Emma’s heart turned over in compassion as she watched her cousin, so wasted now that she hardly made an impression under the bed covers.
Within a quarter of an hour she thankfully heard a horse outside, and then Bernard came quickly into the room.
‘You could not have done any more,’ he assured Emma, as he administered a few drops of elixir of vitriol. ‘I think she is over the worst now.’
He stayed talking quietly to Cathy and giving her courage. Observing his gentleness with her and the gradual relaxation of the lines of pain on Cathy’s face, Emma was nearer to him in those fraught moments than she would ever be. When he rose to leave she followed him from the room.
‘I am afraid, Emma, this is the: beginning of the end,’ Bernard said gravely.
Emma did not doubt it – indeed she had almost prayed for Cathy’s release from suffering – but she could not stop the wave of sorrow that came over her at the cold meaning of his words.
‘How – long?’ Her voice was husky.
‘Who knows? A few days, or a few weeks. A couple of months at the very outside, I fear.’ He studied Emma with a professional eye. ‘You look rather wan yourself. I do hope you’re taking proper care. Are you eating sensibly, and getting sufficient rest?’
‘I’m all right,’ she replied. ‘What about you? I suppose you’re being run off your feet doing the job of two doctors. Will you be taking on a partner soon?’
For once the friendly, outgoing Bernard seemed oddly uncommunicative. ‘I’m not sure what my plans will be – it’s early days yet. I – I shall have to see.’ He started along the corridor. ‘I will have a word with your uncle about Cathy tomorrow. But you must let me know at once if there’s any change, although she ought to be all right until the morning.’
Randolph Hardaker did not return that night, but he arrived home for breakfast earlier than usual and came straight up to see Cathy. She was awake, and smiled wanly at her father.
‘How is my little lass?’ he enquired softly, bending to give her a kiss. ‘Bernard rode over to the mill first thing to tell me you’d had a nasty turn.’
‘I am rather tired, papa,’ she whispered, and even that small effort cost her a bout of coughing.
‘Aye, well you just rest there quietly, my pet.’ He glanced at Emma. ‘And you’ll be tired too, I don’t doubt. Did you get any sleep?’
‘Yes uncle, a little.’
Randolph patted her arm sympathetically, then with another glance at his poor sick daughter he shook his head sadly and left the room.
Assisted by Nelly, Emma completed the morning ministrations to Cathy; having made her as comfortable as possible, Emma coaxed her cousin to sip a little warm milk and swallow a few morsels of thin bread and butter. Later, when Bernard called to see his patient, Emma remembered the strangeness of his manner last night. Posting Nelly at Cathy’s bedside, she accompanied him downstairs and invited him into the drawing room for a few moments.
‘You look worn out, Bernard,’ she said, with concern. ‘You really must do something quickly about getting assistance.’
He gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’m not sure that I shall be remaining here in the Brackle Valley. I might decide to make a new start somewhere else.’
Emma caught her breath in astonishment. ‘But surely – I mean, I realise that Uncle Paget’s death has precipitated matters, but it was always understood that you would take over the practice when he retired. Why this sudden change of heart? Have you discussed it with Aunt Jane?’
‘No, no, not yet. I must decide this for myself. Your aunt is the last person to whom I can turn for advice.’
It seemed to Emma that he was nearing the point of desperation. Cathy would be safe with Nelly for a while, so she suggested a glass of wine. ‘It will do you good to relax for ten minutes,’ she said.
Bernard smiled slightly and nodded his thanks, but at the same time he seemed curiously apprehensive. Aunt Chloe was busy in the garden snipping dead blooms off the rose bushes, Emma knew, and was unlikely to interrupt. She turned to Bernard challengingly.
‘If you feel unable to speak to Aunt Jane about whatever is troubling you, then try talking to me. Perhaps it will help a little to put your anxieties into words.’
‘No,’ he replied with a shudder. ‘No, I couldn’t.’
She concluded it was something he considered indelicate or unfit for feminine ears. But despite his obvious reluctance Emma had a feeling that he badly wanted to confide in her.
