The Edge

He woke me in the morning by kissing my neck as he got out of bed. I had time to admire him as he got into his clothes then he brought me my nightgown, slipping it over my head and tucking me back into bed. We kissed one last time then he left the room.

I lay back and stretched again. The warm bed, the hypnotic beating of the ran against the windows, the glow from our lovemaking, all of these served to make me drowsy and let me drop off again until Anna came in at eight with my breakfast tray.

I bathed again, washed my hair so that the scent of roses and lemon surrounded me like an aura and dressed with care in a dark green gown, with a neckline that was cut long and exposed my collarbones and the dip at the base of my throat. I tied a thick black velvet ribbon around it, to cover the small bruise left by Stephen's bite of that night and touched some carmine to my lips to redden them.

After this, I went down to the hall, my warmest cloak over my dress, bible in hand. Michael and Lord Robert were already there. James called to me from his nurses arms and I went to him, taking him close and smiling to him and he babbled nonsense words to me. Stephen joined us and we made our way to the chapel for Sunday church.

The chapel was a chill building, small and grey inside, brightened by the stained glass windows and with thick tapestries depicting the ascension of Christ, his birth and death, various deeds. Lord Robert read from the massive family bible, Michael sat beside me like a stone, barely glancing at me or at our son on my other side. James kept quiet in the chapel, oppressed by the cold and the sombre atmosphere. Beside the nurse stood Stephen Bruce in a place of honour, joining us in the family pew. After us, in the rows behind, stood the servants. A few hymns, two bible readings and some prayers then we took the host and blood of Christ and Chapel was over for another week.

On our way back into the house, Lord Robert took me aside and asked me to attend him in his study within half an hour. I nodded and went with James up to his nursery. I talked with his nurse and played with him a while before making my way to Lord Robert.

I knocked on the door and he bad me enter. He gestured to a chair before the desk and then once I had sat down, he sat too. The room was still heavy with smoke but he had clearly made an effort to clear it a little by opening the window. This faced south and so the rain didn't get in. he cleared his throat.

“I know that by now you will have thought of many way to apologise to me. I know also that Michael is very angry with you. I have spoken with him and told him that it is my wish that he forgives you. As I do. I understand your curiosity though I regret how you behaved. Part of Michael's anger is that he feels you have discovered a family secret. One he was not privy to until a few years ago himself. For obvious reasons, I have kept those that know of it to a minimum.”

I spoke and offered my humblest apologies and asked his forgiveness.

“I have already forgiven you. You have been unwell. On this occasion, I forgive your actions. We are all human and I understand a mistake. Besides. I wont have women mistreated under my roof. I deeply regret my son's actions towards you. I have told him this. In time, I am sure he will himself apologise. At this moment, he is still angry. Please give him time, I am sure he will come round.”

I dared to ask a question, Had I discovered a family secret after all? Lord Robert smiled ruefully.

“Yes, in part. It is known by a few elderly members of the village. However it was a family shame rather than a secret. The way that my grandmother was treated was barbaric. She was a wonderful woman. She could have been looked after better but my grandfather was a hard man. The family were divided by his treatment of her. She was so loving and such a kind woman. I loved her deeply. I didn't know the extent of the treatment she had received until my father's death. He had been ashamed of his father's treatment of Elizabeth. He treated her well, and eventually even allowed her to go to that Cornish house where she died. She is buried here though. With the dolls. She requested it. I have always tried to treat women well, as my father did. It has always been a great sadness to me that my wife is so unwell.”

I thought privately that perhaps he should go and see her more often. He seemed to realise this thought because he responded as if I had spoken.

“It is harder than you think. Could you love someone, a spirited person who walked and talked with energy and vigour and then see them transformed into a broken little toy who only sometimes remembered you? I loved Lady Rhiannon very much. She was much like Elizabeth in some ways. Caring, public spirited, beautiful. She reminded me of a squirrel, all boundless energy and daring! I had that painting done of her there; he indicated the portrait on the wall “and I keep it here so that I can remember how she looked then. I prefer to keep my memory intact. I watched my grandmother become silent and weak, a baby bird in a cage, and I cannot see my wife become that same. Perhaps this is why I forgive your intrusion so easily. I notice how you pay her attention, how you visit her often and include her in our lives. I may be a gruff old man but I notice.” so saying, he stood and escorted me to the door. He took my hand before I left.

“I forgive your intrusion this once. But in future, simply ask for what you want. If it is just, it will never be turned down. And try to forgive my son. He loves you dearly and will also be just, given time.” and I left his study, leaving him to his smoke and memories.

I went up to the craft room. Stephen Bruce was already there, carefully sculpting the piano for the sitting room. I lent over his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek by way of greeting. I told him about my interview with Lord Robert. He nodded and said simply that my father in law was a good man, one whose silence hid an observant and sensible nature.

I sat on the opposite side of the table to him and opened up the portfolio of drawings we had done, each one showing how the rooms and furniture would be set out. Using this design I began to paper the insides of the doll's house, starting with the dining room. This was a room whose walls were set in deep forest green silk with large imposing landscapes of the valley. It was lit by a wonderful crystal chandelier and by bracketed lamps in the walls. The massive table was generations old, made from an oak tree that had grown on the estate at least a hundred years before. The legs were carved to look like scaled dragons feet, claws and all, and the entire table was enormously heavy and had not been moved since it was put in place so long before.

The chairs had been made from the same tree and had high heavy wide backs and tapestries seats. Carved to look like dragons curling around the sitter, with the same dragons feet for its legs, these were a priceless set and were one of the family treasures.

