Saddle the Wind (52 page)

Blanche nodded. ‘Of course.’ It was all like some terrible dream. She knew, though, that it was only too real. Gentry had been hers, for a very little time, and now she had lost him again. Soon, very soon, he would have gone out of her life for ever.

‘You will be happy, Blanche,’ he said softly, intently. ‘You will be.’ And while a voice in her head cried out that such a thing could never be – not without him – he went on: ‘You’ll find the right man for you. Someone who will be able to love you, and will be free to love you, as you deserve.’

‘And you?’ Blanche said.

He avoided her gaze, ‘Marianne is a good person,’ he
said. ‘And I do love her – though in a different way. And I can make her happy – as she deserves to be – and I hope she can make me happy too. Though it will be a different kind of happiness from that which I’d dreamed of – with you.’

He looked back into Blanche’s eyes. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘some things were meant to be. Right from the start it was all planned that Marianne and I should marry – without any real consultation of either one of us. And now – now it’s all going to happen, just as our fathers wished. And you and I, Blanche –’ he gave a sad shake of his head – ‘I don’t think we really ever had a chance.’

After a little while he rose to go. At the library door he took Blanche’s hand, pressed it briefly and left.

Two days later Gentry and Marianne left Hallowford for the last time. With their going Blanche felt as if a part of her soul had died.

‘You’ve been quiet, Blanche,’ George Marsh said. ‘Preoccupied. Is there anything wrong?’

At his words Blanche turned, smiling at him. ‘No,’ she said, ‘there’s nothing wrong.’

In the late morning sun they were seated on the fallen trunk of a dead lime, Jacko sitting at Blanche’s feet on the carpet of last year’s leaves. She bent and stroked his head. His tail thumped the earth a few times and she smiled and ruffled his ears.

‘He’s getting old,’ she murmured; then to Jacko: ‘You’re getting to be an old man, Jacko-boy.’ At her words the dog lifted his head and looked up at her with his soft brown eyes.

He was going quite grey, she realized, and his gait had grown much slower of late, with an increasing stiffness in his joints. It occurred to her that not for some time had he chased rabbits or any of the other wild creatures which in earlier times had offered him such irresistible challenges.

Absently stroking him, Blanche gazed off into the surrounding foliage.

It was July, 1903. Marianne and Gentry had been gone from England for over a year now, and Blanche, following their departure, had done her best to come to terms with her situation and get on with her life at the Marsh house. The passing year had had its share of events. In the autumn Mrs Marsh had died. George had
recovered his equilibrium after a time, though, and things had again become much as they had been. And the days and the weeks and the months had gone by, most of the time with little to distinguish one day or one week from the next.

One bright happening in the otherwise dull pattern of Blanche’s existence had come in the shape of a letter from Ernest with the news that he was doing well in Bradford and that as soon as he was able he would come to Bath to visit her. Perhaps then, he added, if she wished to join him, they could arrange it – but not yet; he still had certain things he wished to accomplish. Blanche had answered his letter at once. She would like to join him
immediately
, she said. He had replied as swiftly that they must be patient a little while longer.

That exchange had been over six months ago. Since that time she had heard nothing further from him, in spite of writing on several occasions. To her great disappointment and puzzlement, the last letter she had written had been returned to her, with
Gone Away
scrawled across the corner of the envelope.

Her thoughts far away she ceased her stroking of the dog and he gently tossed his head, nudging her hand into action again. ‘You,’ she said to him, ‘are an old rascal.’ Thinking of Ernest once more, she murmured to Jacko: ‘D’you suppose we’ll ever hear from him again? Or has he forgotten us?’ She patted the dog. ‘You haven’t forgotten
him
, have you? You still miss him, don’t you?’ She looked up and caught George Marsh’s eye. ‘There’s no doubt of it,’ she said. ‘Jacko still misses Ernest so much.’

At the sound of Ernest’s name Jacko’s head turned slightly, ears pricking, alert. It was always the same.