She said coaxingly, ‘Even though we cannot ever be more than good friends, I still have your interests at heart. You should know that.’
‘Oh, I do, Emma, I do! But I cannot speak to you on such a matter. I must bear this burden in silence, there is no other way.’
‘And make yourself ill in the process! Here is your sherry, it will give you courage.’ Emma felt mildly surprised at her own composure; she might have been the doctor, and Bernard a nervous patient. ‘Now,’ she commanded, ‘tell me what it is.’
He sipped the wine, then put the glass down on the table with a hand that shook. ‘Just before Dr Eade died, I told you he had not long to live.’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘But I expected him to linger for a few more hours. His death did not seem imminent. When I was called back from the kitchen after only a few minutes and found he was dead, I was astonished. Looking at him then, I – I was forced to one conclusion. In a word, Emma, I do not believe that your uncle died an entirely natural death.’
A finger of terror touched her spine. ‘What are you implying, Bernard?’
‘Oh God, what am I implying? But I must say it now; I believe it to be true. There were signs – though it is largely instinct that guides a doctor in such circumstances – signs of suffocation. Deliberate suffocation! Do you understand?’
Emma felt stunned. Her throat was dry and taut.
‘But – how is that possible? Who —? Aunt Jane was with him at the end.’
‘Yes, Mrs Eade herself! It must be so. There is no other explanation.’
Her numbness was pierced by a shaft of anger. ‘How dare you say such a thing – even hint at it! To suggest that Aunt Jane could be capable of such an unspeakable act – against her own husband! It is unthinkable, you must know it is.’
‘Do you think I haven’t told myself that a hundred times? But always I come back to the memory of Dr Eade lying there, and my conviction grows that his death was hastened. I dare not speak out, even if I wanted to, for no one would believe me. Any more than you believe me. I should be written off as mad, or vindictive, trying to bring disgrace upon a lady who had always been goodness itself to me.’ He paused, then added in a heavy, despondent voice, ‘That is why I think I must go away from here, Emma. What else can I do?’
‘You must stop worrying, Bernard. You must stop believing this dreadful thing. I’m sure you are mistaken. My uncle summoned up the strength to speak to Aunt Jane, but perhaps the effort of saying those last few words proved too much for him. Could not that have been sufficient?’
Bernard nodded his head slowly, but his eyes avoided hers. Emma knew he was not convinced. Through the window she could see Aunt Chloe coming towards the house, and she was anxious that her aunt should not find Bernard in this state.
‘You had better leave now,’ she told him. ‘But I beg you to do nothing precipitate. We need you here in Bythorpe. You are passing through a difficult period just at the moment, being so overworked, but when things become easier you will be able to view this matter in perspective. I am confident of it.’
But when Bernard had gone and Emma went back to Cathy her thoughts were in a turmoil. What he had suggested was truly unthinkable, but now the doubt had been implanted in her mind would she ever be able to banish it? She felt an urgent need to talk to Matthew and share her misery with him. They had arranged that each afternoon he would wait for half an hour in the grove of silver birch trees near Bracklegarth Hall, in the hope that she could get away from the h
ouse to meet him. But during the next two days she had no opportunity to leave Cathy; almost every moment she feared another haemorrhage. On the third days however, her cousin seemed more settled. The cough was not so troublesome now, and she looked less feverish. Just before three o’clock Emma rang for Nelly and told her she was going out for some fresh air.
‘If anything happens you must call my aunt at once,’ she said. ‘But I shall not be gone long.’
There was no one about as she walked briskly along the valley road in the warm sunshine. To her relief, Matthew appeared from the cover of the birch trees and came to meet her.
‘Dearest, it is good to see you,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to abandon hope for yet another day.’
‘I’m sorry, Matthew, but this is the very first chance I have had. Cathy is seriously ill, as you may have heard, I’m afraid I can only stay a few minutes.’
‘I understand.’ Taking her hand he led her in among the trees. As soon as they were safely concealed from view his strong arms were round her and he kissed her fiercely, then gently.
