Too Close to the Sun (42 page)

‘E-Edward …’

‘It’s Grace, ma’am. It’s Grace.’

‘Grace …’ Mrs Spencer’s eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

‘Can I get you something, ma’am?’

Mrs Spencer turned her head on the pillow. ‘W-we don’t need to live th-there,’ she muttered.

‘Ma’am …?’ Grace murmured.

‘The house is too big. M-much too big. We don’t need a-anything like that. Oh, Edward …’

The woman was rambling, and Grace did not know what to do. Glancing at the clock above the fireplace, she could just make out that it was a quarter to five. Dr Ellish had said he would be calling later in the morning. Should she send for him sooner? To Mrs Spencer she said, ‘Shall I send for Dr Ellish again, ma’am? What shall I do?’

For a moment Mrs Spencer’s eyes fixed on Grace’s face in something near concentration, then, her attention wavering again, she tossed her head and said, ‘Asterleigh is too b-big. And s-so much work needs to be done to it. The expense. And I was r-r-right. Edward, I was – was right – it’s like a bottomless pit. It’ll take all the m-money we care to throw at it and s-still want more.’

‘Ma’am …’

‘Y-yes, still want more. You’ll have t-to work all hours – and then what will there be to show for it? And even then …’

‘Ma’am,’ Grace said, as the woman’s voice trailed off into silence, ‘I think I should send for Dr Ellish.’

‘Who’s that speaking …?’

Mrs Spencer opened her eyes now and turned her face to Grace again. ‘Grace? Is that you?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Shall I send for the doctor?’

‘Oh, Grace, I w-wish Edward were here. Is he here? Is he in the house?’

‘No, ma’am, Mr Spencer left on Sunday. He’s gone to Milan. He won’t be back till early next week.’

‘Milan? What’s he d-doing in Milan?’ And then a nod. ‘M-Milan, yes, of course. The soap factory.’ She looked directly at Grace now, focusing on her. ‘The soap factory, Grace. He won it. Can you b-believe it? Mr Spencer won his soap factory – in gambling, when he was a young man.’ Her glance swivelled away then, seeming now to gaze at nothing.

‘Ma’am – can I get you something?’ Panic touched at Grace’s heart; she felt helpless and useless.

‘You know – you c-could sell that b-business, Edward. Make soap in England.’ And now Mrs Spencer had turned her face away again, talking to the shadows at the other side of the bed. ‘You c-could sell it, then you wouldn’t have to be running around so much. You could spend more of your time here. And if the house is s-so important to you it would suit you better.’

To Grace’s consternation Mrs Spencer now seemed to be trying to raise herself up in the bed. Quickly Grace moved to prevent her. ‘Lie back, ma’am, please do.’

And then the woman’s eyes fluttered and closed. ‘Oh, Edward, sometimes you can be so sweet,’ she sighed, ‘but at other times I’m not enough for you. I know I’m not.’ She lay back on the pillows, a tear running down her cheek.

Grace took Mrs Spencer’s cold hand in her own and felt for the pulse. It seemed even more rapid than before. The woman had lapsed into silence again, and Grace sat there as the minutes dragged by, waiting for daylight and the sound of the doctor’s carriage on the forecourt.

Dr Ellish came into the house just after nine. He entered the room and strode quietly to the bed. He took Mrs Spencer’s pulse and temperature and stood there in grave silence. Grace knew that Mrs Spencer’s temperature was down, but her pulse rate was up, galloping. She looked at the doctor as the seconds ran one into another. Eventually, plucking up all her courage, she said:

‘Sir – sir, if you should wish to call in anyone else, we can get the groom to ride off with a message. He’d go at once.’ Then, realizing that she might have gone too far, she said, ‘What I mean, is …’

As her words trailed off, the doctor was turning his head slowly to her. ‘If I should wish to call in anyone else? And who would this anyone else be, may I ask? Did you perhaps mean another medical doctor?’

Grace, remaining silent, turned from his furious, withering gaze.

‘I think you need have no worries, miss,’ the doctor said in a low voice. ‘If I thought for a moment that a second opinion was required I would do something about it. It most certainly would not be a matter for discussion with you.’ He held up a hand. ‘But no more. We have a sick person here. One who needs your attention.’ He picked up his bag and started across the room. At the doorway he turned and said, ‘I shall be back in an hour. I’ll bring a little laudanum to help with the fever. In the meantime, make her a little tea, and try to get her to eat something. A little soup, perhaps, or some bread-and-milk.’

