On New Year’s Day Hannah went up to Roscarrock. Greg saw her coming along the drive and met her in the hall, surprising her by taking her into his arms in a friendly bear hug.
‘It’s good to see you again, Hannah,’ he said, guiding her towards the stairs in the warm house. ‘Now we can enjoy a belated Christmas – we’ve held over our celebrations until you came back. Leah’s been keeping us informed about things in the village. I’m glad Matt is making a good recovery.’ Another surprise came when he grinned perkily, looking nothing like the stony young man in the portrait. ‘Look, we might as well bring everything out into the open. I know you’re expecting a baby and I’m thrilled you’ll be giving me a little cousin.’
Hannah stared dumbfounded at him for a moment. ‘Thank you, Mr Greg. Does Mr Patrick know too?’
‘We had a family discussion on Christmas Day when Grandmother and I came home. No more of this Mr this and Mr that, you’re family now. Grandmother is in her rooms. Go up and see her straightaway, she’s been missing you terribly and has been very troubled.’
Having heard her voice, Angie appeared hesitantly in the hall and Hannah couldn’t resist giving her a little peck on one ruddy cheek. Blushing to the roots of her hair, the maid said bashfully, ‘’Tis some good to see ’ee back, miss.’
‘I won’t be coming back to work, Angie,’ she said, including Greg in the conversation so he knew exactly how things stood. ‘I’m getting married in less than two weeks. I hope you’ll both come to my wedding.’
‘Aw,’ Angie uttered in disappointment. ‘We’ll miss ’ee here, but congratulations. I’d like to see ’ee married, miss.’ Then she lost her nerve and scuttled away.
Greg went back to his study and Hannah climbed the elegant staircase. She walked along the corridor, feeling strange now that her time here had come to an end; she had been happy here but she would be even happier as Matt’s wife in Seaview Cottage. She tapped on Mrs Opie’s door and went straight in.
She was sitting at the fireside, half-heartedly reading a book. ‘Hannah!’ She put the book down and held out her hands. ‘Come over here, my dear. I wish I’d been at the window and seen you arrive.’
They were both feeling awkward. Hannah went over to her grandmother but didn’t take off her coat or sit down.
‘So, my dear,’ Mrs Opie said with a brightness she did not feel. She was worried about Hannah taking five whole days to come back to her, she hadn’t even telephoned, and she felt rather slighted. ‘How is Matt? And what have you decided to do?’
‘Matt is well enough to sit in the parlour now.’ Hannah smiled fondly to herself at the memories of all she had done for him, bringing his meals, taking up newspapers to keep him occupied, the more personal things like helping him wash and shave. There had been many times she’d slipped into bed with him when Mrs Penney was out. She had been totally absorbed in Matt and, partly because she didn’t want to, had given Roscarrock and those who lived here little thought. Now she must face the implications of what Mrs Opie had told her and try to find out what else there might be to learn. ‘We’re getting married, it’s all arranged.’
Mrs Opie’s heart dropped like a brick but she wasn’t very surprised. ‘Then I shall see to it you have a truly splendid wedding. I’ll arrange for my dressmaker to come here with materials and patterns and you can choose the dress of your dreams.’ She would have thrown open Roscarrock for the reception but she knew the Spargo family wouldn’t come and Hannah would refuse the offer.
Hannah frowned. She hadn’t made any arrangements. Janet would be sure to want to make her wedding dress and would be very hurt if she was refused. Prim would want a say in what happened too. Hannah wished she and Matt could slip away and get married secretly. ‘I’ll have to talk things over with Matt first,’ she said, hoping to forestall any more suggestions.
‘Very well, but I want to be involved in some way with your wedding and future life.’ Mrs Opie got down to more immediate things. She knew Hannah would never give up Matt Penney, but once she was settled back in the house, there would be opportunity enough to influence her again before her wedding took place. ‘Angie has lit a fire in your room every day in case you came back so you’ll find it lovely and warm. You may do as much or as little work as you please. All I ask is that for the next few days you spend plenty of time with me.’
Matt hadn’t been pleased that she would be spending any more nights under Roscarrock’s roof but she had promised she would come down to the village and see him as often as possible before he travelled to Plymouth to rejoin the Misty for the last week or two of the herring season. He’d wanted her to collect her belongings today and move out but she’d explained her close relationship with Mrs Opie. Although it was on a different footing now, it forbade such a discourteous course of action and he’d reluctantly understood.
‘Where are you and Matt going to live?’ Mrs Opie asked.
‘In his cottage in the village. It’s quite big, has four bedrooms, an indoor lavatory and proper bathroom,’ Hannah answered proudly.
‘I’m glad you won’t be living in poor cramped conditions but doesn’t his mother live there? Will you be happy sharing another woman’s home?’
‘It’s gone on in the village for generations. Mrs Penney is very kind, I’m sure we’ll get on very well.’ Hannah would not let Mrs Opie interfere in her new life.
‘And will Matt continue as a fisherman after his recent ordeal?’
‘Yes. It’s a hard life but he loves it.’
Hannah was no less respectful to her but Mrs Opie sensed she was wary of her. She would have to step carefully. She hated the thought of Hannah being married to an ordinary fisherman: she had hoped to give her and the baby a better life, but at least Matt Penney’s occupation would allow her lots of leeway.
She gave her most gracious smile. ‘Perhaps when he’s away at sea you and the baby will spend a few nights here. It will only take a very short time to modernise the nursery. After all, you’ll have family here. Greg has told me he intends to live here with Leah when they are married.’
As she’d intended, mention of Leah living at Roscarrock swayed Hannah greatly to her side. ‘Well, I suppose that would be nice for all of us. You are reconciled to Leah marrying Greg then?’
