Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy (22 page)

I shook my head and smiled. “They would
look out of place in Primrose Cottage…” I turned to Michael and smiled.
And
Manderley has plenty of paintings
, I thought, but I didn’t say the words
because I didn’t want anyone else to know we would be moving yet.

I pulled Michael’s hand and we both
stood and wished everyone goodnight.

The following morning we went down to
the servants’ quarters to greet the staff. Leah, Cook and Joseph cried when
they hugged me, saying how much they missed my presence at Eyre Hall. I told
them a little about Cornwall and wished them luck, because I would not be
returning to Eyre Hall for a long time. I did not wish to say never, as it
sounded like a deathly parting.

Then we went for a walk to the stream.
We sat by the bench where we had kissed so many times while listening to the
birds and the rippling water. The dogs walked with us, wagging their tails and
running after the sticks Helen threw them.

“How strange I feel, Michael. I thought
I might be upset, but I’m so sure I won’t miss anything at Eyre Hall that I’m
feeling very happy.” 

Finally, we walked the mile to the
church. Mr. Woods, who looked as if he should be retiring, officiated at the
marriage ceremony. The church was decorated elaborately with wreaths and potted
palms along both aisles. John and Annette walked into the church on a carpet of
blossoms while the church bells pealed.

Annette was a beautiful bride. Her
headdress had sprays of lilies-of-the-valley and wreaths of white
forget-me-nots and her black hair was twisted into a thick plait.

When they walked out after the ceremony,
the guests threw rice and grain as husband and wife walked towards the wedding
carriage, which was drawn by four white horses.

We left straight after the ceremony. Our
carriage was waiting with our luggage. Susan followed us back to the house and
tried to speak to Michael, but he ignored her, and she accused me of poisoning
him against her. Michael helped me into the carriage and I watched him speaking
to her. They had moved away, so I didn’t hear what he said, but I saw her
crying and then running away. I begged him to make amends with his sister, but
he reminded me he would not allow anyone to be disrespectful to me. I didn’t
argue because I was too happy to spoil the moment, but I hoped I would be able
to change his mind once we were back home. I had little sympathy for Susan’s
behaviour, but she was Michael’s only relative and I would do my best to ensure
that they were reconciled.

As our carriage drove away, black clouds
cloaked the sky like a dome, and a storm broke out, hurling shafts of lightning
and deafening claps of thunder like cannonballs in a war. I thought of the
guests and the fine food laid out in the gardens. The marquees would be
drenched and destroyed by the sudden fury of nature. I shivered, hoping it
wasn’t an omen. Eyre Hall had witnessed too much unhappiness over the last six
months. I rested my head on Michael’s shoulder and closed my eyes, relieved
that we were leaving Eyre Hall and going to our new home at last.

Michael knew I hated storms, so he
wrapped his arms around my shoulders and whispered, “We’re driving away from
the storm, look.” He pointed to the sky ahead. “The storm is clearing.”  

***

I never thought I’d lose my brother to
that lustful woman. I should have realised her witchcraft had enraptured him. I
hated her so much that given the chance I’d plan her death myself. She had no
right to take Michael away from me. Now he even refused to speak to me. I
apologised for informing John behind his back. In hindsight, perhaps I should
have written to Michael first, and tried to convince him of his folly, but it
wouldn’t have worked. He would do anything to have her. I never thought he was
so greedy and inconsiderate, while I was ruined and alone.

I had come to visit Adele. I needed her
help. The butcher and the baker had to be paid, and I needed to buy clothes for
William and the new baby. Dante had no idea about household management and he
wouldn’t listen when I told him we were in dire straits. I had begged him to
speak to his father because we needed a higher allowance, but he refused. He
said I should ‘make do’ and ‘be thrifty’, but he had no idea the sacrifices I was
making. I had been darning, helping in the kitchen, even washing when our only
maid was ill.

 I was sitting in Adele’s drawing room,
in the hope that she would listen to my plight and help me out, but she was
also unfeeling. She had obviously never wanted me to marry Dante. She always
thought I was below his station, but he was not the great artist she thought he
was. He was a struggling, and very poor painter, with a wife and almost two
children to feed. I was bursting, tired, sick and desperate. Sometimes I wished
I’d die in childbirth and everything would be over.

Adele stared at me over her teacup. “You
did wrong in sending that letter to John, Susan. You should have spoken to us
first. We would have advised you about what to do.”

“I thought John should know.”

I had hoped he would have paid me
generously for helping him find my brother and his mother, but at their wedding
he dropped two coins in my hand. “Two guineas for your help,” he had said and
turned his back on me.

