In Sunshine Or In Shadow Page 25

  ‘This wood’s too green,’ Artemis announced.

  ‘Yes,’ Ellie said thoughtfully, ‘but I guess it’s not the only thing round here that colour.’

  Artemis smiled, then picked up the bellows to fan the weakening flames.

  Nothing further was heard from Hugo by the time Artemis was set to ride her first point-to-point in March. She had not only hunted and qualified Boot with the West Carberry, but she had also travelled twice a week to Tipperary to receive coaching from Ireland’s finest woman race-rider, Mrs Dunne, the Master of the Tipperary, and a relation of Cousin Rose’s. There were no restrictions in Ireland as there were in England about women racing against men, so with more races to choose from, it was a little easier for Artemis and her helpers, Mrs Dunne, Dan Sleator and Cousin Rose, to select one of the less competitive races in the calendar for Artemis’s debut.

  Boot ran a blinder, jumping fast but accurately. He pulled his way to the lead after the fourth fence, and Artemis, riding side-saddle, found they were still there with only two to jump. But then he began to tire, as did his pilot, and from being two lengths up in the lead going to the second last, he faded to finish fourth, ten lengths down on the winning horse, in a field of thirteen other maidens.

  Dan Sleator and Cousin Rose were beside themselves when Artemis rode Boot in to the unsaddling enclosure. After patting Boot’s rump, and hugging him round the neck, Dan Sleator lifted Artemis from her horse, set her gently on the ground, and handed over her walking stick.

  ‘You’re the stuff of good stories sure ye are, ma’am,’ he said, as Artemis, tucking the stick under one arm, bent to ungirth her horse. ‘We’ll have ye winning be May.’

  ‘I wasn’t anywhere near fit enough, Dan,’ Artemis replied, pulling the saddle down off her horse. ‘You should never have let me ride.’ With that Artemis disappeared to weigh in and change.

  ‘You mustn’t mind her,’ Ellie began. ‘She says these things, but –’

  ‘Now beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but ye’ve no need,’ Dan Sleator nodded. ‘Sure don’t I know the difference between her ladyship’s complaints and her compliments?’

  ‘But she never complains. Not really.’

  ‘And don’t I know that equally well?’ Dan Sleator replied, before leading the horse off to be washed down.

  When the party finally returned to Strand House, there was a fresh telegram awaiting. This time it was addressed to Ellie, and it simply read:

  ‘Will you marry me in Leckford Parish Church.

  Saturday, 23 May? Hugo.’

  11

  ‘Artemis can’t make it,’ Ellie announced, telegram in hand. ‘She’s had a fall, and the doctor says she has to lie flat for a week.’

  Hugo took the wire from her and stared at the message. ‘Typical Artemis,’ he said. ‘Four days off the wedding, and she doesn’t even say she’s sorry.’

  ‘Artemis only ever apologizes for things she considers her fault,’ Ellie said, determined not to show her disappointment. ‘And obviously the fall wasn’t her fault.’

  Hugo took off his spectacles to rub them clean on the end of his tie. ‘Don’t you sometimes wonder, if anything ever is Artemis’s fault?’

  ‘No I don’t.’

  ‘Well I’m afraid I do. Although, perhaps she has to be excused this one. Even so, I warned her. I said she’d kill herself if she raced.’

  ‘She hasn’t killed herself.’

  ‘From the look on your face, I should have said that’s just what she has done.’

  ‘That’s because I did so want her to be there. She’s my only family, as it were.’

  ‘And Cousin Rose definitely can’t come either?’

  ‘You know poor Aggie was taken to hospital?’ said Ellie absently.

  Hugo put his arms round her and kissed her, but Ellie just sighed. It wouldn’t be the same without Artemis, they knew that, although Hugo kept shrugging off his disappointment as if he hadn’t expected anything different. Fortunately, his sister Jane agreed to take Artemis’s place as Maid of Honour. But even as the dress was being altered for Jane, Ellie kept hoping for an eleventh-hour miracle.

  ‘But she’s not here, Ellie darling!’ Cousin Rose boomed back across the Irish Sea, when Ellie telephoned her. ‘Did you not know? Did she not tell you that? She had the fall racing up in Limerick, and she’s back at her own place, at Caragh Lodge!’

  ‘Is she really too bad to travel?’

