Too Close to the Sun (48 page)

‘I give up,’ he said. ‘Oh, Grace.’ He slowly shook his head.

And now that she was freed of his grasp, Grace sank back into her seat, her head turned away from him so that he should not see her tears.

‘Grace Harper,’ she heard him whisper, as he leaned closer to her. ‘Grace Harper, soon to be mistress of Asterleigh House. And is that what you wanted?’ A brief pause. ‘What are you after, Grace? Are you running towards something, or making your escape? I think it’s the latter.’ His voice was bitter. ‘And you’re flying very high, Grace. So high. Are you ready for such a flight? Be careful. Remember Icarus. Don’t go flying too close to the sun.’She could bear no more. Now when she rose she brooked no hindrance – not that he made any attempt to prevent her
move. Her bag on one arm, the box holding her wedding dress under the other, she turned and went out onto the street.

The October night sky was a vast, deep blue canopy, anchored low in the west by one gleaming star. Standing at the drawing room window, Grace looked up at the sky, at the star and gave a little falling sigh of sadness. How incredibly wide was the whole universe. And what possible significance in it could her own being, her own self and her own problems have? Nevertheless everything had to be dealt with; no matter how small one might be in the great scheme of things, one still had to go on; the whole universe could be sliding across the emptiness, but still every living thing in it continued on its fated way, to eat, to mate, to live.

Illuminated by the light of a candle set on a small table nearby, her face was dimly reflected in the window pane, the face – shadowed alabaster – almost of a ghost, lit from beneath so that the hollows of her eyes were dark and her hair lost its colour and faded into the shadows behind.

How quickly the time passed, she thought. Here it was October, six months since her wedding. She so rarely thought of that day, those moments when she had stood at the altar with Edward at her side, and they had made their vows to one another. Since that time there had been occasions when she had asked herself whether she was happy – as if it really mattered, she had then admonished herself. For she had not necessarily been expecting happiness from this marriage; happiness was not what she had been seeking when she had entered into it. At best she was
sometimes content with her lot, and she would be content with that.

One difficulty Grace had with her life at Asterleigh was keeping herself occupied. In the past she had had Mrs Spencer to assist, and at other times her teaching. Now she was mistress of the house and there was almost nothing for her to do. She missed her teaching but had to acknowledge that that part of her life was gone for ever. During the summer months she had decided to take up her painting again, and this she had done, trying to settle herself in Mrs Spencer’s studio and using her easel, palette, paints and brushes. It had not felt right, though; the place was still so much the late Mrs Spencer’s own, and Grace felt ill at ease, like a conscience-stricken trespasser. Mrs Spencer’s things were all around her, all her finished and unfinished canvases – even the unfinished portrait of Grace herself, standing tall, leaning against the wall by the window. So she had given up the idea of painting, at least for the time being. And as there was nothing to do in the matter of the running of the house – not with the capable hands of Mrs Sandiston at the helm – Grace found that she spent her days reading, sewing, embroidering, riding the grey mare around the paddock or playing the occasional game of patience. Soon, she told herself, ironically, she must begin to take up charity work. On one occasion she had spoken to Edward about finding some respectable employment somewhere, but he had reacted angrily. ‘It’s enough that I have to work,’ he said. ‘Certainly no wife of mine ever shall.’

Edward’s behaviour had come to surprise her in several ways, and not to the good. He had changed since their marriage. Whether fundamentally or merely on the surface, the result was the same. In the past, from the time of their early meetings to the time of their wedding, he had always been kind, solicitous and showing understanding. But now
such days seemed for the most part to be over, and though at times he could be tender with her, those times seemed few and far between. Perhaps his kindness and warmth had merely been part of an act designed to win her over – and now that she was his he was simply reverting to his true nature, giving up the charade. But she had the feeling there was more to it than this. Perhaps the answer would come in time. But whatever it was, the answer, she had to put up with the manifestation of his demons. So often she found him difficult and unapproachable; sometimes having to tread so warily if he was not to be offended or enraged. But surprisingly, on some occasions when he did become angry it would follow that he would apologize for his behaviour and plead for forgiveness. At times there was no knowing how to deal with things.

