Last Voyage of the Valentina(127)

“A shame Alba’s real mother won’t see her wed. I took such pride in my daughter on her wedding day. I’ll always remember it,” said Hannah.

“I knew Alba as a baby,” said Fred.

“And as a teenager, drinking in the Hen’s Legs,” Hannah reminded him, winking. He grinned back mischievously. Those days had been good.

“Do you know how her mother died?” Verity asked. Reverend Weatherbone summoned his wisdom and rummaged around for compassion; there was precious little for Verity.

“She died in a car crash,” he said. “It was a long time ago.” Just as he was about to change the subject, Verity interrupted.

“No, she didn’t.”

“I don’t know who you’ve been listening to,” said the Reverend.

“Edith overheard them talking. The captain murdered her.” Hannah’s mouth swung open and Fred looked bewildered. Reverend Weatherbone put down his Bible.

“What utter nonsense, Verity Forthright. You and Edith should be ashamed of yourselves, spreading vicious and unfounded rumors. This is God’s house and I am the keeper of it. While that is so, I will not tolerate lies to be spread among the good people of Beechfield.” His voice resounded down the nave, echoing off the walls as if it were the voice of God. “Do you understand, Verity?” His bright, shiny eyes bore into her and she shrank back beneath the weight of them.

She swallowed hard. “That’s what Edith heard.”

“Do you know what an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth means?”

“Of course I do.”

“It means, Verity, that as you sow, so shall you reap. I would be very careful what you sow, for you shall reap it all, tenfold. We are masters of our own fate. If I were you I would spread a little kindness about you. That too comes back tenfold. Now, wouldn’t that be a surprise? I look forward to hearing your composition, Fred. Let me know when you have practiced it sufficiently. Now, let us hear less about murder and more about marriage. Alba’s mother is with God and she will be present in spirit at her daughter’s wedding. Don’t think for a moment that she won’t.” With that he turned, sending his robes flying about him, and was gone.

“That’s my girl,” chuckled Fred, pulling his bell again. “Ring out for the reverend!”



Christmas at Beechfield Park came and went with the snow, and the New Year began with a large firework display for the whole village in the field above the house. Fitz and Alba watched the bright lights explode into showers of glitter, illuminating their faces with wonder. Fitz looked ahead to the new year with optimism and joy. Alba watched the children with their sparklers and thought of Cosima. How she would love them. Time did nothing to diminish her affection or assuage her anguish. Fitz didn’t notice that little by little he was losing her. That as each day passed, her mind was less on their future and more on her past.



One winter weekend, when the rain threw itself against the windowpanes, Alba sat down with Margo to write the invitations. Margo put on Mozart and lit the fire, while Fitz played a game of squash with Henry. Miranda and Caroline, who were to be bridesmaids, had gone shopping in Winchester. Margo had noticed that Alba had withdrawn into herself recently. Grown quiet and thoughtful. This was meant to be the happiest time in her life and yet she didn’t seem happy. As they were alone in the cozy environment of the drawing room, she decided to do some gentle probing.

“Darling, you seem a little distracted,” she began apprehensively, taking off her reading glasses and leaving them to hang on their chain. “You’re not nervous about the wedding, are you?”

Alba didn’t look at her. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just all a little overwhelming.”

“I know. There’s so much being organized around you, I bet you feel sometimes that you’re about to sink beneath it all.”

“Yes,” Alba agreed, licking an envelope and sticking it down.

“Have you and Fitz decided where you’re going to live yet?”

Alba sighed. “Not yet. He’s really got to live in London as it’s not convenient to commute. But I want to be here.”

“But what about all your friends?”

“What friends, Margo? You know I don’t have any. I had boyfriends, but they’re hardly appropriate now. And Viv’s spending all her time in France with Pierre. Fitz is my friend. I want to be where he is. It’s just a shame it has to be London.”

“Maybe only for a little while. Perhaps when you have children it’ll be suitable for you all to move to the country.”