Anne Perry: A Christmas Guest

“Thank you, Mr. Harcourt. The more I learn of Maude, the more I appreciate how very much that means. I know that for you it is as profound as it could be, and I wish more than you can be aware of to live up to it.”

Bedelia was startled, then her mouth curled in a smile more of disdain than amusement. “We all grieve for Maude, Mrs. Ellison, but there is no requirement for you to cater to our family perception with such praise.” She left the implied adjective “fulsome” unsaid, but it hung in the air.

“Oh, I’m not!” Grandmama said candidly, her eyes wide. “Maude was a most remarkable person. I learned far more of just how amazing from Mrs. Dowson. That, I’m afraid, is why I stayed so long.”

Bedelia was stiff, her shoulders like carved ivory beneath her violet taffeta gown. “Mrs. Dowson is sentimental,” she replied coolly. “A vicar’s widow and obliged to see the best in people.”

“Perhaps the vicar did,” Grandmama corrected her. “Mrs. Dowson certainly does not. She is quite capable of seeing pride, greed, selfishness, and other things; cowardice in particular.” She smiled at Agnes. “The acceptance of failure because one does not have the courage to face what one is afraid of, and pay the price in comfort that is sometimes necessary for success.”

The blood drained from Agnes’s face, leaving her ashen. Her spoon slithered into her soup dish and she ignored it.

Zachary started to speak, and then choked on whatever it was he had been going to say.

It was Randolph who came to her rescue. “That sounds extremely harsh, Mrs. Ellison. How on earth would Mrs. Dowson be in a position to know anything of that sort about anybody? And what she did know must have come to her in a privileged position, and therefore should not be repeated.”

“Most un-Christian,” Clara added.

“It can be very difficult to recognize the right thing to do, at times,” Grandmama continued, grateful for the extraordinary ease with which the opportunities she needed were opening up for her. “But I must not misrepresent Mrs. Dowson. Actually she said nothing, except to praise Maude’s love of beauty, her laughter, and above all her courage to make the best of her life, even after so great a sacrifice, which was given silently and with the utmost dignity.”

Zachary looked totally confused. Arthur was pale, his breathing seemed painful. Bedelia was as white as Agnes now and her hands on her lap were clenched. No one ate.

“I am not sure what you imagine you are referring to, Mrs. Ellison,” she said icily. “It appears you are a lonely woman with nothing to do, and you have concerned yourself in our family’s affairs in a way that exceeds even your imagined duty to Maude, whom you barely met. Your meddlesomeness has run away with you. I think we had better find a way to return you to St. Mary in the Marsh tomorrow, regardless of the weather. I am sure that would be better for all of us.”

Randolph blushed scarlet.

It was Arthur who spoke. “Bedelia, that is unnecessary. I apologize, Mrs. Ellison. I don’t know what Maude told you, but I think you must have misunderstood her.”

“She told me nothing,” Grandmama said, meeting his eyes. “She would never betray you like that! And surely by now you must know beyond any question at all that she would not betray Bedelia either! She did not come here to cause any kind of trouble. The man who had loved her and protected her in Persia died, and she could no longer remain there. She came back home because she wished to. Perhaps she even imagined that after all these years she would be welcome. Which of course was an error. Quite obviously she was not.”

“You have no right to say that!” Clara cut in. “She had been living in the desert, in tents and by campfires, like a … a gypsy! And with a foreign man to whom she was not married! We could hardly have her in the house at the same time as Lord Woollard! My father-in-law has given more to society than you have any idea. This peerage would have been not only a just reward but an opportunity to do even more good. We could not jeopardize that!”

“And it would, in time, have made you Lady Harcourt,” Grandmama added. “With all that that means. Of course you did not wish to lose such a prize.”

“Oh, no … I …” Clara faded into silence. She had the grace to be ashamed.

“Stuff and nonsense!” Bedelia snapped. “You overstep yourself, Mrs. Ellison. Your behavior is disgraceful!”

“She came home because she had nowhere else to go?” Agnes asked, her face pinched with sorrow. “We should have forgiven her, Bedelia. It was a very long time ago.”

“Bedelia does not forgive,” Grandmama answered Agnes. “Not that there was anything of Maude’s that needed pardon. Tragically there are some people who can never forgive a gift, especially from someone who is aware of their vulnerability. Sometimes it is harder to forgive a gift than an injury, because you have incurred a debt, and in your own eyes you have lost control, and your superiority.”

There was an electric silence.

“Those who themselves do not forgive find it impossible to believe that others do,” Grandmama went on. “So they expect vengeance where there is none, and strike out to defend themselves from a blow that existed only in their own guilty imaginations.”

Arthur leaned forward. “I think you had better stop speaking in riddles, Mrs. Ellison. I have very little idea of what you are talking about …”

“Neither has she!” Bedelia said tartly. “Really Arthur, you should have more sense than to encourage her. Can’t you see that she has been drinking? Let us speak of something civilized and stop descending into personal remarks. It is extremely vulgar.” She spoke as if that was the end of the matter.

Arthur drew in his breath, but it was Agnes who answered. She looked at Grandmama directly. “Was Maude ill? Did she know she was going to die, and that was why she came home at last? To make peace?”

“No,” Grandmama replied with authority. “As I said, there was nothing to keep her in Persia anymore, nor was it safe.”

“She had made enemies, no doubt,” Bedelia observed. “You did not say that this man was married to someone else, but knowing Maude, I have no doubt that it was true.”

“Oh, Bedelia, you should forgive her that!” Agnes pleaded. “It was forty years ago! And she is gone now. It’s Christmas!”

“Don’t be so feeble!” Bedelia accused her. “Wrong does not suddenly become right just because of the season.”

Agnes blushed scarlet.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Grandmama agreed vehemently. “Some debts can be forgiven, but there are some that have to be paid, one way or another.”

“I don’t care for your opinion, Mrs. Ellison,” Bedelia said frigidly.

“There is no reason why you should,” again Grandmama agreed with her. “But you care about your family’s opinions. In the end it is really all you have. That, and the knowledge within yourself, of course. Perhaps that is why Maude was happy, in the deepest sense. She knew she was loved, and no matter what the cost, she had done the right thing.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about!”

“Yes you do. You are probably the only one who does.” Nothing was going to stop Grandmama. “When you were a young woman, and even more beautiful than you are now, Mrs. Harcourt,”—she glanced at Zachary—“he fell in love with you. And like many young people, you did not deny yourselves the pleasure of love.”

Bedelia hissed in her breath, but the shame in Zachary’s face made her denial impossible.

“But then Mr. Harcourt came along, and he was a far better catch, so you went after him instead,” Grandmama continued relentlessly. “And you caught him, at least his admiration for your beauty, and a certain physical appetite. You also did not deny yourselves. After all, you fully intended to marry him. Which would all have gone very well, had not Maude returned home, and Mr. Harcourt fell truly in love with her.”