The doctor called again at ten o’clock and commended her nursing and said his patient was in better shape than he’d been the previous evening. But he added that it would be a long, difficult business to restore him to health.
‘I am a great nuisance to you,’ Will said when the medical man was gone.
‘You are not to say such things,’ she told him, speaking surprisingly firmly for his gentle Euphemia. ‘You have given me a chance to practise my skills.’
‘Oh Pheemy,’ he said, as he drifted off to sleep again, ‘I am glad to be home with you.’ Everything would be all right now he was home with Pheemy.
She was certainly an excellent nurse, sitting with him until he slept, soothing away his pain with hot water bottles and hot towels, dosing him with tincture of opium, according to the doctor’s instructions, and preparing special invalid food to tempt him to eat again, for he was painfully thin. She served him calf’s foot jellies, and albumen water, and little pots of beef tea, and arrowroot cooked smooth and creamy, and individual sago puddings flavoured with vanilla. And gradually day by day she watched him improve. And gradually day by day he told her all about the revolution, horrors and deaths and all, because it filled his head with its enormity and even though it wasn’t a fit subject for an ordinary woman, it was different with Euphemia.
‘I can talk to you about anything, Pheemy,’ he said. ‘Ain’t that quite the most extraordinary thing? Don’t you think so? Absolutely anything. You were the only one I could confide in when Papa died. The only one. I told you things then that I couldn’t even tell Nan. And now here I am telling you all this. If it is too painful you must stop me.’
It was often very painful to her, but she didn’t stop him, for she could see how necessary it was to talk, almost as if the words were helping him to make sense of the events.
‘When I first started work for Mr Dickens,’ he said, ‘I thought how good it was to stand apart from the things I was reporting. I didn’t want to be involved at all, even though I could see how admirable involvement was, because Mr Dickens threw himself into everything, heart and soul, and we all admired him tremendously. But now see how I’ve changed. If they’d given me a gun I think I would have fought for the revolution come the finish, I was so caught up in it. They had right on their side, Pheemy. It wasn’t just the vote, you see. They wanted work and food for their children and a roof over their heads. The sort of things we Easters take for granted. And the government was denying them even that. And when they rose in protest they were killed like flies.’ The memory of it in his present state of weakness brought him close to tears, so that he had to turn his head away from her to give himself a chance to recover.
Euphemia stood up and walked to the window, where she stood tactfully looking down at the sunlit garden. ‘I suppose we all change as we grow older,’ she said. And she thought how much her light-hearted Caroline had changed since the scandal.
‘Not you,’ Will said. ‘You don’t change, Pheemy. Heaven be praised for it. You are just the same as always, just the same as I remembered you all the time I was in Paris.’
‘Did you?’ she said, looking back at him, smitten by a sudden and quite unreasonable hope.
‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Every single day. You were my lifeline then. As you are now.’
But then the doctor arrived most inopportunely and the conversation had to stop.
On the fifth day she allowed him to get up and sit by the window in the sunshine, and on the tenth when Nan and Caroline were in Lincoln’s Inn discussing the case with Frederick Brougham, she got Tom to help him to dress and to cut his hair and trim his beard, and then she took him down to the garden and let him sit in the shade of the magnolia and enjoy the fresh air for half an hour.
‘Now that’s better,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘You’ve got some of your colour back. You look more like yourself.’
‘I don’t know what I would have done without you, Pheemy,’ he said. ‘You’ve been a brick.’
And that is how he really thinks of me, Euphemia thought sadly. A brick. Not a woman to love and marry. And yet she loved him more than ever, with a new protective yearning that was so acute it was painful. ‘I shall cook you a little coddled egg for dinner tonight,’ she said professionally. ‘I think you are ready for it.’
‘Then I think I am ready to be told about this court case,’ he said, ‘which you have been keeping from me, haven’t you Pheemy?’
‘On doctor’s instructions,’ she admitted. ‘He said I was to say nothing until you were strong enough to withstand it.’
‘As I am now,’ he said.
So she told him everything he wanted to know, from the perfidious conduct of Mr Jernegan and Mr Maycock and how marvellous it was when Nan dismissed them, to Mr Rawson’s devoted detective work in Seven Dials – what a blessing you sent him to us – and finally to Caroline’s long separation from Henry.
‘She’s been here ever since,’ she said, ‘and she won’t answer his letters or even let us talk about him.’
‘Poor Carrie!’ he said. ‘Can nothing be done? Oh, I know it was a dreadful thing to lay hands on her like that, but we all make mistakes, Pheemy, and they loved one another so dearly. Couldn’t we ask him to visit?’
‘No,’ Euphemia said quickly. ‘No, no. Indeed we couldn’t. Not until this awful trial is over. She says she can’t think of anything until that and we must respect her wishes. If we were to invite him here now it would make matters worse.’
‘I wish I could see her,’ her brother said. ‘An hour or two now and then wouldn’t hurt, surely?’
‘She shall visit as soon as the doctor declares you fit enough for company,’ Euphemia promised. ‘You wouldn’t want to pass on your infection, I’m sure.’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘That is true. You are right, Pheemy.’
‘A little patience,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘That’s all.’
‘That’s not my strong suit,’ he said, ‘but I will do my best.’
Over in the Strand Henry was doing his best to wait in patience too and finding it equally difficult.
He would have liked to send Caroline one more letter, but he didn’t do it, for fear of being ignored again. He would have liked to visit her and see little Harry, but he didn’t do that either, for fear of being rebuffed or upsetting her. In fact, he couldn’t think of any action he could take without running the risk of upsetting her. So he took refuge in work.
There were now so many railways operating in Great Britain, that it was an opportune time to transfer all Easter’s trade from the stage-coaches, which were few and far between and often unreliable, to the trains, which were fast and frequent and dependable. It gave him something to keep him occupied while he waited for the outcome of the court case and the bustle of activity it caused in his office was comforting after the isolation of his life in Richmond.
