No Mercy

by J. T. Brindle

  11

  Morning had risen. The sky was shot with brilliance; the sun loomed large and bright, like a silver shilling against a blue-tinged backcloth. It promised a warmer, light day. Beneath, the earth was awakening. Birds were singing, creatures scurried on their way, and in the rushes that skirted the lake, moorhens and water rats could be seen bobbing in and out, oblivious to the quiet, thoughtful figure that sat hunched on a boulder not too far away.

  Alec Harman’s dark, brooding eyes were scarred by his tortuous thoughts. Thoughts that brought their own particular brand of fear. Thoughts that dictated what he must – and must not – do. Painful, merciless thoughts which all night long had pierced his soul and disturbed his peace of mind. So often in these past months he had been gravely tempted to abandon the sinister purpose that had brought him to Thornton Place. All night long he had been crucified by thoughts of Ellie. Her delightful image rose in his mind now; her heart-shaped face, magnificent amber eyes that were both wistful and strong. The way she looked at him, wondering, curious gazes that betrayed both her fear and her love. She had suffered so much pain. Her pain was his. But he could do little to ease her suffering. One part of him cried out to love her, to be free to love her. The other – more disciplined – part of him knew that he could not be free; not yet. The reasons were two-fold. Firstly, he believed that to betray his deeper feelings for Ellie would put her in danger. Secondly, he had made a promise long ago. It was a promise that obligated him to secrecy; a promise that sentenced him to things of the dark. Wicked, evil things. There could be no freedom, no life or love for him. Not yet. And maybe never!

  He had ruminated long and hard on Rosie’s warning. If the Tyler fellow had been suspicious of him, then how much longer would it be before others began to cast questioning glances his way? Rosie was right. Time was running out! Evil forces were pressing all around, urging him on. But, Ellie! What of Ellie? A dark and devious plan sketched itself on his mind. He smiled. Yes! Yes, he would do it. It would not be pleasant, or kind, but he would do it. He must!

  Hurt by the wickedness of what he now planned, Alec Harman raised his eyes to gaze across the lake. On the other side, too far away for him to see, walked the very person who was paramount in his thoughts. Steeped in disharmony, Ellie wandered aimlessly along the perimeter of the woods. Her father had been gone almost forty-eight hours now. She missed him. She missed her small, tormenting brother. She missed her mother. Her mother. Even now, over a year later, Ellie could not imagine what devilish thing could have driven that gentle, loving person to such incredible extremes – incredible, and heart-sickening. In spite of the love Ellie had known for her mother, she could not find it in her to forgive that last senseless, hideous act.

  Far away on the horizon, the thin spiral of greyish smoke twisted its way upwards, to be lost in the clouds that were now suddenly gathering; an ominous indication that the weather might possibly turn for the worse. Her gaze transfixed by the curling smoke, Ellie deduced that it was probably from the Lodge. The Lodge was Alec Harman’s home. Ellie’s heart soared at the thought of him. Day or night, he was never very far from her thoughts. She paused a while, entranced by the gyrating smoke line and wondering about the kind of man he was, curious also as to his home. Was it like him – dark and secretive – or was it merely a place for him to return to after his nightly wanderings? Was it a home without a heart? Was it warm and welcoming? Or was it like Alec Harman, aloof and inaccessible?

  Ellie was fascinated by the thought of him on a winter’s day, sitting by the fireside. She could not envisage the whole picture in her mind. Would he be alone? Was the girl with him? Formidable and tantalising, he was not the son of man who would fit so easily into a scene of domesticity. Ellie was both amused and sad. In her deepest heart she had tried to justify her love for him, but it was beyond her understanding. It had happened almost without her realising it. One moment he did not exist in her life. The next moment he had infiltrated every small corner of it. She felt it was hopeless. Then he had gazed on her with black, sultry eyes, and all of her resistance had crumbled like so much sand. She had told herself that he did not love her, that he was toying with her affections; like a cat might play with a mouse before ending its life. But then, she had felt the swirling undercurrent that drew them both in, threatening to drown them. There was too much passion smouldering beneath that cool exterior of his; too much wanting, too many unspoken words that told her volumes. There was too much she did not understand. And there was danger! All of these things Ellie knew. But they were not enough to stifle her love for him; only enough to make her cautious, and to keep her distance.

