Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy (14 page)

She said my name, and I told her to look
in my eyes and say it again and again, until I noticed her expression was
softer, and her breathing calmer.

“Now say, ‘Michael, kiss me’. Say it.”

She said the words, and I asked her to repeat
them too, until the words made us drunk with desire, and I kissed her and felt
her resistance melt.

I held her waist against the wall, in
case she fell. “Now look at my eyes again and say, ‘Michael, make love to me’.”

She repeated the words several times looking
into my eyes, until her lids were heavy, but I wouldn’t let her stop.

“Don’t close your eyes, Jane. Look at
me. Look into my eyes, nowhere else. Say it again. Say, ‘Make love to me
Michael’. Keep saying it, Jane.”

Soon her breath became shallow, her eyes
glazed and I felt her melt into my desire. I carried her to our bedroom, took
off her clothes and whispered, “Don’t close your eyes, Jane. Say ‘I love you,
Michael’ and don’t stop saying it.”  

She complied. She repeated the words like
a chant, looking into my eyes, and let me make her mine for the first time in
months.

It was still daylight when she fell
asleep in my arms. I left the following morning at dawn, when Shirley arrived.
I left a note on her pillow,
For this is the golden morning of love, and you
are my morning star. Have a hearty breakfast and lunch. When I come back this afternoon,
we are going to a very special place.

When I returned she was waiting
impatiently, wearing her coat and bonnet. When she asked where we were going, I
told her it was a surprise. It was a short carriage ride away towards the northeast.

Less than an hour later, we stood on a grassy
slope scattered with tall-stemmed thistles crowned with spiny purple flowers,
and dark green heath with plentiful tiny white blossoms. Jane rushed out of the
carriage, pulled off her bonnet and breathed deeply.

“Michael, it smells delicious, like
honey.”

I tied the horse to a tree and took her
hand. “I want to show you something.”

We walked further down the slope where
the grass was shorter and there were no flowers. There was a large granite
stone with a round hole in the centre and two other smaller stones on either
side. I stood behind the circular stone, placing my hand on top. Jane watched
from the other side.

 “Do you see these stones, Jane? They
were used by the Celts centuries before the Romans arrived in Britain. There’s
a legend that if you go through the hole, the past is cleansed and you can
start a new beginning. Last night was a new beginning for us, Jane. Let’s both crawl
through this megalith as a symbol that we are starting a new life together, here
in Cornwall.”

I beckoned her to crawl through and I
followed. Then we lay on the grass, holding hands by the longer stones, looking
up to the sky.

“Michael, have you noticed how the
colour of the sea and the sky is so much brighter in Cornwall? And how the
grass is glossier, and the days longer, and the weather milder than in
Yorkshire?”

“Yes, I have. It’s the most beautiful
place in the world.”

“Listen, can you smell the sea or hear the
sound of the grass tickling my ear?”

I rolled her on top of me. “Now what do
you hear?”

“Your heart.” She lowered her lips and
kissed me. “This sound, this place, this minute, this smell, it’s all I ever
want, Michael. I have everything I need here and now. This is us, just us.
Nowhere else and nobody else matters.”

I rolled her back to my side and we
curled up together.

 “What did you do to me yesterday?” she
asked. “I felt more than mesmerised, I felt hypnotised. Isn’t that what they
call it?”

“I wanted you to forget everyone and
everything else and become one with me. I wanted to make you mine again.”

“Well, it worked. I feel like another
person now. I feel uncluttered, lighter, and freer, like I’ve been reborn.”

“I’m glad you’re happy again at last,
Jane.”

“I am. I missed you too. Kiss me
Michael,” she whispered breathlessly, and I brushed her lips softly.

She smiled and pulled me closer.
“Michael, don’t tease me. Kiss me until I forget who I am.”

We lay on the grass until the day slowly
merged into night. The sun had not set, but it had sunk behind the slope. The
full moon rose on the horizon in the cloudless sky on the first day of the spring
equinox. Before we left, I persuaded Jane to pass through the holed stone again
backwards, seven times, for good luck. She laughed at the superstition, but she
obliged. I had heard a local legend about the ancient and mysterious powers of
the stones that increased a woman’s fertility. I never lost hope that one day I
would hold our child in my arms.

