This was her first time seeing the Crane family estate. When she and George had been meeting up secretly, they would meet in the woods between their houses, but he always came to her – she never went far from her family home. A few times, she and her siblings had wandered through the woods, visiting the old ruins in the forest, and so she had seen the house from a distance, mostly obscured by the old trees grown up around it. She had liked to imagine it was a magical old place, a stately villa in the depths of the forest, beautiful and inspiring, slowly being taken over by the forest around it. After she met George, she had gone again, once, to look at it from a distance, and imagined herself going and meeting his family, having tea in their grand sitting room. She had imagined George's family home then as a light filled mansion, with many windows and views of the gardens around it. She had imagined herself and George, dancing down a great hall filled with portraits of his ancestors looking approvingly on.
The reality was rather more modest than any of her imaginings.
The Crane family home was slightly larger than her own family's house. A little neater, a little richer in the details perhaps, but nothing extravagant. She would hardly have called it an estate, except that the Crane's were part of a noble family that could trace their lineage back many generations in the area, and so they were allowed to use the more impressive sounding language.
Philip must have seen the disappointment on her face as they neared the house, because he said, "I did say that it was not so grand as the word 'estate' makes it sound. Still, it is larger than my house."
Marina stifled a snort at his comment. She turned to him and said, "I'm sure we shall be perfectly comfortable here while you are in London."
He nodded and looked satisfied with that. He had rented a carriage to take them to the estate, and then to take him on to London, so the back seat was full of legal documents, and he sat wedged between two boxes full of his writings and various legal texts. Marina had given Celeste to him to hold for the ride, so that he could spend as much time holding her as he liked before they were separated. They hadn't been apart longer than a few hours since Celeste was born. She thought he looked more comfortable there than he ever had at any social gathering, and smiled at the thought.
"My goodness Philip," Mrs. Crane chided him when she saw the state of their transportation. "You couldn't have rented a larger carriage? Or brought fewer books with you?"
Philip already seemed so glum at having to leave Celeste behind that Marina took pity on him and stepped in to defend him. "The ride here is so short that we were quite cozy in this one. And Philip should have had to rent a second carriage in order to have space for all of his case notes," she couldn't help adding, with a grin at Philip. He was too distracted to notice her.
"Fine, fine, is that all you've brought with you?" Mrs. Crane asked, when Marina's trunk has been taken down. "Well, I do have everything you will need here I suppose. Come in my girls, come in!"
Marina took Celeste from Philip's reluctant arms and smiled at him. "Have a good trip," she told him. "I hope it goes well for your case."
He brightened visibly at the thought of his court dealings, and she couldn't help grinning at him. Sometimes he was too easy to read. He bowed and climbed back into the carriage, leaving her with his mother.
"Come in my dear – let me show you around the house first, then we can have tea." Mrs. Crane led Marina in to the house, following the servant boy and the butler up the stairs as they carried Marina's trunk. Marina couldn't help looking around, and thinking that this was the house that George – and Philip – had grown up in.
"The Crane holdings are not what they used to be," Mrs. Crane explained, noticing Marina looking around. "We once had a much grander estate, long ago, but it was split between brothers, and my great-great-grandfather incurred some debts on poor investments – ships that never arrived, terrible thing – and the family was forced to sell off even more land. That's when the old manor was abandoned, and this one built. It's likely for the best – I can't imagine how drafty and drear the old manor must have been; it was practically a crumbling castle even then! The ruins of the old house are still out there, mostly covered by the forest now I believe."
"I know those ruins!" Marina exclaimed. "We played there many times as children – it is not far from my father's land." She and George had met there as well – he had never told her they were his ancestral lands, only laughed at her when she made up lurid stories about their history.
Mrs. Crane's tour didn't take too long – the house was a comfortable size. It was nearly the same size as the house Marina had grown up in, but with only Mrs. Crane and a couple of servant's living in the house it did seem much larger. Marina had never given much thought to how small it made her family's house seem, to be always filled with people and noise, not until this past year, first in London and now here. She thought Mrs. Crane must be quite lonely, to always be walking into empty rooms. The front entrance of the house was quite dark – decorated with deep, rich coloured wood and small windows, but the upstairs rooms that Mrs. Crane showed Marina were brightly lit, and perfectly charming. Finally, she brought Marina into a bedroom where her trunk was waiting for her. "This was George's room," she told Marina. "I haven't had the heart to do much with it since he left to join the army. I'll give you time to settle in – when you're ready come downstairs, and I'll have tea prepared for us."
Marina took Mrs. Crane's hand in a warm grasp. "Thank you."
