Tyringham Park (42 page)

Dixon was vibrating with excitement by the time she had finished reading.

At last she would see her old friend again after years of thinking they were lost to each other forever. Teresa had signed her name as ‘Kelly’ so she mustn’t have found a
replacement for her old farmer. Who would have thought that both she and Teresa, with their glittering prospects, would end up in the same boat as pitiful old Lily East with her spinsterhood and
her child hunger?

At least she and Teresa would have each other from now on. That wouldn’t make up for their lost chances but it was something to be glad about.

“I’ve a big crow to pick with you,” were the first words Dixon said when she met her old friend.

“That’s a fine greeting after all these years,” Teresa laughed. “I’m surprised you can remember. You look wonderful. That photograph in the magazine didn’t do
you justice at all. And look at this office. So impressive.”

Dixon couldn’t hide her pleasure at hearing such praise from someone from her former life. Secretly she thought Teresa’s face looked like untreated leather and her hands like a
workman’s but she complimented her all the same. “Before I pick the crow,” she said, “I want to know why you left that poor old farmer high and dry with no one to look after
his dear old sick mother.”

“Don’t mock. I felt guilty about that. I’ve had to work my fingers to the bone over the years to pay him back the money he sent for my fare. I thought it the least I could do
under the circumstances. He must have felt a terrible fool after he told everyone to expect a respectable, pious Catholic lady, and I write from Sydney – didn’t have the neck to travel
any further – to tell him I had changed my mind but didn’t tell him why. I didn’t think his heart would bear the strain of hearing the truth and he, poor man, ends up with all
that wasted time and money and no one to call a wife at the end of it.”

“You can tell me. My heart’s in good shape.”

A waitress came into Dixon’s office and placed a tea tray on the low table between the two women. Dixon said she would pour and told the young girl to leave.

“First things first,” said Teresa, falling back into her old role as the one who naturally took the initiative. “That can wait in case you throw me out when you hear what I
did. I want to keep your good opinion for as long as possible. Tell me, what did I do wrong that you have to pick a crow with me? I can’t imagine what it could be.”

“You came up to the Park that day you were leaving,” Dixon explained, “and didn’t bother to seek me out, that’s what you did wrong. Do you remember? Don’t you
think I have a right to be peeved?”

“Of course I remember, but you won’t be cross when you hear the circumstances. I didn’t really have time to go to the Park that afternoon – I was peppering all the way
there and back, terrified I’d miss my lift and be too late for the boat – but I thought I would have bad luck if I didn’t collect that beautiful leather diary you all clubbed
together to buy me, and I couldn’t risk bringing bad luck on myself with the long journey ahead and a new life awaiting me.” Her face showed anxiety recalling it. “All the way up
the stairs I was worried someone had seen it and moved it, thinking I thought so little of it that I didn’t bother bringing it with me, but there it was on my bedside table where I left it,
so I wasn’t delayed, thank God.”

“Did you see
anyone
?”

“Only Peachy. The little timid chambermaid, if you remember.”

“I do. She told us. That’s how we knew you’d come back that day.”

“I called out to her but neither of us stopped. It was after the time when everyone goes to the walled garden, so I didn’t expect to see a soul. Does that answer your question to
your satisfaction?”

“It does. It does.” Concentrating on keeping her voice steady, she asked “Did you happen to see Victoria?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“As I passed the stables.”

“Was she asleep?”

Teresa’s voice broke with emotion and she averted her eyes. “No. She was wide awake, the little sweetheart.”

Dixon leaned forward, concentrating, waiting for Teresa to compose herself. Perhaps Teresa was about to supply the missing piece in the jigsaw of Victoria’s disappearance. She must have
been the last person to have seen Victoria so whatever she said could be invaluable in solving the twenty-five-year-old puzzle. And as she didn’t know what had happened after she left, Dixon
would be the only one with the information to fit all the pieces together.

“It was because of Victoria I knew I had to have a child of my own, and that is why I agreed to marry the old farmer. I wanted a child just like her.”

“But you didn’t marry him. Did you miss out?”

Teresa shifted in her chair and looked embarrassed.