On our way back, I took Jane to a cliff
overlooking a hidden cove near Saint Ives. 

“Can you see that boat there?” She
nodded. “Poole’s on it. He has some bread and water. Whenever he wants, he can
try to swim to the shore. He’ll never make it and nobody will help him.”

I didn’t tell her I had taken great
pleasure in breaking every bone in his fingers and his arms. Neither did I tell
her I’d carved out the tattoo with a knife and flung it on the deck for the sea
gulls.

“And if he doesn’t swim? If he stays on
the boat?”

“He’ll die of dehydration. He has a day
or two left. He’ll probably start drinking sea water soon.”

I didn’t tell her about the sea gulls
that would start feasting on him, pecking at his injured body, long before he
died. It was going to be hell.

“Won’t anyone look for him?”

“Nobody’s going to miss him, but if
anyone asks, all the villagers will say he came and left.”

Poole’s body would disappear forever. We
would make sure the fish ate what the sea gulls left, but I didn’t want Jane to
have any more foul images in her mind. 

****

The following two weeks flew by. The
weather improved, flowers started blooming and I realised St. Ives was a wondrous
place. The morning sun flooded through the windows like stardust, the evening
sky reminded me of fresh peaches, and the night stars were like sequins on a
velvet evening dress. If I were a painter, I should be inspired to paint
beautiful pictures of the sea and the sky, which were never the same colour for
more than an hour. Nevertheless, today I was worried about an invitation. Michael
and I needed to mix with the local people, but there were still so many lies. It
did not seem right to be deceitful to people who offered their friendship, but
at the moment we had no choice.   

“What’s wrong, Jane?”

I slipped my lips along his jaw, kissed
the side of his mouth and smiled. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

He ran his finger down my cheek. “I’ll
tell you how.” He brushed his lips across mine. “In a moment.” He deepened the
kiss and nothing else mattered as I slipped into a dream world.

He broke the kiss. “Because of the way
you said ‘Michael’.”

“Really?” I pushed my fingers through
his hair. “How did I say, ‘Michael’?”

“Just now the ‘i’ was almost a whisper,
so you wanted me to kiss you.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did. That’s why I kissed you,
and I will, again, when I answer your question.”

“What question?”

“When you’re worried, the ‘i’ is high
and long, so I rush to your side and ask you what you need.”

“Do you?”

“Always. And when it’s quick and the ‘k’
is louder than the ‘i’, you’re angry.”

“Never with you.”

“With someone else, and you need me to
do something about it.”

“You know all that just by listening to
me say your name?”

I nodded. “I’ve been listening to you
say my name dozens of times every day for seven years.”   

“Michael,” I said softly and he kissed
me.

“In fact, I don’t even need to hear you
speak. I can tell how you’re feeling by listening to you move.”

I took a step back and twirled like a
ballerina. “Like this?”

“Come here,” he said and pulled me into
his arms. “When you’re worried you take small steps to the fireplace and back,
when you’re distressed I can hear your palm smooth your dress. When you’re
angry your dress rustles past the legs of the chairs and tables on your way to
the window, and when you’re very upset, your palms press on the panes.”

“And when I want you to hold me?”

“Then there’s silence. You’re sitting
dreamily, but I can hear your breathing quicken when I approach.”

“Can you?”

“Yes, and I can hear your smile as I
walk in the room.”

“Since when?”

“Since I first saw you, by the window in
Diana’s house. I swear I could hear the sun’s rays bouncing on your hair.” He
strummed his fingers through my almost shoulder-length tresses, as he liked to
do. “Do you remember I couldn’t speak when I met you?”

“Of course I remember. How could I
forget? You stared at me with your big amber eyes. You were so shy.”

“I wasn’t only shy, I was speechless. I
could hardly breathe when you approached us. I smelt the rose perfume you used
to use, until you changed to lavender, when Adele brought you a bottle from Paris.”

“You remember?”

“Jane, I remember every brooch, every
hairpin, every dress, and every shawl you wore. I remember every tear you shed
while you pretended to read by the fireplace.”

