The Edge

After this extraordinary tale, related to me by a woman I saw only in my mirror, I was silent for a while. When I did speak it was to ask about the Cornish house. I explained that it had been given to me by Rhiannon. Bess's bright face lit up.

“It was a gift from my parents to me. It sits beside the sea in a small town across the bay from Plymouth. It is built over some old caves. They are invisible unless you know where to look. These were used by smugglers, who could row a small boat into the cave mouth and store their loots there! My father told me and my siblings this, he bought the house because of its history. He took us through the caves once. There are stones steps which wind up into the house. At the bottom of the steps it is like a private grotto, with the sea and the rocks and the echo off the stone.” I asked after the building itself.

“Modest, in many ways. The lowest floor has the kitchen and scullery as well as the entrance to the cave. The next floor up has the dining room and the sitting rooms. It also has a wide balcony which winds around the house in an L shape, and looks out over the water. This serves as a sort of garden area too. Above this floor are the reception room, the hall and study. Then up again to the three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Above this are some more bedrooms then the servants room up in the attic. It is a modest house, as I have said but large and tall. The town is small and quiet but has everything you could want. The beaches are fine and sandy, the sea bathing is wonderful and there are many walks and suchlike to divert you out of doors. In doors, one can read or paint, sew, watch the sea and the boats going past. You are free to do as you please, there is little ceremony there. I adored it as a child and so my parents gave it to me when I married. They knew my brother would remain in Italy, especially since he married an Italian woman. They had six children, so I heard and after my brother left the army, they bought a vineyard and settled in the country. One of my sisters became a nun and dwelt in a convent in Rome. She was still alive when I died. My other sister married one of my father's captains but they made their home on board ship. So, one way and another, the house was given to me, as the only one who would truly want it.”

I thought of that house. It sounded wonderful, peaceful yet with much to interest me. It was mine, although I could not get to it at present.

There was a knock at the door. Bess quietly disappeared from the mirror as I called out a greeting. I expected Nurse Ruth to enter but instead I saw the face of Victoria. She came in, saying that she wished to see if I were recovered. All the time she spoke, her eyes darted around the room, taking in the beauty of it. I had risen and gone to the window seat, the only place where we could both sit down. She followed me, her hands tightly clasped, the fingers knotted together. I began to worry.

She asked a few questions regarding my health, if I felt settled. She was then quiet for a moment before her purpose of visiting me burst out of her. Instead of the vindictiveness I had expected, she chose another tack. Cajoling.

“I know that when we last spoke you were not yourself. You were deep in your grief over your dear son. I understand and forgive you, as a mother myself. But I did so want to talk with you over my mother's will. My mother was very fond of you, I do know, and I realise she wanted to make you a gesture but it is truly of importance to me that I have a share of her jewels. The ring collection for instance. Many of these are utterly priceless and to me, have great emotional value. Then there is her house and the farm. The income from the property's and the value of those houses, when you live so far away, this can be of no help to you. I am asking you if you would kindly give me a share in your windfall, dear sister.”

Her eyes were hungry, calculating, despite her pleading and sweet smiling face. I felt an utter disgust towards her. I drew my hands back from hers and stood, walking away from her towards the bed. She rose also and I grasped one of the pillars of the bed, to stop myself from falling. I knew I must not shout but I could not stop the words that ground out from my mouth.

“Your mother was a wonderful woman. She suffered cruelly under her affliction but bore it with grace and dignity. It pained her greatly that her child did not write or visit, that you chose to stay away from home so much. Your father told me of this so I know it to be true. When you came after his funeral, I saw for the first time what she meant. I had no bad feelings towards you but your greed and calculation were enough to change this. You brought your sons into her bedchamber and forced me out because you wanted to persuade her to give you what you wanted. She denied you. Your children brought sickness to the house and it killed her. She would be alive yet if not for you. And when she is dead the only thing you can think of is how she gave to me what should have been yours, would have been if you had ever showed the least bit of love or kindness to her. You have shown your true nature and I think she was right to leave nothing to a snake like you.” She hissed angrily and began to argue back, in the same soft yet vehement tones as I. I would not listen. The memory of Rhiannon and my poor sweet son had got inside my mouth and turned the taste metallic and my tongue to iron.

“You brought death to my house. You killed my son and my mother with your greed. I meant what I said to you at the funeral, I hope you die of the poison in your belly, you snake. Michael may not see you clearly but I do. Now get out of my rooms. I will not see you, ever.” I was shaking with my anger. With the grip of my fury and my loss. My son, his dead face with its closed eyes, came into my heart and gripped like his fingers had gripped mine in life. Victoria's face grew further and further off until I heard Nurse Ruth's voice, dimly, telling me to open my eyes.

I was lying on the bed. I must have fainted with the memory and the anger because Victoria was still standing in a corner of the room with someone else. I dimly recognised Michael and Victoria's husband. Beside me, Nurse Ruth and Dr Crowner. The doctor was taking my pulse, the muttering of the three witches in the corner was easily heard by me in my intensely aware state that some get after a faint.

