Too Close to the Sun (38 page)

Grace felt a little rush of panic at the woman’s words. Why should it not be a good thing?

Mrs Spencer went on, ‘Mr Fairman is a little older than you, though I don’t think that matters in the slightest. Nine or ten years, I should think. Though to my reckoning age differences are overrated. He also has a child, though that’s no problem either, for you’re well acquainted with his daughter and are fond of her. You are, I assume?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Grace breathed. ‘I am indeed.’

‘I thought so. By all accounts the child is so eager for her lessons with you, and that makes it clear enough.’ She gave a nod. ‘He’s a personable man, too, and a talented one. I’m sure you agree.’

Grace nodded.

‘According to what I’ve heard, he’s designed some splendid buildings. Mostly in London, I believe, although I think he’s done work throughout the country. Have you seen any of his work?’

‘Only in pictures. There are some photographs I’ve seen. They’re very impressive.’

‘Oh, he’s a talented man, there’s no doubt. And attractive in so many ways.’

A little silence. Mrs Spencer seemed to be thinking things through. Then she added, ‘Even so, I think you must be careful here.’

‘Be careful?’ Grace’s heart beat momentarily more strongly. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I wouldn’t want to see you hurt, Grace.’

‘Well, no, but …’ Grace let her words falter and fade.

‘I mean it. I would hate to see you hurt. This is a man who’s been married. A widower. He’s a man who’s been through a great deal of pain and anguish with the loss of a much loved wife. A wife who, clearly, he was very happy with. No new wife can be a replacement for what he’s lost.’ She added quickly, ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’m
sure he would never see you as such – a replacement. I’m just saying that this is something a new wife could never be – no matter who she might be.’ She sighed. ‘To follow in the steps of someone so – loved – must be a very difficult task. Which is not to say you are not up to such a demand.’

Grace heard herself saying, ‘I know so little about his wife. He doesn’t speak about her. He doesn’t want to, I’m sure. And I can’t press him.’

‘Of course he doesn’t want to speak about her. And one can’t blame him. I’d be surprised if he did.’

‘Sophie showed me a photograph. She looked to be a very beautiful young woman.’

‘So I understand. She was half-Italian, did you know that? My husband met her, but that was years ago, just before her death. Sophie was very small. Only about two years old, I believe.’

‘And that was about the time that Mrs Fairman died?’

‘That’s right. Mr Spencer met them on the way out to Italy, he told me. He was going out there on business connected with the soap factory, and met them on the train. The Fairmans were travelling to Naples, where Mr Fairman had secured a commission. It’s very sad. That would have been only weeks before his wife died.’

Grace hesitated for a moment, then asked, ‘Do you know the circumstances of her death?’

‘I believe I told you that she died of cholera.’

‘Cholera, yes, I remember.’ Grace had read enough in the newspapers over the years to learn what a deadly and dreadful disease it was.

‘Such an awful disease,’ Mrs Spencer said. ‘There have been numerous outbreaks of it in southern Italy over the years, and apparently there was one touching Naples while the Fairmans were there. And sadly, tragically, Mrs Fairman contracted it. I believe by drinking from an infected glass. It’s carried in water.’ She shook her head.
‘It’s so tragic. That’s all it can take – something as simple as that – a drink from an infected glass. After her death Mr Fairman brought his daughter back home, to safety. Mrs Fairman, poor woman, would have been buried there, of course. Her body wouldn’t have been brought back – not with her having died from such a disease.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘That poor woman. I understand that death from cholera is a particularly horrific one. And so little Sophie is left without a mother.’

Mrs Spencer turned to Grace, looked at her almost piercingly for a moment, and then reached out and laid her left hand on Grace’s wrist. ‘My dear, I think you could be the person that Mr Fairman needs.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Tell me, do you love him?’

‘Oh, yes, ma’am.’ Grace caught her breath as a little surge of excitement rose in her. ‘Oh, yes, ma’am, I love him.’

The weather was exceptionally fine on Sunday and that afternoon Grace and Billy went out for a stroll together. They had returned and were walking through the stable yard when they came face to face with Mr Spencer. He had, Grace learned, returned the previous evening from Italy. Until this moment Grace had not seen him in several days.

