Eleanor wasn’t at breakfast the next morning, and Vane seemed scarcely able to acknowledge my presence, let alone to maintain a civilised conversation. He ate with nervous, preoccupied haste, and only when he had cleared his plate and poured himself a second cup of coffee did he raise his eyes to mine.
‘I’ve sent for Bullen,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d want another day out before you leave.’
‘Thank you, Vane, but I’d prefer to stay here. I’ve two skins to prepare, and I shall need time to pack for tomorrow’s journey.’
‘Bullen won’t be here until eleven. I imagine that will give you time enough.’
His anxiety to have me off the premises was so painfully evident that I decided not to argue the point. ‘I’ll set to work now,’ I said. ‘No doubt I can arrange my affairs around the excursion.’
‘Thank you, Redbourne.’ His features softened into a weak smile. ‘I know you appreciate the delicacy of the situation.’
‘Is Eleanor any better this morning?’
‘It’s hard to say. She’s quieter, as she generally is after one of these episodes, but she’s still far from well.’
‘Has the doctor examined her?’
‘There’s no need.’ Vane drained his coffee-cup and set it carefully back in its saucer. ‘He’d prescribe complete rest as usual. If she keeps to her room for the next few days, she’ll gradually return to a more orderly state of mind.’
‘I hope I shall be able to see her before I leave.’
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible,’ he said, rising abruptly to his feet. ‘But I should be glad to pass on any message you may have for her.’
I was quite unprepared for the wave of desolation that swept over me at that moment, and it took me a second or two to recover my equilibrium. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘You might just tell her that I look forward to seeing her fully restored to health on my return.’
It was barely a flicker, but the expression that crossed Vane’s face told me as clearly as words could have done that I shouldn’t presume on boundless hospitality on any future visit to the villa. ‘I mean,’ I added hastily, ‘when I call by to collect my trunk.’
‘Of course,’ he murmured, but even as he spoke I could see from his expression that something – perhaps some small sound from beyond the door – had distracted him. He stood alert for a moment, head lifted like that of an animal scenting danger, and then, scarcely troubling to excuse himself, strode swiftly past me and out of the room.
I was glad at first to get out to the barn but I found it difficult to concentrate and I made a poor job of the first specimen, tearing the delicate skin in several places. The second bird fared even worse, its pale breast-feathers stained with bile as a result of my carelessness and, on a sudden nauseous impulse, I disposed of the entire mess in the scrub outside the door. It was Eleanor, I realised, as I wiped my instruments and returned them to their case, who had distracted me, her presence so deeply engrained in the place – or perhaps simply in my receptive mind – that it was impossible to be there without thinking of her.
I made my way back to the house in a state of subdued agitation, and as I rounded the shrubbery and looked up I saw her at the window of her room, her face close against the glass. I was unable to interpret either the words she mouthed at me or the fluttering action of her raised right hand but I judged it best, in the first instance at least, to remain where I was. I ducked back out of sight of the house and waited.
I heard the rustle of her skirts as she approached, and knew from the sound that she was moving fast, half running towards me across the open lawn. As she drew level with the end of the shrubbery she caught sight of me and veered round with a movement so impetuous as to bring her within an ace of falling into my arms. And seeing her standing there, her face lifted to mine and her hand flat against the base of her throat as though to steady her own quick breathing, I was struck by the thought that a man differently reared or constituted – a man, in short, of less ambiguous temperament than myself – would hardly have let such an opportunity slip for want of a welcoming gesture.
She was flustered and dishevelled, her eyes hollow in her pale face and her hair standing out from her head in absurd tufts and spikes, yet her beauty remained somehow inviolate, too deeply seated, it seemed to me, to be dislodged by the accidents of life.
‘I wanted to see you before you left,’ she said. ‘To say goodbye. I couldn’t bear not to.’
I should have liked to tell her of my own desolation, earlier that morning, at the thought of leaving without sight of her, but the words wouldn’t come. ‘Your father told me you were keeping to your room,’ I said. ‘I’m glad to see you up and about.’
‘Keeping to or kept to?’ she snapped, her eyes flashing anger. ‘There’s a difference.’ And then, more mildly: ‘I’m sorry you’ve been witness to so much disturbance over the past few days, Charles. It must have been distressing for you.’
‘I suppose it has been. Listen, Nell, I need to understand this clearly. Your father—’
‘Not now.’ She drew back with a little shake of her head. ‘One day, perhaps. In any case, it’s all done with.’
‘And Merivale? What was I witnessing there the other night, at the foot of the stairs?’
‘Oh, that.’ She shrugged. ‘William has been stealing kisses from me since we were children. He knows it’s not appropriate any longer, but that doesn’t stop him trying. I was telling him it’s high time he went out and found himself a wife.’
‘And he, I imagine, was telling you – maybe not for the first time – that he’s already found what he wants, here on his doorstep.’
I saw from her expression that I had hit the mark, but there was no embarrassment in her reply. ‘He needs to look further afield,’ she said. ‘It would be better for him.’
‘And you?’
‘I’ve never entertained the idea of marrying William. Even if my heart had been in it, it wouldn’t have done. He sees his future here, in the valley. I can’t tell him why that’s impossible for me.’
I felt a faint exhilaration, a lightening of my breath as though some weight, far down, had eased or shifted, and at that moment I heard Bullen calling out to me from the terrace.
‘You may have to go down and fetch him’ – Vane’s voice, curt and clear on the still air.
Eleanor pressed herself back against the dense mass of the shrubbery and gripped my sleeve. ‘Go,’ she said, tugging feverishly at the fabric. ‘Quickly.’ I brushed her fingers gently with my own, just once, and then stepped out to meet Bullen.