Adam now broke down and wept as his father looked beyond him to his wife, whose face was stricken.
‘I am afraid that from this night on, we must accept that we will never see our beloved girl again,’ he told her. ‘We must also accept that she has long been dead and buried, but one thing we can do is rejoice in the fact that we still have our granddaughter – and if Seth will only show us where Jessica is buried, we can visit her there and make our peace with her. Will you do that for us, Seth?’
‘Aye, I will, master, an’ be right glad to,’ the man said humbly.
Throughout the confession, Josephine had not spoken one word, but now she surprised them all when she stood up and said quietly, ‘If you did but know it, Adam, this confession is almost welcome. Now at last we can put the past behind us and look to the future. Deep inside, I have somehow known since the day we discovered that Amy was our granddaughter that Jessica was gone from us for good. She would never have abandoned her child and not gone in search of her, had she been alive. But still I clung to hope, not allowing myself to believe that she was dead. And now at last I can grieve properly and go on for Amy’s sake.’
She seemed strangely calm, almost as if she had already done her grieving through the last long lonely years, as indeed she had.
On a bitterly cold November day in the corner of the churchyard in Caldecote, a magnificent tombstone was erected to mark Jessica’s grave. It had been commissioned by Mr Forrester and carved in the shape of an angel from finest Italian marble, and was a fitting tribute to the young woman over whom she would now watch for all eternity. The sweet-faced angel appeared to hover, her marble arms held out protectively over the body of the soul that she guarded. Behind her, her wings stretched high towards the sun, making it seem as if she was about to take flight. At her feet was a plaque with an inscription carved into it, which read:
Jessica Amelia Forrester 1810–1830
Beloved daughter, sister and mother
Always remembered
Forever in our hearts
As the small group assembled there stared down at the snow-white lilies that had been heaped upon the grave, each of them was silent, locked in their own thoughts.
For Amy, who was leaning heavily on her crutch, there were deep regrets for the fact that she had never been privileged to know her mother. For Molly, sorrow that she had not been able to save the poor soul that she had found in the church doorway on that long-ago Christmas Eve. The master and mistress had their own feelings to deal with. But the one who was hurting most of all was Adam. He knew only too well that, had it not been for him, things might have turned out very differently. It was a truth that he would have to try and live with for the rest of his life.
Still, at least there was one feeling that they all had in common – and that was relief. Jessica could now rest in peace.
Behind them, the stonemasons who had erected the monument were busily loading their tools on to an open-backed cart, keeping the noise they made to a respectful minimum. Mr Forrester broke away from the little group to congratulate the men on their craftsmanship, giving them a hefty bonus. The men tipped their caps and mumbled their thanks as the gentleman turned and made his way back to the graveside.
It was then that a spasm of coughing wracked Molly’s old frame and Amy placed an arm about her shoulders, waiting for the bout to pass.
‘I think I ought to be getting Gran home now,’ she said, unable to keep the worry from her voice. ‘I did tell her not to come out today. The cold air always sets her cough off.’
Molly’s eyes were streaming from the violence of the attack she had just endured, and now Josephine stepped forward and asked her, ‘Why don’t you and Amy come and stay up at The Folly with us, Mrs Ernshaw, just until your cough has eased? I could get our doctor to take a look at you.’
‘That’s very good o’ yer, ma’am,’ Molly answered, thumping her chest, ‘but I’ll not take yer up on the offer, if yer don’t mind. Soon as ever I get back to me own fireside I’ll be fine.’ Even so, she allowed Josephine to take her elbow and lead her back to the carriage. The two women were completely at ease in each other’s company now and had been ever since Molly had stayed at The Folly following Amy’s tragic fall.
Amy cast a last look at the grave before limping after them. The doctor that Mr Forrester had sent for from London had been to see her earlier in the month to measure her up for her new leg. He had returned two weeks later with the finished article, and ever since then Amy had practised on it every spare minute she had, determined that she would walk down the aisle on Mr Forrester’s am when she married François. Her leg had thankfully healed well, but since trying the wooden replacement she had been in extreme pain. The wood had rubbed against the tender skin to the point that Molly had begged her to leave it off, but Amy was determined to walk again without the use of her crutch.
