Painting The Darkness by Robert Goddard

I should say. The dear old soul adores visitors
.’
    So it was agreed and, as Baverstock had implied, easily accomplished. We descended through Limpley Stoke to the flat valley bottom and there, in a sunny hollow overlooked by the railway line, found Miss Pursglove’s grace-and-favour cottage, smoke curling from the chimney, the thatch well kept, hanging baskets still in blossom, the rush of the weir on the river behind us softening the silence. Miss Pursglove saw us coming from the kitchen window and pushed it open to trill a greeting. She recognized Constance at once
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    ‘
It’s Miss Sumner, as I live and breathe. It’s been too long, my dear, far too long.’ Her wizened bright-eyed face was transported with delight. A moment later, she was at the door. ‘Welcome one and welcome all. Mr Baverstock and …
’
    ‘
My husband, Nanny,’ Constance said. ‘I am Mrs Trenchard now
.’
    Momentarily, Miss Pursglove looked crestfallen; I found myself guessing what she might have hoped. ‘Do all come in and make yourselves at home. Will you take some tea? Lupin and I have baked some scones
.’
    Lupin, it transpired, was a cat, whom Miss Pursglove fussed over between filling pots and jugs and cups and passing plates and spoons and doilies. Baverstock lent an ineffectual hand in a way that suggested he was no stranger to the ritual. He and I were seldom called upon to speak. When Miss Pursglove was not talking – which was not often – Constance was. Their memories, it seemed, were of brighter, better days than Lady Davenall had ever known. And, borne in with their memories, there stood an invisible guest at our tea-party beside the river: James Davenall, the man both women wanted to believe was still alive
.
    ‘
How I did cry when I saw my Jamie again,’ Miss Pursglove said at length. ‘How I did chide him for misleading us all
.’
    ‘
Now, Nanny,’ said Baverstock, ‘you know Lady Davenall doesn’t want this man Norton talked of as if—
’
    ‘
Stuff and nonsense! If she can’t tell her own son from Adam, let the woman who raised him do it for her. I never believed he was dead anyway. That’s what you lawyers would have had us believe, but I knew better
.’
    There was no denying her conviction; Baverstock cast a defeatist glance in my direction. Constance, however, seemed eager that she should continue. ‘How did you know for certain, Nanny?
’
    ‘
He came in here with that shy-eyed bit of a stoop he used to put on when he’d misbehaved as a boy. I’d have known him anywhere. He’s my Jamie and no mistake. I know Sir Hugo doesn’t think so, but he wouldn’t, would he? Always a difficult boy, that Hugo. Not sweet-tempered like Jamie
.’
    ‘
Even so—’ I began
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    ‘
Begging your pardon, Mr Trenchard, but, even so as even is, Mr James is back among us. Sir James, as I must learn to call him. Back as he promised he would be
.’
    ‘
Promised?’ said Constance
.
    ‘
The last time I saw him. Eleven years ago. He came up to see me in my room over the nursery before he went on that trip to London. Said he was going away and might not be back for a long time. I never thought he meant this long. But I did make him promise to come back. And he said he would. “Don’t worry, Nanny,” he said. “You’ll see me again.”
’
    ‘
Perhaps,’ put in Baverstock, ‘he meant when he returned from London
.’
    ‘
Fiddlesticks! He meant what he said. And now he’s kept his promise. “Well, Nanny,” he said when he called on me here, “I’m back, just like I said I would be.” Doesn’t that prove he’s the same man who said goodbye to me all those years ago?
’
    ‘
I hardly—’ Baverstock began. He was cut short by Constance rising from her chair
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    ‘
Would you all excuse me for a short while?’ she said. ‘I think I am in need of some air.’ I made to rise, but she gestured me to remain. ‘Do stay and finish your tea, William. I know you will have more questions for Nanny. I will be