he didn’t smile. I wondered if he meant
it.

“A truly beautiful child, a perfect
duplicate of her mother.” Then he looked over my head at her and smiled. I
didn’t like the way his eyes shone when he looked at her. Perhaps Max was right
and he would still try to take her away from Michael. I shivered.

“Are you cold, darling?” I turned and
hugged my mother. “Where’s your cape, Helen?”

“She left it at the summer house,” said
Max. “It wasn’t cold when we were having tea. Shall I bring it up?”

“Thank you, Maximilian,” said my mother.
“But it’s late. We need to get home soon. Michael will be waiting.”

I noticed that Mr. de Winter flinched
when she said Michael’s name. I was beginning to dislike him a lot.

“Fritz, bring Miss Helen a blanket for the
carriage. We don’t want her to catch cold, do we?”

“I could bring you your cape tomorrow,”
said Max.

Mr. de Winter looked at his son
curiously. Max bowed his head and fidgeted with his hands.

“After your morning classes, if Mr.
Rushton is pleased with your progress. Now go to your room.”

Max fled without looking back.

“Boys are troublesome, Mrs. Stewart. You
are lucky to have such an obedient little girl. I hope she stays that way.”

I could understand why Max hated his
father. I had just met him and I disliked him already. He pretended to be nice,
but he was wicked, like my father, Mr. Mason and the archbishop.

***

“I believe there is a theory that
men and women emerge finer and stronger after suffering, and that to advance in
this or any world we must endure ordeal by fire.”

Rebecca
,
by Daphne du Maurier.

Reflect upon your present
blessings of which every man has many - not on your past misfortunes, of which
all men have some.

Scenes and Characters No. 10
Christmas Festivities
by Charles Dickens

When I received the archbishop’s letter,
I hoped I would return to Eyre Hall to find my mother had come to her senses at
last, and that her disgusting servant was in prison or deported to the New Colonies.

Instead, I encountered unbelievable
havoc. My mother had escaped from the asylum, where it would seem she had been
most severely and unjustly treated. That undesirable servant had kidnapped her
and taken her to Cornwall, where they were living in sin and as outlaws,
against all our wishes.

The Rochester Estate was in a state of
ruin. The archbishop had no idea how to run it, and, quite frankly, neither did
I. As far back as I could remember, it had always been my mother who ran the
estate, with the help of Mr. Briggs and Mr. Cooper, or more recently, Mr.
Smythe. She saw to everything efficiently, until her insanity took over.

In an act of ostentatious extravagance,
she built that unnecessary new wing, decided it was time to repair the roofs of
all the tenants’ cottages, and refurbished Ferndean. Adele’s marriage
settlement, which had been ridiculously high, was still being supplemented by a
monthly allowance, and that other disloyal servant, who had married Mr.
Greenwood’s son, was also receiving a monthly allowance. Naturally, my mother
was selling part of my ancestors’ land to supplement our income. Mr. Smythe,
whom I never trusted, had suggested that the estate was running a profit
because the tenants were paying higher rents. He also tried to convince me that
the land my mother had wanted to sell was not being used, so the sale would not
generate any losses. I didn’t believe him, so I stopped the sale and decided to
renegotiate the price with Mr. Jackson personally.

I wished everything would be as it was
before. I wanted my mother back, running the estate, any way she pleased. She
could send Adele money if she liked, repair the tenants’ houses, pay for the
upkeep of schools and the church, and I wouldn’t even mind if she took the
little imp she says is her daughter under her wing, bought her clothes, and
even found her a husband and settled her dowry. There was only one thing I
wouldn’t put up with, that servant anywhere near my mother or Eyre Hall.

I thought the worst had already happened,
but events took another turn when Archbishop Templar summoned us to his
death-bed, some nights ago, to confess that he was Annette’s father. He claimed
that Bertha Mason was a devilish sorceress who had lured him to her bed, and begged
for Annette’s forgiveness.

