I said: “It’s true… what this woman says…”

He looked at me blankly.

I turned and went from the room.

I stumbled up to our bedroom and I asked myself what I could do next. I was bewildered; my happiness had disintegrated so rapidly that I could not think clearly. The only thought which kept hammering in my head was: Joliffe is that woman’s husband. Not yours. You have no place in this house. It belongs to her.

What could I do? I should have to go away, leave them together.

I must do something. I took a case and started to put a few things into it. Then I sat down and covered my face with my hands. I wanted to shut out the sight of this room where I had been so happy for I knew that that happiness was built on no firm foundation. It had collapsed as quickly as the houses of cards my mother used to build with me when I was a child.

Joliffe came into the room. He looked stricken—all the assurance drained from him. I would never have believed he could have looked like that.

He took a step towards me and held me in his arms.

I lay against him for a few moments trying to shut out that hideous scene in the room below. But I had to face the truth, I knew it.

I withdrew myself and said: “Joliffe, it’s not true. It can’t be.”

He nodded miserably.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought she was dead. It was all past and done with, I thought. It was something I wanted to forget had ever happened.”

“But you married her! That woman is your wife! Oh Joliffe, I can’t bear it.”

“I thought she was dead. Her name was given as one of those who died in the disaster. I was out of the country at the time and when I came back I heard the news and accepted it as true. How should I know that someone else was wearing her coat?”

“So she is your wife.”

“I’ll have to take steps, Jane. We’ll find a way.”

“She’s here, Joliffe. She’s in this house. She’s down there now. She said she had come to stay.”

“She’ll have to go.”

“But she’s your wife!

“That doesn’t force me to live with her.”

“There’s only one thing I can do,” I said.

He looked at me wretchedly.

“I must go away,” I went on. “I’ll go to Roland’s Croft. I’ll be with my mother. We’ll have to see what I should do.”

“You’re my wife,” he said.

“I’m not. She is your wife.”

“Don’t go, Jane. We’ll leave here. We’ll go away, we’ll go abroad.”

“But she is your wife, Joliffe. She will never let you forget that. I can’t stay here. Let me go to my mother. I’ll stay with her for a while until… we work something out.”

“I can’t let you go, Jane.”

“You have no alternative. I must go now, quickly. It will be easier this way.”

He pleaded with me. I had never seen him like this before. His marriage to Bella had been an act of youthful folly. He would find a way out, he promised me. J was his wife, not that woman down there.

But I knew that this was not so. I knew that I had to get away.

Reality seemed to have receded. It was hard to believe that I was not in the midst of a nightmare. I packed two bags and this helped to calm me. It occurred to me then that this was how life with Joliffe would have been. I would never have known what or who would arise from the past. Joliffe was the most exciting person in the world and this was partly because he was unpredictable. I had lived a quiet and sheltered life. I had been unprepared for what could happen to the adventurous like Joliffe. The knowledge came to me then that I had never really known Joliffe. I loved him, yes—his appearance, his personality, his gaiety, the spirit of adventure that was innate in him—but I did not know the true man. He had gradually begun to emerge. It was as though a mask was slowly shifting and showing me what I had not known existed.

I had been innocent, unworldly, but on that day I began to grow up.


* * *

Albert drove me to the station. He said nothing, but his expression was mournful. A porter carried my bags and put me in a first-class compartment and so I traveled down to Roland’s Croft.

It was dusk when I arrived at the little station. There was no one to meet me this time, but the stationmaster, who knew me, said that the station fly would be back in fifteen minutes if I’d wait for that.

“An unexpected visit, Mrs. Milner,” he said. “They don’t seem to know up at the house that you’re coming.”

I said: “No, they don’t.”

“Well, ’twill be a matter of fifteen minutes most likely.”

I guessed fifteen minutes meant thirty and I was right but in due course I was driving along to the house.

Jeffers came hurrying out at the sound of wheels. He looked blankly at me.