‘Well, good afternoon, Miss Grace, Master Billy.’ He came from the stables and was wearing riding breeches and jacket.

They returned his greeting, and Grace asked if he had enjoyed his ride.

He nodded. ‘Oh, indeed, but hardly the thing after a good lunch. Mrs Sandiston always seems to excel herself when I get back from a trip away. I think she thinks I don’t get fed while I’m out of England.’ Then, turning to Billy: ‘Billy, would you be kind enough to excuse us for a moment? I’d like to have a private word with your sister …’

‘Of course, sir.’ Billy nodded quickly, and with a murmured word to Grace: ‘I’ll see you later on,’ moved to the rear door of the house and disappeared inside.

Mr Spencer turned from watching Billy’s departure, and said to Grace, ‘Have you got a minute or two to spare?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She wondered what it was that was so sensitive it could not be said in front of Billy. ‘What is it, sir?’ she said.

He regarded her gravely in silence for some moments, then with a shake of his head, said, ‘We can’t talk here. Let’s go inside, shall we? We’ll go up to the library.’

He opened the back door and Grace passed through into the passage. After that he began to lead the way up the stairs to the first floor. And all the time Grace followed in his steps she asked herself what was the reason for it all. What could he possibly have to say to her that was such a seemingly grave matter? Was she, unknowingly, guilty of some error that had caused displeasure in the house? The thoughts, the search for possibilities, ran through her mind, but she could settle on nothing that could give any likely answer.

Reaching the library, he ushered her in and closed the door behind them. ‘Sit down, please, Grace.’ He gestured to a chair near the fireplace and she sat down.

He remained standing before her for some moments then moved away to the window. Turning from her, looking down on to the forecourt, he said, ‘You’re still enjoying teaching Mr Fairman’s young daughter, I understand.’

‘Yes, sir, very much.’ His words had bordered on small talk. She continued in her bewilderment.

‘So my wife was telling me.’

Grace waited. After a moment he turned back to face her and went on:

‘Grace – nothing of this is easy for me to say, please believe me. I hope you do.’

When he finished speaking he looked at her as if expecting an answer. She merely said, frowning, ‘Yes, sir.’

After a few moments of awkward silence he went on, ‘My wife also tells me that – oh dear, Grace, this is so difficult …’ He took a deep breath, then said, ‘My wife tells me that you have – formed an attachment – to Mr Fairman.’

Grace drew a breath to speak, but before she could do so he added, ‘You may think it’s no business of mine, and in fact it is not, but for your sake I feel I have to speak.’

Grace, remaining silent, became aware of the beating of her heart. Almost always she felt in his presence some lack of ease, but this feeling now was quite different; now alarm and panic touched her.

He went on, ‘My wife tells me that when she learned of your – your affection for Mr Fairman she told you that she would not wish to see you hurt …’

‘Yes, sir, that’s correct …’

‘And nor would I wish such a thing.’

‘I am aware,’ Grace said now, ‘of the situation, sir. I am aware that Mr Fairman is a man who has been hurt, has suffered tragedy, and I don’t expect to replace his late wife, but I –’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said, interrupting her words. ‘What I want to do – though it gives me no pleasure – is to prepare you – if this is at all possible. Though there is no good way of breaking bad news. In the end, however the news is said, it still has to be said.’ He broke off here and looked at her with his eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to read her responses in her expression.

‘I take it you are serious about your relationship with Mr Fairman?’ And here he held up a hand, palm out. ‘And please, don’t think I’m being impertinent. I am not. This is, believe me, vital. You are serious about your relationship with Mr Fairman?’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Grace nodded, frowning. ‘Absolutely.’

‘And Mr Fairman – do you infer that he also is serious about this?’

‘Yes.’ Grace’s heart was beating fast now.

Mr Spencer nodded. ‘May I ask if the subject of marriage has been brought up …?’

‘Well – no. No, it hasn’t.’ She wanted to say,
But it will be, of course it will be
. ‘No,’ she said again, ‘it hasn’t been mentioned. But – it is understood, sir. I’m sure it is understood.’

‘Have any promises been made?’

‘I haven’t asked for promises. I wouldn’t ask.’

‘May I ask how long you have been aware of your feelings for this man?’