She should have been pleased to know who
her father was, at last, and the archbishop was better than a servant. I
couldn’t understand why the archbishop’s confession had affected her so much. I
tried to convince her to pardon a repentant, dying sinner, but she refused
relentlessly, turning her wrath inexplicably towards me.      

I wished Annette would stop looking at
me as if she detested me. She was pretending to hate me but I could feel her
shiver when I touched her. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and I was
determined to have her at all costs. I was convinced she would be mine in the
end. There was no longer any impediment to our marriage, but I didn’t want to
be trapped by a wife. She would submit in the end, and in the meantime, there
were plenty of young chits available, if I should need female company.

I told Annette what had happened at St.
Ives, and she was naturally as shocked as I had been. She urged me to make a
formal written complaint to the Retreat and to our local member of parliament,
and I agreed in order to humour her.  

“Would you help me write the letter,
Annette?” She nodded and smiled, so I continued. “I’m afraid I’m only good at
writing love letters. Do you still have my letters, Annette?”

When she nodded again, I added, “Reread
them, all of them. I still feel the same way about you.”

“John, don’t tease me, and don’t change
the conversation. What the archbishop did to Jane is shameful.”

“I had no idea what had been happening
at the Retreat, and I’m sure the archbishop didn’t either.”

“He wouldn’t let me visit her. He should
have known what was happening. Don’t defend him after all he’s done to Jane and
to me. He was a monster.”

“We don’t know that.”

“What don’t you know? He abused my
mother. He confessed he was my father on his deathbed and had the gall to ask
for my forgiveness. I’ll never forgive him. Never.”

I did think she was exaggerating the
matter; after all, she had been born thanks to the archbishop’s intervention
and it meant we were not related in any way. “He meant well. He felt sorry for
your mother, he told you that when he asked your forgiveness.”

“Don’t you know my mother was a
prisoner? She couldn’t defend herself. ‘Let’s poke the lunatic’, Leah heard
them say it.”

I hated it when she became dramatic,
although I enjoyed seeing the fire lighting up her eyes. I thought I’d tease
her a little longer.

“Well, she was a lunatic. What did it
matter?”

I watched incredulously as her hand
swung up in the air and instantly delivered a sharp slap to my face. “She was
my mother!”

My face twisted to the side, but I
wasn’t angry. I was fascinated by the sudden burst of passion. I held her right
hand as she raised it once more to deliver another blow and spoke softly.

“Annette, I know she was your mother.
I’m sorry my father locked her away, and I’m sorry he allowed other men to
abuse her, but don’t you see, it would have been worse at the Retreat, and you
would never have been looked after, as you have been.”

“You are just like your father.”

I had always been proud to be like my father,
so I couldn’t understand why she meant it as an offence. “You know your mother
wasn’t well, Annette. Even my mother said she was like an animal when she saw
her in the attic. What else could my father have done?”

Her eyes were burning with fury. “I hate
you.”

She raised her left hand, but this time
I grabbed it before she struck me, pulled it over her head, and pushed her back
towards the wall and pressed my chest against hers. She was heaving and her
lips were trembling. “You don’t hate me,” I whispered before covering her mouth
with mine. I let go of her hands to squeeze her breasts and felt her hands wrap
around my neck.

“You love me, Annette,” I whispered in
her ear as she ran her fingers through my hair and I kissed her again.

“I want you, Annette. I’ve wanted you
since I met you when I almost ran you over with my horse. I thought I couldn’t
have you, but now I know you can be mine, and you will be.”

I felt the sharp slap of her palm on my
face once more. Her cheeks and lips were bright red and she was taking short,
sharp breaths. I knew she was more excited than angry, so when she raised her
hand again, I trapped both her hands in one of mine easily and slapped her
twice, hard. She screamed and I kissed her ruthlessly, blinded by lust and fury.
She writhed against me, but I insisted until I felt her arms grow heavy and her
jaw relax into my kiss.

“You’re mine, but I warn you, Annette,
if you slap me again, I’ll throw you over the couch, tear off your clothes and
take you until you scream my name so loudly every drunk at the Rochester Inn
will hear you beg me to stop.” 