  ‘Darling girl!’ Cousin Rose replied. ‘The horse right behind her kicked her in the back! Would the child be missing yer wedding otherwise?’

  ‘And you’re sure you can’t be there either?’

  ‘I’m doing all I can, darling. But sure poor Aggie’s ’flu has gone to her chest.’

  Ellie then called Artemis direct at Caragh Lodge, but all she could get was the engaged tone. Finally a distant voice somewhere along the line in Kerry informed Ellie that there had to be something wrong with the line, because everyone kept complaining of the very same thing.

  She hardly slept the night before her wedding. She had gone to bed early and lain awake in the dark, thinking of what might be and of what might have been. Ellie had heard nothing from her family since she had written to tell them the news, nothing from her father to wish her well, and nothing from her three elder brothers, not a word even of simulated affection. Eventually Patsy had written, delighted for her and thrilled, but unable to come over despite Hugo’s offer to pay his fare. He was off to Los Angeles the very day he was writing his reply, off to Hollywood where a pal with whom he used to spar down at the gymnasium was working as a stunt man and had promised to get him a job. So much as he would love to get over for his sister’s wedding, the chance he was being offered in Hollywood was, it seemed, the chance of a lifetime. He was sure Ellie would understand. Of course she understood, but it didn’t stop her feeling, lying there in the dark, her dress all laid out, as if she was quite alone. Not even Madame Gautier had written.

  As she lay in her darkened bedroom, Ellie found she was once again looking out into the unknown. Her life was about to change once more, and in a way she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Because of this, a panic began to overcome her, causing her to shiver, and pull the bedclothes more tightly around her. She loved Hugo. But she had never really been alone with him, not for any length of time, not as she was about to be, for the rest of her life, and the prospect daunted her.

  There had always been the three of them, Artemis, Hugo and Ellie. Even when Ellie and Hugo had been left alone together, Artemis had always been there with them, in their talk, and in their thoughts, a sort of perfect trinity.

  Ellie’s own thoughts drifted into half-thoughts and soon she had fallen asleep, dreaming of a ship, a vast and silent liner on which she was sailing with Hugo, on a flat, black sea. Behind them was a tiny fragile boat, a rowing boat, fixed to the ship’s stern by a long ribbon. Then the ribbon broke, and Hugo and she watched with growing helplessness as the little boat drifted and slowly spun away from them, on this strangely calm but lustreless ocean, until it was no more. And as it disappeared Hugo took hold of Ellie and said something to her, repeatedly, gripping her hard by her shoulders, his face getting closer and closer to her’s, saying words which Ellie could not hear.

  She awoke, panic-stricken, and sat up to turn on her light. She was soaked in perspiration, just as she had been when she was a child and fell asleep after one of her father’s thrashings.

  That same night Artemis awoke from a dream. She’d been riding on a horse that wasn’t Boot, over fields that weren’t Irish fields, but the fields were known to her. And then she remembered the fields and where they were. They were the fields of Brougham.

  Brutus, who slept quite illegally but unpunished on Artemis’s bed, stirred in his own sleep, stretched, yawned, and then resettled. Artemis reached out for the jug beside her bed and poured herself a glass of water, sitting further up in bed and pulling the blankets up around her. Afraid to sleep again, in dread of dre
aming again of those beloved acres, she decided instead to sit and watch the dawn break over the lake below her window, and listen to the song of the early birds greeting the light.

  She must eventually have dozed, because the next thing she knew the sun was up and trying to pierce the mists that hung over the Caragh waters. Brutus growled good naturedly as Artemis shifted to look at her little gold clock, and saw it was half past six.

  Later, at about the same time as Ellie was getting dressed in a gown of antique French silk, Arternis was restrapping a heavy bandage round her ribs and the small of her back. She winced at the pain as she twisted and turned in order to fasten the support, and then sat slowly down on the bed to pull on a pair of wool socks. Ellie stood to check her silk stockings, running her hands up each leg in turn and adjusting her garters, before slipping her feet into a pair of white shoes. Artemis pulled on a dark blue polo-neck sweater and her breeches, gritting her teeth as she tugged on her half-boots with great difficulty. Ellie had help in Hugo’s sister Jane, who adjusted the floor length fall of Bruges lace which made up Ellie’s headdress, and straightened the fabulous gown out at the waist. But Artemis had no-one as she struggled with her right boot, leaning against the bedroom wall to catch her breath before once more tucking her bad leg up behind her in order to try again.