“You should have known that John
wouldn’t listen to reason. If you had told us, we would have spoken to him. Our
idea was to mediate between them and reach a compromise, not destroy the
family. Their hostility has not been good for any of us.”

“Well, they seem to have made up, at last,
haven’t they? So no real harm was done. I can’t understand why everyone is so
angry with me.”

“You have no idea what happened, do you?
Jane was locked and abused in a dreadful asylum, and the archbishop wreaked
havoc at Eyre Hall, poisoning John and everyone around him with fear of hell
and eternal damnation. Your brother would have been hanged, or at best
deported, and Jane mistreated for the rest of her life in that dreadful place,
while Eyre Hall fell to bits. We’d all be ruined. What did you think by writing
that ridiculous letter to John?”

“I wanted my brother to leave Jane. He
doesn’t belong with her. You must know that as well as I do.”

“My dear girl, Michael’s let himself be
beaten, risked his life, and faced hanging to rescue her. He even turned every
stone in London until he found Helen. He’ll rob, kill, or work his fingers to
the knuckle, don’t you see? He’ll do anything to be with Jane. He’d even sign a
pact with the devil if he had to.”

“That’s sacrilegious. I can’t believe
it. Their kind of love is unholy.”

“It’s more an obsession than love, if
you ask me, but nevertheless it’s there. He’ll have her or die, and whatever
madness has taken over Michael has also taken over Jane.”

“So, what can we do?”

“Do? There’s nothing we can do. There’s
no ungluing them, so we’ll have to work around them, which is what Annette has
wisely persuaded John to do. John’s given his mother a fair sum of money in
exchange for Eyre Hall and the estate.”

“So, it was about money.”

“My dear child. How did you expect them
to live without money? And after all, Eyre Hall was Jane’s exclusively. She
built it with her uncle’s inheritance, and Mr. Rochester bequeathed it to her.
Jane also has shares in a winery and her books are all best sellers. I’ve heard
your brother is taking over a fishing business. They’re both clever and
hardworking, and they have plenty of friends in high places. I tell you,
they’ll be rich again soon. I’ve even heard they’ve bought a mansion in
Cornwall, which is even grander then Eyre Hall.”

“I need a loan, Adele. I can’t cope on
Mr. Greenwood’s allowance, and Dante is hardly earning any money.”

Adele poured herself another cup of tea
and offered me a cream scone while she spoke. “Dante has sold many paintings in
the last Summer Exhibition. William has told me he’s doing very well.”

She looked at me slyly. Did she think I
was lying? Couldn’t she see that I needed money for basic supplies? What was
Dante thinking telling his father he was selling? He hadn’t yet brought home a
single shilling from a sale.

“Perhaps he’s exaggerating to show off
to his father. In any case, I haven’t seen a penny of it. He says he has to
invest in canvasses, frames, paint and brushes, and that his paintings are very
cheap, because he’s not yet famous enough.”

“His father has been speaking to him
about his expenses, but he won’t listen.” Adele paused to choose her words. “I
presume he’s coming home late, perhaps sometimes not even until early morning.
Am I right?”

I had to nod. There was no point in
keeping up the pretence.

“Don’t you know he is spending most of
his time and money in London clubs?”

She was being spiteful, trying to make
me jealous. “He’s making connections and trying to sell his paintings. He told
me one of the clubs will be buying some of his paintings to display in the
dining rooms.”

She shook her head and looked at me
pitifully. I was poor because her husband’s son was a spendthrift, but I didn’t
want her pity.

“I hate to tell you this, Susan, but
you’re going to find out soon anyway. Dante’s not selling his paintings. The
club is accepting them as part payment for his drinking debts.”

I felt the child in my womb summersault
and nausea rushed up my throat into my mouth. Adele told me to hurry down to
the kitchen if I was going to be sick, but I managed to swallow the bitterness.

“You need to speak to him, Susan. He’s
no longer a young bachelor. You’ll have to make him behave. If he keeps running
into debt, you’ll end up in a workhouse with your children.”

I cried bitterly into my kerchief. I
couldn’t take my children to a poor house. I had experienced the dire living
conditions and dangers in those dreadful places myself when I was a child. I
couldn’t go back there. “Can’t you help me, Adele?”

“I’m afraid we are living on Mr.
Greenwood’s meagre income. This house is expensive to run, and John has said
that he won’t be resuming my allowance from the Rochester Estate until after
Christmas.”

“Jane would help me. I know she would.
Could you write to Michael and make him understand? I need their help.”

“There’s only one way. Michael will
demand an apology to Jane. A real, heartfelt written and spoken apology. So you
had better think things through and change your feelings towards Jane, because
if Michael doesn’t believe you, you’re damned.”