  Deliberately suppressing thoughts of Alec Harman and dwelling instead on the fact that her father must soon be home, Ellie retraced her steps along the lake edge and afterwards through the spinney, and on towards the house. Rosie would be there by now, Ellie reminded herself. It was enough to bring a smile to her lovely face.

  ‘What d’you mean… I “needn’t keep up with the work” if I don’t want to?’ Rosie was most indignant, eyeing Ellie with astonishment. ‘I ain’t complained have I?’ she demanded. ‘So what sort o’ comment is that to make, eh?’

  Ellie was at once repentant. ‘I only thought the work might be getting too much for you, that’s all,’ she protested, ‘and with the restoration well underway now…’

  ‘You don’t bloody well want me no more!’ Rosie interrupted. ‘Is that it? Is it?’

  Ellie sighed noisily. What she thought was a helpful suggestion to ease Rosie’s lot had only served to raise Rosie’s hackles. ‘Look… the tea’s made… and there’s apple pie,’ she pointed out, bringing the tray to the kitchen table and afterwards drawing out two chairs. ‘Please, Rosie… come and sit down,’ she pleaded with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry… honestly.’

  ‘And so you should be,’ retorted the older woman, drying the last plate and flinging the cloth onto the wooden rail by the sink. When she seated herself at the table, her face was a study – reminding Ellie of a child in a sulk. ‘It ain’t as if what I do is heavy work,’ Rosie went on, ‘a bit o’ dusting and dishwashing… little routine jobs that let you get on with the bigger jobs, like curtain hanging, painting and scrubbing down. Oh, I know very well that you and your dad are ploughing through it all like nobody’s business… and it’s heartening to see the old place coming to life, but you ain’t finished, not by a long chalk you ain’t! And when the inside’s all done, there’s the outside to be seen to… the outer walls have centuries o’ grime on ’em, then there’s the grounds, which have been so neglected these past years – they’re nothing but a wilderness. Y’see, my girl,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘you’ve more than enough work to keep you going another year, if my reckoning’s right.’ Having said her piece, she plied her full attention to the task of slicing a piece of pie and pouring herself a cup of tea. ‘You can’t do without me, and the money your dad pays me is very welcome,’ she said, settling herself down to enjoy a well-earned break, ‘so let that be an end to it!’ She had her lips wrapped round the pie when a thought suddenly occurred to her. Withdrawing the pie from her mouth, she looked at Ellie with injured eyes. ‘Unless o’ course you’re telling me I’m fired?’ she asked in a quiet voice.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Rosie!’ Ellie had been first mortified when Rosie was offended by her half-hearted suggestion that she might like to give up her few hours’ work a day; then she had been amused at Rosie’s indignant attack. Now, she was afraid Rosie was taking the whole thing far too seriously. ‘You know perfectly well I would never do any such thing. I only wondered whether you might be glad to give up the work… I’m sometimes afraid it could be too much for you, what with George the way he is.’ Beneath Rosie’s accusing stare, she felt guilty and exasperated. ‘I love you coming to the house, Rosie… I look forward to your company, you know that.’

  ‘Hmph!’ Rosie bit off a huge chunk of pie and glared at Ellie. ‘You’ve got a funny way o’ showing it
then, that’s all I can say… asking me if I want to quit me job!’ Her words were muffled, hampered by the serious matter of chewing the pie. She bit off another chunk and continued staring at Ellie with a wounded expression. Feeling misjudged on her kindly intention, Ellie stared back. It was a case of who was the more indignant. Suddenly, Ellie felt an irresistible urge to laugh. She did her utmost to suppress it, but she could not stop that delicious bubble of gaiety from rising up in her. Her eyes began to twinkle, and the corners of her mouth insisted on curling upwards. A small noise escaped her; a little laugh. Startled, Rosie glared harder, but it could not last; she giggled, then laughed aloud.

  Ellie rose from her chair and came to the old woman’s side, where she lovingly embraced her. ‘Rosie, oh… Rosie. You old devil. You’ve been having me on!’ she laughed, rocking Rosie in her arms.