‘For – for some weeks now.’ Putting a hand to her cheek, she said quickly, ‘Sir, I find this line of questioning somewhat embarrassing. If there –’

Once again he broke in, now saying, ‘I’m sure you do, but please, don’t take it amiss. You won’t feel the same once you hear what I have to say.’ A little silence, then he said, ‘You’ve been told, I gather, of his wife dying in Naples of cholera some few years ago.’

‘Yes. He’s never spoken of it, but Mrs Spencer told me. He’s rarely spoken of his wife.’

‘That’s understandable.’

‘It is indeed.’

‘Not for the reasons you might think.’

Grace frowned again. She was increasingly bewildered by his words, and her feeling of dismay grew stronger.

He paused for a second, as if weighing his words, then said, ‘Have you wondered why his wife is not buried in this country? Why her body was not brought back here for burial?’

‘Well, with a death from cholera, I understand that such an act would be unthinkable.’

‘There is that, of course, which is quite true. With a death
from cholera the important thing is to get the victim buried, and prevent further harm.’

Grace wondered how he could talk so about the death of a young woman, then he said:

‘What if I told you that his wife did not die of cholera at all.’

‘What?’ She spoke the word almost inaudibly. What was he saying? What was he suggesting?

‘Did you hear me?’ he said.

‘Yes. But I don’t understand … This can’t be so. Mrs Spencer told me that – where would she have gained such information?’

‘From me, mostly. But there, I didn’t know the truth.’

‘I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it.’ Grace’s heart was pounding. She felt she was going to hear something terrible, and wished suddenly that they could put back the clock, that this conversation had never begun. ‘I don’t understand any of it,’ she said again.

Suddenly his expression was all kindness and sympathy. ‘No, of course you don’t. And why should you? You’re young and innocent. How on earth should you have experience of such a thing in your life? How often can such a thing happen? For a girl to love a man who is mourning a dead wife, only to find that the wife is not dead at all.’

It might have been that the room spun around, and Grace would not have noticed. She frowned, not truly understanding what was being said to her. It was as if she registered an error on the man’s part, and it would be only a matter of seconds before he corrected himself. But the seconds ticked by and he did not. Then, her heart thudding in her breast, she said:

‘This can’t be so.’ A little laugh came, a hollow sound of disbelief. ‘It can’t be so. Did you say that Mr Fairman’s wife is still living? It can’t be.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mr Spencer said. ‘I’m so sorry to tell you. But you had to know.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘there is some mistake. Mr Fairman’s wife died in Naples, in the early 1880s. She died in a cholera outbreak, and was buried there.’

‘She didn’t die of cholera. She didn’t die at all. As far as I know she’s still alive and well.’

‘It can’t be true,’ Grace protested. ‘It can’t be.’

‘There is no mistake about this.’

Grace got up from her chair and moved to the door and stood before it, hands clasped into fists, knuckles pale, at her mouth. She looked as if she had halted in her tracks on the way to making her escape. Mr Spencer stood behind her, his back to the window.

‘I take no pleasure from having told you these things,’ he said. ‘I hate to see your hopes dashed like this.’

She could not speak, could not trust herself to speak.

After a moment he went on, ‘I first met Fairman and his wife when they were on their way out to Italy. I was going to Italy also. But where they were heading for Naples I was going to Milan. They had their small daughter with them. I stopped in Milan and they stopped there also for a while, and we got to know each other better. We had some pleasant dinners and went to the theatre. I remember he was on his way to undertake an architectural commission. He hadn’t gained the success he’s gained since, I might add – not by a long way. He was very eager for work, to make his name. His wife was a very beautiful young woman, so beautiful. She was part-Italian, and I believe had family in Italy. Her name was Bellafiore.’

‘Beautiful flower,’ Grace said dully.

‘Beautiful flower, indeed. And as I say, she
was
beautiful. I think they’d only been married a little over three years.’

He came to a halt, then moved over to Grace and put a
hand lightly, briefly, on her shoulder. ‘Grace, come and sit down. Please.’

After a moment she turned. He gestured to the seat she had previously occupied and she sat in it again. Although her outward expression was relatively calm, inside her breast there was the greatest turmoil.