“Look!” cried Madge, pointing towards the house, and we turned to see more stones slipping from the building, a side of the entire structure beginning to fall away even as the ground-floor windows were smashed by the weight of two spirits crashing against them, seeking supremacy. “The house,” she shouted. “It’s going to collapse.”
An unearthly sound emerged from my mouth as I realized that Isabella and Eustace were still inside. I wrenched myself free from Mr. Raisin’s grip and threw myself towards the front door even as he called after me, beseeching me to come back. My body ached, I dreaded to think of the damage that had been done to it, but I summoned every part of my own spirit to ascend those stairs to the first floor and ran down towards the children’s bedroom.
Isabella’s room was first but she was nowhere to be found so I ran to Eustace’s door, hoping to discover them both together. But no, he was alone, sitting up in bed, a terrified expression on his face, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“What’s happening?” he asked me. “Why won’t she leave?”
I had no answer for him. Instead I simply scooped him up in my arms, held him tightly to my body and made my way back down the staircase and out into the courtyard. Alex Toxley took him from my arms and laid him out on the grass to examine him as his wife, Heckling and Mr. Raisin stood staring up at the battle taking place above, two non-existent bodies struggling against each other, crashing into the walls of Gaudlin Hall, pulling the windows down, ripping the stones from the foundations as they sought supremacy.
“What is it?” cried Mr. Raisin. “What can it be?”
“I must go back,” I said to Madge. “Isabella is still in there somewhere.”
“She’s up there,” said Heckling, pointing northwards, and all our heads turned to the top of the house, just below the roof, where the entirety of Mr. Westerley’s bedroom was visible to us. I gasped. The stones were falling more quickly now; the room was starting to slide away. It would not be long before it fell. And there was Isabella, standing by her father’s bed, turning to look down at us for a moment before climbing on top of it and pressing her body close to his. It took only a moment more before the walls and floors gave way entirely and the left-hand side of the house collapsed in upon itself. Everything we could see there, Mr. Westerley’s room, my own exposed bedroom underneath, Mr. Westerley himself and Isabella, came down in a surge of stone, furniture and smoke, crashing to the ground beneath with such violence, with such a horrendous speed and implosion, that I knew immediately that he had been allowed to die at last, but that Isabella, who had been in my charge, whose care had been entrusted to me, was gone as well.
I had no more than an instant to consider this though for directly as the collapse occurred, a startling bright light, whiter than anything I had seen before, emerged from the walls in front of us and for a split second, a fraction less than it would take for an eye to blink, I saw my father and Santina Westerley locked together in mortal combat and then, just as quickly, her body blew apart, exploded into a million fragments of light that blinded us all and we turned away, gasping. When we looked back, all was silent. The house was half destroyed and the furies of the ground floor had disappeared entirely.
Santina Westerley was gone. I knew it. All fear had vanished. Her husband had been released from his suffering and she had been taken away too; where she had gone was a question that no man could answer.
I looked towards Heckling and Mr. Raisin, the Toxleys and my own dear Eustace, and they stared at me, each one speechless, uncertain what they could possibly say or how they could explain what had just occurred. And I felt the great pain of my body finally being realized, all the wounds and blood becoming real now, and I stepped a little away from there, back towards the lawn, where I sank to the ground and lay down, offering no words or tears, content to give my life to the next world.
But as I lay there, the voices of my friends muffled to my hearing and my eyes began to close, I felt a body wrap itself around me, those great strong arms that I had known my whole life and that I had spent this last month grieving. I felt them embrace me from behind and I was enveloped in the scent of cinnamon as my father’s head pressed itself against my own, his lips found my cheek, and he pressed them to it, keeping them there for a long time, his arms squeezing my body to tell me that he loved me, that I was strong, that I would survive all this and more, and I relaxed into this most tender of embraces, knowing that I should never feel it again. Slowly, it began to grow less powerful, his arms began to loosen, his lips pulled away from my face, and the warmth of his body gave way to the chill of the night as he left me for ever and went at last to the comfort of that place from which no man may return.
Chapter Twenty-four
THE FUNERALS TOOK PLACE three days later.
Eustace reverted to silence in the intervening time, staying as close to me as he could but never uttering a word. If I left a room he went to the door and waited there for my return, like a faithful puppy, and insisted on sleeping in my bed with me. At first, Mr. and Mrs. Raisin had offered to take him in, while the Toxleys offered me their spare room; I was grateful to accept the latter but Eustace made it clear that where I went, he would go too, and so we both took up residence in Madge Toxley’s house and she did all she could to keep the atmosphere light.
Unlike my eight-year-old charge, I did not feel any great sense of trauma regarding the events that had taken place. All of that had dissipated over those last few hours at Gaudlin Hall. Perhaps the adrenalin rush of fully defeating the ghost of Santina Westerley had given me courage that I never believed I possessed. I knew—I had known that night when her husband fell to his death and she disappeared alongside him—that she was gone for ever, that her spirit had been somehow intertwined with his. She had kept him alive for a reason, knowing that the law would see to it that she was put to death for what she had done to Miss Tomlin. And so I did not fear her return and slept soundly, awoken only by the tossing of Eustace next to me, whose dreams, I feared, were not quite as peaceful as my own.