“Don’t tell me there was another child involved,” said Dixon. “Is that why you knew the old farmer wouldn’t accept you?”

Teresa flushed. “Yes, there was,” she said. “I was trying to work up the courage to tell you. How did you guess?”

Teresa had become pregnant on the way over on the ship, attempting to comfort a wounded soldier who had died happy a week later. “So much for being an example of virtuous Catholic
womanhood,” Teresa laughed. “My main feeling was annoyance at missing out on so much when I was young. What a waste! Obviously I couldn’t turn up to greet my straight-laced
prospective bridegroom in that condition, so after I wrote to tell him I had changed my mind, I went and stayed with my friend from Cork until my son was born.”

“Your son? You have a son?”

“Yes. Joseph. The best thing that ever happened to me. You’ll have to come and meet him when he returns from the war. I bought myself a wedding ring and passed myself off as a war
widow, which I suppose I was in a way, so that I wouldn’t be forced to give him up for adoption. The ship I came out on was sunk on the way back, so with all the records lost I had a good
excuse for not being able to produce a marriage certificate. I told everyone I was married on board and they all thought it terribly romantic.”

“And no daughter?”

“No, unfortunately. Joseph was my only fling and I was lucky to squeeze him in at the last minute. So, I never had a girl replace little Victoria Blackshaw in my affections. I often try to
picture what she looks like now.”

“Me, too. You said Victoria was wide awake in the baby carriage when you last saw her. So you saw her through the open doors of the stables as you cycled past?”

“No, no – it was on my way back I saw her – wide awake – being carried by Charlotte. She didn’t see me which was just as well. She and Charlotte were just turning
the corner of the stables onto the river bank as I went past and neither of them noticed me. I didn’t actually see you, but I knew they must have been following you, which at the time struck
me as a bit odd as I knew you never took the girls anywhere near the river.”

Dixon felt as if a giant had suddenly materialised in the room and was landing punches in the region of her stomach.

Teresa was smiling at her memories and didn’t notice the change in Dixon’s expression.

“It was so sweet seeing the older sister looking after the younger. It was all I could do to keep cycling and not stop to say goodbye to them, and you of course, but I was so late I
couldn’t. Besides, I didn’t want to upset them by putting them through another sad farewell. The day before was bad enough. Near broke my heart, and theirs too by the looks of
them.”

Dixon gripped the sides of her chair. “Charlotte carrying Victoria, you said?”

Charlotte at the stables? Not building a bridge behind the east wing?

“Yes. In quite an expert way.” Teresa smiled dreamily as if she was replaying the scene in her mind. “I wished I had a camera with me to take my last image of them.”

“Along the side of the stable and then turning the corner beside the river? Are you sure it was on that day?”

“Of course. How could I ever forget the last sighting of my darlings? It’s seared into my heart, but I still would have liked a photograph. Why do you ask?”

“I remember distinctly how sad I was that day, imagining you getting ready to leave home.” Dixon felt as if she must keep talking to cover the confusion that must be showing on her
face. “I think I got my times mixed up. I was out of sorts all day, and so were the girls. We hoped you would change your mind at the last minute and not go. I was thinking of poisoning your
sister-in-law or something drastic like that to persuade you to stay. Those two days of heavy rain didn’t help my mood. The girls kept listening for your footsteps on the stairs so I took
them down to the river to see the floodwaters to distract them but it . . .” She could gabble on no longer as her mouth had turned dry and her throat felt constricted. She stood and picked up
the tray, then left the room barely managing to croak “Excuse me a minute.”

Teresa’s concerned enquiry after her health was lost in the clatter of china and cutlery as Dixon dropped the tray on the reception desk.

“Are you all right, Miss Dixon?” asked the young receptionist, looking up in alarm and rising from her chair.