“Every tear?”

“When your husband left to visit Ferndean
or London. When you read the schoolteachers’ reports regarding the orphans who
had disappeared, or died. When Adele’s suitors asked you for loans, or when your
cousins complained about their health…”

“How did you know? I never told you. I
hardly spoke to you. You were always so quiet.”

“Jane, you have been my obsession since
I was sixteen.”

“Michael, you were a child.”

“And you were an angel who saved my
life.”

“Michael.”

“You need a kiss, and so do I, but not
yet. First tell me why you are worried.”

I pulled him to the couch and took his
hand in mine.

“Mr. de Winter, the owner of Manderley, visited
the school again this morning.”

“What did he want?”

“He asked me if we would like to visit Manderley.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said I’d have to ask my husband.”

He pursed his lips and sighed. “I wish I
were your husband.”

“Michael, you are more than my husband;
you are my life.”

He kissed me again before asking, “Do
you want to go?”

“Well, he might suspect if we didn’t.
I’d like him to invest some more money in the school. It seems rude to decline,
don’t you think?”

“When are we expected?”

“Tomorrow, for tea at five.”

He shrugged. “Very well. Let’s go.” 

I put my arms around him and listened to
his heartbeat. It made me feel safe. “Michael,” I whispered. “Was the ‘i’ soft
enough?”

“I think I’d like to hear it one more
time, please,” he teased.

I started to say his name, but his lips
devoured the last syllable. We slipped down to the rug as we whispered each
other’s names, and our bodies danced like the flames around the log fire.

***

Manderley was not easily visible from
the road, as it lay in a sloping valley behind a thick belt of trees on the
brow of the hill. We eventually reached a spoked iron gate leading to a winding
drive twisting and turning below a tunnel of arched birch tree branches
entwined above our heads. Suddenly there appeared a clearing and we saw the
grand house, at last. It was a graceful and exquisite building with small,
latticed windows, much lovelier than I had imagined.

“It’s so good of you to come.” Our host
held out his hand.

“What a beautiful house you have, Mr. de
Winter,” I said.

He led us inside the great stone hall
with its wide doors opening to the richly furnished rooms. I recognised some
exquisite portraits by Peter Lely and van Dyck on the walls, and a carved
staircase leading to the upper gallery. Two cocker spaniels came to greet us. I
bent to stroke their long silken ears as they sniffed my boots and thumped
their tails on my dress.

“Would you like tea inside or outside?” he
asked us.

Michael looked at me and I answered. “It’s
such a lovely day, Mr. de Winter. I’d love to sit in the garden.”

So he took us out towards a rose garden.
I looked east towards the horizon, searching for the sea. “I thought Manderley
was near the beach.”

He pointed in the other direction. “The
woods and the rose garden are to the east, Mrs. Stewart. The sea is over there,
to the west. Would you like to see the cove?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Then let’s walk around to the western
terrace and gardens first. Come, we’ll cross the lawn towards the slope.”

There were no rugged cliffs or furious
waves as we had seen in Ilfracombe. The terrace sloped to the lawns, and the
lawns stretched to the sea. Giant rhododendrons, with colossal cherry coloured
leaves, lined the walk down to the beach. Later, nameless shrubs and wild
bracken grew on the slopes leading to the shingled beach.

We walked back for tea under the
chestnut tree on the terrace, where we could hear the murmur of the sea
drifting up from the lawns. There was an intense aroma of sweet lilacs mingled
with the salty breeze.

Mr. de Winter must have noticed how I
observed Fritz, the footman, a thin young lad, who looked little older than
fourteen, as he served the tea. 

“Fritz’s father worked for my family
until he died three years ago. His mother died when he was a child, so we
offered him a job at Manderley. He lives here with Mrs. Benson, the lady who
looks after Cove Cottage. We used to have a large staff. Mrs. de Winter, my
mother, insisted on having all the rooms cleaned and aired regularly, fresh
flowers, and food enough to feed a regiment, although there were just the three
of us, the two of us and my son, Max. I’ve closed the west wing. When my mother
died, the furniture was draped, the curtains were drawn and the rooms were
locked. I couldn’t sleep with the sound of the sea at night. So, we only use
the east wing of the building, although during the day I prefer the west
terrace, where we are now, overlooking the beach.”