  A Rolls-Royce took Ellie to the church, accompanied by one of Hugo’s uncles, since there was no-one from her family to give her away. Artemis left in her small blue Austin, with Brutus in the passenger seat, and with her side-saddle, habit and bowler slung unceremoniously in the back. Both of them reached their destinations in good time and as Ellie walked slowly up the aisle on the arm of Hugo’s uncle, Artemis walked into the paddock at Kinsale on the arm of Dan Sleator, the better to disguise her limp. Five minutes later, as Ellie stood before the altar beside Hugo, handsome, tall and fair, but slightly tousled as always, as if he had dashed straight off the tennis court, or got up from his easel, with barely enough time to scramble into his morning dress and hurry on to the church, Artemis cantered Boot down to the start where she answered the roll call in the company of eight other lady riders just as Ellie and Hugo were plighting their troth.

  And then, as Ellie came down the aisle of the beautiful parish church of All Saints in Leckford, on the arm of her smiling husband and under the appreciative stare of the mass of fashionable guests, Artemis, roared on by the crowd, was half a length down going into the last fence and a length up coming away from it.

  So that as the happy couple left the church and walked out as man and wife into the dazzle of the bright May sunshine, Artemis urged her brave horse on and up the hill to win her first race by two and a half lengths.

  They stopped for dinner at an inn near Malmesbury, where they drank champagne and dined on dressed crab and tournedos cooked in madeira. They lingered over their dinner, staring at each other, touching fingers, and talking almost in whispers. They forgot all about time, with the consequence that they did not reach their destination until after midnight.

  They had driven there through the warm May evening and now the night in Hugo’s Alvis, to a destination about which Hugo refused to say anything except that it was beautiful.

  It was a perfect night and neither was in the mood for sleep. For the last few miles, Ellie had rested her head on Hugo’s shoulder and entwined both her arms through his left one, as they left the main roads and made their way slowly along lanes and finally along and down what seemed just like a track which fell away into dark woods.

  ‘Where are we going, Hugo?’ Ellie asked, as the car started bumping over deep potholes, and the woodland turned to forest.

  ‘Wait and see,’ Hugo said. ‘Just wait and see.’

  At first sight all Ellie could see as the car finally stopped was the silhouette of what looked like a cottage in the woods. But then as her eyes got used to the dark, she saw it was not a cottage at all, but something which more resembled a thatched chapel.

  ‘What is it, Hugo?’ she asked, holding tight to his arm. ‘I mean, are we here?’

  ‘Yes, my darling,’ Hugo replied, ‘we are here.’

  He picked her up off her feet in both his arms and kissed her. ‘Welcome, Mrs Tanner,’ he smiled at her. ‘Welcome to your new home. Welcome to the Convent.’

  ‘You’re putting me in a convent already?’ Ellie teased, peering at the strange building and trying to make out more detail.

  ‘I’m locking you away in the woods,’ Hugo said, lifting her up in his strong arms. ‘I’m putting you where no-one else can ever find you.’

  Kissing her again, Hugo carried her up to the doorway and over the threshold. It was pitch dark inside, and Hugo was suddenly gone from Ellie’s side.

  ‘Hugo?’ she called, half-alarmed. ‘Hugo?’

  He returned, lit by the soft glow of the candle he was carrying. ‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘come through.’

  Their shadows danced on whitewashed stone walls as they walked down the short corridor and then into the main room, where Hugo lit more candles, on the table, on the sideboards, and finally on the walls. As he did so, the exquisite little place came alive, in the gleamy dancing quiver of a dozen flames.

  It was quite unlike any house Ellie had ever seen, with tall gothic windows, finely traced, and vaulted ceilings arching up into the flickering shadows, thick oak doors, and worn flagstone floors. Hugo was now lighting a fire someone had left laid in the hearth, and within moments because the wood was so dry, he had it aflame, adding warmth and colour to the enchanted room.

  ‘Where are we?’ Ellie whispered. ‘It’s like something out of a fairy-tale.’

  ‘It is now that you’re here, Ellie,’ Hugo replied. ‘This is the Convent, really it is. But don’t worry. I mean knowing your antipathy to churches, I shan’t force you to pray.’

