"Thank you for coming today to say goodbye to Caspar Ballantine, a man some of you never really knew. In the past few days, we have learned things about him, about his character that have shocked and appalled us, myself as well as you. In spite of all of this, I will remember him as the man who stood beside me in a mud-filled trench and shared his last cigarette, the boy who helped me reel in my first fish, the friend who was there beside me on my worst days and my best. We lay him to rest today, too early, far too early. He will not be forgotten." His voice, which had begun hoarse and quiet, has grown in strength, and I feel tears pricking in my eyes for the man before me and for the man in the casket he is describing, who I will never now know. Whatever his faults, he gave his friendship to Daniel, and for that he must have been, at least in part, a decent man.
"Goodbye, Caspar. Rest in peace." Daniel smiles sadly and tosses a handful of damp earth onto the wooden coffin. We leave flowers, and the priest places a candle in a blue glass jar next to the grave as we slowly take our leave. In our stead, the two men begin their task, grunting under the weight of the earth-laden shovels and the heat of the day.
Laria and Nikolas agree to follow us to the villa in their own car, to eat with us. One last commemoration for the dead. Our cook, unfazed by murder and the loss of a maid, has managed to create a lovely buffet of delicacies ranging from tea sandwiches to spanakopita and, being a favorite of the deceased, small rum cakes.
It is a pity that none of us have much of an appetite. Even the cake receives only cursory attentions. Laria told Nikolas of Paul’s guilt and he mentions it, sadly shaking his head. I think he laments the loss of the murderer more than that of the victim. Perhaps understandably so.
"Do you have any idea what will happen to Rosie?" Briony asks the doctor.
"Her brother is coming to get her. He sent a telegram informing the police that he booked passage and is expected to arrive in a week’s time. He has asked her nurse to stay on until then. I went to the house last night to inquire about her and the situation as it is."
I lean forward in my chair. "How is she coping?"
Nikolas twists his features into something unreadable. "To be honest, I do not notice a difference. She has asked for him, to be sure, but she seems content enough."
"Poor woman." Laria’s tone reveals her distress.
It must be an ordeal for her to sit here with her husband, having just buried her lover and manage to maintain her social graces. I give her a sympathetic smile and hope she can read its intent. She returns a tiny, grateful nod.
"What will you do now, Daniel?" Nikolas asks, taking an olive from the tray.
Daniel looks uneasy, replying, "I do not really know yet."
The chatter goes on for quite a while longer until Laria and Nikolas leave for home. At the door, when Nikolas has turned his back, Laria approaches Daniel and squeezes his hand. She is probably one of the few people who recognized the Caspar Daniel spoke of at the cemetary. It is a small bond they share and one I am oddly envious of.
After the guests leave, Briony takes me aside. She is wearing a surprising expression of excitement and anxiety, and I immediately feel a pang of concern regarding the cause of this shift in her mood.
"What is it, Briony?"
"Evie, you mustn’t think me callous for being a little happy right now, but I spoke to Jeffrey last night."
A light of understanding dawns. "About Areta?"
"Well, about her, about the orphanage, about us." She smiles shyly, and her cheeks turn pink.
"And? What did he say?"
"He was a bit, oh, you know, a bit awkward at first. Typical Englishman. Typical Jeffrey. Still, I was persistent." She looks proud, and I feel a rush of relief to finally see her this way.
"How did he react?"
"He is not convinced about the idea of adoption. However, I have made it quite clear that I will be a mother one way or another, and since it simply hasn’t happened in the three years we have been married …"
"Did you ask him to go with you and visit the orphanage?"
"I did."
"And? Come now, don’t make me beg!"
"He said he will come with me on Sunday. He wasn’t happy about it, but I wore him down. Once he meets the children, he will be as enchanted as I am, don’t you think?"
I am not at all certain, so I smile noncommittally and she is content.
"I am happy for you. Truly, I am."
"I know," Briony gives me a quick hug. "And now I must attend to finding a new maid, our cook has been a rock, but she’s struggling a bit."
"You go on." I encourage, the words encompassing more than wishing her success in replacing Niobe.
She huries off with a distinctive bounce in her step entirely unfitting for a day such as this, yet lovely nonetheless. Anytime we have reason to skip, we should count ourselves lucky. Spirit has returned to her at a time of mourning through the prospect of hope.
I wander over to the conservatory, not wanting to go to my room and face my thoughts alone. Entering, I can barely trust my eyes. A tall figure is standing on the veranda, gazing out.
Daniel has ventured into the garden again.
I open the door and step into the mild evening air. Daniel turns around. His expression is serene, peaceful.
"Hello." He gives me a flicker of a smile.
"May I join you?"
"Please." His smile widens. "Would you care to take a stroll around the garden with me?"
I take a small breath, my eyes reflexively darting to the oak tree at the far right. Gathering courage, we saunter onto the dry grass. The earth is so hard and baked, the heels of my sandals do not sink while we make our way around the garden. We stop at the edge, steps away from where it happened, where the nightmare began. Daniel takes a deep breath, his chest rising underneath his white shirt. He has rolled his sleeves up to the elbows and unbuttoned the top.
There is an ease about him I have not seen before. It seems as if he has laid more than one ghost to rest today.
The sun, bright and orange on the horizon, bathes our surroundings in a soft, becoming light. We stand there side by side, watching its slow descent as the clouds float by, purple and pink and blue. Seagulls drift across this vivid canvas, thin streaks, their cries carried by the wind. It is Jeffrey who interrupts this tranquility, beckonging us in for dinner. I call back that we are coming, and he disappears indoors. We take one last look at the sight before us and as we turn to go, Daniel takes hold of my hand, which fits like the missing piece of a puzzle into his, and leads me back to the house.
Pandora has closed her box again, just in time. When Hades walks among us, in times of darkness and despair, we are left with the infinite gift of hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, for change, for humanity. Treading this stage that is life, we are fragile, vulnerable, flawed, human, but we are not alone. The sun falls below the horizon, and our world is dipped into darkness, until it returns, dependable and true, warming us and lighting our way.
Acknowledgements
There are many people to thank for helping this book become a reality. Before all others, my mother - first reader, editor, best friend - who was on Evelyn’s journey from the very start, thank you. To my dad and sisters, too, thank you for your kind support and perpetual understanding, even when it may have seemed as though this book was just some endless project I snuck off for every evening. I am grateful for all those whose patience and support made these words a real book, and for all of those who will read it. Lady Evelyn’s adventures do not end here, and I hope you will stick around to see what is around the next turn (or rather page). Thank you!
For more information or to get in touch, you can contact me at
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