Too Close to the Sun (37 page)

And so the days passed. In Birchwood House Grace taught Sophie in the little room set aside as a schoolroom, but always there was the knowledge that Kester was in or near the house. And he seemed always to be around somewhere. Nothing, she hoped, would be evident in front of the child or the staff, but his devotion was there, nonetheless. And sometimes there were those stolen moments when they found themselves truly alone, perhaps when Sophie was working on an assignment and Grace was helping Kester with some project concerning the house.

On the Monday morning as Sophie worked at an arithmetic exercise Kester lightly tapped on the door and came into the room. On his appearance Sophie at once said, ‘Papa –’ but he put a finger to his lips and she grinned, nodded and continued with her work. Grace was sitting at a little table where she had been reading a book on English history. She put the book down as Kester came into the room, and murmured softly to him, ‘Have you come to join our class, sir?’

‘No.’ He shook his head, his voice equally quiet. ‘Though perhaps it’s not a bad idea. I might learn something.’

Grace smiled, and he spoke again, starting, ‘One thing you could –’ in his usual tone, and now Grace put a finger to her lips. He halted in his speech, glanced about the top of the table at which she sat, then, taking a piece of paper from a pad in front of her, picked up a pencil and wrote the words:
Tell me about yourself. I know hardly anything about you
. And Grace took up her pencil, and wrote beneath the words:
There is little to tell, and a very small piece of paper would suffice
. And he nodded, smiled, and took the paper away with him.

Later, when Sophie and Grace had gone to get some lunch, Grace came back alone to the classroom and found Kester sitting in her seat at the desk. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘pay attention. I have a few questions for you.’ Grace stood there smiling, and he said: ‘So, Miss Grace Harper, what do you want out of life?’

And Grace said, ‘Just one thing. To be happy, sir.’

On the Tuesday, when the lessons were over for the day, he brought her some flowers, a spray of lilac and a red poppy.

On Wednesday morning Sophie showed Grace a photograph of her mother. ‘She was beautiful, miss, wasn’t she?’ Grace took the silver-framed photograph and looked at the lovely face of the young woman there. ‘Yes, indeed,’ Grace
replied, and looked for sadness in the child’s face. All she could see was a slight wistfulness. Then she realized that the child had been so young when her mother died that she would hardly have remembered her.

Kester was around the house so much. That same Wednesday he came into the schoolroom and announced: ‘Come on, enough of work for today. Right now the subject is sport,’ and led them outside onto the newly mown lawn where he had set up croquet hoops. They spent the rest of that afternoon playing croquet.

Afterwards, just before Grace was due to return to Asterleigh, and Sophie was with the nursemaid, Grace said to Kester: ‘Sophie – today she showed me a photograph of her mother.’

Kester gave a nod and lowered his head a little, and Grace suddenly had misgivings about bringing up the subject. But then Kester looked at her with a sad smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘Sophie doesn’t remember her,’ he said.

‘I thought that might be the case,’ Grace said.

‘She was so young when her mother died. All she has of her is a photograph.’

On Thursday the three of them went into Corster to look around the market place and do a little shopping. In a bookshop Kester bought Grace a small book of Keats’s poems.

Later, while Sophie was taking a little sleep in the nursery Grace sat looking through the book.

‘You must know some of the poems,’ Kester said.

‘
Ode to a Nightingale
,’ she said, ‘I always loved that.’

‘Ah, yes.’

‘Have you ever heard a nightingale’s song?’

‘No, never, not to my knowledge. I doubt that we had many in Kensington. It’s a beautful song, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes. So beautiful.’

‘Keats died in Rome, did you know that?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘In a little room at the foot of the Spanish Steps. He died in the arms of a good friend, Joseph Severn, and is buried there in Rome. He made no claim to making his mark on posterity and requested to have written on his gravestone: “Here lies one whose name was writ in water.” Can you believe that? His poems will live on for ever. They must.’ Then he added in the same breath, ‘Oh, Grace, I would like to take you to Rome. I would show you the Spanish Steps, the Coliseum, all the sights there. I would like to take you to Venice too, and to Florence.’

With a little sigh Grace put up a hand in protest, as if the things he was saying were not to be borne. And he said:

‘I would. I would show you everything; I would take you everywhere.’