“Should have heard what she said to me......needs medical care....listen to the doctor.....utterly mad.....trying time....been unwell.....perhaps brain fever.......the baby.......may need watching......could harm herself.....” and so on. Hardly things to help me relax and recover.

The doctor smiled down at me then stood and asked if perhaps Mrs Everleigh and her husband could leave the room? He must speak with Lord Llewellyn privately. Victoria left with a very bad grace, smiling wolfishly at me. Her husband did not even glance in my direction. I was assisted to sit up by Nurse Ruth who was endeavouring to get me to drink a draft of hot spiced wine. Dr Crowner beckoned Michael forward and he came, his face a mixture of pain and coldness. The doctor began.

“I believe Lady Llewellyn became unwell when she saw Mrs Everleigh because for her, that lady is still connected with the sad business of your late son. Although I am sure Mrs Everleigh means no harm, I would recommend that perhaps she and her husband took their leave in the next day or so. You both seem to require peace and quiet to grieve and visitors are seldom useful in that situation.” Michael looked sharply at him but the doctor had said nothing that could be construed as an accusation. My husband shook his head and settled for telling Dr Crowner that his sister and brother in law were to stay another week complete, at least. They too wished to grieve for the loss of two beloved parents. The doctor bowed and then asked that, in lieu of their departing, Mrs Everleigh did not come to call upon myself except in being actually invited. It was imperative that I was given peace and quiet and time to settle myself. Michael chose this moment to ask what the doctor thought might be wrong with me.

“I believe that Lady Llewellyn has simply suffered from a weakness in the body caused by the sad business that has occurred recently. Three deaths, of such close family members, it is to be expected. I can find no evidence of specific malady or brain fever and I think that with rest and time, there will be a complete recovery. Close attention to eating well, to gaining as much rest as possible and to a calm environment will be all the cure that is needed.” My husband was quiet a moment and he did not answer the doctor's reassuring smile. When he spoke it was with another question. He asked about the baby. The doctor smiled once again, this time properly.

“All is well. The pregnancy is progressing well. I find no cause for concern whatsoever. You wife will deliver some time in June, if I am correct in my calculations. It is why I am determined she shall rest and be allowed quiet. It is not simply her health that depends on it, it is your unborn child's.” Michael finally looked at the doctor and stated that he would ensure that I was no disturbed. I had this entire floor of the house to myself, with Nurse Ruth to assist me. My maid Anna was also at my disposal and with the warmer weather would come the opportunity to go outside and enjoy the fresh air.

The doctor nodded, stated that he would return on the morrow and departed. Michael turned to Nurse Ruth and asked her to go below and see to her own supper. He wished for a private word with me. Once the door was closed behind her he paced up and down, he seemed not to know how to behave. He made a move to sit on the bed but stopped himself. I made myself reach out and pat the coverlet next to me. I wanted to make the gesture that showed I was not his enemy, whatever his sister might have told him. He sat. He reached for my hand then dropped it. When he spoke his voice not sure as usual, his words seemed to flow out in no particular order at first, a broken sequence.

“I am sorry for.....treating you as if......that is, I am glad to see you more in health that you have been. I wanted to speak to you of what passed today. I want to know the truth from your own lips. She told me that you spoke of her as a manipulative, greedy snake and that you blamed her for the deaths of my mother and James. Is this true?” I answered simply that it was so. I offered no more information, there was nothing to be said. Michael was quiet too then he stood and walked about the room again before addressing me.

“I will not have this any longer. I will not have my wife who has always been so gentle behave like this. My sister has her faults, I do not attempt to deny this but you have no right to repeat to her what you may have been told in private nor to blame her for our misfortune. Whatever her actions, she could not have foreseen what they would bring and it was out of her power to know of the illness her children carried. It was a tragic misfortune, nothing more.”

I spoke up.

“Tragic, yes. But misfortune? She cared nothing for your mother. From the first she behaved with self centred callousness. When she brought her sons to see their grandmother, she acted solely for the purpose of getting her hands on what she had no right to claim. And James....” I could not go on. My eyes burned with unshed tears. Michael suddenly wheeled round and let me see his face. His eyes were wet also, his pale face showed an emotion as deep as any mire.

“Do you think you are the only one in pain? I loved our boy, but I could not save him. No one could. I have lost my parents, I have lost my son and now my wife is drifting away from me too. You push me away with your actions as if you would burn up every shred of love left in you. You act as if this were my fault.” I saw his pain but I could not stop myself.

“You never act as if you are on my side. You never take my part. A man who loved his son would have told his sister that she should not treat me or your mother in the way she did. She would not have been welcomed. You would not have stayed away from our son while he fought for his life so valiantly. You would not have had me drugged and watched, you would have listened to me not had our beautiful son put into a cold dark tomb.....”

“His body will dwell in darkness from now until the end of the world, whether he lies in the ground or in the crypt. You were and are being irrational. He is where he belongs now.”

“He does not belong in darkness! He belongs in the sun, the fresh air, with the wind or the rain on his face! Not to lie in some stagnant cold mausoleum.”

