My father did, though.” When he looked up, all memory of that happiness faded. “Her family used to own a farm, but after my father did what he did, that all changed. I never saw Willie again.”
“What did he do?”
He paused for a moment, looked to the sky. “In a small village, Elizabeth, it takes little effort for rumor to become fact. My father planted the seeds, said he’d seen something inappropriate happening between a young girl and Willie’s father. I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Perhaps. But that doesn’t change the fact that my father was right. How could I have built a life with poor Willie? We would never have survived London, my years of training. We were so very different. You and I are the same, Elizabeth. A life with you is everything it should be. Everything I want: secure, certain, predictable. We match, like a ship to water, or dark to the night. I only hope your father can help you to see that when you tell him of your plans.”
The thought of telling James that Tom was everything she could ever imagine needing in her future came to her as they drove down the hill. But then she saw the police car parked alongside her house. James slowed when he saw it too.
“What are they here for?” she asked him. They shared a glance of concern for what had transpired that might bring the police to her doorstep.
“We’d better go in, find out.” He parked the car and they hurried into the house.
Panting when they arrived in the living room, they happened upon Mrs. Clements, her face ashen as winter snow, huddled next to Elizabeth’s father, who was sitting with his head in his hands. A police officer stood beside him, broad shoulders, an expressionless face. He shifted as he saw Elizabeth and James approach.
At the sight of his daughter, Dr. Davenport stood up and rushed forward, taking Elizabeth in a tight embrace. Tears streamed down his face and fear filled her, for she had only ever seen him cry once before, on the night her mother had nearly drowned. Her hands hung like dead weights at her sides, unsure how to respond to the shift in current, the riptide that had caught her and was dragging her out to sea. Then the slow mumble of James’s voice broke through, his tones soft as he asked the policeman for answers, the words she would never forget.
“Found out on the reef,” said the policeman. “Nothing they could do.” Her mother had drowned, and somewhere inside her, like an almost undetectable expulsion of energy, steam rising from a cooking pot, part of her was irrevocably lost.
* * *
Her father had to go with the police. They needed to create a clear picture, even though the officer conceded that it seemed obvious enough what had happened, especially when a couple of hours later an old fishing boat taken from the harbor had washed up on Gwynver Beach, spat from the water by an offended tide, with one of her mother’s cardigans still on the seat.
James strengthened the fire against the rain waxing against the window, which framed the grayest of skies. He drew the curtains against it, made tea and sandwiches from cold chicken, then insisted that Elizabeth needed to eat. Later, he positioned her on the settee with her feet on a stool and a blanket over her knees, his arm warm across her shoulders. And when the shadow of night descended on the earth, the sky little more than a specter sinking into the sea, he went upstairs and ran a bath, guided her to it. He stopped short of helping her undress, closing the door softly behind him when he left.
* * *
James was still there two hours later when she went downstairs, unable to sleep. He looked shattered, bags under his eyes, the rims as red as Francine’s painted nails. She had arrived not long after Elizabeth climbed into the bath. Her swollen eyes betrayed the fact that she too had been crying, her face flushed in a way Elizabeth had never seen it before. When Elizabeth arrived in the kitchen, Francine approached, hesitating a little before reaching out to hug her.
“If there’s anything you need, just ask. Don’t worry about any of the filing, or anything like that,” she said. “I’ll cover it all.” Her embrace softened, but her hands lingered on Elizabeth’s arms. “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. I’m so, so sorry.”