“Your Lordship,

  I write to you mainly to inform you where you can find the grave, if ever you should wish to visit it. I believe you know by now that it is not in Aldeburgh. I had the remains of the woman and her child transported to Australia and interred at the cemetery of Cape Otway, Victoria. I have paid for the embalming and the passage myself. The liberal sum you had bestowed on me at the time I have used to secure the discretion of everyone involved.

  I also believe that you may have come to your own conclusions about the circumstances that led up to that fateful night. Since I do not wish you to remember Aoife in any way that does not do justice to her, I intend to inform you about some details that may not be obvious. It appeared to be right to let some time pass, though, to allow things to settle down.

  Aoife has always described her relations with you as being intent on pleasure, yours and her own, and that includes the proceedings at Wotton House as well as the days in Margate. I will talk about the latter soon. At Wotton House there had been, as you may remember, another arrangement, a fiction, that had been devised to protect your and Aoife’s privacy.“

  Henry put the letter down. He remembered. The first maid, the under butler, Porter and Aoife. So this is where it started.

  “I can assure you that there has been no dishonourable conduct on any part at Wotton House. The circumstances were, however, very peculiar and have their share in how the matter developed. The people involved, mainly the servants in Wotton House, were very observant, and Aoife and myself were forced to live up to the impression we wanted to evoke in our daily interactions. Apart from her coming every morning to my quarters to await the return of the under butler, we had to be convincing, and we were, although natural discretion has never been violated.“

  ‘Natural discretion’, and on the other hand Aoife had gone from his bed to Porter’s. Because everybody had been watching them!

  “The arrangement was difficult to adhere to; I never intended to approach Aoife. I would really have preferred to not let this proximity happen, because it happened under false circumstances. That Aoife was a very attractive woman I need not stress. It had not been lost on me.“

  Oh, Porter! Henry was fuming. And that the house was so cold did probably help as well. A freezing woman who had crossed the whole house needed a warm place, for sure! Of course, having her so close and at the same time to keep one’s distance seemed almost unbearable. Stuff for a comedy, really, if you thought about it.

  “I cannot pretend that I did not wait for her. I enjoyed every second in her presence. I never entertained any sort of hope, though, and I was relieved when we returned to London.

  When you asked me to contact her a few weeks later to invite her to Margate, I could easily do that because we were in lose contact. She had asked me for two books before our departure, poems and stories by Edgar Allan Poe we had talked about during our short morning encounters and when she had once spent the whole night at my quarters. She had sent them back with a few lines, asking for further recommendations, and I must admit that I was flattered and could not resist the temptation to keep in touch with her, in a friendly way. I believed, at the time, that your interest had ceased. At a later date I might have been led to utter a more serious design. At the moment you asked me to invite her to Margate, however, I was in no way decided as to what my intentions were. I did not like the turn things were taking with your invitation, but I decided to wait and do your bidding.“

  Why did we not talk! We would have had so much to talk about!

  “In Margate I began to see that you were harbouring serious feelings and were trying to come to a conclusion yourself. Sir, let me assure you that you were about to make a decision that would have been grave in its consequences, but well worth the risk. Aoife was marvellous in Margate. Whether she would have accepted your proposal, I cannot say. The Earl of Ashwood’s decline and your hurried departure interrupted any further development of your intentions.”

  Again, Henry put the letter down. He remembered Aoife’s reaction to any of his attempts to talk to her very vividly; she had been, if not directly adverse to him, reserved. He could guess the reason.

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  “The drive to Norwich was another harrying experience to begin with. We did not speak until Aoife asked me to stop the motor shortly before we reached Ipswich. Then she proposed that we talk, and she told me about her feelings for myself.“

  Henry felt his throat tighten. At the same time, he wanted to laugh.

  ?Aoife was harsh and bitter and accused me of having played with her feelings by not communicating my own. She had wanted to get to know me better in Wotton House, but I had been cold, or unclear. She especially talked about the night of the ball, where the servants, Aoife and myself among them, had listened to the music from the breakfast room. Aoife had wanted to dance, and I had complied. After the dances she had remarked quite pointedly on how well we harmonised. She had placed her hopes on that talk, she told me, and I explained to her that I had not thought it feasible at the time to further complicate the situation, much as I had shared her sentiment. The conversation became very agitated. Aoife was desperate and shouted at me, and I realised that my reserved behaviour had caused her so much pain. I assured her then that I felt the same. We did not know what happened, but even in hindsight I cannot see how I could have reacted differently. This beautiful woman loved me, and I loved her.