  ‘I got married in a church, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hugo agreed. ‘But not your church.’

  ‘I don’t have “a” church,’ Ellie said quickly. ‘You know that.’

  ‘I know,’ Hugo said. ‘I know, don’t worry. Just as long as you believe in the vows we took.’

  ‘You know I do. Now, tell me about this wonderful place.’

  As he led Ellie from room to room Hugo explained that the little house had never been a convent but had been built as a folly in the previous century, by someone very rich, for his mistress to use as a place where she could go to read and write letters, although Hugo doubted if that was all it was used for. Eventually the place had fallen into disrepair during and after the First World War and Hugo’s father had found it when staying nearby and bought it, thinking that Hugo might like it as a little country retreat.

  ‘It’s not so little,’ Ellie said, climbing the staircase. ‘How many bedrooms are there up here? Three?’

  ‘Only two,’ said Hugo. ‘The middle room is a bathroom.’

  Hugo opened a door and went in ahead of Ellie, putting down one of the two candles he was holding on a chest of drawers and holding the other one so that Ellie could see the room. It was small, but perfect, rush matting on the floor, with oak furniture and the prettiest four poster bed imaginable. The ceiling sloped down to two small gothic windows, which looked out on a view of dark trees and hills.

  ‘This is heaven, Hugo. Really. It is. It’s just – heaven.’

  ‘Would you like something to drink?’ Hugo asked her after a moment. ‘I’ve some champagne downstairs.’

  ‘No thank you,’ Ellie whispered. ‘Do you want some?’

  ‘No,’ said Hugo. ‘No.’ He took Ellie’s hat from her head, and brushed a hand through her soft brown hair. ‘No, Ellie,’ he said. ‘No that’s not what I want at all.’

  Ellie smiled.

  ‘What are you smiling at like that?’ Hugo peered at Ellie studiously, over his brass-rimmed glasses. Then caught by the infection of her smile, he smiled too. ‘Come on,’ he said.

  ‘I’m just smiling,’ Ellie replied, ‘because I’m so happy.’

 
They were having breakfast outside, a tray of toast and coffee at their feet on the grass, while they sat side by side on an old wood bench.

  ‘You know something?’ Hugo whispered in her ear, after kissing her cheek, ‘I think you’ve been married before.’

  ‘You know I haven’t been married before,’ Ellie retorted. ‘You’re the one with the experience.’

  ‘The “experience”?’ Hugo grinned.

  ‘Oh Hugo,’ Ellie sighed, as she felt herself blushing.

  Hugo buttered a fresh slice of toast. ‘Ellie,’ he said eventually, leaving his toast uneaten. ‘You and I. Heavens, I’m not very good at this, you know.’ He turned and took one of her hands in both of his. ‘What happened between us last night.’

  ‘Yes,’ asked Ellie. ‘What did happen?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Hugo stumbled unsurely over what he was saying and lowered his voice, although there was no-one around for at least ten square miles. ‘That’s exactly what I mean, Ellie. What happened between us – well. It doesn’t often happen. Apparently.’ It was Hugo’s turn to redden. Ellie put the back of her other hand to his face, as if to cool his cheek. ‘It doesn’t, Ellie,’ Hugo continued. ‘It was extraordinary.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I don’t think that sort of thing happens to well – to many people,’ Hugo whispered. ‘If at all.’

  ‘I don’t think it can ever have happened before,’ Ellie said quietly.

  ‘Not that I’d know,’ Hugo said. ‘I wasn’t exactly Casanova before I met you. But I did know this woman, she was much older than me. Well – by much, I mean five, six years older.’

  ‘That’s old enough.’

  ‘It certainly seemed so at the time,’ Hugo said, shifting and putting his arm around Ellie’s waist. ‘Anyway, as the old saying has it –’

  ‘She taught you everything you know?’

  ‘You’re – what do you call it in America?’ Hugo asked.

  ‘Fresh,’ said Ellie.

  ‘That’s right!’ Hugo exclaimed. ‘That’s just what you are. Fresh.’ He made the word sound like a new word, a word invented to describe someone who was just like spring, someone with skin so soft, and hair so silken, and a look so pure that he now only had to think of her for his heart to miss.