The scar on her face had also healed well, but she would never again be the unblemished beauty she had once been, as she knew only too well each time she looked in the mirror. Still, she supposed that things could have been worse; at least she had survived. But how would François feel when he saw her? Her fiancé was so handsome and could have had any woman he chose. Would he still want her when he saw that her face was now permanently scarred? She could only wait and see. He had still not seen her since his last visit, and it looked suspiciously as if he would not do so now until he and the Laroque family arrived for the wedding in the spring.
She tried to turn her thoughts to happier things once they were all seated in the carriage, but still she worried about how François would react, the first time he saw her. She was no longer the girl he had fallen in love with, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She had been to London twice since the terrible day of her fall, accompanied everywhere she went by Mr Forrester, who watched over her like a hawk as she moved around on her crutch. On the first visit, Nancy had been heartbroken when she saw what Eugenie had done to her.
‘Didn’t I always tell yer she was a bloody little minx?’ she raved indignantly. ‘Why the hell didn’t yer let the peelers deal wi’ her? They’d’ve locked ’er up an’ thrown away the key, or better still they’d’ve strung the cow up!’
Amy just shrugged. ‘She
is
locked up,’ she reminded Nancy gently.
Hands on hips, Nancy frowned. ‘Yer too soft by ’alf, so you are,’ she declared, but thankfully she then let the subject drop and loving Amy as she did, she was careful to never mention it again.
Now, as the carriage bowled away from the church, Amy thought of her friend as she peeped at her grandfather out of the corner of her eye. There was something she was longing to ask him, but how would he react to her request? Deciding that there was only one way to find out she began,
‘Grandfather, I have something to ask you.’
‘Then ask away, my dear.’
Amy glanced at Molly before going on, ‘The thing is, during the time I have been staying at the house in Sloane Street, Nancy, your maid there, and I have become good friends.’
Samuel nodded, well aware of the fact.
‘So I was wondering – and I know that this is very irregular – but I was wondering if you would object to her coming to the wedding to be a bridesmaid? Of course, I am having Beatrice as my matron of honour. We have grown up together, but—’
‘Stop right there.’ Samuel held his hand up and grinned. ‘You really do not have to explain your relationship to Nancy with me. Be she a servant or a queen, if you want her at the wedding then it shall be as you wish.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ Amy sat back in the seat with a wide smile on her face as she thought of how thrilled Nancy would be when she asked her, and the rest of the journey was passed in silence, apart from Molly’s occasional rattling cough.
The following week, Samuel and Amy set off for London. She had not expected to go so soon, but her grandfather had insisted that there was urgent business there that needed to be attended to and so she went without question, trusting him explicitly.
Amy wore her new leg for the journey and by the time they reached London she was in terrible pain, but even so she was determined to persevere with it. It was only six months to the wedding now and she so wanted to walk down the aisle without the aid of her crutch.
She was tired by the time they reached the house and finally removed the offending leg and resorted to her crutch as Nancy fussed over her. Her friend seemed unusually excited as she settled Amy into the chair in the drawing room and Amy noticed that she kept glancing towards the window.
‘Are you expecting someone?’ she asked.
Nancy flushed. ‘Er … no, I ain’t, but I reckon the master’s expectin’ some visitors.’
‘Oh, is he? He never mentioned it to me. Who is it? Do you know?’
Nancy breathed a sigh of relief when Mr Forrester suddenly entered the room and she was saved from having to answer. Flashing a nervous smile at Amy, she scuttled away as if she couldn’t get out of the room quickly enough.
‘Grandfather, Nancy just mentioned that you are expecting some visitors. Who …’ Her voice trailed away as the doorbell suddenly clanged and she looked towards it.
She could hear Nancy admitting the mysterious visitors and wondered why her grandfather hadn’t mentioned to her that he was expecting guests. And then the door opened and François stood there, looking devastatingly handsome.