  We drove to Aldeburgh and spent three days there. These days can only be described as light-hearted and happy. The design of the place and its loneliness appealed to Aoife, and it was her wish to return there when she had to leave Wotton House. The only blemish these days hold for me, sir, is the lie I used when I explained my late arrival at Ashwood Hall with a failure of the motor.“

  Henry stood up from his desk and walked to the window. There was nothing he could reproach Porter with. Aoife had loved him. He had loved her. The agitated conversation he could well imagine, and also that it must have ended in passionate kissing, the like of which he had never shared with anyone. And then more kisses, under the endless open sky on the coast – he saw them walking, laughing, being intimate, and who cares about a little lie? Aoife belonged into Porter’s arms. Henry had to shake his head to get rid of this picture.

  So Aldeburgh she had liked – loneliness she had sought. Not the colourful fashionable Margate. He would have offered her the life of a princess, but she had her eyes set on something else. And Porter – you saw your chance at happiness, Henry thought. And you were happy. How could I hold it against you!

  “Aoife had informed me of the pregnancy right away. I am inclined to believe what she told me, namely that the child was mine.“

  You may well believe it, Henry thought. It went with everything that Aoife had said and that had happened in Margate. The idea that it was his child had been wishful thinking, nothing else.

  “I supported her financially throughout the whole time. After her move to Aldeburgh, we had planned to wait until the child was born and then to travel to Australia to set up a boarding house. Your renewed attempts to find her took us by surprise. We were in contact only intermittently so as not to arouse suspicion. I chose to avoid your questions, sir, until I had had the chance to talk to Aoife in person. Since the date of the birth of the child was approaching, and with it our date of departure, we wanted to keep her location a secret, hoping that you, sir, would get over your feelings which had no chance to be reciprocated. At the weekend you had learned of Aoife’s whereabouts we had gotten married in Ipswich. If my wife had not been able to deny your wish to marry her, I would have stepped up myself. At no point did either of us intend to pain you. I know, sir, that you loved her. Please be assured that our irresponsible behaviour in keeping our decisions from you sprang from my best intentions towards your protection.

  Aoife spoke her last words during your short absence from the room. She said that she did not want to die. I did my best to calm her.“

  Henry remembered Porter’s stoic behaviour during that night. He saw his expressionless face while in the presence of his dead son and his dying wife, and he felt mortified. He had behaved like a spoilt boy, and he had not only caused the catastrophe but enhanced the pain for Porter to unfathomable dimensions. Porter ought to have been able to hold her hand. The spoilt brat, the Earl of Ashwood, had stood between them. He was ashamed, so very ashamed.

  “This is all I can offer you as an explanation. Aoife’s conduct towards you must seem roguish, despite her affirmations that she had at no point given you cause to hope. I would like to excuse her, sir, by pointing out her youth, her curiosity. She was eager for new experiences, and you offered her exactly that. I cannot find that harmful. I have not been any help in preventing anything. I cannot hold anything against her, and I hope that you can agree with me.

  I learned from the paper – sometimes we get such a thing out here, if guests leave it behind – of your union with Lady Gertrud, as well as of the birth of your son. Please accept my sincerest congratulations.

  I myself intend to stay at Cape Otway. Aoife’s family is still here, and I am able to help with chores and the machines such as there are. It is a simple life. If ever you visit Australia, make sure you include this spot in your itinerary. Do it in spring, when there are flowers. Aoife has described the place to me as the most beautiful on earth, and when I visit the cemetery and walk on to the beach, I am inclined to believe her.

  I remain, with the best wishes for your health and happiness,

  Aidan Porter“

  Henry read the letter over and over again. Then he sat a long time at his desk, deep in thought. Porter had had something he himself had never experienced. Three whole days of bliss. He would have deserved a whole lifetime of it. Their plan had been good. He had interfered. Or had it all been a cruel stroke of fate? He would never be able to decide.

  Later he burned the letter, destroying even the ashes. Porter’s calm words had burned themselves into his mind, but they were not meant for other people’s eyes.