“It is the most beautiful house I’ve
ever seen, Mr. de Winter. You are very fortunate to live here.”

“You exaggerate, Mrs. Stewart. Surely
there are grander houses in London, where you lived.”

“Yes, there are grander houses in
London, but not more beautiful.”

“Did you enjoy living in London?”

I looked at Michael, afraid to give too
much away, so he replied.

“We lived in a town house in Camberwell,
near the countryside. It was far from the centre of town and the river,
although we enjoyed occasional trips to the theatre and exhibitions. Our doctor
recommended sea air for Jane to recover from her melancholy after we lost our
child.”

“I never liked London. I hardly go there
myself. It’s too big, too noisy, and too malodourous. How are you finding
Cornwall, Mrs. Stewart?”

“I’ve never been anywhere more beautiful
than here.” I held Michael’s hand. “This moment, this place, is magical.” I
looked to the sky. “No clouds obscure the pale blue sky.” I waved at the roses.
“It smells like paradise.” I pointed towards the sea. “And no waves ruffle the
water. The sea looks like a mirror reflecting heaven.” 

They were both watching me. I smiled at
Michael. “Primrose Cottage is beautiful, too.” Then I turned to our host. “A
sea view would be ideal, but we have a beautiful pond nearby with tiny yellow
flowers, I think they’re called water primrose, and wild bracken, gorse and
hawthorn. In the afternoons, we often take long walks to the beach to watch the
sunset.” I turned back to Michael, who was looking very grave, and squeezed his
hand. “We are very happy here.”

The sun was shining on Michael’s clear
amber eyes, and I saw the vision I had seen before. Michael was holding a child
in his arms. I wished the child were mine, but I knew that was impossible. A
sudden stitch stabbed my abdomen, causing me to bend over and grimace.

Michael fell to his knees by my side.
“Jane, what’s wrong? Are you in pain, my love?”

I leant forward, rested my head on his
forehead for a few moments, and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m all right, Michael.
It was just a sad memory.”

“Would you like to leave?” he whispered
back. I shook my head and smiled. “I’m fine now. It’s over.”

Michael sat back in his chair, holding
my hand in both of his, as our host watched curiously.

“Will you be staying here very long?”

I looked at Michael, who replied, “We’d
like to stay until the summer, at least.”

“We are fortunate to have such a
talented lady teaching our children French and music. I’m afraid our local
teacher, Miss Burns, barely grasps the three R’s herself, so her teaching is
very basic. Of course, those who can afford it have a governess or send their
children away to boarding school. Most of the children at the local school will
end up being miners or fishermen, or housewives. It does seem like a waste to
teach them to read and write.”

“I believe everyone has the right to
education and access to the arts, whatever their job or station in life. Every
person should be allowed to grow intellectually and morally through education.”

“I see you are a champion of the growing
working classes, Mrs. Stewart.”

“I believe we are all the ‘working
classes’. Everyone should work for a living. It is our duty to make this
country a better place for all of us, and we should start by making it a better
place for children, especially orphans.”

“So you are favourable to our reforming Lord
Shaftsbury’s efforts.”

“He has done much to reduce child labour,
set up ragged schools, and improve the lives of children.”

“Indeed. The Poor Man’s Earl.” He looked
at me for a long time, as if he were thinking of an answer. I thought he was
about to speak, but he said “Indeed” again, and nothing more, so I continued.

“The children at the parish school are
lovely, Mr. de Winter. The folk here are very friendly and grateful. The
children are keen to learn, and I am often rewarded with sponge cakes and
scones baked by the children’s mothers. We could use some more books and
pencils.”

His face lit up with a smile for the
first time. “What an excellent negotiator and champion you are for the
townspeople.” He shook his head and laughed. “Make a list of anything you need
and I’ll see to it that the school receives it. I’m afraid my mother used to
deal with the parish and the school. I have no idea what is required. I fear I
may have neglected my duties, and I should like to make amends, with your
help.”