And stepping towards her he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the mouth. ‘Grace, Grace,’ he said, ‘I love you so much.’

That Friday night Grace lay in her bed and thought back over all the things that had taken place over the week. How had so much happened in so short a time? That Kester Fairman should find that he loved her – it was a miracle. And a miracle too that she had found love in this man. How miraculous it was that two people, born far apart, should come together and discover that they had been meant for one another.

On the Saturday Grace came into the house after posting a letter to Aunt Edie and was going through the hall when Jane came to her and said that Mrs Spencer had been asking for her. She was in the sewing room, the maid added. Grace went there at once and found Mrs Spencer sitting in her
armchair with her sewing in her lap. On the small side table was a tray bearing tea things. Grace had not seen her for two days.

‘Ah, Grace, there you are.’ Mrs Spencer put aside her embroidery frame and indicated the seat of the chair facing her. ‘Come and sit down a minute.’

Grace moved to her and sat down. In spite of the warm day there was a bright fire burning in the grate.

‘Would you like some tea?’ Mrs Spencer asked. ‘This will be cold, but we can get Jane to fetch a fresh pot.’

‘No, thank you, ma’am. I had some not long ago.’

Mrs Spencer nodded acknowledgement. With a sigh she said, ‘It’s been so quiet here, with you away teaching little Sophie, and Mr Spencer off in Milan.’

‘Is he due back soon?’

‘This evening, I’m glad to say. I do wish he would give up the factory there, but he won’t hear of it. It makes so much travelling for him. He gets exhausted, and it tries his temper.’ She took in Grace’s light shawl. ‘Are you warm enough, my dear? The sun has been bright enough today but with such a keen wind there’s been little warmth in the air. I need this fire.’ She smiled at Grace. ‘Well, tell me how you’ve been, my dear. I haven’t seen you in two or three days. Is all going well with your teaching?’

‘Yes. There’s a little schoolroom now, which Mr Fairman has created. It’s very nice, and will do so well for Sophie until she goes away to school.’

‘Has Mr Fairman decided on a time for that?’

‘He mentioned September – when the new school year begins.’

‘And does he expect you to teach Sophie until that time?’ There was a slight note of concern in the tone.

Grace said quickly: ‘No. He’s spoken of finding another governess for the meantime.’

‘It won’t be easy to hire one just for a matter of months.’
Mrs Spencer studied Grace for a second then said, ‘What about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Is Mr Fairman not tempted to offer the post to you?’

‘Oh – such a thing was not mentioned. I don’t think it would be.’

‘Why not? You are a governess, after all.’

‘I know, but – I suppose Mr Fairman acknowledges that I’m employed here, with you. He wouldn’t wish to – disturb your arrangements.’

‘Perhaps so. But as I say, you are a governess. And you’ll be looking for work as a governess. I assume you will, anyway. But one thing you will not be doing is staying here with me for ever, will you? You don’t see a long-term employment here, do you?’

‘Well, no …’

‘For your sake I hope not. I know you have Billy to care for, but, even so, you can think of better things than being stuck here for years on end. As much as I enjoy your company, Grace, I do realize that it will not be mine indefinitely. I know there must come a time when you’ll want to move on. And I invited you here with that knowledge. I never imagined for a moment that it would last any great length of time.’

Grace said, ‘I have enjoyed my time here, Mrs Spencer. Very much so.’

‘Well, I’m glad to hear that, and I’ve enjoyed having you here. But there has to be more to your life than this, my dear. At the moment it’s a little more exciting and interesting for you while you’re teaching Mr Fairman’s girl, but that won’t go on, will it? She’ll either get a new governess or go to school – or both. And then it’ll be just you and me again. And I’m getting older, and you surely don’t look forward to spending your life as companion to some ageing, increasingly irascible old woman.’ She
paused. ‘Besides, what about Billy? What are you going to do about his life?’

Grace looked down at her hands. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘He’s a clever boy, good with his grammar and creative things. I’d like to think that there’s something he could do when the time comes.’

‘Oh, no doubt about that. He is a very clever boy, and he’s a fine little artist too. Were he from a wealthy background, I can see him being sent off to study art, perhaps going to art school. But one has to be realistic. His prospects are limited.’

‘He should be able to get a job as a clerk when he leaves school. If he applies himself it shouldn’t be too difficult.’

