‘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?’