The landscapes had been done by a talented painter but were new, only brought in about thirty years before by Lord Robert. As I attached our miniature copies to the doll's house walls a thought struck me! What paintings had hung there before? Surely those would be stored somewhere? As I finished my task, I fixed on this idea and told Stephen I would go below and see if I could find out if the Butler knew about where paintings might be stored.

The butler did know. He was a dignified man whose family had been in the Llewellyn service for years. His father had been the previous butler and he remembered assisting him to catalogue and store the old paintings when the dining room had been rehung. They were in the fourth section of the attic, and had comprised of two family portraits, a hunting scene and one very fine landscape showing Saint David at Glastonbury torr, having his famous vision of Christ. He happily found me the relevant attic key and accompanied me up to the attics, saying that he feared I would not find it as quickly as he would, being as he had an excellent memory for where he and his father had put them.

Stephen joined us and we travelled up to the top floor. We made our way through the first three sections and so to the fourth. We stepped around the massive dresser that had hid the doll's house, the butler and Stephen moved a small dresser away from the back wall and revealed a selection of paintings. These were each carefully wrapped up in thick moth resistant cloths, tied and leant against the walls. There were labels on each one. The butler considered these a while and then pointed out the four we wanted.

The first was the hunting scene, a animated painting but not of great merit. The second, the Saint and Christ, was was better and I asked that this one be found a new home on the walls of the library for it was really too fine to be kept stored. The last two were of the most interest. One in particular. This was of Lord David Llewellyn and his wife and their children. The second of these was Lord Richard, Elizabeth's husband. The butler had asked for lamps to be brought and we could plainly see how the doll we had found echoed Lord Richard's physiognomy.

As we studied this, the butler cleared his throat and said that if we were interested in Lord Richard, we might care to examine a portrait of him and his wife, which had been taken down even before this one, and had previously been hung in the great hall.

Stephen's eyes met mine and I had to make an effort to sound calm as I asked the butler to show it to us! He unwrapped a portrait that stood around six feet high. It was a beautiful piece and I was informed that it had been commissioned shortly after their marriage.

Lord Richard had been a relatively handsome man, even if it were a grim and cold handsomeness. He had grey eyes and hair of a light chestnut brown. The moustache was already present. He had a clear complexion, a broad frame which seemed to have been passed down to his male relatives and large wide fingered hands. He was seated with his wife standing beside him and a pet wolfhound at his feet. His one hand rested on the dogs head, the other on his knee. He was dressed in dark colours, his face seemed set in sober lines of concentration and this was reflected in the practical and non frivolous way he clothed himself.

His wife, standing beside him, appeared to be petite yet with a buxomness to her figure, a wideness to her hips which would make her body suited to baring children. Her hair in this portrait was unbound and dropped in its matchless beauty down past her waist. It was of a glossy black and showed a natural curl which was most lovely. She had large dark eyes and full lips, a very Italian look to her nose and her neck. The artist had captured her youth and passion well, the eyes danced and swam, the simple red dress she wore brought out the colour in her pale skin and in her lustrous hair. The dress had a deep square neckline, was trimmed with gold braid and made her stand out against the dark backdrop of her husband. Her head was tilted down towards him, her hands rested on his shoulder. Her lips had a half smile, giving the face a warmth and beauty which were wonderful. Truly, it was a lovely portrait.

After staring at it for some time, I asked the butler if he could arrange for this painting to be brought down into the craft room. He nodded and we went downstairs. The hour for tea was ringing and I hurried to the drawing room to speak with my father in law. While Stephen spoke with Michael about some local news, I told Lord Robert about the discovery of his grandmothers portrait. He was much interested and after tea, I took him up to see it, in its new place in the craft room. It was too large for the room perhaps but well lit and had been dusted. Lord Robert considered it for a while then cleared his throat.

“I have never seen this. Jones said it had been hung in the great hall? Well, it must have been taken down to make way for the large family group that is there now. It is a striking likeness of my grandparents, I must say. Odd colour of dress she wears, isn't it? I remember her always liking bold colours but my grandfather hated them so she mainly wore white or greens and blues. Natural colours my grandfather called them. Even when he died she stayed with those colours. Force of habit, I suppose. Well, I have no objection to your keeping the portrait here. Seems a shame to waste it in the attic.” He turned his attention to the dolls house. We had papered the downstairs, the new furniture and paintings were hung in the dining room and hall way. The paintwork on the outsides of the house and the gardens had been touched up. He nodded and complimented the work. Them he made his way back down stairs.

I looked up at Elizabeth. I liked that she could watch what we did now. I hoped she would have approved. I was slowly but surely bringing her out of the attic and into the open. I reached out and traced the red dress. I too only wore calm and natural colours. It was because my husband liked them and he thought red too garish. Red would look well with my dark hair and pale skin too. Elizabeth and I were so alike.

On impulse I slipped outside and began to open the doors of the rooms on that floor. The room opposite the craft room was locked. My heart began to beat faster! It would have been Elizabeth's bedroom. I went downstairs and into the butlers pantry. Mr Jones was elsewhere. I looked at the rows of keys, each neatly labelled. One was labelled 'Lady bedroom, 4^th floor'. I took it and slipped back upstairs at a run. I knew not why I was being so cautious but I wanted to see Elizabeth's old room all by myself first.

I reached the door, the key turned the lock and I opened the door. I went in and shut it behind me. I locked the door again. Then I turned and looked about me at a room which time seemed to have stood still in.