Once Mrs. Crane left Marina put Celeste down on the rug and looked around. She ran her fingers over the writing desk against the wall, imagined George sitting there, writing his letters to her. Letters she had burned in London, thinking he had abandoned her. She pushed her regret away and moved to the window. There was a lovely view down past the garden out back to the fields and forests stretching out west, towards her own family's property. There, just over the hill, lay the woods where she used to meet George. She turned back to the room – checking that Celeste was happily exploring the loops and patterns of the rug – and went to the chest by his bed. She pulled out his shirts and breathed of them deeply, but there was nothing of him left in them, only dust. She sneezed, and a little pee trickled down her leg, and then she was laughing, and Celeste joined her. "This is what you left me," she muttered into the shirt. "Memories, and an unreliable bladder."
Celeste gurgled and Marina turned to her and pulled her up into her arms. "And you of course my darling."
She went downstairs to meet Mrs. Crane and found her in the sitting room, decorated very much like Philip's sitting room. Marina smiled to herself, remembering how Philip had joked when she first arrived at his house, about how his mother had furnished the place
"I've invited Mrs. Gilchrist to dinner," Mrs. Crane told her. "I hope you don't mind."
Mrs. Gilchrist was also a widow, and had been Mrs. Crane's closest friend and neighbor for many years. She was somewhat more subdued than Mrs. Crane in her behavior, but only just. "How wonderful, to have grandchildren at last!" she gushed upon meeting Marina and Celeste. "When George died, I didn't expect you would ever have the opportunity to experience such joy!" She laughed. "I shouldn't say such things in front of Philips' wife – I apologize dear; I am only an old lady having fun."
Mrs. Crane laughed, but Marina felt a flash of irritation. "Philip is an excellent father. He is all kindness to Celeste."
"I should hope so! Look at her beautiful little face; how could he not be?" Mrs. Gilchrist tried to take Celeste into her arms, but Celeste cried and struggled away from her. Marina knew Mrs. Gilchrist was not trying to be mean, and that she was in fact correct, and Philip had never fathered a child, but she couldn't help feeling a little smug at Celeste's reaction to her.
Still, it was quite fun, sitting up into the evening with the two old widows, listening to all the gossip about everyone in Hampstead and surrounds. Marina had been lonely, these past months, staying home with no one to keep her company but herself and occasionally Philip. She had missed the company of other women, the easy flow of conversation and jokes. She went to sleep that night with Celeste tucked up beside her, humming happily to herself.
She dreamed she was walking through the woods with George, hand in hand and barely dressed. It was wilder than the woods had truly been, deeper greens and shadows. She turned her head and noticed Philip sitting against a tree trunk. He was overgrown with vines, green leaves hanging off his head and shoulders.
George took her by the shoulders and kissed her, leaning her against a tree beside Philip. "I've missed you," he murmured. She wanted to pay attention only to him, wanted to concentrate only on the feel of his hands on her, his lips on her face, but she was distracted by Philip, slowly being sucked into the forest beside her.
George took no notice, pushing her back into the tree trunk, lifting her skirt above her hips and rocking his pelvis against her. She felt a flash of irritation and pushed him away. "What are you doing?" she asked. He came to her again, cupping her breasts in his hands, and she realized then that she was falling into the tree trunk, that he was inadvertently pushing her deeper into the green prison.
She woke sweating, Celeste crying for breakfast beside her.
Later that day she sat with Mrs. Crane having tea in the parlour. Celeste was napping in a bassinet next to the chaise, giving Marina time enough to finally inspect the large portrait hanging over the fireplace. It depicted a middle aged man who resembled George, and two young boys. "Is that your husband?" Marina asked.
Mrs. Crane looked up at the portrait and smiled fondly. "Yes, that is my William, with George and Philip as young boys. Wasn't he a handsome man? George took after him. William was never as social as George though – in that respect Philip is more like him."
Marina looked at the boys then – the older boy looked straight at the viewer, a mischievous smile on his lips. His hands were in movement, and he had one foot placed slightly farther back than the other, as though he were ready to run out of the room as soon as he was released from posing. The younger brother looked straight at the viewer as well, with a serious expression in his dark eyes, standing with his hands awkwardly straight at his side. "What were they like, as children?"
"I expect you would recognize them even then. George was such a delight, even as a baby. He had the sweetest laugh, and was always happy to be held. He loved attention. He would always be bringing me gifts, stones and leaves and strange bugs from the forest." She smiled at her memories.
"And Philip?"
"Oh… he's always been himself as well. Quiet and studious, always so serious. George used to beat him at everything, every game they played, but Philip never complained, never cried. I think he was happy his brother was so successful. I've always worried about George. I used to stay up nights, when he was away at the academy, whenever he wasn't home, worried to death over him. Philip, on the other hand – I've never had to worry about him."
Marina stared at the portrait, looking between the father and the two sons. She could easily imagine it; George winning a wrestling match against Philip and hooting in joy while Philip smiled his calm smile…
Celeste woke from her nap screaming. Marina went to her and soothed her. "She's hungry; I'll go feed her."
"She has strong emotions that one – when she is happy she is happy, but when she's unhappy she certainly lets you know!" Mrs. Crane laughed.