A cold treachery - Charles Todd [118]
She must have thought he had given up, and was leaving.
“It had just begun to snow when I got there.” Her voice was muffled. “They were still alive. And you're right, Gerald was just outside the barn, and he was talking to Paul. I left the carriage in the lane and walked towards them. I could hear Gerald very clearly. I could see his face. He was absolutely furious. He was saying, ‘Get out of here. Get off my farm and never come back. I don't want to see you here again, do you understand me?' And then Paul said something I couldn't hear. But Gerald answered, ‘Blood ties be damned! That can never excuse what you've done. Be clear on this. I love my wife, I love my children. And I'll guard them if I have to. You stand in far greater danger from me than we do from you. So there's an end to it, before you do something you'll always regret!' At that stage I went hurrying back to my carriage, for fear Paul would turn to go and on his way find me there eavesdropping. And Gerald was not in any state for me to come riding up unexpectedly! I turned the carriage and drove to the church, pulling the horse around to the back where no one could see me. And I sat inside for a good hour, before venturing back to the farm.”
She put her hand to her face. He couldn't tell if she was crying or not. But she managed to continue. “The church was dark. Quiet. Peaceful. I went back to the farm then, hoping Gerald might still be in the barn. The snow was worsening, and he'd stock to bring in. I looked, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen, and I assumed he'd gone to look for his sheep. So I went inside. Grace was nursing the twins. I don't know where Josh and Hazel were—I was just glad not to find them with her. She looked so happy, holding the babies.” Her voice broke on the last words.
“Was she surprised to see you?”
“Oh, yes. She hadn't expected me before Boxing Day. I asked her if there was any way that both of us could be happy. I asked if she felt anything at all for Hugh. After all, he was the father of two of her children. She must have cared once! I reminded her that in the eyes of the Church she was still married to him. And all she said was, ‘You're living in a dream, Janet. It has nothing to do with Hugh, don't you see? I told you when you wouldn't come for the wedding: I don't think I'd go back to him even for the children's sake—even if anything happened to Gerald. We fell out of love before the war, I know that now. We're strangers.' And then Gerald came in, and I asked him to his face if he could ever love me.”
Her shoulders began to shake. “I went back to the church. The snow was heavier, and I left the carriage in the lee, where the horse was protected from the wind. I wanted to freeze to death there in the church, and have them find my body. I wanted my death to be on Gerald's soul. I wanted everyone to know he'd killed me.”
“It was a cruel thing to do.”
She whirled. “Not as cruel as his rejection of me! It was unbearable, and yes, at that time, I wanted him dead!”
“And so, with your revolver, you went back . . .”
“No! I was a coward. I raged and cried until I was exhausted, and then I set out for Carlisle. I got to Keswick and the horse couldn't go any farther. So I stopped in Keswick, at a small hotel I knew there. I must have come to my senses at some point. Finally, two days later, against all advice I started back to Urskdale. When the poor horse went off the road, and I couldn't move for the pain, I thought, I can't die without making amends! I must make it up with Grace somehow. And then, when I'd given up hope, you came.”
“She's concocted a verra pretty story,” Hamish objected. “But she's lied before.”
“We can find out if you really stayed in Keswick,” Rutledge warned her.
“Then you'll learn I'm telling the truth,” she flung at him. “Why in God's name would I have come back to see them all dead?