‘Yes, my dear. Like you, I didn’t like it at first but we mustn’t fly in the face of true love.’ Mrs Opie laughed and it was sincere. ‘Who knows, we could have babies running about all over the house. The only thing now is for me to advertise for more staff.’
Hannah felt that when she knew all about her birth, when she had spoken to her father, things might work out very well for all of them. ‘I’ll go and take off my coat and settle in.’
‘Come back in a little while and we’ll have tea together.’ Mrs Opie’s hopes were similar to Hannah’s but she was burdened by a terrible worry.
The first thing Hannah did in her room was wind up the jewellery box Matt had given her and listen to its music. She missed him already. She smiled at the jack-in-the-box. Maybe it had been bought for her, perhaps Mrs Opie had hoped Stephanie would keep her baby; now her own baby would play with it.
As she made to take off her coat, she saw a book on the bed. Thinking Mrs Opie had ordered it placed there for a specific reason, she sat on the bed and opened it at the first page marked with a thin piece of card sticking out. Reading the underlined sentences she quickly found it wasn’t a housekeeper’s order book, it was writing very personal to Mrs Opie.
17th May 1935. Stephanie is dead. I’ve seen very little of her in the last ten years but I can hardly bring myself to believe it.
How very sad, Hannah thought, rising to take the book to Mrs Opie, not understanding how it had come to be in her room. But her eyes roamed over the next few sentences and she sat down rigidly on the bed. Her fingers trembling, she turned to the next marked page and the next and the next. The more she read, the more horrified she became. She felt chilled to the core and her breathing became shallow as if the air was trapped in her lungs. When she had read all the pages, a curious pain was twisting inside her, a pain nearly as dreadful as when she had thought she’d lost Matt.
There was a taste of sour plums in her mouth. Her arms and legs felt too weak to get up. She wanted to cry but the tears were locked in her throat. She had never felt such revulsion. The room was spinning and she had to wait for her head to clear and her sight to focus. A scream of rage and disbelief built up inside her, as if her soul was being ripped out of her. She had been betrayed. For the first time in her life, she felt hate and wanted revenge.
Holding the journal out in front of her as if it was some accursed thing, she walked on legs that felt they could barely hold her up to Mrs Opie’s rooms.
‘You were qui—’ Mrs Opie saw the journal in Hannah’s hands and the utter contempt disfiguring her lovely face. She paled and Hannah saw something she’d not witnessed even on the night of the burglary. Feena Opie was frightened.
‘Have you been looking for this, by any chance?’ Hannah said, her voice seeming to flow across the room on dark waves of disgust.
‘Hannah, dear, please let me explain.’ Mrs Opie tried to get out of her chair but fell back clumsily.
‘You lied to me!’ Hannah hurled the journal across the room. It hit the side of the mantelpiece and Mrs Opie winced. ‘You’re not my grandmother. God help me, you’re my mother! It wasn’t Stephanie who had an affair with my father and didn’t want me, it was you! And you only wanted me because Stephanie died. If it hadn’t been for that I would have lived and died in the village and you wouldn’t have cared a damn. Then when you decided you wanted me in your life, you planned to take me away from here and I would never have known who I really was. You only told me half the truth after Matt was rescued to try to break us up, didn’t you? You even used Leah in a scheme to get back at my father.’
‘Hannah, I…’ Mrs Opie clutched her chest as panic threatened to prevent her breathing. ‘Please, if you’d just—’
‘I’ll do nothing for you ever again!’ Hannah was screaming at the top of her voice and she was aware of heavy footsteps running towards the room. ‘You’re an evil calculating bitch and I never want to see you again!’
Ignoring Mrs Opie’s pitiful cries, she ran from the room. Greg and Patrick were coming down the corridor and she would have marched straight past them if they hadn’t barred her way. Both men were alarmed by her look of pure hatred. It was as if she had taken leave of her senses.
‘What’s going on, Hannah?’ Greg asked. ‘For goodness sake, we could hear you shouting all over the house.’
‘Ask your grandmother,’ Hannah hissed venomously. ‘If you can get her to tell you the truth. That’s something she’s not very good at. Now get out of my way.’
Greg took her arm but she wrenched his hand away and pushed between him and Patrick. ‘Hannah,’ Patrick began, but he could see it was no use. Whatever the trouble was, she couldn’t be reasoned with now. The men exchanged puzzled looks and hurried to the woman whose wretched sobbing was clearly audible in the corridor.
Hannah stopped only long enough to take Matt’s jewellery box out of her room then she ran down the stairs and out of the front door, not seeing Angie hovering fearfully about the servants’ stairs. She ran along the drive, through the gateway and into the lane, not stopping until her lungs were bursting for air. She leaned against the hedge and opening the jewellery box took out the locket Daniel had given to her. She tossed it as far away as she could over the hedge. She wanted nothing to remind her of the other totally selfish and manipulating swine who’d tried to make her life his own. She walked on as fast as she could, halting only to accommodate a painful stitch, carried along by a vortex of emotion.
When she got to Seaview Cottage she burst through the back door and ran to the parlour, glad Mrs Penney wasn’t in the house.
‘Hello, who’s there?’ came Matt’s voice from the parlour, thinking he had a visitor come to keep him company.
He saw at once something was terribly wrong and got to his feet. ‘Darling, what is it?’
Hannah rushed into his arms. Her strength finally left her, she crumpled and he carried her to the sofa. She clung to him as if she would die if he let her go, his closeness enabling her to unleash the flood of weeping she had been holding back.
‘Oh, Matt, hold me,’ she whimpered when at last she could speak, her face seamed with pain, ‘and never let me go.’