  ‘Happen I have… and happen I ain’t,’ Rosie teased.

  But it was settled. Ellie would never again raise the question as to whether the work was too much for Rosie and, if it ever did prove to be so, Rosie would be the first to admit it. ‘But I ain’t ready for no knacker’s yard yet!’ she declared indignantly, ‘and don’t you forget it, my girl!’

  Afterwards, the conversation took a completely different turn when, in a quiet, serious voice, Rosie asked, ‘Have you any regrets, Ellie… about ending it all with that young man o’ yours?’

  Ellie became uncomfortable, but her reply was instant. ‘No. It was not meant to be.’

  ‘Just so long as you have no regrets, child.’ Rosie had been tempted to mention Barny’s visit to the cottage, but in the light of Ellie’s answer she thought better of it. She had not forgotten Barny Tyler’s words, though – that Ellie loved Alec. She thought of Alec now, and of the secret that bound them. It created in her a need to know. ‘And what about Alec?’ she asked softly. ‘Do you love him?’

  It took a moment for Ellie to reply; Rosie’s abrupt question had come as something of a shock, causing a turmoil in her. Presently, she treated the older woman as a friend, a confidante. ‘Yes.’ Her eyes appraised Rosie, seeking something… approval, disapproval, a warning. Instead, the old woman merely smiled and nodded. Then she sipped her tea. Ellie ventured further. ‘I love him but… I wish I didn’t.’

  Rosie’s panda-like eyes grew big and round, questioning, puzzled. ‘Why?’ she asked, her hand poised in mid-air, with the tea cup almost to her mouth. ‘That’s a strange thing to say,’ she remarked softly.

  ‘It’s the way I feel, Rosie.’ Ellie had reached the point of no return; she had to go on. ‘He intrigues me. Sometimes, when he looks at me with those black, beckoning eyes, I see things there… disturbing things. They frighten me.’

  ‘What do you mean… “disturbing things”?’ Rosie was also a little afraid.

  ‘It’s as though he wants to tell me something… a secret, maybe, I don’t know, but… once or twice when we’ve crossed each other’s paths and stopped to talk, he seems to have something on his mind.’ Ellie was shocked to find herself thinking of Johnny. ‘Like a little boy… like Johnny – hiding a secret… yet wanting to share it. But, he never does.’

  ‘That’s because you’re imagining things, I expect.’ Rosie disguised her anxieties beneath a warm-hearted smile. So! Alec had been on the verge of confessing all to Ellie! That would have been most unwise. She understood what he had been trying to tell her back at the cottage… ‘This is not the time for love!’ He was right. There were other things, more urgent, to be dealt with. And yet, her old heart was sore because she knew how deeply Alec was attracted to Ellie. It was a hard thing to see two young people so in love, and to know how wicked and evil was the reason for them being kept apart. Alec was right on another count also – time was running out!

  ‘I believe he loves me, Rosie,’ Ellie persisted, ‘but I can’t trust him. Deep down I believe he’s just a charmer… likes to flirt. I don’t need that kind of heartbreak.’

  ‘You could be right. He’s certainly a good-looker.’ She had to discourage Ellie. It was for the best.

  ‘I am right. I saw him down by the lake, and again on the path to the church. He was with a girl.’

  Rosie was instantly on her guard. ‘A “girl”, you say?’

  Ellie nodded, raising the painful memory in her mind. ‘Nineteen… twenty years old, with long dark hair. Very lovely, she was.’ She had seen how Rosie’s face grew paler with her every word. It troubled her, made her curious. ‘Do you know the girl, Rosie?’

  ‘No. Not at all,’ Rosie quickly assured her. Too quickly, Ellie thought. ‘The description doesn’t immediately bring anyone to mind,’ she lied. Alec had obviously been very careless. She would have to caution both him, and the girl.

  ‘They were very close,’ Ellie remembered. ‘You see why I can’t trust him; can’t allow myself to be drawn towards him.’

  Rosie gave no answer. Instead, she abruptly changed the subject. ‘Are you expecting your father home today?’

  Surprised by the swift change of direction, Ellie answered, ‘I certainly hope so, Rosie. He’s been gone almost two days.’

