shall be Lady Certainly and Lady This and That, and very grand, and always loving you better than anybody in the world.’
‘My dearest Gwen,’ mamma said, ‘I shall not be jealous if you love your husband better, and he will expect to be first.’ I told her that was a ridiculous expectation but that I would not treat him ill unless he deserved it.
I jested with the optimism of ignorance, of a playful creature who supposes the dark to be just a tunnel with light at its end. But then I wept, for I so wished mamma was coming with me into this new uncertain life. Uncle consoled her and they waved goodbye as Grandcourt led me from Offendene to the waiting carriage.
*
We were to go to Ryelands. A train journey of some fifty miles took us to the nearest railway station, where a carriage waited. It was twilight when we at last arrived at the gates. I was aware of a long winding drive, shadowy vistas of parkland, woodland, lakes and formal gardens, then a large white house, an imposing entrance porch, a pavilion tower, oriel windows. Even in the gloaming and in my febrile state I knew this was all as far from the Momperts as are diamonds from coal dust.
I chatted incessantly, excitedly. Grandcourt held my hand and squeezed it. I grasped his hand with both mine to stop this. ‘Here we are at home,’ he said and for the first time kissed me on the lips, but I scarcely noticed, it was simply a gesture; a piece of theatre, part of the absorbing show.
Uniformed lackeys opened doors. I was shown long corridors, stately rooms with Corinthian columns, high ceilings, gilded zephyrs blowing trumpets, painted garlands, glittering chandeliers, formal portraits, Olympian statues. We ascended the tulip staircase like a king and queen.
‘These are our dens,’ Grandcourt said, showing me into rooms three times the size of Sawyer’s Cottage. ‘You will like to be quiet here until dinner. We shall dine early.’ He pressed my hand to his lips, then withdrew.
Hudson, my maid, trained by the housekeeper, took my hat and cloak, curtsied and left. I threw myself into a chair by a glowing hearth. The room was decorated in pale-green satin, and I and it were reflected infinitely in mirrored panels. I wanted to be alone to absorb the warmth and luxury and get some grasp of who and where I was. The housekeeper knocked and entered. She was holding something. I asked her to tell Hudson to put my dress out, then leave me until I rang for her. She said, ‘Here is a packet, madam, which I was ordered to give into nobody’s hands but yours when you were alone. The person who brought it said it was a present ordered by Mr Grandcourt but he was not to know of its arrival until he saw you wear it.’
I had already guessed that here was the parure of diamonds Grandcourt said I was to have. I had not before worn diamonds. In the packet was a box containing a jewel case within which, as I opened it, the diamonds sparkled. Lying on them was a letter. I knew the handwriting. It was as if an adder were lying there. My hands trembled as I unfolded the thin paper:
These diamonds, which were once given with ardent love to Lydia Glasher, she passes on to you. You have broken your word to her that you might possess what was hers. Perhaps you think of being happy as she once was, and of having beautiful children such as hers, who will thrust hers aside. God is too just for that. The man you have married has a withered heart …
My eyes skimmed the letter. I read it fast and once only. Its words etched into me. To this day I remember them:
broken your word … The man you have married has a withered heart … You had your warning … I am the grave in which your chance of happiness is buried … You will have your punishment … You took him with your eyes open. The willing wrong you have done me will be your curse.
I trembled and gasped for air, then turned and threw the letter into the fire. As I did so the casket fell to the floor and the diamonds
‘My dearest Gwen,’ mamma said, ‘I shall not be jealous if you love your husband better, and he will expect to be first.’ I told her that was a ridiculous expectation but that I would not treat him ill unless he deserved it.
I jested with the optimism of ignorance, of a playful creature who supposes the dark to be just a tunnel with light at its end. But then I wept, for I so wished mamma was coming with me into this new uncertain life. Uncle consoled her and they waved goodbye as Grandcourt led me from Offendene to the waiting carriage.
*
We were to go to Ryelands. A train journey of some fifty miles took us to the nearest railway station, where a carriage waited. It was twilight when we at last arrived at the gates. I was aware of a long winding drive, shadowy vistas of parkland, woodland, lakes and formal gardens, then a large white house, an imposing entrance porch, a pavilion tower, oriel windows. Even in the gloaming and in my febrile state I knew this was all as far from the Momperts as are diamonds from coal dust.
I chatted incessantly, excitedly. Grandcourt held my hand and squeezed it. I grasped his hand with both mine to stop this. ‘Here we are at home,’ he said and for the first time kissed me on the lips, but I scarcely noticed, it was simply a gesture; a piece of theatre, part of the absorbing show.
Uniformed lackeys opened doors. I was shown long corridors, stately rooms with Corinthian columns, high ceilings, gilded zephyrs blowing trumpets, painted garlands, glittering chandeliers, formal portraits, Olympian statues. We ascended the tulip staircase like a king and queen.
‘These are our dens,’ Grandcourt said, showing me into rooms three times the size of Sawyer’s Cottage. ‘You will like to be quiet here until dinner. We shall dine early.’ He pressed my hand to his lips, then withdrew.
Hudson, my maid, trained by the housekeeper, took my hat and cloak, curtsied and left. I threw myself into a chair by a glowing hearth. The room was decorated in pale-green satin, and I and it were reflected infinitely in mirrored panels. I wanted to be alone to absorb the warmth and luxury and get some grasp of who and where I was. The housekeeper knocked and entered. She was holding something. I asked her to tell Hudson to put my dress out, then leave me until I rang for her. She said, ‘Here is a packet, madam, which I was ordered to give into nobody’s hands but yours when you were alone. The person who brought it said it was a present ordered by Mr Grandcourt but he was not to know of its arrival until he saw you wear it.’
I had already guessed that here was the parure of diamonds Grandcourt said I was to have. I had not before worn diamonds. In the packet was a box containing a jewel case within which, as I opened it, the diamonds sparkled. Lying on them was a letter. I knew the handwriting. It was as if an adder were lying there. My hands trembled as I unfolded the thin paper:
These diamonds, which were once given with ardent love to Lydia Glasher, she passes on to you. You have broken your word to her that you might possess what was hers. Perhaps you think of being happy as she once was, and of having beautiful children such as hers, who will thrust hers aside. God is too just for that. The man you have married has a withered heart …
My eyes skimmed the letter. I read it fast and once only. Its words etched into me. To this day I remember them:
broken your word … The man you have married has a withered heart … You had your warning … I am the grave in which your chance of happiness is buried … You will have your punishment … You took him with your eyes open. The willing wrong you have done me will be your curse.
I trembled and gasped for air, then turned and threw the letter into the fire. As I did so the casket fell to the floor and the diamonds
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