‘Nursing your cousin at such a time is a strain for you, my love. I know how devoted you are to her. You will miss her sorely when she is gone.’
‘Indeed I shall!’ But Emma did not want to talk of Cathy at this moment. Bleakly, omitting nothing, she told him of Bernard’s outrageous belief that Jane had ended her husband’s life.
‘It is not possible, is it?’ she said in an agonised appeal. ‘I cannot believe anything so dreadful of Aunt Jane.’
Matthew did not reply at once, and his dark eyes were deeply thoughtful.
‘Suppose, just for a moment, we consider it as a possibility,’ he said at length. ‘What would be her motive? We have to remember that in Bernard Mottram’s judgment your uncle only had a few hours to live. So why should anyone want to hasten his death? He wasn’t in great pain. He was rambling in his mind, scarcely conscious.’
Emma seized upon this eagerly. ‘So there could be no possible reason, could there? It just wouldn’t make any sense.’
‘I’m not so sure! Bear with me while we see where my speculations lead us. It seems to me that Mrs Eade’s only reason for acting as Dr Mottram suspects would have been to prevent her husband revealing something in his delirious state. Suppose she feared he would implicate himself in your father’s death? Would she not perhaps feel justified in gently smothering him with a pillow to ensure that he died an apparently innocent man. In other words, your aunt might have robbed her husband of those last few hours in order to preserve his good name.’
Desperately, Emma sought for a rebuttal to this horribly persuasive argument.
‘You talk about motives. Very well, then, what could have been Uncle Paget’s motive for killing my father? You said yourself that you knew of no reason why they should have quarrelled.’
Matthew nodded. ‘But I have discovered something new, Emma, about which you are clearly unaware. For some time before your father was killed he and Paget Eade had been on bad terms. Apparently the doctor was concerned about the high number of accidents at the mine caused by the new power machines, which at the time were being installed without proper safety devices. Although Randolph Hardaker was the master at the mill, Dr Eade blamed your father as the man responsible for the technical side. He claimed, and he said it loudly and often, that things were changing too fast; the mill-hands were being put at risk by the quest for ever bigger profits. Hugh Hardaker, on the other hand, maintained that this was an inevitable part of progress. The men were earning more than ever before, and it would be time enough to take safety precautions when the new Factory Acts came into force. To which Dr Eade was heard to retort that Hardakers had better watch out then, make no mistake, because he’d be the local Certifying Surgeon under the new regulations! Eventually a crisis occurred when, on the same day, two small children were badly injured by the unfenced gearing of a spinning mule. One of them lost some fingers, and the other had her arm torn off. A week later your father was dead.’
A stir of breeze rustled the autumn-gold leaves of the birch trees, and a rabbit scuttled past them, just a few feet away. Emma said in a bewildered voice, ‘If what you say is true, why was nothing of their quarrel mentioned at the time?’
‘Because the authorities had a better candidate in me,’ Matthew replied bitterly. ‘In the face of the damning evidence against me, they didn’t trouble to look for any alternative explanation.’
‘But it’s preposterous to suspect Uncle Paget. He was a very gentle man, and could never have been capable of such violence.’
‘Men are capable of almost anything when their passions are roused. I’m not suggesting he would have deliberately set out to harm your father, but if a sudden argument had flared between them, leading to blows ... It is easily done – fatally easy! I have seen such things happen many times.’
‘All the same, I cannot believe it of him, any more than I could believe it of you. Admit it, Matthew, you could never kill a man. It was this conviction that made me trust you right from the beginning.’
‘Then your judgment was at fault!’
Emma stared at him in horror, and he said quickly, ‘No, I have not actually killed a man. But it is in me to do it. Once, only the shackles on my legs prevented me from attacking a guard with a pickaxe. A few pounds of iron chain, Emma, between me and certain hanging!’
She put her hands to her face, warding off the terrible picture he had brought to her mind,,
‘I have distressed you, and I am sorry for it,’ Matthew said contritely. ‘But having come so far along the road of investigation, we cannot halt or turn back. Neither of us will ever know any peace of mind again until the truth is established.’
