Charles Todd - A Bitter Truth

I broke off, looking at the vehicle turning out of the track into the lane that led to Vixen Hill. My first reaction was that Roger had come to his senses, then I realized that it was Simon’s motorcar.

The cavalry had returned.

I went up to find Lydia and tell her what had happened.

“He’s gone?” she asked, stunned. “But why?”

“He said he thought it was the only way to save your marriage. Perhaps he’s right.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. I won’t believe it. There’s something else.”

“He hoped you’d stay here at Vixen Hill, now that he’s no longer in residence.”

“No, that’s not it either.” She took a turn around the room, thinking, then stopped suddenly and grasped my arm in a grip that hurt. “He’s going to find that child, Bess. I’d be ready to wager my life that he is. But why? To bring her home? There’s no other reason, is there?”

I remember what George had said to me, that he shouldn’t have waited for Roger Ellis to come to a decision about the little girl. He should have gone ahead and claimed her if he could.

Lydia went on, still gripping my arm, “He wants her dead, doesn’t he? He doesn’t want a reminder of Juliana. Juliana never grew up, you see, she’s always and forever the perfect child. But a real reminder of Juliana might have a mind of her own, and even while she looked like Juliana, she might have a very different temperament. Was it fear of disillusionment that drove Roger to abandon her? Or the fact that he couldn’t replace Juliana with a bastard child?”

If the child had looked like her mother, or a great-aunt, a very different child from Juliana, would Roger have been willing to take her in?

It was an interesting thought.

Lydia was saying, “You must find that little girl before Roger does. Do you hear, Bess? For my sake, as well as hers.”

“Are you sure you want any part of her?” I asked. “Think about it, Lydia, there will be reminders of her mother in many of the things she does. Are you willing to live with that?”

“I may never have a child of my own,” she told me bitterly, letting my arm go. “This may be all I ever have. Please, Bess, you must promise.”

“I’ve told you. I can’t promise anything. I have duties, Lydia, remember? I can’t search France for one child while so many wounded need my care.”

“But you will try?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard me. “When you can?”

“Yes, all right, I’ll try,” I said, “but I won’t promise because it will be like hunting for the proverbial needle in a haystack.”

“No, it won’t,” she told me, the force of conviction in her voice. “You’ve seen the portrait. You may not know a name, but you will know her face the instant you see it. And that’s what matters.”

There was nothing more I could say to change her mind, and so I told her that I’d glimpsed Simon coming up the drive.

“I’m going home, Lydia. You’re safe now, there’s nothing to fear.”

To my surprise-I was expecting an uphill battle-she said, “Yes, it’s the best thing for you. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay here. It won’t be easy, but I really was dreading facing London on my own. I was so frightened the last time, so lost and alone. That’s why I wanted so badly to stay with you.”

I hadn’t realized that she’d been afraid of returning to London. She had been so adamant about leaving here. That was an indication of the stress driving her that she was willing to brave a city where she knew no one with the exception of me.

“Then you’re not going with me?”

“No. I’ll go and unpack straightaway. Somehow I must make it up to Gran and Mama Ellis for what he’s done. They’ll blame me. I can’t change that. But I don’t want them to realize why he left so precipitously.”

I didn’t tell her that Mrs. Ellis had already been in Roger’s room, stripping the bedding. Instead I asked, “You will see Dr. Tilton again? About your concussion?”

“I promise. But I’m much better. Truly.”

I thought it could be true. But I reminded her that if she couldn’t keep her promise, she would only add to the burdens Gran and Mrs. Ellis carried.

We walked together into the passage, and she said with unexpected warmth, “I really am grateful to you, Bess, more than words can say. You must know that’s true.”

I thought perhaps it was, and smiled at her. “You know where to find me. Anytime,” I told her. “But not in the dead of winter, please.”

She laughed and embraced me quickly. “Thank Simon for me too.”

I went in search of Mrs. Ellis and then Gran, but I couldn’t find either of them. Daisy had admitted Simon, and I hurried to the hall to greet him.

We went together to my room and soon had the motorcar packed with my belongings.

“I can’t leave without a note,” I said. “Mrs. Ellis will think badly of me.”

“Then write it, if that makes you feel better.”

I had a thought. “Come with me to the drawing room. There’s paper and pen there in one of the tables, I’m sure. Meanwhile, I want you to see the portrait over the hearth.”

He came with me, and I heard the low whistle as he turned to look at Juliana.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful child,” he said. “Or a more beautiful painting. Did she really look like that, I wonder?”

I found what I was after in the ornate little escritoire under the window and quickly wrote a brief message, thanking Mrs. Ellis and her family for their hospitality and kindness. Sealing the note, I wrote Mrs. Ellis’s name on the envelope, but I couldn’t help but wish I could have thanked her in person as well.

Simon was still studying the portrait when I said, “It’s finished.”

I left the note on a table in the hall, where someone was sure to see it, and we went out to the motorcar together.

He was cranking the motor when I happened to look up at the room above the hall. I don’t know precisely why, but possibly it was because I felt eyes watching me from there.

Gran was standing by the window, looking down on the motorcar, Simon and me.

I smiled and waved, but she gave no indication she’d even recognized us. I knew perfectly well she had.

And I realized then that from that height, looking across the flat landscape of the heath, she might just be able to see the smoke from the engine as the train pulled out of Hartfield, carrying her grandson to his regiment.

We drove away from Vixen Hill, and I didn’t look back. But I did look at the heath that quickly surrounded us and wondered if I would ever see it again.

As if he’d read my mind, Simon said, “I have a feeling it isn’t finished, Bess. I heard the conclusions Inspector Rother drew from the evidence. I don’t know if he got it right.”

I turned to look at him. “You don’t think Davis Merrit killed George Hughes?”

“It’s not that,” he said slowly. “It’s just that something isn’t right. And I can’t put my finger on anything to support that feeling. The motive is missing, somehow.”

“Did you know Roger Ellis has left to rejoin his unit?”

“Yes, I saw him on his way to the railway station. Or I assumed that’s where he was heading. His kit was in the seat beside him.” He paused. “Is that why Lydia Ellis isn’t traveling with us?”

“She doesn’t have to face her husband now. She wasn’t looking forward to London, in spite of all she said. She wasn’t ready to start a new life with no friends and no prospects.”

“A measure of her fear,” he agreed. “When I met her in London I could sense it. I’m just glad you’re out of that house. I was afraid you’d have to stay until the inquest.”

“That’s odd, isn’t it? That I haven’t been asked to give evidence.”