The Lovegrove Hermit (17 page)

George and Sophie settled back happily into our normal life at Fairfield. Elinor too seemed very pleased with her new surroundings and became quite cheerful and amiable.

‘I asked her about Frederick Lawrence and she said she liked him but didn’t really know him,’ Sophie told me. ‘I think she was encouraged by the fact that a young man showed a genuine interest in her. I’ve persuaded her to do something different with her hair and I’ve given her a couple of my sashes and lots of ribbons to brighten up her bonnets and gowns.’

‘We’ll make a flirt of her yet,’ I smiled.

Colonel Hartley wrote to George twice giving details of the legal proceedings following the death of Frank Rushworth. Each letter concluded with kindest regards ‘to your sister and daughter’.

Then there came a letter for me, written in his rapid, sloping hand. It consisted of little more than a couple of sentences:

‘I think of you constantly; I hope you sometimes think of me. Let me know if you wish to see me again. Be assured I always have your best interests at heart. John Hartley.’

That was all. After our hazardous adventures, our closeness, that kiss … I wrote back, maintaining a rather reserved tone, saying that I certainly could not forget him and would be pleased to see him any time he was in the vicinity of Fairfield.

Several more weeks passed by. We heard from Lady Denby, who, having got over her resolution to leave Lovegrove, had begun to feel more secure. She was finishing her novel and was on good terms with Rowland, who had eventually settled in a cottage in Ashdale with his wife and child. I fancied that Carrie would not like a dull provincial life and would be pining for London but at least the baby, Arabella, had been introduced to her grandmama and Rowland was probably hoping his wife would soon be welcomed at Lovegrove.

There had been an inquest on Frank Rushworth and his crimes exposed. As expected a verdict of suicide was returned and the previous findings on his victims revised. This meant that the body of James Rushworth could at last be given Christian burial.

The funeral took place at Lovegrove parish church and was attended by the dead man’s cousin who was next heir to the Devonshire estate. Colonel Hartley was also one of the chief mourners and although the congregation was small, the ceremony proceeded with appropriate dignity. Unfortunately the aged vicar, poor Mr Phillips, collapsed with a stroke after the service and was quite incapacitated. He was
retiring
from his duties and it was likely that young Frederick Lawrence would take over the living. I was pleased to hear this for Elinor’s sake. Whatever came of their burgeoning friendship at least she would have a kindred spirit close at hand to share her interests.

The last part of Lady Denby’s letter was most
interesting
for me: ‘Colonel Hartley talks of visiting your part of the country soon. I am going to ask him to call on you and escort Elinor home. Her father misses her.’

The following week took us into September and already a misty melancholy had settled over the early mornings – a hint of the coming autumn. One golden afternoon I was sitting on the terrace with the two girls. I was sketching, Sophie sewing and Elinor reading.

Sophie looked up suddenly. ‘Here’s Papa!’ she said.

George came towards us smiling and held out his hands to me. ‘Someone is here to see you,’ he said. ‘He says he’d prefer to meet you outside. Go round to the front of the house.’ He leaned closer and kissed me on the cheek.

‘I think I know what all this is about,’ he whispered. ‘I wish you every happiness.’

There was no need to ask who the visitor might be. I ran around the house and then slowed to a decorous walk, not wishing to appear too eager. He stood between the columns of the porch, a tall, broad-shouldered figure in a dark-blue coat with an empty sleeve.

‘Colonel Hartley,’ I said, extending my hand. ‘I am so glad to see you.’

‘I can’t call you Miss Tyler – not now – and I thought I once asked you to call me John.’

‘So you did, but in very unusual circumstances. It seems a long time ago now and not quite real.’

‘Shall we walk? Out of sight of the house. Take my arm – it will always have to be the right one.’

‘I wondered why you never came to say goodbye when we left Lovegrove.’

‘It was not because I didn’t want to but I thought it best to put an interval between us. We had known each other only a short time but we had grown very close. Shared danger draws people together but there’s not necessarily any real depth to it – nothing permanent. I wanted you to be
absolutely
sure of your feelings. Back in your old home you could have looked on me very differently.’

‘Oh, no!’

‘I didn’t want you to imagine you loved me because we once clung together for comfort and kissed from sheer joy and relief at having survived. I wanted to give you a chance to break free without feeling any obligation.’

‘I’ve missed you more than I can say,’ I said. We were
surrounded
by trees, rustling in the breeze, screening us from the rest of the world.

He drew me close and we exchanged a long and
increasingly
passionate kiss.

‘I’ve been wanting to do that since the day we met,’ he said at last, ‘but at that stage I had to show restraint. Besides …’ He hesitated a little. ‘I’m such a disfigured, carved-up wreck I feared I might repulse you.’

In reply I stood on tiptoe and kissed the furrow in his cheek.

‘Ah,’ he smiled, ‘that’s encouraging! I have several other scars which you can’t see at present but I hope it won’t be too long before you make their acquaintance.’

‘Very soon, I hope.’

‘I think we’d better marry as early as legally possible before you change your mind and run off with some
handsome
young rake.’

‘How could I?’

‘At least he’d have two arms to embrace you.’

‘One is quite enough. I’m sure Lady Hamilton had no complaints.’

We kissed again and were married by licence before the month was out.

The Secret House

The Abbey Governess

Templewood

The Dark City

Surgeons’ Square

The Crooked Street

Devil’s Folly