Into the Blue (22 page)

‘Plans?' Down to earth again, Hester knew that she was, indeed, making plans but not yet able to talk about them. Flashes of ideas, hopes, certainties ... very soon they must formulate themselves into reality. Her smile returned. She was ready now to step out into that blue that Father had talked about. And with this award behind her, there could well be offers of commissions to encourage her, to enable her to find a new place in the world. ‘Yes, Aunt Jacks, I have plans and I'll tell you about them very soon. But now I have to go into town.' Excitement grew again. ‘Ruby says I must have a new dress!'

She went off in the trap with Aunt Jacks' blessing and spent a happy hour in the department store in Newton Abbot choosing a dress in good taste, becoming but not garish. Pale lavender brocade, with deeper panels, and within the boundaries of mourning still, but appealing and suitable for an occasion. Then on to the Post Office to send a message asking Emily Watson for a bed for a few nights again, and then, ‘Hoskins, into Bovey Tracey, please. Quickly.'

Hugh was available at once. She sat on the hard chair opposite him and looked across the desk feeling strangely sure of herself. He had taken her hand as soon as she entered the room, then kissed her cheek, smiling and looking at her with affection. The words she
needed were difficult to find, but they came, slowly, and without any tremor in her voice.

‘Hugh, I have won an important painting prize, which means I have begun my career as a botanical artist.' Swallowing a dryness in her throat, she knew she mustn't stop. ‘And so I have to decline your proposal of marriage.' Now her voice cracked. ‘I'm sorry, Hugh, but that's what I have decided.'

He said nothing, sitting there staring at her, his brown eyes gradually losing their brightness. Then he heaved a sigh, moved in his chair, looking as if he were fighting a deep pain. ‘Well,' he said, at last, getting to his feet and coming around the table to stand beside her. ‘Well, of course, that's marvellous news, Hester. I congratulate you. But it's the worst possible news for me.'

She rose, standing at his side, close enough to watch him forcing a smile onto his face. What could she say? She waited. And then, slowly, putting an arm around her shoulder, he said, ‘I'm not completely surprised. I know how much you need your painting. But one thing I ask, dear Hester.'

‘Yes?'

‘That if you are ever in need – of any sort whatever – you will come to me. We've always been friends and I hope that we may continue to be.'

Tears threatened but she resisted them. Instead she lifted her face and gently kissed his cheek. ‘Such a good friend, Hugh, and I'll never forget it. I hope – so much – that you will soon find someone else, someone who will be more your model of a good wife than I am.'

He released her, smiled, even chuckled. ‘Only one thing I can say now – plenty of good fish in the sea, Hester! Not quite the catch I had hoped for, but that's life for you.'

They parted fondly and Hester knew, driving back to Oak House, that this was one occasion when capricious life had bestowed one more great blessing on her. Hugh would always be her friend.

 

London was as noisy and grey as she remembered from the previous visit, but there was the excitement of the award ceremony, with compliments and advice given to her by both Miss Smith and other smiling dignitaries of the Gardens. Emily Watson accompanied her to
the ceremony, telling her beforehand that she looked quite lovely. ‘That colour suits you, and believe me, you look every inch the young artist who is on her way.'

Emily was busy with preparations for the departure of the expedition very shortly and so Hester returned home the next day. But not before she had asked, hoping that the question would only be seen as a casual one, ‘And will Nicholas Thorne be going with you, Miss Watson?'

‘He's already left, Hester. So much to do before I arrive – the accommodation to arrange, couriers to find and porters, and so on.' Emily smiled. ‘I'll be sure to give him your good news when we meet. I expect he'll be delighted.'

‘Yes. Thank you.' Hester allowed an image of Nicholas to flash into her mind: tall, suntanned face full of angle and planes, that direct gaze, the low resonant voice and those vivid eyes. He would be pleased, of course he would.
But don't think about him any more
. She must get home and make her own plans. A new career. A step out into the frightening, wonderful world – alone.

 

Ruby sat opposite her in the drawing room, sharing a last cup of coffee before they both retired. ‘So what are you going to do? Now that you're on your way? Can't stay here, can you?'

Hester met the enquiring green gaze. ‘No,' she said, and then knew this was the moment to decide exactly what she would do. ‘I might go back to my original plan, before Father died.' Just for a moment they looked at each other, sharing the dark memories, and then, ‘Find myself somewhere to live and work at my painting.'

Ruby nodded, waited, stirring sugar into her cup.

Hester took a deep breath. ‘I've told Hugh I can't marry him.'