Dixon motioned to her to sit down, then smiled and nodded to indicate that there was nothing wrong. She walked away sedately until she was out of sight of the girl, then put her handkerchief to
her mouth and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

Charlotte! So it was Charlotte all along. No one had suspected. Dixon herself didn’t guess, not for one second, and she knew better than anyone else what a wicked child
Charlotte was. How could she have been so blind? When she came upon her that day, sitting in the mud, building one of her bridges out of stones and bricks, it didn’t cross her mind that she
had been anywhere else during the last hour. Certainly not down by the river disposing of her sister. Mad with resentment, of course, at her mother showing an interest in Victoria and rejecting her
older daughter. It was so obvious she could kick herself for not working it out at the time. If she had thought for one minute that Charlotte would defy her by going to the river and if Lady
Blackshaw hadn’t fixated on Teresa right from the start she might have come up with the solution, but she had led herself down the wrong track and would still be there if Teresa hadn’t
dropped her bombshell a few minutes earlier.

She sat on her bed, trying to bring her mind under control. Her head felt as it was rotating. All her previous conceptions were shifting at an alarming rate. She wanted to lie down and try to
sort them out. Should she send a message to Teresa to say she was unwell and could they continue their conversation another time? No. No. She must pull herself together and see it through. With her
talent for acting a role, she should be able to cope.

A sip of brandy would help. She kept a bottle in her bedside locker for emergencies. The oblivion of drinking had never tempted her – she preferred to stay alert at all times, listening to
the secrets of drunks, but never giving away any secrets of her own.

Teresa had no idea of the significance of what she’d seen because she had left Ballybrian before hearing of Victoria’s disappearance.

If Charlotte, all these years later, thought Dixon, has persuaded anyone to marry her, hiding her true nature behind her social standing, and if she has a child, wouldn’t her husband need
to be told for the sake of the safety of that child what Charlotte had done?

Not that Charlotte would ever admit to any wrongdoing, of course. The broken vase, the spilt milk, the soiled clothes, the lost hairbrush never had anything to do with her. She could hear her
claiming that Victoria’s drowning was not her fault, it was an accident, Victoria had slipped and she had nearly fallen into the river herself trying to save her.

Then why didn’t she run for help? Her mother and Manus were around the corner. If she had alerted them straight away Victoria could have been saved and Charlotte would have been hailed as
a heroine.

It was no accident. That’s why she didn’t run for help.

It was guilt that kept her quiet.

How cunning of her to sit in the mud, building a bridge, to provide an explanation for her wet and muddy clothes, and how cunning to pretend she had lost her voice so that she couldn’t
trip herself up when she was questioned by that nice constable.

The brandy was working, moistening her throat and taking the edge off reality. Twenty minutes had passed since she’d run out of her office. Teresa would be wondering what had happened to
her. Dixon stood up, breathed in deeply and, feeling in control of herself again, went downstairs to join her old friend.

“Are you all right?” asked Teresa with concern when Dixon came back into the office. “I was wondering if I should send someone to look for you.”

“Sorry about that. I’ve had a tummy upset and cramps for a couple of days but I’m fine now.”

A waitress brought in a fresh tray and flashed a worried look at Dixon before leaving. Dixon poured a cup for Teresa.

“Please help yourself,” she said, motioning towards the lamingtons, “and continue what you were saying before I so rudely ran off.”

“You’re still pale. And look at you – you’re shaking.”

“I’m fine, really. Carry on.”

“If you’re sure you’re all right. Where was I? Oh yes. Regretting I couldn’t stop to talk to the girls. I had to keep going. I looked back when I turned to cross the
bridge but couldn’t see you or them for the trees. I was hoping Manus was with you. Was he? Tell me, did he ever declare himself?”

“He did,” Dixon lied.

“I knew it. It was obvious he had taken a fancy to you but was too caught up with politics and the horses to do anything about it. So why did you turn him down?”

“Religion,” Dixon continued to lie. “He wouldn’t marry me unless I turned, and I refused.”

“Oh. Oh. So you never married?”

“No, I never felt the need.” She hurried on in case Teresa questioned her in more detail. “I was lucky enough to meet Mrs Sinclair . . .”

She could tell the story of the last twenty-five years without deviating from the truth.

Dixon was beginning to feel queasy again and she wanted to be on her own to try to assimilate the enormity of what Teresa had revealed, but Teresa continued. “Wouldn’t you love to
know if Manus ever married and wouldn’t you love to know how Charlotte and Victoria turned out? Just think, they’re all probably married by now. I wonder who to. If only we could be
flies on the wall just for a day.”