When the doctor returned an hour later he found Mrs Spencer writhing in the bed, plucking spasmodically at the sheets while her eyes rolled in her head and unintelligible words stammered from between her dry lips. The doctor was able to do nothing for her, and fifteen minutes later she was dead.

On a cold and damp November afternoon, Grace and Billy stood side by side at Mrs Spencer’s grave in the yard of the local church. The newly erected stone at the grave’s head bore the simple legend:

DEARLY BELOVED
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
ELEANOR ALICE SPENCER
2 MARCH 1837 – 31 OCTOBER 1888

It was a Saturday, there was no one else about, and the place was silent. Billy carried flowers, chrysanthemums from the gardens of Asterleigh House, kindly cut by the gardener. The flowers left on the grave at the time of the funeral were dying, and Billy stood silently by while Grace discarded them and refilled a pot with fresh water. When the new flowers were in place she straightened and bowed her head and said a silent little prayer. At her side, Billy did the same. Afterwards he opened his eyes, turned to Grace and said:

‘She was so nice to me, Grace.’

‘Well, she liked you.’

‘She gave me her second-best watercolour set.’

‘I know she did. She admired your talent, too.’

‘And she gave me pocket money.’

‘She was a very kind lady.’

Grace bent and adjusted one of the blossoms in the pot,
then, straightening, said with a sigh, ‘Well, I don’t know how much longer we shall be able to come here.’

‘What d’you mean?’ Billy said.

She didn’t answer his question, but took from her pocket a sealed envelope. ‘We must go back by way of the letter-box,’ she said. ‘I have this to post.’

They made their way out of the churchyard and set off along the lane to where the post box was set in the churchyard wall. Billy held out his hand and Grace gave him the letter and he ran off and slipped the letter into the slot.

‘I’ve written away for a position,’ she said when he returned to her side.

Throughout the autumn days since Mrs Spencer’s death, Grace had pored over the classified advertisements in the newspapers searching for a suitable post. Ideally, as she had wished before, she would have liked a resident position where she could also take Billy, but she knew that such a place was an impossibility. The next best thing would be to find one where she would be employed on a daily, visiting basis, and find rooms for Billy and herself somewhere not too far away from her place of employment.

Now Billy was looking at her in surprise. ‘To go and work somewhere else?’

‘Yes.’ They walked on along the lane, back in the direction of Asterleigh House.

‘But – but why should you want to do that?’ Billy said.

‘Because I no longer have a job here. My job was as companion to Mrs Spencer. But now that she’s gone …’

‘Did Mr Spencer say you have to get another job?’

‘No, he’s hardly ever there, and when he is he’s so busy, anyway, what with one thing and another. He’s so distracted – he probably doesn’t even notice that we’re around half the time. But it can’t continue like it.’

‘You could ask him.’

‘No, no. You must realize, I’ve been paid some of my wages in advance but after that I can’t go and ask for more. Ask for more for doing what? It’s all right for you, you’re going to school and working at your lessons, but I don’t have any work to do. Oh, I find things to keep me occupied, but it’s not what I’m paid to do.’

‘But Grace – if you get a new position it’ll mean we have to leave the house.’

Grace was silent at this.

‘Oh, Grace,’ he said, ‘don’t say we have to leave Asterleigh. If we leave we might have to go and live in that place where all the bugs were in the bedding and –’

‘No,’ Grace said sharply, ‘we shan’t be going back there, have no fear of that.’

‘Or some place even worse, perhaps.’

‘I won’t allow it.’

‘I don’t want to go away from here, Grace.’

‘We haven’t got a choice, Billy.’

He said nothing to this and, turning, she saw that tears had filled his eyes. She stopped in the middle of the lane, put out her arms and drew him to her. ‘Oh, Billy, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’

‘Grace, we don’t have to move again, do we? I like it so much at Asterleigh. Everyone is nice to me. And at school, too. Oh, Grace –’ he turned to her now with a pleading look, ‘I’ll work really hard, I promise I will. I really will. I’ll do better at school, and I’ll help in the house more and the stables. I shall –’

‘It’s not a matter of your having to do better; you’re doing very well. Everyone thinks so. It’s just that – we can’t stay here.’

