Immortal (20 page)

After I had run away from Wyldcliffe, I thought that I would never love again. But I know now that there are different kinds of love. Francis taught me that loving someone does not have to be painful. He was tender and true and good. His paintings, as well as his gentle heart, were full of the joy of life. And now I don’t suppose that anyone will ever appreciate his work. I had to exchange the last few canvases he left for food.

I am thankful that Francis lived just long enough to see our daughter. She is my heart’s delight, and although I was so ill after her birth, she kept me alive. Everything about her is beautiful: her tiny hands, her bright eyes, the delicious smell of her smooth skin. I hold her close and rock her to sleep every night, singing as Martha once did to me:

The night is dark, but day is near,

Hush, little baby, do not fear….

Now I am afraid, though. I cannot support us both with my needlework, and although the people around me have proved to be such good friends—Polly and her mother and the other neighbors—I cannot stay here. I have made up my mind to go back to Wyldcliffe. I will try to see my parents. It is not their money or their grand house that I want for my little one, only their love. I want her to know her family and the wild valley where she truly
belongs. I don’t deserve forgiveness for the hurt I have caused them, but my daughter does.

I will not go straight to the Abbey, however, in case I am not welcome. Instead I will stay with Martha, who has managed to write to me from time to time. She is living with her nephew on the farm now and says she is longing to see my “bairn.” And I am longing to be home.

Thirty-eight

I

was longing with every atom to see Sebastian. I couldn’t wait another second. Everything in the dorm seemed quiet, so I decided to risk it. I crept across the room as quietly as a cat and headed to the door.

“Evie!”

It was Helen, her eyes glinting in the dark.

“What is it?” I whispered back, trying to sound unconcerned.

“Don’t go out tonight. You mustn’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s a new moon,” she said. “They’ll be out there.”

“Who? Who will be there?”

“I…I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, you’re driving me insane,” I hissed. “But I’m not going to let this place get to me; do you understand?”

“There are things about this place you don’t know,” she replied. “You need to be careful.”

India stirred in her sleep. We were in danger of waking her. I leaned closer to Helen.

“Look, Helen, I’m grateful for the advice and all that, but I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”

I turned my back on her and slipped out, making my way as quickly as I could down the narrow back stairs. At last I flung open the old green door and stepped out into the cold night air.

Sebastian was waiting for me, pacing up and down in the yard. He pulled me into the shadows and kissed me, then hugged me tight. “Thank God you’re safe. I’ve been so worried.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“Every time I have to let you go, I don’t know when we’ll see each other again. I’m in agony every second that I’m away from you.” He kissed my lips, my eyes, my forehead, like butterfly wings brushing my face. “Dearest Evie, darling Evie,” he murmured. “We can’t stay here.”

He led me across the stable yard into the walled kitchen garden. The beanpoles stood like sentinels in the moonlight.

“Why are we going in here?” I asked.

“I think someone is watching the lake.”

“Who?”

He shrugged. “One of the staff patrolling the grounds, keeping out undesirables like me. Let’s talk here instead.” We found a stone bench in a shadowy corner. Sebastian breathed more easily, and smiled. “Have you missed me today?”

“Every hour, every minute, every second.” I smiled back. He wrapped his arms around me and I snuggled against him, warm and safe. Everything was going to be all right. I trusted him completely, and there was nothing I couldn’t tell him.

“Sebastian, I wanted to ask what you know about Lady Agnes.”

“Agnes? What about her?” His body was suddenly tense and rigid next to mine.

“You were telling me all that stuff about Lord Charles when you showed me the old grotto, so I thought you might know about Agnes,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot, and those weird things I’ve been seeing—I think they are linked with Agnes. She’s sort of…close to me. Kind of connected. It’s hard to explain, but I wonder if you’d ever heard anything about her having a baby before she died? I know it sounds completely crazy.”

Sebastian let go of me and stood up. “It’s true,” he said slowly. “She ran away from Wyldcliffe and married some ragtag painter, a struggling artist. They had a baby. A daughter.”

