The Moss House by Clara Barley

Author:Clara Barley [Barley, Clara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bluemoose Books Ltd
Published: 2019-05-14T09:37:39+00:00

Chapter Ten

Winter, 1833: A confession and a bout

of melancholy

Miss Lister

Falling from a carriage. What an awful way to die. Quick, hopefully. But awful.

It seems Miss Walker may well be as cursed as she imagined. Perhaps I am safer without her in my life; I may live longer.

Lo and behold, all our plans are stopped in their tracks again. She is reverted to grief.

Who could have predicted this? I hold her, sit with her and try to be as patient as I can. I am not made for nursing and long for her to fall asleep so I can get some fresh air. I take the opportunity as she finally sleeps to stride away from Crow Nest and into the woods which close in around me. I enjoy the momentary solitude they create and lose myself wandering when I can no longer see anything but trees.

Before too long has passed, I dutifully return to the house to check on her. Her aunt arrives and I dally about, unsure of what to do as her aunt sits with her in her room. I busy myself in her home, writing letters and gently playing on her grand piano.

I wonder if all along I have been thinking of it the wrong way around. I could be the owner of Crow Nest, in all its newness. It’s scarcely sixty years old, whilst Shibden is four hundred. There are advantages and disadvantages to both. Perhaps we could keep this house for our guests. Better still, I could decant my father and Marian here from Shibden. I imagine they’d love it. Then we could keep Shibden to ourselves, and my aunt of course. But do I really want to be part of the nouveau riche? The Listers are ancient landed gentry whereas the Walkers are new money. They have none of the lineage.

Her aunt stays for lunch and I must make small talk with her as Miss Walker will not leave her room to join us. Luckily, I can recount our York trip and I confide in her some of what Doctor Belcome said. She and I both sigh at the same time, knowing that all has been undone again with this tragic news. Finally, her aunt leaves and I spend the rest of the day with Miss Walker alone, barely speaking a word.

I have read that in grief one is best to be just company. One is required merely to sit. Be present. Allow the person to grieve. How long will it last, I wonder? If it is months or years as I hear it was when her parents died, and then her brother, there is no way I could manage it, no matter what my feelings are for her. I wonder if I am best to leave her – not now, that would be heartless, but in a few weeks. I could take a trip for a few months and return afresh when she has recovered.

I stay until evening and though she begs me not to leave, I cannot cope.

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