Maisie, Priscilla, and Douglas allowed silence to punctuate James' slow telling of the story. At the same time, Maisie recalled Lady Rowan's anxious inquiries about the Beales, her interest in Doreen's progress, and the way she brushed off the fact that the bereaved mother had fallen behind in work-alterations and needlework-for Lady Rowan. '
'What happened, James?'
He looked at Maisie, and brushed the fingers of his left hand through blond hair threaded with barely distinguishable gray. 'We'd gone down to the woods-you know, at the bottom of the field just beyond the Dower House garden. It's a grand place for children. We used to climb trees and make camps out of fallen branches as if we were medieval bandits living in the woods. It was all very wild, but we were allowed a fairly free rein. My parents believed that too much oversight would deprive us of spirit, and already Emily was a very energetic girl. She rode her horse like the wind and was fearless when it came to jumping a hedge or fence-you should have seen her keeping up with my mother, who was a bold horsewoman in her day.'
James paused, breathing in deeply.
'I was about nine at the time, just a couple of years younger than Emily. There used to be a place where a sort of dam had been built across the stream that runs through the wood. I think children from the village dragged some logs into position so that a makeshift swimming pool formed. There was a rope hanging from the old beech tree, so we would swing from the bank across the pool-and the water was always fresh and cool on a summer's day. The idea was to let go and splash down into the pool, which went down at least six feet in depth. So you fell in and then had to swim to the side in short order. That was the game.' He took another sip of wine, his voice cracking as he spoke.
'On this day, we'd gone down to the wood-I can still remember the smell of wild garlic underfoot wafting up around our ankles as we ran to the pool. I went first, then Emily. Time and again we ran to the swing and jumped in-we were soaking wet, but it was such fun.' He paused and placed his hand on his chest. 'The trouble is, I still can't quite say what happened next. I have gone over it again and again and again in my mind, and I just don't know. I can only say what I think happened.' He closed his eyes. 'It was my turn, but Emily was out of the water just after me and we raced each other to the bank and grabbed the rope at the same time, both of us hurtling across. We were flying through the air, giggling and whooping…then I heard a crack that seemed to ricochet through the trees, and before we knew what was happening, we were falling into the water, and the giant limb from which the swing had been hanging came down upon us.' He seemed to wince as if in pain, and as his chest rose and fell against his hand, Maisie could see that the memory of being unable to breathe was still imprisoned within each cell of his body.
'I was pressed down into the water, and I remember Emily's hand at my neck, grasping for my collar. When I tried to turn, to pull her with me, I could see she was trapped. I was coughing, trying to get out of the water, trying to get some purchase on the river mud underfoot, but the branches were clutching at me, as if the tree were alive. I could hear screaming, and realized it was me. Then I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew my father's voice came into my consciousness. Mrs. Crawford was holding me, and there were a couple of grooms from the stables on the bank trying to pull the limb out. I looked up and saw my father in the water, lifting the tree, and my mother had launched herself in to help him. I watched them try to move the branches while my mother went down into the water in a bid to free Emily. They dragged her to the bank together, and they tried so hard to save her, to no avail. I was helpless. Utterly helpless. My sister had saved my life, and I could do nothing for her. I was no better than useless.'
Maisie remembered Maurice's counsel that when a person has made a confession, it is important to accord that person the gift of silence, if only for a moment. After a suitable hiatus, Maisie leaned forward. 'You loved your sister, James, and you did your utmost to help her. You did all that you could. And you were a child.'
Douglas laid a hand on James' shoulder, allowing him to feel the weight of support, then reached for his cane and pushed back from the table. 'We need something a little stronger than that bottle of Montrachet, I think.'
'I say, I must apologize, going on like that.'
'James, we're friends here,' said Priscilla. 'I've known Maisie since Girton, and we have seen each other through thick and thin-with rather more of the thin, I must say. The circumstance of your sister's death is the stuff of nightmares in every family, and clearly it is something that will never be banished from your memory. So, even if we weren't before, we are now friends, James, because you have trusted us.' She looked at Maisie as if for approval, and Maisie, her eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears, nodded at Priscilla.
It seemed that as soon as Douglas had set a snifter of brandy in front of James, Elinor came to inform the company that the boys wanted to show James their drawings and model aeroplanes. Priscilla waited until he left the room before turning to Maisie.
'Did you know any of that?'
She shook her head. 'It must be the best-kept secret at Chelstone-no one has ever mentioned it to me, and certainly Lady Rowan has never spoken of it. It explains a lot, though.'
'Such as?'
Maisie tapped the side of her coffee cup with a silver spoon. 'Maurice always said that carrying a heavy burden will cause a person to stoop and stagger, even though their bearing might suggest otherwise.'
'I think I see what you mean.' Priscilla paused, taking a breath as if to ask a question. 'Mais-oh, nothing, really.'
'What were you going to say?'
'She wants to know whether you and James Compton are courting,' interjected Douglas, who reached across to ruffle his wife's hair in an affectionate manner. 'But she thought she might have gone too far with her inquisitiveness.'
'Fine ally you are in a time of need!' joked Priscilla, taking Douglas' hand.
'And the answer is no-he's just a friend, and anyway, I don't think the likes of James Compton would be seriously considering me for courtship.'
'Could you be languishing in your sackcloth and ashes, Maisie?'
'No, Pris. It's just how I view the situation.'
'The view from your mountain might be wrong.'
At that moment James Compton returned to the room, and smiled at Maisie before turning to Priscilla. 'I'm not sure how much your toads will sleep tonight. I left them planning acts of airborne derring-do.'
'As long as it doesn't involve a chandelier,' said Priscilla, rolling her eyes.
'I think I'm ready, James,' said Maisie.
The four bid their farewells, with gratitude expressed for a welcome supper and good company, and as Maisie and James walked down the steps towards his motor car, Priscilla called out, 'Do try to avoid the ground, Maisie. That thing on your cheek is hardly something you can cover up with a puff of powder.'
As they walked to the motor car, Maisie thought that Priscilla was wrong. The wounds of the past could always be camouflaged. Erasing them to extinguish all trace was the greater challenge.
When they arrived in Pimlico, James parked the motor car and escorted her to the door.
'So, this is where you live. Quite modern, isn't it?'
'Yes, I was lucky. The builder went out of business, so the bank decided to sell the flats individually. And property seemed as good a place as any for my nest egg.'
'Very wise. And a good time to buy.' James smiled at Maisie. An onlooker might have thought that neither of them knew quite what to say next, but after a lapse of a few seconds, James continued. 'I'll see you on Saturday, then. At least I know where to come to pick you up now.'
Maisie nodded. 'I'm looking forward to the day, though I know I'll be worrying about Maurice.'
'Yes, I think we all will. Anyway, I'd better be getting back to the club. And do let me know if you change your mind.'
'Of course. And thank you so much for taking me to see him. I just hope he gets over this spell of ill health.' She looked down at her door keys and turned them in her hand. 'I-I just can't imagine what I'd do if-'
James reached towards her and pulled her to him. He said nothing at first, allowing her to weep into his shoulder. As her tears abated, he reached into his pocket for a clean white handkerchief, then lifted her face and dried her tears.