So the first part of my theory was wrong. Agnes had been married after all. So what about Effie? Was she really Agnes’s daughter?

“Do you know what happened to the baby?” I asked eagerly.

Sebastian turned to me with tired eyes. “Why are you asking all this?”

“I thought I had figured out something about Agnes that led to a connection with my family, but I must have gotten it all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

It all came tumbling out in a rush: the letter from the nursing home; the baby girl, Effie, who arrived at Uppercliffe Farm in the year that Agnes died; and my notion that she might have been Agnes’s illegitimate child. I told him about the paper with the cryptic message about the “heirloom” of Evelyn Smith’s descendants, and about Frankie’s last gift to me.

“A necklace?” Sebastian’s voice grew urgent. “Is it the one you were wearing the other day? I didn’t really see it. Let me look.”

“Okay,” I replied. “Wait a minute.”

Something rustled in the dark shrubs as I fumbled to untie the ribbon. I glanced around, feeling strangely reluctant to take the necklace off, even for Sebastian. But I held it out to him, its silvery shape glowing in the moonlight, and he reached out to take it.

There was a crack of blue light, and Sebastian staggered backward, clutching his arm. The necklace fell to the ground.

“Sebastian! What happened?”

His eyes were closed, and he didn’t speak; then he slowly looked up and gave me a haunted, twisted grin. “Just a shock—static electricity. You have this effect on me.” He collapsed onto the bench with his hands covering his face. I flew to his side and put my arms around him.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

He groaned. “What’s going to happen to us, Evie?”

“Nothing’s going to happen. I’ll persuade Miss Scratton to let us meet properly—you know, on the weekends. I’ll write and explain to Dad, and he’ll sort it out with the school. There’s nothing to worry about.”

But even as I said it, I knew it was no good.

“It’s not going to work,” he said, staring at the ground. “It can’t work. I have to go away.”

My brain reeled. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t saying those words. But he was getting up, walking away from me, getting ready to leave.

“You can’t…not just like that, Sebastian,” I cried wildly.

“Evie, you promised once not to think badly of me. I need you to remember that promise when I am gone.”

“What about last night?” I stammered. “You said we would be together always.”

“And you would regret it for all eternity.”

“I wouldn’t; I wouldn’t!”

“But I would,” he said harshly. “I would, Evie.”

Tears burned in my eyes. A terrible weight settled on my heart. I must have done something wrong the night before. Yet I had only returned his kisses with honest delight. I felt lost on a treacherous sea with no one to guide me. I ran after him.

“Where are you going? Stay with me,” I pleaded.

“I can’t. There’s something I need to know. Everything depends on it. Meet me by the school gates tomorrow night. I’ll be waiting.” He paced away, then turned for one last moment, a look of pain and desperation on his face. “Remember that I love you.”

In a few moments he had gone, and the night was dark around me, as though every light had been put out. I knew that when we next met, it would be to say good-bye. And I knew that, whatever Sebastian had said, that crack of blue fire had been no static shock.

My necklace still lay gleaming on the wet ground. I bent down and picked it up, and slowly made my way out of the garden like a sleepwalker.

Thirty-nine

T

he necklace. The blue fire. The child. Sebastian.

How did it all connect? I didn’t know why or how, but I sensed that Lady Agnes was at the center of it all. It was only after I had mentioned her that Sebastian had behaved so oddly, so anxious and strained…. I dragged myself back to the dorm, and as I fell asleep it seemed to be her face, not Laura’s, that was watching over me. When I woke up I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

I had planned to tell everything to Sarah that morning, confident that I had solved all the mysteries, but now I was confused and afraid. I kept quiet, worrying about what it was that Sebastian needed to find out. What could it be? And if he loved me, why was he talking about leaving?

The seconds and minutes seemed achingly slow. I struggled to focus on what the biology teacher was explaining in mind-numbing detail, and narrowly avoided getting a detention in Latin for muddling up a whole passage of Virgil. But every tormenting hour brought me closer to the answers I needed.