Whereas there had been no word from Ernest for some time now, she had heard again from Alfredo
Pastore. Following his return to Sicily a year-and-a-half earlier he had written a number of times, but Blanche had not answered his letters and eventually he had given up. But now here he was again, saying that he would be coming to England and the West Country later in the summer. Perhaps, he said, they could meet, to which end he would be in touch with her again about the time of his arrival.

Blanche was not affected in any particular way by his letter. It might be pleasant to see him again, she thought idly, but her feelings went no further, and it was almost a matter of indifference to her whether they ever met again. She put his letter aside and thought no more about it.

Throughout the past year the one person with whom she had corresponded regularly was Marianne, whose letters, frequently arriving from Sicily, had made no secret of the happiness she had found with Gentry. Her last letter had arrived only yesterday.

On this bright summer Sunday Blanche and George Marsh and Clara and Jacko had left the house for a walk, making their way to an area of woodland not too far from Almond Street. There, reaching a clearing, Blanche and Marsh had found makeshift seats on the trunk of the lime while Clara went off to explore the surrounding trees. And now Clara was coming into view again. Blanche watched her as she stopped, crouching to examine something on the woodland floor.

‘I think Clara should go away to school,’ Marsh said. ‘She should be with people her own age. She’s eleven now. She’s growing up so fast.’

Blanche nodded. Marsh went on:

‘I thought perhaps she might go to one of the new secondary schools, but on second thoughts I’d want to wait and see how they turn out first. I think it would
be better if she went away – to a good boarding school somewhere.’ Behind his spectacles his small eyes focused on Blanche. ‘But that wouldn’t mean that you’d have to leave,’ he said.

She gazed at him, his plain features beneath the balding crown. ‘But you’ll have no further need of me here,’ she said.

‘Oh, if you only knew,’ he said. He shook his head, the words coming tumbling out. ‘I have such a need of you. Oh, Blanche – I’m so much in love with you.’

His words took her completely by surprise. She gazed at him, silent. She had never suspected that he felt for her anything more than friendship, a kind of fatherly affection. Over the period of her employment in the house she had felt growing between him and herself a welcome, easy closeness, a comradeship which she felt she could enjoy without feeling in any way threatened. She felt a great respect for him, the seed of which had begun to grow at their very first meeting – and as time went by it had grown stronger – but she did not love him.

As she tried to frame words to say to him he went on:

‘Blanche, if you would marry me it would make me so happy. And Clara, too, you can be sure of that.’ He paused. ‘I know I’m not a handsome man, and I know that I’m a good deal older than you; I know that. But I would do my best to make you happy. If you would let me.’

‘Mr Marsh – George –’

‘I’m not a rich man, either. Which is something else you’re already well aware of.’ A little light of sudden enthusiasm shone in his eye. ‘But,’ he said, ‘if I had someone like you working with me there’s no telling where it might end.’

After a few moments Blanche reached out, laying her palms upon the backs of his hands.

‘I’m honoured,’ she said. ‘And I thank you. So very much.’

He gave a melancholy smile. ‘But the answer is no …’

‘I’m sorry. I’m not ready to marry anyone right now. I’m sorry, really I am.’

His eyes searched hers, seeing that she meant her words. ‘It’s all right,’ he said after a moment. He nodded. ‘But if you ever change your mind …’

‘Yes …’

‘I mean it, Blanche.’

‘I won’t forget.’

Two weeks later arrangements were made for Clara to go to a school in Crewkerne, beginning in September, and in the meantime Blanche set about placing advertisements in
The Lady
and various newspapers in an effort to find a new position. With Clara gone, and having rejected George Marsh’s marriage proposal, there was no longer any reason for her remaining there. The situation as regards work for governesses was changing, however. State-provided, compulsory education had been slowly developing and improving over the years, and with the Education Act of 1902 free secondary education was now also provided.

Blanche, looking for a position as private governess, found that she was offering her services in a diminishing market as more and more parents chose to send their children to the new, much-improved, locally-funded schools. Another problem she had to contend with was that posed by Jacko. He was a clever, affectionate animal, but he was proving a great hindrance in her search for employment. Perhaps the answer to her
problem, she thought, was to find work as a teacher in one of the new schools – though unfortunately this seemed to be a common aim among so many young women. Failing that, she could seek work in a factory somewhere. She had to do something. It wouldn’t be long before Clara had gone away to Crewkerne. When that happened her own position as governess would be finished.