I tried to talk to him about Isabella but he simply shook his head and I felt it would be best not to press him on the subject. For my part, I wept for her the night after she died and I wept for her at her funeral, when she was laid in the earth in a white coffin in the same grave as both her parents, and I took some comfort in the notion that they were together again and would remain together for eternity. She had always appeared to be so in control of her feelings, such an introspective child, but it was my belief that she had suffered a great psychological trauma after her mother’s violent actions and death, which could never have been resolved. It was a tragedy, truly it was, but she was gone and Eustace was here and I had to focus my thoughts on him.
“There’s a rather good school,” Mr. Raisin said when he came to visit me in Madge Toxley’s front room the day after the funeral. He had brought a new puppy with him, a playful King Charles of about two months old, and Eustace had been persuaded to go outside with him and throw some sticks for the puppy to retrieve. I was keeping a careful eye on him through the window but he seemed to be in good spirits and enjoying the dog’s company; I even thought that I saw him smile and laugh for the first time since I had known him. “It’s near Ipswich. A boarding school called St. Christopher’s. You have heard of it, Miss Caine?”
“I have not,” I said, uncertain why he was telling me this. Had he heard of a position going there perhaps and thought that it might be right for me?
“I think it might be just the ticket.”
“Just the ticket for whom?” I asked.
“Why, for Eustace, of course,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I have taken the liberty of making some initial communication with the headmaster and he has agreed to meet the boy for an interview, and should he impress, and I daresay he will, then he will be accepted for the beginning of the new school year.”
“I had a rather different idea,” I said, thinking carefully how
to phrase this, particularly since I knew full well that I had no rights over the boy at all.
“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “What sort of idea?”
“I intend to return to London,” I told him.
“To London?”
And was it me or did I see a shadow of disappointment cross his face?
“Yes, in a few days’ time. I’m hoping that there might be a position for me at my old school. I always had a good relationship with the principal so with luck she might agree to take me back. I’d like to take Eustace with me.”
He looked at me in surprise. “But wasn’t your school a school for girls?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But there is a school for boys on the other side of the road. Eustace could receive his education there. And he could live with me. I could take care of him. As I have been doing these last six weeks,” I added.
Mr. Raisin thought about it for a moment and scratched his chin. “It’s a lot to take on,” he said finally. “Are you sure that you really want the responsibility?”
“Perfectly sure,” I said. “In truth, Mr. Raisin, I cannot imagine leaving him behind. I feel that we have been through an experience together, the two of us. I understand him as well as he can be understood. I believe that he has painful times ahead of him and I would like to help see him through those dark days. I can be a mother to him if the estate, if you, will allow me to.”
He nodded and I was pleased to see that he did not seem entirely opposed to the idea. “There would be the question of money,” he said after a moment, narrowing his eyes. “The house might be gone, but the land is worth a lot. Mr. Westerley’s own investments were spread quite wide. That money is locked up in the estate and will one day be Eustace’s.”
“I don’t need any money,” I said quickly, in order to reassure him. “And neither does Eustace. Take care of his inheritance until he is eighteen, or twenty-one, or twenty-five, whichever his father’s will stipulates, and manage it with your usual thoroughness and propriety. In the meantime we will be able to live quite comfortably on my salary. I am a frugal woman, Mr. Raisin. I do not require luxuries in life.”
“Well, there is still your salary to consider,” he added. “We could continue to—”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s generous of you but if I was to take a salary then I would once again be in the position of being Eustace’s governess, a paid employee. I would like instead to be his guardian. Perhaps, if it would set your mind at ease, you and I could be his guardians together. I would happily consult with you on important matters related to his upbringing. Indeed, I would consider it helpful to have your counsel on these matters. But I don’t want any payment. Should the estate see fit to help out with Eustace’s schoolbooks or things along those lines, I’m sure we could come to an agreement. But other than that, I don’t believe the issue of money is one that need concern us.”
He nodded and seemed satisfied, reaching out his hand to shake mine. We stood up and smiled at each other. “Very well then,” he said. “I believe we understand each other perfectly. And if I may say so, Miss Caine, I think that he will be a very lucky boy. A very lucky boy indeed. You are a fine woman.”
I blushed, unaccustomed to such compliments. “Thank you,” I said, leading him towards the door. Outside, he summoned the puppy, who looked back at Eustace regretfully as his master called him.
“He’s taken rather a shine to you, Eustace,” he said. “I expect this is goodbye,” he added, turning to me. “I will miss your impromptu visits to my office, Miss Caine.”
I laughed. “I’m sure Mr. Cratchett will be pleased to see the back of me,” I replied and he smiled a little. Our eyes met and we remained locked like that for a few moments. There was more to say, I was certain of it, but none of it could be said. Whatever it was must remain here, in Gaudlin.