The December sun had set in the dirty yellow sky like a hard, bitter fruit. It was dark outside, and the lamps were lit for supper. I kept looking at my watch. Soon I would see him. Soon I would find out….

“Evie, what’s wrong?” Sarah leaned across the supper table.

“Headache,” I lied, but she didn’t look convinced. I made an effort. “It’s Frankie’s birthday. It’s kind of hard.” That was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. It wasn’t just Frankie who was tearing at my heart.

At last we stood for prayers, and the students were dismissed. Sarah gave me a quick smile, and I stayed behind as usual to set out the coffee trays with Helen. I deliberately said nothing as we worked side by side. I had enough on my mind without dealing with Helen. As we finished putting the last silver spoon into place, she shoved a piece of paper into my hand.

“What’s this?” I asked curtly.

“It’s something you need to know.” She looked terrible, really jumpy and exhausted. “Just read it; that’s all.”

She slouched out, her head down. I unfolded the paper and spread it out on one of the tables. It was a clipping from the local newspaper.
Valuable Painting Stolen
, shouted the headline. I sat, mystified, and began to read.

A recent break-in at a local historical building, Fairfax Hall, has resulted in the loss of an old family portrait. The oil painting had hung there since Victorian times. Burglars forced their way into the Hall, which is now a popular museum, and took the portrait of Sebastian Fairfax, the wayward son of Sir Edward Fairfax.

A cold hand seemed to touch the back of my neck, and my eyes raced across the rest of the article.

It was rumored that Sebastian had taken his own life, though his body was never found. Mrs. Melinda Dawson, the museum director, commented, “It’s such a terrible shame to lose the only portrait we had of this colorful figure. And it’s a mystery why nothing else was taken. The picture had no great value, but it’s a great loss for the Hall.”

At the bottom of the article was a reproduction of the missing painting. It was an exact portrait of my Sebastian. The same eyes, the same hair, the same mocking expression.

Impossible.

I ran after Helen, but she had already disappeared.

“Have you seen Helen Black?” I asked a crowd of twelve-year-olds on their way up the marble stairs to bed, but they just shrugged and shook their heads.

“Are you looking for Helen?” said a voice behind me. It was Miss Dalrymple, and standing next to her was the sour, heavily built math teacher, Miss Raglan. They looked like black crows in their drab clothes, but Miss Dalrymple was all smiles.

“Poor Helen has detention this evening, I’m afraid. Silly girl! She should know the rules by now.”

“Some people just can’t keep away from trouble,” Miss Raglan said coldly.

“But I need to speak to her, just for a second,” I pleaded. “Where is she?”

“Oh, dear, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait,” said Miss Dalrymple. “Unless…” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Unless you’d like us to take her a message?”

“No…no…” I backed away from her. “No, thanks.”

Lying on my bed in the dorm, I waited for Helen to come back, but when the hours passed and she didn’t turn up I couldn’t delay any longer. Perhaps she’d been ill and had gone to the nurse’s room again, I thought. But I had no time to worry about Helen. I had to find Sebastian before it was too late.
Too late, too late.
The words echoed in my mind like a warning.

Sebastian was there at the gates, as we had arranged. The newspaper clipping was hidden deep in my pocket. It would wait. I wanted to hear first what he had to say.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, as though I were a guest at a surreal dinner party. His voice trembled, and his hand shook as he helped me up onto the horse. I clung to him as though I could hold on forever, but as we galloped away the horse’s hooves seem to beat out the same grim message:
too late, too late, too late
…. A swirling mist crept over the hillsides, and the moon rode high above us. Sebastian urged the horse faster and faster over the moor. Soon I recognized the shadowy outline of a building below us. We had reached Fairfax Hall.

Sebastian pulled up, and the horse picked its way down the side of the slope, toward the old house. I could see the shallow lake where we had sat and sketched that silly, ornate fountain. The water had been turned off, and now everything was still and silent.