‘That's good.' There was a light note in Ruby's voice. ‘So what about that lovely Mr Nicholas?'

What about him?
Hester looked away. ‘He's gone abroad. He doesn't want to see me again.' Her voice was sharp.

‘But that's awful.' Ruby sounded shocked. ‘I mean, you want to see him, don't you?'

‘I—'
The truth – face it
. ‘Yes, I do.'

Ruby chuckled. ‘Well, then, it's obvious – go and find him.'

‘But he said—'

‘That's rubbish. I saw him, I heard him. He loves you. Really, Hester, you're very silly, you know.' She frowned, leant nearer. ‘Of course, he's just a gardener and you're a lady. That's what's really the matter, isn't it?'

‘No!' The word was sharp. Then a whisper. ‘But he thinks so.'

Ruby's voice raised. ‘And here you are, planning to be one of these new liberated ladies who do whatever they want, and yet you're not doing it, are you?'

Hester couldn't think straight. Yes, she could go and find him. Tell him nothing mattered except their being together. She might even help to work out all that awful guilt. But what would he say? Would he turn her away, again?

The most important things in life. Truth. Strength. Decisions.

Suddenly she stood up, nearly overbalancing the small table holding the coffee cups, smiling at Ruby, and laughing as she said, ‘I'll go! I'll ask Miss Watson if I can join her expedition. I'll find him.'

‘Thank goodness that's decided,' said Ruby wryly. ‘You know I'll be here looking after Mrs Redding, running the house, and now you've got rid of Mr Hugh, there's nothing stopping you, is there?' She stopped, blinked. ‘And I think Mr Redding would like to think you were doing what you wanted so badly.'

‘I believe he would.' Hester looked at Ruby, thoughts suddenly running backwards. ‘You wanted to be Father's daughter, didn't you? But now you're Stepmother's companion instead. Are you happy, Ruby?'

Hester watched the small cat's-face grow taut, and then with an explosion of certainty, let a big smile break through. ‘Yes, I am. I'm someone who matters now. Not the saucy bit who came here thinking she could teach the family a lesson and better myself.' A pause, and then, ‘You see, once I was here, living with all of you and learning such a lot, I knew I could better myself without being nasty. I could take a step forward and see what life had to offer. And that's what I've done.' Ruby's face was radiant. ‘I've pushed myself up in the world and I'm happy enough.' She grinned. ‘Just look at me! Nice clothes, bossing the servants and calling you Hester... .'

A step forward
. Hester nodded, her mind dancing as voices and
images and hopes all met and embraced.

It's worked for Ruby so it'll work for me, too. One more step into a new life.

Emily Watson's reply to Hester's urgent telegraph message came by return.

‘
Delighted your suggestion. Yes come. Prepare for heat and rough walking. Bring painting materials, shady hat, stout shoes. Leaving a.m. Friday. E.W.'

So many last-minute tasks. Packing, telling Aunt Jacks she was leaving, receiving her promise to care for Stepmother while she was away. Discussing with Ruby the household chores to be dealt with; the garden and the maintenance of the cob and the trap; ensuring that Stepmother must be consulted on any details of domesticity; and then, a visit to Father's grave.

Hester carried a bunch of fragrant garden flowers, walking slowly to the newly mounded grave. She stood still, wishing Father could know about her success, that she was taking the step to freedom – like the butterfly he had pointed out, going into the blue.

I wish I could talk to him. I hope he understands
. Tears came but she was calm when she joined Hoskins at the churchyard gates.

And then the goodbyes. Stepmother was in floods, Aunt Jacks smiled with great control, and Ruby came into the bedroom when Hester was packing the last items.

A shared look, and then Hester said quietly, ‘Ruby, I want to thank you for everything you've done, and which I know you will go on doing. I couldn't leave if you weren't here.' She opened the jewel box on the dressing table and gestured at it. ‘I want to give you something to show my gratitude – if there's anything here that you'd like, please take it.' She paused, then the last words came easily. ‘With my love.'

Ruby looked at the box and took out the various pieces of jewellery. The cameo, Grandmother's earrings, the brooches, the ruby bracelet and matching pendant, the moonstone necklace. She fingered this, looked at it, then put it down again, and finally picked up the green Venetian beads. ‘Please, I'd like this necklace, Miss Redding. It's lovely and I shall feel a real lady in it.'

Hester nodded. ‘Good.'

Ruby held it to her neck, looked in the mirror and smiled. ‘I shall think of you when I wear it. Thank you.'