‘Yes.’ Mrs Spencer nodded, ‘I can see that happening. But you’ve a little time yet. Two or three years at least. Though those years will fly past, you can believe it.’

‘Oh, I’m sure of that.’

A little pause, then Mrs Spencer said, ‘What about you, Grace? What do you want out of life? Where do you see yourself going?’

Grace did not answer.

Mrs Spencer put her head a little on one side. ‘But some questions have to be faced. They need answers. One can’t get on by ignoring them.’

‘No, I realize that.’

‘You’re twenty-one years old. It seems so young in one way. But you should beware. Give it another three years or so and people will start to regard you as a spinster. Another two or three years on top of that …’ She spread her hands, palms out, ‘and practically all your chances will be gone. You wouldn’t want that to happen to you.’

‘No.’

‘Get yourself in that situation and you lose all opportunity to
choose
. As the old saying has it: you can spend so long looking round the orchard that you end up picking up
the crab apples.’ A momentary pause, then she added, looking off into the greenery, ‘I left it very late before I married. Oh, very late indeed, as you’ll probably know. But I was lucky in my husband. Not all women are lucky in such circumstances.’ She turned back to Grace. ‘Is there no one, Grace? No one at all?’

Grace did not know how to respond and lowered her eyes to her hands again. And feeling Mrs Spencer’s gaze upon her, kept her glance lowered. And too long.

‘Well,’ said Mrs Spencer, ‘it looks as if I have my answer.’ A pause. ‘Do I?’

Grace looked up now, but could not find words of response.

Mrs Spencer gave a little nod. ‘I see that I do.’ She smiled. ‘And can you tell me any more about it – this – this
interest
of yours?’

Grace said nothing, and Mrs Spencer tilted her head, peering in a quizzical way into Grace’s shadowed face. ‘Well, now, don’t tell me I’ve hit upon a secret, have I?’ Her tone was playful, teasing.

Grace looked up and gave a little groan. ‘Oh, ma’am …’

And seeing Grace’s grave expression, Mrs Spencer said, frowning slightly in concern and sympathy, ‘Oh, don’t take it amiss, what I say. I don’t mean to take it lightly at all. If you’ve met someone, found someone, then that is wonderful.’ Then she added, ‘Or rather, I
hope
it’s wonderful. Are your feelings – reciprocated?’

Grace gave the very faintest nod, but made no sound. Hardly could she meet the other’s eyes.

‘That is excellent, Grace.’

‘Yes,’ Grace said, unable to suppress the smile of happiness that touched her mouth, ‘my whole life is changing, ma’am.’

‘I can see. I knew there was something different about you. I could tell.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, I do hope everything
will work out well for you. Is there any reason it shouldn’t?’

Now Grace said, answering the question she had asked herself a hundred times: ‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t see why it shouldn’t.’ And knew such relief at hearing the answer on her own lips.

Mrs Spencer gave a little chuckle, a sound touched with sympathy. ‘I’m very glad to hear that. Though you’re not being very forthcoming, I have to say.’ She pressed her lips together, and slightly narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m thinking,’ she said. ‘Or rather I’m trying to think. I’m trying to think who it could be. After all, you have so little opportunity to meet anyone. You’re either here, or you’re spending your hours with Sophie and –’ She came to a halt, and then gave a slow nod. ‘Of course. Of course. I should have realized right away. There is only one person it could be. Heavens, how slow I am.’

Silence between them, and there came to Grace the ticking of the clock. It seemed strangely loud in the quiet.

Mrs Spencer said, ‘Yes, indeed, how slow I am. And all this has been going on practically under my nose, and I wasn’t aware of it.’

Grace looked at her at this, trying to read Mrs Spencer’s expression. Was there a flicker of a look of displeasure, of having been betrayed, something that said she had been used? But no, no such thing. The woman smiled. ‘And certain things become clear to me now,’ she said. ‘And make me wonder why Mr Fairman was so anxious for you to go to his home and help him sort out his bits and pieces. Could it possibly have been more for the pleasure of your company?’

Grace could feel herself blushing. Mrs Spencer observed it and said, smiling again, ‘I don’t mean to tease you or embarrass you.’ She studied Grace for some seconds’ silence, then gave a little sigh and said, ‘Well, I do hope this is a good thing, Grace.’