She pushed me away breathlessly. “I
won’t be your mistress and watch you marry someone else.”

I watched her heaving chest and swollen
lips. What did she want from me? Marriage? Commitment? Should we both remain
unmarried and live together at Eyre Hall?

She pulled down her hands, pushed me
away, and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “I’m leaving Eyre Hall.”

“There is no reason for you to leave
now, Annette.”

“And is there a reason for me to stay?”

Could she not see that I wanted and
needed her by my side? “I want you to stay, Annette.”

“Harry has asked me to marry him.”

How dare she compare me to a country
doctor, to Harry Carter of all people? I remembered his flabby tummy, his
carrot-red hair and large, stupid-looking eyes. I used to beat him up every
time he came to Eyre Hall with his father. “You can’t love Harry Carter.”

“He’s a good man and he loves me.”

I smirked. Of course, he was besotted by
her beauty; who wouldn’t be? Annette was the most stunning woman I’d ever met.
I’d make sure that his paws came nowhere near her.

“He’s after your money, Annette. You do
realise you’re a good catch, don’t you? We’ll have to be careful who you
marry.”

“What money? I don’t have any money now
that Jane’s not here.”

“Jane has a dowry set aside for you.
There’s an account with your name. Mr. Briggs opened it when my father died,
and you still have the plantation in Jamaica. It’s yours. My mother insisted on
it, although the revenues are delivered to the Rochester Estate.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “My
mother never told you?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I had no idea.
Well, that will make life easier for us. Harry won’t be earning much as a
junior doctor.”

She couldn’t be serious. “Where are you
planning on living with Harry?”

“He’s been offered a job in London, at
Guy’s Hospital. We’ll rent rooms, or a house if we can afford it.”

Of course she could afford it. She had
no idea how much she was worth. Well, if she wanted to marry and have children
I could understand that, but I didn’t want her to move away from the area. Once
we were lovers, and we would be lovers, I needed to see her as often as
possible.

“Marry him if that’s what you want, but
why can’t he stay at the hospital in Hay or Millcote?”

“So I can be your mistress? How can you
be so selfish, or believe I would be so fickle? I plan to be faithful to my
husband.”

“You will not go to London with Harry.”

She stepped towards the door and pulled
the handle. “Try and stop me, John.”

I overtook her and slammed the door,
caging her between my arms. “You’re not going anywhere until we finish this
conversation.”

She spun round to face me. “It’s
finished. I’m marrying Harry and moving to London.”

I dropped my hands to her shoulders,
slid my fingers over the smooth olive skin below her neck and pinned her back
to the door. “I want you, Annette.”

I held her face, and kissed her. She
wouldn’t respond at first, so I bit her lip and took advantage of her scream to
deepen the kiss.  She tried to break free, but I crushed her against the door
and held her face firmly in place as I kissed her again. I could tell she
enjoyed my roughness from her moans. I realised there was no way I would be
sharing her with anybody. I pressed my forehead against hers. “Marry me,
Annette.” I heard the words I hadn’t planned to say.

She moved her face away from mine. “I
can’t, John.” Her eyes were shining and her face anguished. Was she on the
verge of tears? “I promised Harry…”

“Marry me and I’ll revoke Jane’s search
warrant.”

I knew I would soon have to do so
anyway, as her London friends were championing her cause in parliament. I
didn’t want to face a public dispute with my mother.

She hesitated. “And Michael’s?”

She was pushing me more than she should,
but I stopped thinking when her lips slid over mine.

“Yes,” I said when she broke the kiss.
“As long as they stay away from Eyre Hall and leave it all in my hands, they
can do whatever they want.” Once we were married, I’d make sure she obeyed my
every whim.

 It wasn’t a bad arrangement after all.
My mother couldn’t remain an outlaw indefinitely, and there seemed to be no way
of keeping her away from that servant, so at least they’d be too far away to
bother me, and the gossip would soon die down.

Annette smiled and kissed me again.
Perhaps she thought she’d won, but I would have the upper hand from now on, and
I would make sure I kept it throughout our marriage.

***