Sudden overwhelming emotion made Hester turn away. She shut the valise and picked up her reticule before looking back at Ruby. The green eyes were regarding her with a new expression, to which it was impossible not to respond. A pause and then she put down the valise and bag, and held out her arms. ‘Goodbye,' she whispered.

Ruby's arms closed around her. Cheek to cheek, they held tightly for a moment before parting. Then Ruby cleared her throat. ‘I'll carry your bag down, Hester.' Together they descended the stairs and walked to the open doorway. Hester climbed into the trap, waving goodbye, and Ruby watched until the trap turned into the lane, when she closed the door and returned to where Mrs Redding was sitting, red eyed, demanding reassurance and comfort.

Ruby's thoughts were legion. Hester had taken that final step. Would she find Nicholas? What would happen if she did? Would she ever come back here to Oak House? And if she didn't then Ruby supposed she would be mistress here until the day when poor Mrs Redding passed along – and then where would she go? But she was an optimist; so, smiling, she arranged a shopping trip into town later in the afternoon, and decided that life was good. Perhaps not exactly as she had planned it when she first arrived but really so much better than she had ever hoped for.

Taking the Venetian beads from her pocket and holding them to her throat, she wondered, eyes shining, if there was not another step to take: not yet, but perhaps one day?

 

At last, here were the mountains. Hester sat in the lurching carriage as it rolled and rocked over pot-holed roads, staring at what lay ahead. Huge steep peaks of grey rock tipped with snow, thrusting up
into the blue sky, formidable barriers to which there appeared to be no end. And yet, travelling further along the valley, she saw green meadows, starred with flowers, between stands of trees.

The seventy-two-hour journey from London by train, water, another train, and now this uncomfortable carriage, had been tiring but exciting as she had never travelled so far before. Emily had told her what to expect in this almost uncharted region of mountains, rivers, chasms and terrifying precipices. ‘You'll enjoy it once you get used to the hardship,' she said as the train rattled along. ‘We shall be travelling either by mule or on foot. I hope you've brought a good thick skirt. You'll need it – those saddles are very hard. But the flowers and the butterflies – ah, Hester, they will make up for any hardship. Believe me, you are going to love this wonderful landscape.' She smiled and then added, ‘Of course, you'll spend a lot of time painting – I'm delighted you're here to record the alpines we find, because I shall have time to focus on anything larger which I didn't record last year, as well as making sure I have the details right for the painting to be included in the book. So much to see and do.'

When finally the coach came to a creaking stop in a small stone-built village surrounded by vast grey mountains, Hester was almost too tired to think what was happening. She followed Emily into the entrance of the hotel, and then, from a room at the side, saw a tall man appear.
Nicholas
. Her heart leaped.

He greeted Emily, seeming not to notice Hester, standing quietly in the shade of the doorway. Until, ‘
Hester
... .' The low voice was almost inaudible but surprised, wondering.

She could only smile, hold out her hands, and wait for his reaction. Did he still refuse to acknowledge their love? She waited, knowing this was the most important moment in her life. And then, those strong arms were holding her; she heard the racing beat of his heart, felt his hands about her, his mouth touching her cheek, her forehead, her lips, his deep voice a murmur, saying the miraculous words, ‘God, how I love you, Hester – how I've missed you.'

Yet, lost in all that magical warmth and love, she waited, uncertainty clouding her joy. What if he still thought they had no place in the world together? What about his pride, his guilt, his determination?

And then, like a drop into an abyss, her fear became reality. He drew away, standing at a distance, his voice stiff. ‘Forgive me, I shouldn't say this, behave like this. I apologize, Miss Redding.'

Emily, watching, said briskly, ‘Nicholas, Hester has won a painting competition held by the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. Isn't it splendid?'

Hester watched his face lift, saw, for a second, a glow brightening his eyes, and was encouraged to say, ‘I painted the bastard balm you picked for me.'

Did he remember? Was she foolishly speaking out of turn? But his flash of vivid smile reassured her. ‘Congratulations, Miss Redding.' He paused. ‘I always thought you had great talent.' They stood looking at each other, and she read in his face all that he could not bring himself to say. All that he felt, but was pushing away.

‘Thank you.' She bowed her head, trying to control the threatening emotions. For a second she felt dizzy with pain and longing. She watched him pick up the waiting luggage and start to climb the stairs at the side of the hallway. Slowly she went up behind him, aware that Emily was watching. And then, suddenly, she knew, with brave new courage, that in spite of everything and come what may, life just went on.

At least she was here. At least he had said he loved her, had missed her. Well, they would be spending time together on the trail of new plants, and somehow – she clenched her fists, engraving the decision into her mind – somehow she would help him forget the guilt, teach him that her new life as an artist was no barrier to their possible union, nothing that he could not overcome.