Michael's face finally softened a little and he came to me, knelt before me so our faces were at equal hight and spoke thus.

“Our son is dead. Nothing will ever change that. His body is all that remains of him on this earth, his soul is with God. Our son is dead. Words will not change that fact. We loved him and he is gone before he ever could become a man. You act as though you are the only one in pain. You do not suffer alone, I promise you that. But you will if you do not start acting as if you were in your right mind. I have lost my father, I have lost my mother, I have lost my son. Must I lose my wife too?”

I was touched to the core by his words. The utter desolation of James's death had weighed heavily on him too. I had lost a woman who had been a true friend and a son who I would miss every day for the rest of my life. I had thought that Michael had deserted me but perhaps he thought I had deserted him too. I reached for him and brought him close, made myself kiss his forehead and tell him I would try to remember myself in future. He remained cool towards me but there was no animosity. He sat beside me again and continued.

“I will tell my sister she is not to disturb you unless I am present and you have agreed to the meeting. I will tell her that our mother's will is not to be contested and that you will keep what she left you. I only ask that you give some little offering to her, as a gesture of reconciliation. I do not tell you to do this, I ask you to do this. Will you think on it?” I could only nod. He deserved this. He was stuck with his sister for life in a way that I was not. I told him that I would pick out something for her in the coming days. I would go through his mother's belongings and catalogue them. It would be something to do. He was pleased by my cooperation and what he must have seen as my thawing to Victoria. He wished me goodnight and said he would see me the next day.

When he had gone I went quickly to the mirror. Bess was not there, nor in the room anywhere. I wondered if I had dreamt this whole thing. I went next door into the craft room. Lighting the lamps I could observe the doll's house, lovely and redolent of so many memory's. On the table beside it was a large wooden box with an envelope atop it. This bore my name. I opened it and unfolded the thick cream paper inside. It read thus.

My dearest Imogen

I have started this letter a dozen times and no words seem adequate to express my sadness at hearing of the events which have befallen you. To lose your mother in law is a great trial but to lose that bright sweet lad, I have no way to say how this makes me feel.

When last we spoke I was cruel to you. I have not changed my mind but I regret how I treated you. The past days I have done nothing but think of you and wondered how you are in this unhappy time with no friend to comfort you. I have nothing to give you, no words of comfort and no caresses. I can only give you what little I have, the work of my hands.

I have made you something which I hope will be taken as the gift I mean it to be. I have created some more dolls for your collection. The first you will recognise right away. The second is your mother in law as she looked when young. The third is what I imagined your son would look like when he was a boy of ten.

I hope that this letter reaches you and that you find some of the comfort that I am desperate to send you. I offer you my friendship, when I can offer nothing more.

Yours

Stephen.

I put the letter down and opened the box. The dolls were packed carefully in wood shavings, a smell of clean apple wood came from the box. The first doll was undoubtedly Bess, dressed in her red gown and looking almost exactly as I had seen her in the mirror. The second was a young Rhiannon, as in her portrait in the gallery. She was dressed in her riding outfit.

My son was the last doll. Smaller than the others, he wore clothes in dark green and cream, trousers and shirt and jacket. His curly hair had been beautifully done, his mouth smiled and the black painted eyes were cunningly drawn. The sight of him did cheer me in a forlorn way. At least I had a little piece of him.

I decided to place all of the dolls within the doll's house. I put Michael and his father in the study. I put my own doll into my bedroom. I placed the servants around the house and then carefully put James as a young boy into the school room. I put the doll of him as a baby into the nursery. I put Bess into the bedroom with me, imagining us talking as we had before. Rhiannon I gave pause to. I rose and walked carefully downstairs.

I went to the abandoned nursery. Inside the cot and coverings had gone, as had clothes and some toys. I deliberately passed these without looking and opened the box of new toys he had never played with. I removed the horse made from tin I had bought him and took it upstairs.

I placed Rhiannon on her horse and put them in the stable yard. The perfect family now. I looked at the dolls house. It was lovely. I stared at it for a time. My eyes became heavy and I knew I should go to bed but I remained where I was, my arms and legs too heavy to lift, the tiredness was almost pleasurable. My eyes shut for longer with each blink. I closed them for a moment.

I awoke in the bedroom. I was no longer in my shawl and plain dark mourning dress. The gown I wore was of deep red cloth, I wore Rhiannon's ruby ring and my ruby cross. My hair was dressed in its old plaited knot style. My shoes were black velvet slippers.

I turned and saw that instead of night time, the sun streamed through the windows. It gleamed on the winter snow. The bedroom had a garland of holly on the mantle. I went from my room and into the craft room. The doll's house was gone! It was now the sitting room from long ago, sofas, tables and vases of winter flowers. On one such sofa, Bess was sitting in another red gown much like mine. She was looking around her wonderingly.

When I entered she ran to me and caught me in her arms. She was real! I felt her weight and warmth.

“Do you know?;” she asked breathlessly, “do you know what has happened? What magic have you wrought? We are inside the doll's house! We are inside the doll's house we have built!”