Distantly Emma heard the whistle of a train as it drew out of Bythorpe station, and she knew she had already stayed too long. But it was painful to leave him, and as they kissed goodbye, she clung to him.
‘I shall wait here each day,’ Matthew promised. ‘Come whenever you can.’
* * *
That evening Cathy had another haemorrhage. This time it was not so severe; or perhaps, Emma thought, she was becoming hardened to the blood and pain and her cousin’s distress. Cathy herself seemed to endure it better, and when the paroxysms were over she closed her eyes and slept. Soon after midnight Emma judged it safe to retire to her own bedroom across the corridor, though as usual she left both doors ajar and placed a small silver handbell within Cathy’s reach.
In the morning Cathy was dreamy and lay like a wraith watching Emma and Nelly moving about the room, busy with their tasks. Though obviously very weak, she was tranquil and Emma was thankful that at least she had not drifted into one of her disturbing fantasies about Heathcliff and the other Cathy.
But a few moments later Emma’s heart jolted with dismay when her cousin said plaintively, ‘Will you bring Seth to see me?’
‘Seth? I’m sorry, dearest, but it wouldn’t do to bring him upstairs. When you are well enough to sit in a chair again, you’ll be able to see him from the window.’
‘I want to see him now,’ Cathy insisted.
After all, what harm would be done? If it would make Cathy happier and ease her last days, Emma reflected, why should she not see Seth as often as she liked?
‘Very well, dearest. I’ll go down and fetch him.’
Nelly cut in, ‘Nay, miss! Seth – well, he’s out at t’moment.’
‘Oh, I see! Then he shall come up as soon as he gets back.’
Nelly was strangely agitated and in a few minutes she gathered up her dusters and went to leave the room, signalling Emma with her eyes. Outside, the girl whispered, ‘Happen tha’s not heard about Seth, Miss Emma? He’s been dismissed.’
‘Dismissed?’
‘Aye, that’s reet! Master sent him packing this morning when he come home from t’mill for his breakfast.’
Emma was bewildered. ‘But whatever for, Nelly? There must have been a reason.’
‘I don’t properly know
the ins and outs of it, miss. But Mr Hoad telled me it’s got something to do with stealing t’master’s silver snuff box.’
Nelly was reluctant to say more, so Emma let her go and returned to Cathy. She felt furiously angry, but there was nothing to be done until Uncle Randolph came home for dinner at midday. Then she intended to have it out with him. The idea of Seth being guilty of theft was ludicrous. The lad was honest through and through.
Her uncle and aunt were already seated at the table when Emma startled them by bursting into the room.
‘Is something wrong, lass?’ Randolph asked, rising to his feet.
. ‘Indeed there is! What’s this I hear about Seth being summarily dismissed? There must be some mistake.’
‘There’s no mistake about it! I don’t like it any more than you do, but the lad stole from me – that silver snuff box of my father’s. I gave him ten minutes to clear out and never show his face here again.’
‘But this is absurd, uncle. Seth is no thief! I refuse to believe it.’
Holding up his hand to prevent Chloe’s intervention, Randolph said with a steely edge to his voice, ‘Now you listen to me, Emma. That snuff box was stolen, no doubt about it. When I started making enquiries among the servants I could tell from his shifty manner that Seth was responsible. So I took Hoad with me and we searched the lad’s room above the stables. And there it was under the palliasse! He can thank Providence I’m not taking him before the magistrate.’
‘I think you’re too soft-hearted,’ Chloe managed to get in. ‘Letting that evil boy go unpunished is an open encouragement to others. Don’t forget that he’ll now be living in comfort and idleness in the home you provide for that disgusting old grandmother of his.’
Emma said desperately, ‘There must be some dreadful mistake, uncle, I’m certain of it. And when we discover the truth you’ll have to take Seth back. But in the meantime, what am I to tell Cathy? You know how she feels about Seth. Only this morning she was begging me to fetch him upstairs,’
Chloe was outraged at the thought of such impropriety. ‘I hope you told her it was out of the question.’
The Other Cathy Page 19
