‘Come on, children. Let’s go down to the river and see the ducks,’ Amelia calls over her shoulder, her voice brittle with impatience. ‘These photographs of his, you mean? I’m not surprised you don’t. I shall have to see them myself before I pass comment, of course, but…’ She shrugs.
‘But? You suspect them to be… not genuine?’
‘How can they be? I’m sorry, Hetty, but it’s just too much. Fairies. Really! And you say he was quite alone when he took the pictures, and when he developed them?’
‘Oh, yes. Albert doesn’t go with him into the meadows any more, and nobody is allowed into the cold store. His dark room, that is.’ Hester steps carefully over the butcher’s brindle-haired dog, fagged out flat on its side in the middle of the pavement. It twitches an eyelid as her skirt tickles it.
‘Well, there you are then! He’s had ample opportunity to doctor the images… I can’t see how he will hope to convince anyone if he has produced them in such secrecy,’ Amelia declares.
‘Well, they do seem… that is, it does look like a real… person – figure, that is. It’s just that… it’s so blurred it’s hard to tell if it is a fairy or just a… woman,’ Hester says, hesitantly. ‘But it can’t be a person. Who could it be? Nobody would partake willingly in such a deception. Nobody from the village has hair so long and fair, nor would be out in the meadows before sunrise. No. There is some other explanation… Perhaps it is real,’ she concedes. ‘Albert certainly believes it.’
‘Yes. It’s clear that Albert is rather… caught up in it all.’
‘Oh, yes. He is quite convinced by whatever Robin says,’ Hester agrees, not trying to keep her unhappiness from sounding.
‘Remarkable, how quickly they have become so close.’
‘Indeed. So very close. Sometimes… sometimes I catch Mr Durrant watching me with a most peculiar expression on his face, and I wonder…’
‘What, Hetty?’
‘I wonder if he knows things about me that I would rather he did not.’
‘You mean, that Albert may have been indiscreet? About your… marital affairs?’
‘Perhaps, as I confide in you, Albert has… confided in Robin,’ she says, hesitantly. Amelia takes a short breath and considers this for a moment.
‘That speech he gave last night, about the undines in their ecstasy… do you suppose he was referring to…?’ she suggests.
‘You would know better than I if that was what he was referring to,’ Hester says, miserably.
‘I thought he merely meant to cause a stir! Rascal of a man!’ Amelia’s voice is low and scandalised. ‘Well, that only confirms to me something I suspected from the very start, dear sister.’
‘What did you suspect?’
‘That Mr Durrant is not what he seems to be. Be careful, my dear. Do not let him get the better of you, and… try to distance yourself from this whole fairy business.’
‘How can I distance myself when my husband is so very involved?’ Hester asks. Amelia is silent, and appears deep in thought for some minutes.
‘It is a difficult situation, I do see. I think the best thing will be to speak of it little beyond the walls of The Rectory; to try to encourage scepticism in Albert, if it is at all possible; and to hope that the whole affair blows over quickly. A madness of this hot weather, and nothing more,’ she says at last.
‘Scepticism? Albert is busy writing a pamphlet about it all! They mean to go to the press, and publish the pictures… Surely that must mean that Robin is genuine? That he does not mean to dissemble? Surely he would not risk exposing himself in this way otherwise?’
‘But what has he to lose, Hetty? He is an unknown, who seeks to be known… whereas Albert has a reputation, an important role of long standing in the church and in society… He lends respectability to the project, but if there were to be a scandal…’ Amelia says seriously.
‘Then Albert would suffer more damage from it than Mr Durrant?’
‘Indeed he would, dearest.’
‘But… what can I do?’ Hester cries, fear making her tearful. Amelia takes both of her hands and squeezes them.
‘Don’t look so frightened! It will more than likely come to nothing at all! And perhaps it could be a good thing for them to publish the pictures – if they cause a stir, Mr Durrant may well take himself off on a tour with them, or some such. It may hasten his departure from The Rectory.’
‘Oh, do you think so?’ Hester says, hopefully.
‘You must hope so; and wait to see,’ says Amelia, and though she smiles at her sister, her eyes are grave.
At the river, Thatcham’s children are sporting in the greenish water, leaping from the bridge with whoops of delight, paddling haphazardly from bank to bank, where the grass is being trampled muddy. Ellie and John watch them with envy and rage, knowing better than to even ask their mother if they can join in. They stare, and chew their liquorice glumly, running blackened tongues over greyish lips. The air is cooler by the river, where tall horse chestnut trees shade it and the water soothes it. The two sisters walk very slowly and find a bench to sit upon. No ducks to feed, not with the racket the children are making.
‘I do wish you didn’t have to go back to town tomorrow, Amy,’ Hester says softly.
‘So do I, darling. But… we must. I have much to talk to my husband about.’
‘What will you tell him?’
‘Just what I told you. That if he continues, I will love him no more. Perhaps that will not bother him.’ She shrugs sadly. ‘Perhaps it will. But what else can I do?’
‘What can any woman do?’ Hester agrees. She thinks of Cat, and smiles. ‘My maid, Cat, would tell us off for such defeatism. She went to jail to earn us the vote, after all.’
‘Was that what it was all about? How ridiculous. They do more damage than good, those foolish vandals.’
‘Indeed,’ Hester murmurs. ‘And have you any more words of advice for me? Regarding my… marriage bed?’ she asks, and though she tries to make her tone light, the words come out with a quaver that sounds fragile, at breaking point. Amelia squeezes her hands again.
‘Only this. If you are lying close to him, smiling and asking to be taken into his arms, then your part is done, dearest. Anything that is lacking is lacking in Albert, not in you. So I cannot help you, because you are not the problem,’ she says.
‘Yes. That is what I have come to fear.’
‘So, I suppose this will take Mr Durrant to pastures new,’ Hester says to Albert, lying on the cool sheet with the blankets cast off, in the sudden darkness of the bedroom after the lamps have been extinguished. The window is still open, to freshen the air, and the distant sound of a dog barking echoes in from the village. She turns onto her side, facing Albert, as she always does in bed, and can trace the shape of his face in the pale glow of the starry night sky. His eyes are open and shine softly. He does not reply for quite some time, and when he does his voice is tight with anguish.
‘I truly hope not. Perhaps, for a while at least. He means to go up to London with them, to the headquarters of the Society. But afterwards… I pray he will return to us. To the elementals of our meadows.’
‘You wish him to return?’ she asks, already knowing the answer.
‘Yes, of course. He is teaching me so much… I feel that my mind has been opened, in these weeks since he came to me. The world is quite a different place.’
‘Yes, he has been full of… instruction,’ she says.
‘I don’t know what I would do if he didn’t come back again. I don’t know… how I would continue,’ Albert whispers, in a distracted way, as though to himself.