Turning into the room at the top of the stairs that a waiting girl indicated, Hester knew, with a surprising sense of calm, that she had come to terms with this moment in her life. If Nicholas said no, then she would return to England, and work at her career. She would always have her painting, even if love was destined to pass her by.

And yet, looking around the barely furnished bedroom, she knew she had one more step to take, to fight for his love. A step which, even yet, might bring them together and enhance their lives. Somehow she would take it. She would return his journal, and give him the painting of the gentian and the butterfly. She would write a brief message on it – and then it would all be up to him.

Chaos filled Nicholas's mind. He had sworn that he and Hester should never meet again, but here she was. And his need, his ever-growing love for her, refused to be denied. There were days, even weeks, ahead of them when he would be seeing her, watching her, feeling his longing for her grow with every minute. How was he to behave while inwardly his body and mind were in turmoil?

That evening was spent in discussion, planning the next day with the courier who had already hired several porters. Emily was eager to trek on and find the village from which she had previously travelled to her chosen painting site. Nicholas had agreed with her decision to start after an early breakfast next day, to take sufficient provisions to give them luncheon, and then to journey on until the village and fresh accommodation was reached.

Alberto, the courier, warned of rough tracks. ‘You ladies must go by mule, too hard on delicate feet to walk.' Emily had responded with a chuckle, ‘And almost as hard on a mule's bony back. We must be sure to put blankets under those hard saddles.'

Making such decisions, as well as Nicholas's own plans to hunt for the flower for which Jon had been searching, were a help to his disturbed mind and he realized that from now on he must concentrate solely on the reason for his being here.

So it was in a calmer voice he said good night to the ladies after supper, but it was impossible not to watch Hester as she walked towards the stairs. He thought she looked paler than usual and there was a brightness missing from her lovely eyes. He longed to take her in his arms, to kiss away that sweet frailty and tell her he would always be at her side, caring for her, loving her. Instead, he went to the staircase and said, without any emotion, ‘Good night, Miss Redding, I hope you sleep well. You need a good rest – tomorrow will be very tiring.'

Turning, she met his gaze and her voice was equally controlled. ‘Thank you, Nicholas. I'm sure I shall have a good night. Yes – tomorrow is a new day.'

He heard her pause, watched her eyes widen for a second, and then saw the return of strong self-control. He bowed. ‘Indeed. A new day.'

His hungry eyes followed as she went upstairs, then he heard the bedroom door close and had to turn away sharply to banish the images flashing through his mind. He longed to be there, close to her, caressing her, loving her.

Alone in her room, Hester opened the journal, put her painting between the pages, and took out her pen. What should she say? She sat on her bed for a time, trying out words and phrases that would surely banish the differences between them. Finally she wrote, ‘
From Hester, with my love
,' and realized that those five words said everything. Nothing else was needed. She put the journal aside, planning to wait for the right moment to give it to him. An instinct told her that she would recognize the moment when it came.

Outside the night was darkening, and Nicholas thought the massive peaks were bowing down ever nearer, encircling the village and its inhabitants. Moments of sensible thinking finally banished this nightmare, but when the dawn broke next morning, he sensed a new feeling of excitement surging through him. This was the new day when the search would begin. The day when – perhaps – he would find the legendary double gentian, and ease the guilt he still felt about Jon's death. Dressing quickly, he went outside to help Alberto organise the porters and see to the padded saddles of the mules.

 

Day followed day. Emily, accustomed to the hardships, encouraged Hester to make light of the tiring travelling and by the end of the first week Hester felt a new woman. Strength had returned and Emily had been right: she was in love with the landscape. Mountains, roaring rivers, dark and frightening ravines: all were forgotten as they rode through valleys green with trees and flowers enclosed by a myriad of butterflies.

She had never thought she would see such beauty, know such passion pushing up inside her, finding plants to paint. She was learning all the time, setting up her easel in suitable places and painting what she saw, often leaving Emily back in her chosen venue while she and Nicholas and the remaining porter journeyed on, resting in these lush meadows. At such times she and Nicholas conversed unemotionally. ‘I expect you want to move on, Nicholas – I know you're eager to search for that flower,' she said on one
occasion, opening her paintbox.

He looked surprised. ‘The double gentian? You know about it?'

Hester tensed. ‘You mentioned it once. And then... .' She took courage and continued. ‘I read your journal. I know you're looking for it. And I know why—' She stopped abruptly, seeing the startled widening of his eyes.