“Why,” he said, “if it isn’t young Mrs. Milner! Was you expected? I had no orders to meet you.”

“I was not expected,” I assured him. “Will you have my bags brought in please?”

He looked a little disconcerted.

Amy was at the door. Her astonishment was apparent.

I said: “Hello, Amy. Would you please tell my mother I’m here.”

“Why, Miss Jane, she’s not here.”

“Not here! But where is she?”

“You’d better come in,” she said.

There was something mysterious happening. This was not the greeting I had expected. Amy had turned and run to the servants’ hall calling Mrs. Couch.

When the cook appeared I ran to her. She took me into her arms and kissed me.

“Why Jane,” she said. “You could have knocked me down with a feather.”

I said: “Where’s my mother, Mrs. Couch? Amy said she was not here.”

“It’s true. She was took away three days since.”

“Where to?”

“To the hospital.”

“Has she had an accident?”

“Well not exactly, dear. It’s her complaint.”

“Her complaint?”

“It was that cough and all that. It’s been coming on some time.”

“I wasn’t told.”

“No, she didn’t want you worried.”

“What is the matter with her?”

Mrs. Couch looked uneasy. “The master’s home,” she said. “I think it would be a good thing if you was to see him. I’ll go along myself and tell him you’re here, shall I? Where’s Mr. Joliffe? Hasn’t he come with you?”

“No. He’s in London.”

“I’ll tell the master. You go up to your old room and I’ll tell him.”

In a haze of apprehension I went up to my old room. It seemed that something terrible was happening to everyone I loved. What was this mystery about my mother? There was no mystery about Joliffe. The truth was horribly clear. He was married and I was not his wife. But my mother… in the hospital! Why had I not been told?

There was the familiar room. I went to the window and looked across to the barred windows of the showroom, and poignant memories of the night when I had been there with Joliffe came back to me. Joliffe who had cheated then, and who was married all the time so that I was not his wife!

What is happening? I asked myself. Everything is collapsing about me.

Mrs. Couch was at the door.

“The master will see you now,” she said.

I followed her to the room where we had often sat together and drunk tea from the dragon teapot.

He rose as I entered and took my hand.

“Sit down,” he said.

I did so.

“I’m afraid I have bad news for you,” he went on, “and it is useless to keep it from you any longer. Your mother has been very ill for some time. She was suffering from consumption. She did not wish you to know. That is why you were not told. She was anxious that you should not be upset during your first months of marriage. At length she became so ill that it was necessary for her to go into a hospital that she might have the best of attention. That is where she is now.”

“But…” I began.

He silenced me. “It is a great shock for you, I know. Perhaps it would have been better if you had been warned. She had been suffering from this complaint for a few years now. In the last months it has intensified. I think you have to prepare yourself for the fact that she cannot live much longer.”

I could not speak. My grief welled up within me. He regarded me with a compassion which was very real and comforting.

“I can’t believe this,” I said.

“It is hard, I know. We thought that one sharp blow would be better for you than a long-drawn-out anxiety. Her only thought was for you.”

“I know it. Can I see her?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Now?”

“You must wait till tomorrow. Then Jeffers can drive you to the hospital.”

“But I want to see her at once.”

“You could not see her at this time of day. She is very ill. She may not know you. Give yourself time to grow accustomed to this grief.”

He looked so wise sitting there in his mulberry smoking jacket and little velvet cap, that I felt a certain comfort in looking at him.

“It is too much,” I said suddenly. “This… and Joliffe…”

“Joliffe?” he said quickly.

I knew I would have to tell him, so I did so.

He was silent.

“Did you know that he already had a wife?” I asked.

“If I had I should have spoken up. But it does not surprise me. What shall you do?”

“I don’t know. I was going to talk it over with my mother.”

“She must not know. It gave her great gratification to believe you had someone to look after you.”

“No, she must not know.”

“You will have to decide what you are going to do.”