“We shall talk again soon, no doubt,” he said finally, sighing as he turned round and raising his cane to bid me adieu. “Send me your address in London when you have it. We shall have to stay in close communication in the years to come. Goodbye, Eustace! Good luck to you, boy!”
I watched as he made his way down the driveway and the puppy followed for a little bit before stopping and turning back, staring at Eustace. He sat down on his haunches, looked back at his master and then at the boy again, and Mr. Raisin turned round and saw what was happening.
“So that’s how it is,” he said with a smile.
The following Monday, I returned to St. Elizabeth’s School and knocked on Mrs. Farnsworth’s door.
“Eliza Caine,” she said, rather unsettling me with her use of my full name; it put me in mind of Isabella’s tendency to do the same thing. “This is quite a surprise.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” I said. “I wondered whether I could have a few moments of your time.”
She nodded and indicated that I should sit down and I explained to her how the position in Norfolk had not turned out as I had hoped and I had decided to return to London.
“I seem to recall saying to you that you were rushing into that decision,” she said smugly, delighted to have been proved right. “Young women these days are rash in their judgements, I find. They should rely more on the advice of their elders.”
“I was also grieving,” I pointed out, wishing I could be anywhere but there at that moment. “I’m sure you remember that too. My father had just died.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. “Naturally you were not in a position to make the best judgement. I did say at the time that I was sorry to lose you and I meant it. You were an excellent teacher. But of course your position was filled. I could not leave the small girls without instruction.”
“Of course not,” I said. “But I wondered whether there might be another job opening up soon? I remember Miss Parkin saying that she would be retiring at the end of this term. Perhaps you haven’t found her replacement yet?”
She nodded. “That’s true,” she said. “And no, I haven’t yet advertised the post. But you see the position you put me in,” she added, smiling at me. “You have proved unreliable. Should I employ you once again, who is to say that you will not walk out on me with scant notice as you did once in the past? It is a school I’m running here, Miss Caine, not a …” She struggled to find a way to finish that sentence. “Not a hotel,” she added finally.
“My circumstances have changed somewhat,” I explained. “I assure you that when I set down roots in London again I will not be leaving. Not for anything.”
“So you say now.”
“I have added responsibility,” I told her. “A responsibility that I did not have before.”
She raised an eyebrow and looked intrigued. “Is that so?” she asked. “And pray tell, what might that be?”
I sighed. I had hoped not to have to engage in this conversation, but if it was to be the crux of whether or not I would be allowed back, I had no choice. “I have a little boy to look after,” I told her. “Eustace Westerley.”
“A little boy?” she asked. She took her glasses off and set them on the table, scandalized. “Miss Caine, are you trying to tell me that you have given birth? That you are an unwed mother?”
Six weeks before, my natural inclination would have been to blush scarlet, but after all I had been through I could only laugh now. “Really, Mrs. Farnsworth,” I said. “I realize that we do not teach the sciences at St. Elizabeth’s but I could hardly have gone away, become pregnant, given birth and come back again in such a short space of time.”
“Of course not, of course not,” she stammered, and now it was her turn to blush. “But then I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story,” I explained. “The son of the family I was employed by. Unfortunately his parents have died quite tragically. He has no one in the world. He is alone. Except for me. I have undertaken to bring him up as his guardian.”
“I see,” she replied, considering this. “How very thoughtful of you.
And you don’t think that this will interfere with your work here?”
“If you are kind enough to take me back, then I hope to enrol Eustace in St. Matthew’s across the road. I don’t envision any problems pursuant to that.”
“All right then, Miss Caine,” she said, standing up and shaking my hand. “You may have Miss Parkin’s position when she leaves us in a few weeks. But I take you at your word that you will be reliable and not let me down.”
I agreed and left, relieved; it seemed as if my old life was returning to me, albeit without Father’s presence, but with Eustace’s.
Chapter Twenty-five
SEVERAL MONTHS PASSED and Eustace and I set up home in a small house in Camberwell Gardens, with a garden at the back for the puppy to run around in. Our days passed in quite a regular fashion. We ate breakfast together in the morning and then walked the ten-minute distance to our respective schools, me standing at the gate until Eustace had entered his, then crossing the road to begin my own day. Afterwards, we met again and walked home together, ate our evening meal and sat reading or playing games until bedtime. We were content with our lot.
Eustace thrived in his new school. He appeared to put the events of the previous few months behind him, and I learned in time that he did not wish to discuss them at all. I tried on occasion to bring up the subject of his father, mother and sister, but it was pointless. He would shake his head, change the subject, close his eyes, walk away. Anything to avoid discussing it. And I learned to respect that. In time, I thought, perhaps when he is older he will want to talk to me about it. And when he is ready, I will be ready too.
He made friends, two boys in particular, Stephen and Thomas, who lived on our street and went to the same school as him. I liked it when they came to the house, for although they were mischievous, they meant no harm, had good hearts and, besides, I rather enjoyed their nonsense. Of course, I was only twenty-two years old by now; I was still a young woman. I enjoyed the company of these children, and the fact that they brought Eustace so much pleasure was a delight to me. He had never had friends before; there had only been Isabella.