I bowed my head. I’d remind Michael of
our tragic stay at the workhouse when we were orphaned, and of the promise he
had made our mother that he’d always look after me. I’d make him understand.

“And Susan, don’t try to make him feel
sorry for you. Jane would fall for that. We both know what a generous person
she is when it comes to family, but you know full well how sharp and ruthless
your brother is. He won’t take any nonsense from you or anyone. He’ll know if
you’re lying and throw you out.”

“I’ll write and apologise, but letters
take time. What shall I do until then?”

“I was going to have new dresses made
for autumn and the Christmas Ball, but I can wear last year’s. Hopefully, no
one will remember, and after all, I’m not looking for a suitor any more. I’ll
pay your bills instead for June, and I’ll do my best to help you out next
month, but Susan, you need to speak to Dante, and make amends with Michael. I’m
not helping you again and I mean it.”

I was at least glad that she offered me
tea and cake and gave me some biscuits and meat pie, which Beth had baked.

On my way home, I thought about
confronting Dante and writing a long letter to Michael and Jane. I didn’t feel
sorry for the way I had behaved. I’d do it all again, to save my brother from
Jane, but I realised that for now I’d have to fake acceptance and repentance.
Adele was right. Jane would fall for it easily and accept my apologies. She’d
doted on little William, and I knew she’d do so again. I had to find a way to
convince Michael, or I was doomed, because Dante had become too set in his
bohemian ways to change.

My plans were delayed. Before I arrived
home, I felt a warm gush of water dripping down my legs. It was time for my
second son to be born. I’d have to address all my problems in a few weeks, when
I was fully recovered. 

**** 

Jane was exhausted when we arrived back
at Primrose Cottage. She wanted to speak to Mr. de Winter at once and make the
settlement on Manderley, but I persuaded her to rest.

The following morning she was violently
sick and could not get out of bed. I called on Mr. de Winter to let him know we
had decided to buy Manderley according to the terms we had discussed with him
before travelling to Eyre Hall. He was naturally delighted. I then informed him
that Jane was not well and needed a doctor urgently. He told me the best
doctors were in London, a fact of which I was aware, but I urged him to help me
locate one nearby for Jane at once. He sent for a doctor from Exeter who would
arrive shortly.

Meanwhile I looked after Jane as best I
could, with plenty of liquids and rest. I took her to the seaside on an
extremely warm summer’s day and walked with her for a few minutes. She said
she’d like to dip her feet in the sea, so I helped her remove her stockings and
shoes and she laughed and splashed. I promised to buy her a special costume and
teach her to swim as soon as she got better. I was relieved when she threw her
arms around me and told me that although she wasn’t feeling well, she was happy
and thanked me for looking after her.

When we returned, Dr. Crichton had
arrived. He was surprised that Jane wasn’t in bed, and I told him I thought
some fresh sea air would do her good. When he asked me to leave the room to
examine Jane, she shot me a terrified look and shook her head, so I asked the
doctor if I could stay, and fortunately he agreed without an argument.

He listened to her heartbeat, held her
pulse, and then he asked her to open her mouth. Later he examined her stomach,
which made her wince. I asked him to be careful, which earned me a stern look.

“Tell me, what are your symptoms, Mrs.
Kirkpatrick?”

“Most of the time I feel well, but
occasionally I feel sick during the day and tired in the evenings. We came back
from a long journey a few days ago, and since then I’ve felt dizzy and unable
to eat solid food. I’ve also had back pains and exhaustion.”

“How long has it been since your last
cycle, Mrs. Kirkpatrick?”

“A long time.” She glanced at me. “Since
last December.”

“December,” he repeated slowly. “Over six
months ago. Did you not think there might be something wrong?”

“No, I didn’t. I thought perhaps I had
finished. I had heard some women stopped their cycles at my age.”

“What is your age, Mrs. Kirkpatrick?”

“I was forty-two last year.”

“Some women cease their monthly cycles
at this age, but many do not and continue to have children for some years. You
seem to be a healthy and fertile woman to me. I see no reason why you should
not have a child.”

Jane was very quiet for a few minutes,
pressing her palms against her dress, and then she spoke. “Over a year ago I
had a miscarriage, and I was told I would not have any more children. I have
had more miscarriages than children, doctor.” He looked confused so she added,
“From my previous marriage.”

He turned to me in surprise. “How long
have you been married?”

“We were married three months ago,
doctor.”

“I see. Well, that makes sense,” he said
gravely, stroking his pointed beard, as if he were talking to himself.

Jane turned pale and held out her hand.
I took it, kissed her knuckles, and sat down beside her on the bed while the
doctor seemed lost in thought. “Michael, I’m frightened.”