  ‘Aw, it’ll do him good… a change o’ scenery does us all a world o’ good now and then,’ she sighed. ‘But there ain’t much chance o’ me taking off… not that I’d want to,’ she added. ‘I’m content to end me days here.’ She chuckled, ‘That’s if the landlord will let me.’ When Ellie expressed her opinion that no one would be so callous as to turn Rosie and the senile out, Rosie shook her head. ‘Happen you’re right,’ she said, ‘I don’t think they will, or they’d a’ done it afore now.’ She was chuckling again, struggling to right herself on the crutches. ‘But I’ll not give ’em a chance, eh? I’ll keep up with me rent, so they ain’t got no excuse to kick us arses out! Now then, my girl… you see what good purpose me wages goes to, don’t you, eh?’

  ‘Aw, go on with you,’ chided Ellie, beginning to clear away the crockery, ‘don’t you start again!’ Rosie laughed, but her face grew serious at Ellie’s next words: ‘Is George any better?’

  ‘’Fraid not, sweetheart. He ain’t no better at all. If anything, he’s worse.’ She recalled how he had begun sneaking out of his bed, peering out of the window, and screaming in his sleep… just like he used to. He had changed in other ways; he’d become secretive and deceitful. These days he was very hard to fathom – worse than she had ever known him. ‘He’s wasting away in front o’ me eyes, and there ain’t a thing I can do about it,’ she told Ellie in a sad voice. ‘Some’at’s plaguing him… eating away at his mind. Poor sod, if only he could remember, we might be able to talk it away.’ She sighed. ‘But, to be honest, Ellie, I reckon it’s all some garbled fancy… some’at and nothing.’ She went away shaking her head, an odd, cumbersome figure yet surprisingly graceful. Rosie’s agility on those crutches never failed to evoke Ellie’s admiration; she was always put in mind of a seal… ungainly and slow on land, but capable of gliding with incredible speed and grace when assisted by the support of water.

  For the next few hours, Ellie busied herself upstairs in the big front bedroom. Here, her father’s ladder and work tools were exactly as he had left them; surprisingly, though, he had not tidied them away like he normally did. The emulsion brush was still dipped in the paint pot, and already a thin crust of paint was beginning to form all round it; the old chequered shirt he used for a wiping cloth was slung haphazardly over the ladder steps, and the wall he had been working on was left as though in a hurry, with the last application of emulsion running in slow, congealed drips to the skirting board. It was well into the afternoon by the time Ellie had made good the wall, washed and cleaned all the brushes, and put everything neatly away. Feeling satisfied with her work, she indulged in a long, hot bath and a change of clothes, after which she made her way down to the kitchen, where she put the kettle on for a hot drink. Her throat felt parched and her head was spinning. The smell of paint always did that to her. Something else was buzzing in her head as well – something that quiet
ly worried her. Why had her father left his workplace in such a mess? It was so unlike him. For as long as Ellie could remember, he had always taken a great pride in the order of things – ‘a good workman takes care of his tools of trade,’ he was fond of saying, and it was a principle he never failed to keep. Until now! Ellie attributed it all to that letter. He had certainly been put out by it. She smiled, thinking how she would not like to be in the shoes of that solicitor when her father confronted him. He had a temper, and that was a fact.

  Ellie was just about to take the tray into the big room, where she intended to relax a while. Afterwards, she would return to the kitchen and start the evening meal. A glance at the clock on the dresser told her that it was already three o’clock. Only now, did she feel a murmuring of uneasiness inside her. She had expected her father to be home before now. It consoled her a little to remind herself that it was a long and difficult journey to London; first the drive into Medford, and the fact that getting the right train connection was hit and miss; then all the rush and planning at the other end. Ellie knew how much her father hated the thought of travelling on the underground, so it would have to be a bus or a taxi that carried him to the solicitor’s office. As far as she knew, he had not had time to book into a hotel, so that in itself might have proved to be a problem. Then, when he felt satisfied that he had done what he set out to do, there was all the paraphernalia in reverse. She imagined he would be tired when he got home. Still, a hot bath and a good meal would soon put that right, she thought.