While Blanche gave her concern to her immediate future Clara was looking forward to a holiday at the seaside. Her father had arranged for her, as a last treat before her departure for school, to go and stay with his sister and her children in their house on the edge of Weston-Super-Mare. Blanche would accompany Clara to her aunt’s home and return there three weeks later to bring her home again. Although it was not acknowledged by him, Blanche felt that part of the reason for Marsh’s decision was also to help
her
; not only would Clara’s absence free Blanche from her duties for a time, but it would also enable her to pursue any possibilities as regards future employment and allow her to be free to arrange any necessary interviews with prospective employers.

It was planned that Blanche and Clara would leave early on the morning of Saturday, July 25th. Two days before their planned departure, however, Blanche received a letter that for a time dismissed from her mind all thought of Clara’s trip and her own immediate problems concerning her future employment.

The letter, from Marianne, said that on the death of a distant relative of Gentry he had been left a property in Brighton, and that he was coming to England to see the house and decide what to do with it. While he was there, Marianne said, he intended to come to Bath to see Blanche. Marianne’s letter continued:

… And I have given him strict instructions to do his very best to persuade you to return here with him. Surely it’s time you had a holiday, so if your employer can spare you it will be our gain, added to which a vacation in the sun will do you a world of good. This, of course, is apart from the great good it will do for me, and the pleasure it will give me, to see you again, dear sister. Please – do think the matter over very carefully. Gentry should be with you within a very short time of your receiving this.

Gentry was coming to England. He was probably already here – and he was coming to see her. Blanche found that her feelings were a confusing mixture of elation and fear. Since his marriage she had tried to come to terms with the fact that he was no longer a part of her life, that he never could be – but it was easier to pay lip-service to such knowledge than to accept it. And now here he was, coming into her life again, stirring up all the old feelings of longing, of frustration and regret. Would she, she asked herself, ever be free of him?

The next day, Friday, there came a short letter from Gentry himself. Writing from Brighton, he said that he would come to Bath the following day, arriving probably late in the afternoon. He would call on her at Almond Street, he said; he looked forward to seeing her then.

Gentry’s letter caused Blanche even greater dismay; while she found herself so anxiously looking forward to seeing him at the same time she dreaded the prospect. What could come of it? All that had once existed between them was now a thing of the past. But how could she realistically avoid him even if she could bring herself to try?

And then that evening there came some kind of answer to Blanche’s dilemma. After Clara’s box had been packed and the child had gone to bed, Marsh said to Blanche:

‘I’ve been thinking – why don’t you stay at the seaside too and have a little holiday yourself? Take in a little of the sea air for a few days.’

Blanche was surprised into silence for a moment, then she shook her head. ‘– Oh, no, I don’t think so. I think – I think I should get back.’

‘Why? What have you got to hurry back for? Have you got some appointments?’

She mentioned nothing of Gentry’s letter. She shook her head. ‘Well, no – not at the moment, but –’

‘Then why not stay there and relax for a little while? I don’t mean with my sister. My God, that would be the last place I’d recommend for peace and quiet. Besides, there wouldn’t be room for you in the house. No, find yourself a quiet little hotel near the sea-front. It’s time you had a little holiday yourself. Stay on for a day or two.’

In her head the voice of commonsense told her to accept the offer, but at the same time another voice protested. She said quickly, ‘No – thank you anyway – but I think I should come straight back.’

The next morning she and Clara were up early – Clara shivering with excitement at the prospect of the unaccustomed adventure, and eager to get away – and Blanche feeling reluctant to leave the house at all.

The cab had been ordered, was expected in ten or fifteen minutes. After breakfast Blanche went back to her room to put on her coat and hat. As she stood before the glass she wondered at her feelings. What’s the matter with me? she asked herself. Here she was, afraid to leave the house in case Gentry called. Had she still not accepted the situation?