A thin, middle-aged woman was seated behind a kind of wire with a gap at the bottom. I bought a stamp for my letter. The shop was deserted and it was clear to me that she was inquisitive and wondering who I was. I supposed she was fully acquainted with most of the people who came in, and here was someone whom she had never seen before.
She said it was a fine day and asked if I had come far.
“Well, from Gray Stone House,” I said. “Do you know it?”
“Reckon,” she said brightly.
I was not sure what that meant, but it soon became clear that she was not only aware of it, but knew that there were new people there and that they were looking round hoping to buy a house in the neighborhood.
My thoughts immediately went to Mrs. Hellman who, having the news, would have quickly imparted it to anyone she encountered. In a community like this where very little happened, newcomers were of the greatest interest.
“Well,” she said. “It’s a mercy you’ve come this morning. You’re Mrs. Fitzgerald ... or are you Miss?”
“I’m Mrs. Fitzgerald.”
“Well then, I was just on sending a message out to you. We don’t deliver. Letters come here to the post office for people in outlying districts and they call in and collect.”
“I heard that from a neighbor... and you have something for me?”
“That would be Mrs. Hellman from Hellman’s Farm. I was going to give it to her but she hasn’t been in this morning.”
“What is it?” I asked urgently.
“Half a minute.” She opened a drawer. “Here is it. Came yesterday. A letter for you.”
“Oh ... thank you.” I glanced at the envelope. It was Belinda’s handwriting. “I ...
I’m so pleased.”
“Come in once or twice a week. We keep the mail for you. Happen you ought to have a number. Box they call it. Box 22. That could be yours. Tell them to send to Box 22, Post Office, Bracken, near Bradford. Got it? Then you come in as often as you like to collect.”
“I am so pleased I called.”
She smiled. I was longing to read Belinda’s letter, but she went on, “You see that one’s sent to Mrs. Fitzgerald, Gray Stone House, Bracken, Bradford. Well, that’s all right because we know who you are. I knew you had come to Gray Stone... but if you remember Box 22 it’s best... though it wouldn’t matter all that much.”
“You’ve been very helpful.”
“How are you getting on at Gray Stone?”
“Very well.”
“That’s the ticket. It’s a bit lonely up there.”
“Well, we don’t expect to be there long. Thank you so much. I am so glad I called in.”
She was reluctant to let me go and I am sure she would have made a greater attempt to detain me if someone else had not come in at that moment. “Oh, Mrs. Copland,” she cried. “There you are ... and how’s that daughter-in-law of yours getting on?”
I did not stay to hear the condition of Mrs. Copland’s daughter-in-law but came out onto the street clutching Belinda’s letter.
Desperately I wanted to read it, but I could not do so there. I mounted my horse and rode out of Bracken. I found a field bordered by a few trees, so I alighted, tethered my horse to a fence and sat down under one of the trees to read.
Dear Lucie,
I am sending this in the hope that it will reach you. I hope I’ve got the address right. You did mention Gray Stone was the name of the house... remember? And I’m sure it was near a place called Bracken. So here goes.
Things are working out very well here. All is going smoothly, and as Henry is not raising any objection and it is a clear case of my being the sinner... we’re hoping all will go well.
We are a bit afraid of the press, but Bobby’s family has influence and they are working hard for us. It is this dear little infant who is making them all so eager... Bobby’s family, I mean. They are all desperately anxious that he shall be born in wedlock. Then of course if we do just miss, it will all be suitably covered up, and Bobby and I will go through the ceremony-very quietly-as soon as it is over. So I am not worrying. I wish you could come here and stay. It would be great fun. It’s really rather pleasant. I quite like being the lady of the manor. None of the people on the estate know that I have no right to the title and we are hoping to keep that little matter dark.
However, it is all rather thrilling... and quite amusing ... or it will be when it is all over.
Why do these people have to take so long?
Well, that’s all about me. What of you? How are you getting on in Gray Stone? It sounds dreary. And how is dear Roland and his sister?
By the way, Joel came down to see us. He stayed a night. He wanted to talk to me ... about you, of course. He asked if I knew where you were? I gave him the address I’m putting on this letter. He asked if I was writing to you and he wanted me to tell you something specially. That’s why I’m writing to you now. He said, “Could you write and tell Lucie that I’m working on things?” He said something about it’s being wrapped up in mystery and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
One thing I have to make sure to tell you is the message: Fergus O’Neill had a brother...
I stopped reading. A brother! Did that mean that the brother was pretending to be him? Were they alike? Did they both have that widow’s peak? Then could it possibly be that the brother had decided to haunt me? How could that be? Both Roland and Phillida had been standing beside me and had not seen him.
And Joel had discovered this. I felt suddenly much happier. He was working for me.
It was a wonderful feeling of relief.
If I could only see Joel!
I turned back to the letter.
Joel said that the brother was as deeply involved as Fergus. He said they were all working for what they called “the cause.” Joel is delving into things and there are one or two points he can’t be quite clear about as yet. As soon as he has found what he wants he is coming to you. In the meantime he said-and he stressed this-you must take the utmost care. He would like you to get back to London. He was very serious. He is a most attractive man. If I weren’t so devoted to Bobby ...
Well, enough of that.
Dear Lucie, do come and see me. I don’t like to think of you all those miles away.
I do hope this reaches you. Anyway why haven’t you written to me? Then you could give me the proper address. When you do, I shall pass it on to Joel! I can’t understand why you haven’t written.
Love from Belinda... and Bobby and that one who will soon be making his august entry into the world.
I smiled and read the letter again. Joel was thinking of me. Probing, he said. How I longed to be with him!
I was glad I had posted my letter. I was feeling considerably better. What a good impulse it was that had led me into Bracken this afternoon. The letter would of course have come into my hands eventually; but it was just what I needed this day.
I settled my horse in the stable and went into the house. I called to tell Phillida that I was back, but there was no answer. Apparently she had gone out, and I thought I would ask Kitty to make me a cup of tea.
I went into the kitchen. Kitty was sitting on a chair dozing. I did not wake her. I was not sure that I wanted to tell Roland and Phillida that I had received a letter from Belinda and discovered that Fergus O’Neill had a brother. It would bring up the subject of the vision. Nor did I want to mention that the information had come through Joel by way of Belinda. But I usually had a cup of tea with Phillida at this time, and the thought suddenly occurred to me that she might be in the herbary, for she spent a lot of time there preparing her herbs.