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.”
“It will probably be adjourned until they’ve found Merrit. And you may yet receive a summons. Much will depend on what motive Inspector Rother discovers. But the watch and the fact that Merrit left without warning or a word will count heavily against him.”
“But did he pack up and leave? Or walk out of the house and never come home again?”
“Gossip says he left tea on the table. And that morning his horse came back to the stable without him.”
I hadn’t heard that.
“Well,” I said. “It’s over. But she wants me to search for that child, Simon.”
“I don’t think that would be wise. Didn’t you say that Hughes told you she was in the care of nuns? She should be looked after well enough. What would you do if you found her?”
What, indeed. “Heaven knows there are enough orphans, thanks to this war.”
“Sadly,” he replied.
We had reached Hartfield and I saw the man Willy just stepping into the road, crossing it just beyond the shops. He looked up then, and his eyes met mine as he stopped, waiting for us to pass.
I had expected the vacant expression of a man whose wits were impaired.
But I could have sworn, in that brief contact, that he knew who I was. And I would have sworn as well that beneath the recognition was another expression.
I couldn’t quite be sure of what it was. But the word that came to mind was
If Simon noticed, he said nothing, busy driving through the early Monday morning traffic.
I spent a very happy Christmas with my family. It was good to be home, and I knew my parents were almost beside themselves with joy.
A letter arrived the day before Christmas Eve, forwarded by Mrs. Hennessey from London. It was from Lydia, and very brief.
