The Ghost of Christmas Past (13 page)

They
began with a prayer for all those who had suffered at the hands of Cedric and
Dora Hargreaves/Hardacre, especially the tragic victims either murdered or
executed for crimes they had not committed.  

“I am
an old woman,” said Lady Bedlington, as the soup was served, “and I daresay I
don't always take notice of what goes on around me, but could someone please
explain to me how Mr. Sanderson here and Doctor Doubleday...”

“Bradbourne,”
Liam corrected her.

“Bradbourne
… could both be married to the same woman. It is bigamy, and quite outrageous.”

“It
means,” said Liam with a smile, “that my marriage to Dora … or Clara as I knew
her … was not legal. I aim to see a lawyer to ensure that is the case, of
course, but an annulment will be imminent so that I am finally free to marry
again.” He looked at Elizabeth as he spoke. For her part, with all eyes upon
her, she found her minestrone soup suddenly very interesting.

“I
too will be seeking an annulment,” said Albert Sanderson. “Our marriage was
never consummated.”

“Really!”
Lady Bedlington dropped her spoon. “I don't think this is a proper discussion
to be having at the luncheon table.”

“Lucinda
… Dora's reason,” said Albert Sanderson, carrying on regardless, “was that her
mother had despised children, and she was not going to make the same mistake.”

“I
think,” said Elizabeth, “that much might have been true. It was perhaps not so
bad when the children were little. Their mother could use them as leverage. The
poor, unfortunate widow left with two young children. As they grew older, then
their age would have given her age away, reminding her, and others, that she
was no longer a young woman capable of attracting a well-to-do husband. I would
feel sorry for them – Mr. and Miss Hardacre – born into such a life if not for
the pain they have inflicted on others since.”

“So
they were marrying people, embezzling money from their spouses’ colleagues,
then having the spouse arrested for murder?” said Mrs. Chatterbucks.

“Yes,
that is correct,” said Elizabeth. “In that way they gained twice. Once from the
embezzlement, then from the death of the spouse. It makes my blood run cold to
think...” She looked across at Liam. He had come so close to be taken away from
her forever.

“What
happened to their mother?” asked Miss Graves.

“Well,”
said Elizabeth, choosing her words carefully, her lips curling slightly, “at
one point I suspected that you were the real Lucinda Hargreaves.”

Miss
Graves blushed, and flustered, but then seemed to suppress a smile. “Me, a
cold-blooded femme fatale. Why, the very thought!”

“Of
course,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks, not to be outdone, “it would take a woman who
had been married to know how to attract a man. You have never been married,
dear.”

“Are
you confessing to the crime, Mrs. Chatterbucks?” said Liam, with a smile.

“I
most certainly am not! Though I daresay that in my younger days, I might have
had the feminine wiles to pull such a crime off.”

“The
mother is dead,” said Constable Hounds, after everyone had stopped laughing.
“They said so on the way to the gaol. She died in France.”

“It
was strange,” said Albert Sanderson, “but I never met her brother. He was
always some shadowy ogre she mentioned.”

“The
same here,” said Liam.

“I
imagine,” said Elizabeth, “it was better for them not to be seen together.”

“They
were here, in Midchester,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks.

“Yes,
but I don't think they came here to con anyone into marriage,” said Elizabeth.
“At least not at first. They came here to hide until Liam … Doctor Bradbourne …
was executed. Dora only went into hiding properly when Mr. Sanderson's brother
saw her. I think Mr. Hardacre's proposal to me was a last ditch attempt to get
their hands on some money whilst they waited for that event. I’m afraid that
Aunt Arabella might then have been in desperate danger.”

Judging
by Lady Bedlington’s bright eyes, that idea thrilled her almost as much as the
sisters being femme fatales had excited them.

“It was
something of a coincidence, your sister coming here, Doctor Bradbourne,” said
Miss Graves.

“Not
exactly,” said Amelia Wheston. “You see, Liam had written a letter in which he
said his wife, Clara – as he knew her – had mentioned Midchester as somewhere
she had family, and that her mother’s name had been Lucinda. So my husband and
I came here to see if we could find the family. Of course, not having been to
India, I had never met her, and did not know her real name.”

“All
these names,” said Lady Bedlington. “Dora, Clara, Lucinda, Prudence. I cannot
keep up with it.”

“I
rather think that was the idea,” said Elizabeth. “No one would connect the
names.”

“I
suppose you are going to marry Mr. Sanderson now, Clarissa?” asked Lady
Bedlington.

“I
will as soon as his annulment comes through,” said Lady Clarissa. “If that
is...” She looked at Albert Sanderson.

“If I
want to?” he said. His face, ravaged by time and illness became suddenly young
again. “It is all I have wanted for the past fifteen years. I can think of
nothing that would make me happier.”

“So
was it Hardacre who chased my Johnny and your Samuel?” said Mrs. Fletcher,
speaking for the first time. “Or was it Mr. Sanderson?”

“It
was Hardacre,” said Albert Sanderson. “Though I should confess that Johnny did
see me near to the … my brother on the day Miss Dearheart found him. But I did
not kill him. I went, looking for him, having heard at the Inn that he had gone
there to meet someone. I cannot describe to you the treatments I have been
given over the years. Certainly not in this mixed company. I can only tell you
that they have sometimes left me with a feeling of unreality. Of not knowing
what I truly saw and what I imagined in my head. When I saw my brother, covered
in snow, I convinced myself it was one of those moments when I saw things that
were not there. I was terrified, but only as if in a nightmare. I did not know
that what I saw was real. If I had realised … he might still be alive.”

Lady
Clarissa reached out her hand for him. “Hush now, my love. You must not punish
yourself for the things others have done.”