A little earlier this evening she had gone to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. Now she sipped from the cup as she gazed out into the night. All the servants had gone to bed; Billy too, long ago; to bed in his same room, the one he had been given on first arriving at the house. Edward had offered him a different, larger room, but Billy had insisted that he was happy where he was. For Billy there had been slight changes, of course, since his sister’s marriage, but not so great that he found his life very different. In essence it was not, on the surface, anyway; he continued with his schooling, and his associations with his schoolfriends, and even – purely out of choice because he liked to be occupied – giving the occasional help in the kitchen, the garden and the stable. The one main difference in his life – which Grace was aware of if not he – was that he had security. And that was what mattered.

Where the servants were concerned, Grace had expected greater changes in her relationship with them; and great changes there had been, but those changes had not been such that she was unable to deal with them. Before her
marriage, Edward had told her, he had gathered the house servants together and informed them that he was to marry Miss Harper, the late Mrs Spencer’s former companion. They already knew, of course, as the banns had been called in the church of St Michael’s in Remmer Ridge. So they were prepared for and expecting the information. And Grace had pictured him as he had stood before them, his glance daring the very slightest critique or expression of disapproval. And so, when she had returned to Asterleigh House, she had returned as Edward’s wife, their new mistress. Since then, in respect of her being mistress of the house, everything had gone well; there had been not a hint of anything untoward in the servants’ manner or behaviour. Indeed, they knew their master well enough to know that were there such they would not last a minute longer in their present employment. If anyone had sometimes felt at a loss in the new mistress-servant relationship it was as often as not Grace herself, for she had at first found it difficult to give instructions to those with whom she had formerly been almost on the same level. Mrs Sandiston for instance. But that lady had immediately established herself in the new relationship, at once acknowledging Grace’s superior social station. Grace was grateful for it.

Now, turning her head and looking at the clock on the mantelpiece above the flickering fire, she saw that it was almost 10.30. She yawned; she was tired. She would like to go to bed, but she could not, must not; she must wait up for Edward. She had learned early in their marriage that he expected her always to be awake and alert when he returned home late. On an early occasion when she had gone to bed before he had come in he had entered the bedroom calling for her, irritable and angry, demanding that she awake and give him attention and company. Afterwards he had apologized: ‘I’m sorry; forgive me. But I’ve been travelling all day, and the thought that kept me
going was the knowledge that you would be waiting for me at the end of the journey. You can’t imagine how dispiriting it is to find that there is no one there.’ And she had kissed him and told him that she simply had not known, but that she would in future always be there.

So there she sat, while the moon moved across the sky and the tea grew cold in the cup.

In the kitchen Mrs Sandiston had left a cold plate for him – chicken and ham with pickles, potatoes and, to follow, a cold fruit dessert. Everything must be ready for him – that was another thing Grace had learned.

Today Edward was travelling back from Italy, from Milan, where he had been for a few days seeing to the business of the factory there. And he always came back exhausted from such a trip. And although he complained about it, he could not let it go. ‘People always get dirty,’ he said. ‘That’s something you can rely on. People always need clean clothes. Soap will never go out of fashion.’ Grace herself had tentatively touched on the subject of his selling the factory, but he had become angry, questioning her right to give an opinion in the face of her ignorance, and she had quickly backed away from what threatened to be a confrontation.