‘But I shall have to find a new school.’

‘Please don’t cry, Billy.’

‘I – I’m sorry. I’m being silly.’

‘No, you’re not. I understand how you feel.’

After a while his tears dried. He took Grace’s hand, and together they walked back to Asterleigh House.

A few days afterwards Grace saw Mr Spencer – which was not a frequent occurrence given his busy schedule. She was in the library when he came into the room, clearly not expecting anyone to be there. Following the funeral he had kept away from almost everyone. Further, he had been away from the house so much. Standing at the shelves with a book and a duster in her hand, she turned at the sound of the door opening and saw his tall figure enter the room. It was three weeks after the funeral.

‘Mr Spencer, good morning.’

He looked around at the sound of her voice. ‘Hello, Grace … I just came in for a book. I won’t disturb you for long.’ He moved to one of the shelves and took down a small volume. Turning back to her, he registered the duster in her hand, and said, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Oh, I’m just – trying to make myself useful. As well I can.’

‘You’re dusting books?’ His tone was a little incredulous.

‘Well – Jane and Annie have enough to do between them. And it has to be done.’

‘I suppose it does. But I didn’t expect to see you doing it.’

‘I have to do something, sir.’

He nodded. ‘No doubt.’ He stood there in silence for a moment, as if considering the situation, then said, ‘I suppose many things around here have changed now.’

Grace said nothing, and at a loss, put the book on the shelf and took down another one. And almost at once Mr Spencer said with an irritable wave of his hand, ‘Oh, Grace, put the books down for a moment, please.’

She did so, and stood there, silent.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just that – oh, I can’t stand all the – the changes that have taken place. Everything is so
different in so many ways. Now that my wife is gone I – oh, I don’t know – it’s just all so different.’ He turned his face away and stepped to the window overlooking the fore-court. ‘I miss her so,’ he added gruffly.

Grace nodded.

‘I can’t describe it,’ he added after a moment. ‘She was always here. We came into this house together. We first set foot in it together. Not that long ago. But long enough for her to make her mark, to be a part of the whole place.’ He turned to face her. ‘She was a lady, Grace. She had no title, but she was a lady, through and through.’

‘There’s no doubt about that, sir.’

‘No. And thank you.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s not the same without her, I don’t mind saying.’ He looked from Grace’s face to the feather duster she had put down on the shelf beside her. ‘And here you are dusting books in the library, because you can’t find anything better to do.’

‘As I said, sir – I must do something.’

‘Yes. What is the good of being a companion, if there’s no one to be a companion to? – is that it?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Yes. But you were not meant to be a lady’s companion at any rate, were you? Not that you didn’t do your work very well, I’m sure. With your intelligence you’re much more suited to being a governess. You wouldn’t want to go as companion to any other woman, would you? I’m sure it must be a tedious job, and have few rewards. I’m never sure of a companion’s place in the hierarchy of a household. Perhaps something akin to that of a governess. It’s commonly said that they’re between places – neither a part of the family, nor one of the servants. Have you had difficulties like that?’

‘I can’t say I have, sir.’

‘Well, that’s all to the good, then. Though I don’t doubt it can be hard at times, being a companion. And particularly
to some women. Always having to be agreeable, so many times having to bite your tongue, never to have a contrary opinion.’

‘If I may say so, sir, it was always very easy being with Mrs Spencer.’

‘Was it?’ He put his head a little on one side, considering her. ‘Was it really?’

‘Yes. I think we had a – a good understanding.’

He nodded. ‘Doubtless you did. I know that my wife could have her difficult side at times, but get past that and you saw the real person there. Which was what you no doubt did. Well, she liked you, Grace, I know that much. And my wife thought a great deal of your brother too.’

Grace smiled. ‘Yes, sir, I know. She was very kind to him. Very kind. And he misses her too.’

‘Mmm. And Billy hasn’t had the easiest time of it, has he?’

‘He’s been a lot happier over recent months, sir – apart from the – the loss of Mrs Spencer. Since coming here he’s been getting on well at school, and he’s made friends in the area. It’s done so much for his self-confidence. And Mrs Spencer – she helped him.’

‘That pleases me,’ he said with a little smile. ‘And it would have pleased my wife too, to hear you say such a thing.’ He gestured towards the duster. ‘Though I doubt she’d be pleased to see you doing this work.’