Her grandfather smiled at her guiltily as he headed towards the door. ‘I didn’t tell you who our visitors were because I wanted to surprise you,’ he told Amy. ‘And now I will leave you two together whilst I go and welcome Monsieur Laroque. When he mentioned that he would be coming to London I could see no reason whatsoever why we should not all combine business with pleasure. But listen to me, you two have a lot of catching up to do, so I shall leave you alone now. Do excuse me.’ With that he quickly stepped past François, closing the door behind him as Amy felt the colour drain from her face. She had only just arrived and had not even had time to tidy her hair.
But it was not her hair that François was staring at but the ugly scar on her face, and Amy lowered her eyes as she saw the look of horror that flashed across his handsome features. It was gone in an instant and then he was striding towards her, his hands held out to her.
‘
Ma petite
, how are you now?’ he asked solicitously. ‘What a terrible time you have had, and what a dreadful woman she was, to do such a thing to you.’
‘It’s over now.’ She was trying desperately hard to shut out the image of the look on his face when he had first seen her. Grasping her crutch, she tucked it under her arm and rose to face him as he planted a gentle kiss on her unmarred cheek.
‘Yes, of course it is, and we should rejoice in the fact that you are still alive. And also, of course, the fact that you still have an outstanding talent.’
Amy found this quite a strange thing to say, but did not comment on it. She should have realised that it would be a shock for François, the first time he saw her. Even so, she could not help but feel disappointed. She had hoped that François would react as Toby had and look beyond the scar. He now took a seat on the chair some distance away as he eyed her crutch.
‘Did your grandfather not tell me in his letter that you would be able to walk without that?’
Amy nodded. ‘Yes, he did, and I can. I have had a prosthesis made, but as yet it is too painful for me to wear all the time.’
‘I see.’ He eyed her full skirt as if he was trying to imagine what lay concealed beneath it, and Amy felt tears start to her eyes. This was not the way she had expected their first reunion to be at all. But then she supposed that she should give him a little time to get used to how she looked now.
‘How long will you be staying?’ Amy asked, hoping to fill the silence that had fallen between them.
The young man spread his hands vaguely. ‘I am not sure. Papa will decide, I have no doubt. Oh, and Mama and Adeline send you their love.’
‘That is very kind of them.’ Amy felt as if she was talking to a stranger rather than the man she loved, and stifled a sigh of relief when Samuel and Monsieur Laroque suddenly joined them. Monsieur Laroque was his usual kind and urbane self, which made Amy feel a little better.
She rang for tea, and when a suitable time had elapsed she excused herself to go to her room to change for dinner, feeling strangely deflated.
Nancy was waiting for her and she pounced on her immediately. ‘So that’s the ’andsome Frenchman, is it?’ she giggled, helping her up the stairs, but then seeing Amy’s solemn expression she settled her into her chair in her room and after taking her crutch off her, asked, ‘You are pleased to see ’im, ain’t yer? I mean, when Mr Forrester said how ’e was comin’ an’ that ’e wanted ter surprise yer, I thought yer’d be tickled pink.’
‘Oh, I am pleased to see him,’ Amy assured her, a little too quickly for Nancy’s liking. ‘But I think it was a bit of a shock for him … seeing this for the first time, I mean.’ Her hand rose self-consciously to her face and Nancy’s tender heart went out to her.
‘Well, all I can say is, if he loves yer that shouldn’t matter. Just give ’im time to get used to it, eh?’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right.’ Amy suddenly felt very tired. ‘I think I might have a little rest before I come down to dinner,’ she decided. ‘And then I have something to ask you.’
‘In that case I’m glad I agreed to work late.’ Nancy’s ready smile was firmly back in place, and after snatching a cover from the bed, she tucked it around Amy’s lap and left the room with a cheeky wink.
Amy lay back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. She knew she should be elated at seeing François again, but all she felt was embarrassment. There was no use trying to pretend that she was still the same girl that he had fallen in love with – at least, not to look at. Part of her leg was missing and her face was badly scarred. Perhaps when the right moment arose she should ask him straight out if he still wished to go ahead with their marriage? She certainly did not wish him to marry her out of pity. That would be more than she could bear, and she would live the rest of her life as an old maid rather than that. Sighing, she closed her eyes.