There had been several such incidents of late, she reflected, and she had not known how to respond. He was at times like a spring that could be released by the slightest vibration, set off by almost anything. And yet again she wondered at the reasons for his sensitivity. Could it be partly to do with money? He was desperate to make money, it seemed to Grace, and generally his businesses were doing less well than he hoped or needed. When money did come in, so much of it went in expenditure on the house. ‘The house must be finished.’ He had said the words to her more times than she could remember. And when money permitted, the plasterers would come in, and
the painters and the carpenters, and another room in the house would be a little closer to completion. ‘But we don’t need the other rooms to be finished,’ Grace had said. ‘We have plenty of room for all our needs.’ And it had been the wrong thing to say, for who was she to know better than he, particularly where the matter of the house was concerned?

So she had learned to hold her tongue in matters of the furbishing of Asterleigh, and learned not to be surprised when she heard banging or hammering from the direction of some distant, unused, unfinished room.

And in order to pay for the developments certain cost-cutting measures must be applied. It came to Grace eventually that the completion of the house was the most important thing in Edward’s life – more important at times, she thought, than she herself.

And yet, strangely, he never stinted on her clothes or her carriage. And she eventually realized why: she, Grace discovered, was in a way to him like a part of the house itself. Perhaps she was like a possession also, and as such he wanted her always to look her best, and to be shown in the best setting. So he might suggest cutting back on certain items such as food, and wages for his workers, but at the same time Grace, as befitting the wife of a prominent man, must always be well dressed and a credit to her husband.

Mrs Spencer had believed that the house had driven him, and Grace had no doubt that she was correct.

Yes, it was the house. This had not been apparent to her at the very start. After their marriage they had spent just one night at Asterleigh and then had gone to London for two weeks on their honeymoon. And he had been kind and considerate and caring, and she had thought that a marriage without love on her side might not be such a bad thing after all. They had gone to the opera and the theatre. But Grace had soon learned that it was not because he enjoyed such things but because they were part of the
lifestyle that he aspired to. And he soon learned, even then, what he could get away with. When discussing a visit to the opera house it was: ‘Oh, not Wagner – he takes too long. He’s much too great a piece to take out of life. Find something shorter, that won’t send me to sleep. And preferably where the soprano doesn’t sound like a cat on heat.’

It took a little while, but before too long Grace learned of the scope of Edward’s aspirations. He never said as much, but in time she divined that his aim was to be on equal terms with those on a social scale above. He professed so many times not to care for position, but it became very clear that his ambition was to join those who enjoyed by right and birth a plane on a stratosphere above his own. He was resentful of old money, Grace discovered, yet all his efforts, with every breath he took, was to that one end, to be one of them.

‘Look at you,’ he had said in admiration and with great pride while they were on a trip to Redbury some months after their marriage, ‘ – you’d show them all up – all the lords and ladies in the kingdom.’ Grace had been trying on a gown in a dress shop and had come out of the dressing room to show off the gown to Edward. ‘You must have it,’ he had said. ‘You look wonderful.’ But Grace had protested, ‘Edward, it’s an extravagance we can’t afford. When do we get invited to a ball or a soirée?’ And his face had darkened and he had exclaimed, ‘My wife will be a credit to me, no matter what the occasion.’ And so the dress had been bought, and hung now in the wardrobe, never worn since that first fitting.

‘What I want, and what I plan,’ he had said on that night after their return from Redbury, ‘and what I intend to have, is to live a better life than this. The time isn’t ready yet, but the time will come, and come soon, when we can hold up our heads with all the gentry around here – around anywhere. We shall have grand balls and I shall show you off –
and I’ll be the envy of all those namby-pamby bluebloods who think they’re so grand. And you shall give afternoon teas to the wives of the gentlemen, and we shall have croquet parties, and archery and tennis, and in the winter we’ll go skating on the frozen lake, and afterwards everyone will come back here to get warm, and we shall serve hot rum punch.’

And she had nodded yes to all he said, for she had learned by this time that it was unwise to deny the possibility of any of his dreams.

‘And,’ he had said, ‘I want a son. A son to carry on my name and my blood.’ He had kissed her, passionately. ‘Give me a son, Grace, and you’ll make me the happiest man.’