After
luncheon, there were the usual parlour games and singing at the piano, but it
became clear that it was all too much for Albert Sanderson. He took himself off
somewhere quiet, accompanied by Lady Clarissa.

Liam
stood at the fireplace with Elizabeth. “The poor man,” he said. “Some of the
treatments for mental illness are barbaric. I only hope that with her love and
kindness he will recover.”

“Yes,
so do I,” said Elizabeth. “She has been very patient, hasn't she? Waiting all
this time for him. It must be wonderful to love and be loved like that.”

“Will
you come for a walk with me, Elizabeth? I should like to speak to you alone.”

Elizabeth
nodded, and went to fetch her cloak. There was something in his voice that she
feared was goodbye. She made up her mind to let him go. They had been brought
together in dramatic circumstances, so she would not hold him to any promises
he had made, or the kiss he had given her. He was a free man, or would be as soon
as his marriage was properly declared null and void. She was suddenly shamed again
by the idea that he had kissed her as a married man, for even if he had
suspected his wife was alive, he did not know that the woman he knew as Clara was
already married to another. What's more, Elizabeth had permitted it. What must
he think of her behaviour? And why did it matter to her more now than when she
had accepted the kiss?

Therefore,
their walk together started awkwardly, with each lost in their own thoughts and
feelings. The snow crackled under their feet, and turned Lady Bedlington’s
garden into a winter wonderland.

“I
think the snow may be passing over,” said Elizabeth, falling back on that
stalwart of English conversation, the weather. “But Spring still feels a long
way off.”

“Yes,
these dark days can make it seem so. But one morning you'll wake up and there
will be daffodils in Midchester.”

“I
imagine it's very hot in India. Even now.”

“Yes,
it's very humid. We do have dust storms, and rains of course. They're not quite
as pretty as snowfall.”

“Do
you miss being there?”

“Yes
and no. I have not had my happiest times in that city. I will have to return,
of course.”

“Oh.”

“To
clear everything up. Don't forget that I escaped from prison,” said Liam. “They
won't be happy about that even if I had been wrongly condemned.”

“But
surely they won't censure you for that, given that you were innocent all
along.”

“I
should think not. But I also need to go there to ensure the annulment.”

“Yes,
of course. Will you stay then? Once all is sorted out.” Elizabeth felt that her
very life depended on the answer to the question.

“Actually
John is looking for a partner, here in Midchester.”

“So
you'll return.” Elizabeth tried to keep the excitement out of her voice.

“I
may. It's just...”

“What?”

“I'm
told that you wish to leave this place.”

“I
did, for a while. But when I didn't see Samuel and my father at breakfast on
Christmas morning, I realised what I would be losing by going. Not that I
wouldn't like to travel one day. But I think I should always want to come home.
I daresay that sounds very dull to you, who have travelled so much.”

“No,
it sounds perfect.” He stopped walking and took her gloved hand. “Elizabeth.”

She became
shy, remembering his status as a married man, even if only technically so. “I
think perhaps we should behave circumspectly,” she said.

“Oh
bother being circumspect. I love you, Elizabeth. I've loved you from the first
moment I saw you, kneeling by that poor man in the snow. I had forgotten that a
woman could be so kind and compassionate.” Liam pulled her into his arms. “I
know that I said that after having one wife I did not want another, but I was
angry and bitter when I said that. I knew I had been duped, only with no idea
to what extent. But now I know the truth, I also know that Dora or Clara or
whatever her darned name is, is not typical of all women. She is certainly not
you. I won't force my attentions on you, not with things as they are, but can I
at least extract a promise from you that when my name is cleared, and I am a
free man in every sense of the word, you will be waiting for me when I return
to Midchester?”

“I
promise.”

#

The
months passed, with winter turning into spring. As Liam had promised, Elizabeth
looked outside one morning and saw daffodils growing in the gardens and on the
verges of the roads in the village. Midchester, after its long winter nap, was
coming alive again, with fairs and markets, and the promise of a new day. The
pond rippled with new life, and the spectre of George Sanderson encased in snow
had disappeared with the cold. The only cloud was that Elizabeth had not heard
from Liam for a week or more. She knew things had gone well in India, because he
had written and told her. Under the circumstances, Liam was cleared of all
wrongdoing, and the fact of his escape understood as the act of an innocent and
desperate man.

So it
was with a heavy heart that she set out to the village square one morning to
fetch provisions. She had been able to discard her winter coat, and wore a
pretty dress with white and blue stripes. 

With
a sigh, she entered the bakers, and bought two loaves of bread. Then she went
along to the grocery store for flour and eggs. She thought of making a cake for
Samuel's tea. He had invited Johnny Fletcher over. But none of these
preparations filled the ache in her heart.

Perhaps,
she thought, her initial feelings were right. That she and Liam had come
together under extreme circumstances. He had not promised her marriage. He had
only asked that she would wait for him. So she had waited. In her heart, she
still waited. Only her mind, annoyingly sensible to the end, told her that he
had merely seen her as a sympathetic soul at a time when his life was at its
lowest ebb. Now back in India, he would no doubt fall back into his old life as
a doctor, finding much to enthrall him.

She
strolled back to the vicarage, in no particular rush. Mrs. Chatterbucks and
Miss Graves were walking back from the direction of the vicarage. “You have a
visitor,” said Mrs. Chatterbucks, smiling secretively.

“Oh
dear, we were not supposed to say,” said Miss Graves. “But it is a fine
carriage, is it not?”

Elizabeth
presumed they meant her aunt had called. Lady Bedlington had been far more
sociable of late, having decided she was not ill after all. As such she threw
herself into the community with gusto. Whether the community wanted her
constant interference into affairs it had managed quite well without her for
many years, was another matter, but as the matriarch of the area, no one dared
tell her that.