“What’s wrong with my wife, doctor?”

“Wrong?” He placed his hand on my
shoulder and smiled. “Nothing’s wrong, young man. Your wife is with child.”

I had known it all along. Her body had
changed. She had more curves and a bigger appetite. I turned to Jane, hoping to
find happiness, but her face was pale.

“That’s impossible doctor. I can’t have
any more children.”

“Well then this child is a miracle, like
all children are. A gift the good Lord has bestowed upon you and your husband.
Congratulations.”

The doctor extended his hand, which I
shook distractedly. I could hardly react after listening to the words I had
longed to hear. Yet when I looked back at Jane, her face was twisted. I
supposed it was the surprise. I put my arms around her and kissed her cheek.
“Jane, my love, did you hear the doctor?” Her chest was heaving and tears were
flowing down her face. “What’s the matter, Jane? Are you worried or upset?”

She shook her head and I held her
shoulders and looked into her eyes. “We had never spoken about children because
we thought we would never have any. Does it worry you?”

She put her arms around me and cried
bitterly. “Jane, tell me what’s wrong.” She did not answer, but her tears
continued to flood.

The doctor approached her. “Some women
are prone to bouts of melancholy when they learn they are to be mothers. You
must be patient, Mr. Kirkpatrick.”

Jane pushed me away. “You don’t understand.
Neither of you understand. Please, go. Leave me alone.”

I was devastated. The doctor put his
hand on my shoulder again. “Let’s give her some time, shall we?”

“I can’t leave her now, doctor. I need
to find out what’s troubling her.”

“It may be some hysteria, many women…”

I warned the doctor. “You don’t know
her. If you knew her, you would never think so, and if you knew me, you
wouldn’t dare say so.”   

I returned to my wife’s side. “Jane,
don’t you want any more children, my love?” My words made her cry even louder.
She buried her head in my chest and repeated my name.

The doctor coughed. “Well, I can see you
have some talking to do. I’ll come back tomorrow. I’d like to see the patient
again and discuss the coming months.”

As Dr. Crichton opened the door, Jane
raised her head from my shoulder and cried, “When?”

The doctor turned with a frown. “When?
What do you mean?”

“When is the baby due?” she asked.

The question sliced me in the gut, like
a knife. I realised she thought it might have happened in the Retreat. It had
never crossed my mind because I knew it was impossible. Her symptoms had
started two months ago, when I had returned with Helen. She couldn’t be six
months pregnant. Still, I held my breath as I waited for the doctor’s answer.

He raised his eyebrows. “The baby is due
in December. Did you not tell me yourself that you had been married three
months ago?”

“Are you sure?” I realised how she must
have suffered for those few minutes, imagining she was carrying a monster’s
child in her womb.

I pulled my arms around her and
whispered in her ear. “Jane, my love, the baby is ours. Mine and yours.”

I heard the door close. I took a shawl
from the wardrobe and wrapped it around Jane’s shoulders in an attempt to stop
her shivering.

“Jane, my love, I have known you were
with child since the day we went to the megalith.”

“You knew? How?”

“I wanted you to have my child so much,
I knew it would happen. When you passed through the hole, I saw your eyes
sparkle as I’d never seen them before. I looked into your pupils and saw James
in my arms and you by my side.”

She was still trembling. “Michael, you
knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t sure. I wanted it to be true,
so I didn’t trust myself. Then when you were sick in the mornings, your breasts
grew heavier, and your face and tummy rounder, I knew it must be true, but
still, I was afraid it was my imagination.” 

“Michael, I was so shocked when the
doctor asked me about my last cycle, and all I could think about was that awful
place…”

She was having difficulty breathing, and
tears welled again. “Jane, he’s dead. I want you to forget you ever saw him. I
wish I could tear him out of your memory, but I can’t; only you can do that.
Don’t let him be part of your life anymore. He’s burning at the bottom of the
fiery pit.”

“I wish I could forget. I still see him,
hear him, and even smell him sometimes in the middle of the night.”

My vision blurred and I heard the smooth
face of the axe swipe through the air, the crunch of his fingers and wrist
bone, and his yells. I wish I could tell her how he begged to die. Instead I
said, “Think of me and James, and Helen. Nothing else matters, my love.”

“Michael, I could have another
miscarriage. I’ve had so many.”

“Not this time.” I pressed her body
close to mine. “Young James very much wants to be born, and he will.”

“James. Was that your father’s name?”

I nodded and she pulled me closer. “He’s
a miracle, just as the doctor said. We’ve made a miracle, together.”

I remembered Junot’s words like a
nightmare. I hoped he would keep his part of the bargain. 

***