Edward came to his office to see him not long after his return, and tried to tell him how sorry he was for the trouble he’d caused – as if that would do any good! – but he froze him out so thoroughly that he didn’t make a second visit. And although Nan looked in nearly every day, they only discussed business. So despite work, it was a lonely life. And a very difficult one.
It was difficult for Edward too, although like Henry he was kept extremely busy in the warehouse. His father had worked very slowly while he’d been away. It was really quite alarming to realize how slowly. He’d let a lot of matters slide, which now had to be attended to before they all got into a muddle. And to make matters worse all the autumn stock was arriving early for some reason. Soon he was working longer hours than anybody else in the building, and all without knowing whether his job was secure or not, because Nan hadn’t spoken to him and he hadn’t plucked up sufficient courage to speak to her.
In the end he decided he would have to go to Bedford Square. If Nan were in he would see her, and if not he would talk to Caroline, if she would agree to see him, and if he got the chance he would off
er to take her place in court. He’d been thinking about it for a long time and it seemed an honourable way to try and make amends. And if neither of them would see him, he could always cut along and find out how Will was, for although news of him filtered through to the warehouse, it wasn’t the same as seeing him.
It was a disastrous visit.
Nan was on her way out and very brusque, cutting into everything he tried to say, quick as a whip.
‘Everything in order in the warehouse?’
‘Yes, I think so. The autumn stock …’
‘Good.’
‘I am so very sorry for all the trouble I’ve …’
‘So I should think. Still, no use crying over spilt milk. What’s done is done.’
‘If I could make amends I would be …’
‘Tush, lad. What could you do? You’re back at work, en’t you? Let that be enough.’
‘Am I to stay in the firm, Nan?’
‘Can’t see any reason why not,’ the old lady said. ‘Being it’s a family firm and you’re family, no matter what you’ve done. There’s the carriage. Are you going up to see Will?’
‘I had hoped I might see Caroline.’
‘Can’t guarantee it,’ she said as she brisked out of the door. For an old lady she moved with extraordinary speed, that ebony stick fairly clicking over the floorboards. ‘She’s out in the garden with Will and Euphemia and it’s the first time they’ve been allowed together since Will took ill. Ring and see.’
When he’d rung the bell and sent the parlour maid on her errand, his nerve failed him. I’ll wait five minutes, he thought, and then I’ll go. She won’t want to see me. She won’t come in.
But she did, gliding into the room so quietly that she was standing in front of him before he heard her approach.
‘Yes,’ she said. She’d been of two minds whether to see him or not. In fact if it hadn’t been for Euphemia’s urging she’d have sent him away unseen. It had been so pleasant sitting in the autumn sunshine with Will at last, and they’d been talking so happily together, just like old times, so it annoyed her to see this obnoxious cousin of theirs, particularly as he looked well-fed and confident and full of himself. He’s caused all this trouble with those foul books of his, she thought, and he dares to come here as if nothing were the matter.
He was upset to see how much she had changed. There was a hard, watchful quality about her that hadn’t been there before, and although her body seemed fatter, her cheeks were haggard.
‘I came to apologize to you, Caroline,’ he said, speaking quickly before he lost his courage altogether under that unforgiving stare.
‘So I should think,’ she said.
‘I had not intended all this,’ he said.
‘It’s a great pity you intended anything, to my way of thinking.’
‘Yes. It is.’
‘Well, you’ve apologized now,’ she said ungraciously. ‘Is that all you want?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I want to make amends.’
‘You can’t.’
He played his trump card, hopeful that this at least would provoke a good response. ‘I would like to take your place and represent the firm in court.’
It wasn’t a trump at all. She was furious. ‘If that ain’t just like you, Edward Easter,’ she said. ‘You may like all you please but you shan’t do it. I never heard such presumption in all my born days. Here I’ve been preparing and preparing every day for months and you come bowling in here bright as a button and think you can take over.’ It had cost her so much to accept this responsibility, she was so ready for it now, tight as a spring with dread and daring. ‘How dare you do such a thing? How dare you!’
‘I meant to help you,’ he stammered.
‘Well, you don’t help me. You don’t help me at all. You’re nothing but an unmitigated nuisance. And you don’t understand a thing. If I stepped down now, you wouldn’t be the one to fill the breach, it would be Nan. Our poor dear Nan. And let me tell you she is far too old and frail to be asked to do such a thing. Oh, go away! It makes me feel sick to see you. It was all your fault in the first place, you and those two revolting cronies of yours. Go away.’ All her loathing for him was rising in her, choking her like tears. How could he be so foul?
He ran from the room. It was cowardly and childish but he couldn’t help it. And as soon as the front door closed behind him, she ran too, straight out into the garden and into the safety of Euphemia’s arms, sobbing as she ran.
‘I should never have seen him, Pheemy,’ she said. ‘He was so foul you’d never believe.’
It took them a long time to calm her and dry her tears and agree with her that Edward was a brute and had no right to visit.
‘Just as I’d prepared myself for it,’ she said, ‘he comes bowling in, telling me he’s going to take over. How can he be so insensitive? It’s going to be bad enough, Pheemy, without him making it worse.’
‘Bathe your eyes, my dearest,’ Euphemia said. ‘It will soon be over. It is only two weeks away now, think of that.’
‘Will it?’ Caroline said bleakly.
‘Yes,’ Euphemia promised. ‘It will. Everything will be different, you’ll see. Won’t it, Will?’
‘I promise,’ Will said.
In fact Will Easter did more than make promises. Despite Pheemy’s insistence that they should leave well alone until after the trial, he decided to take action. At the end of the week when he was allowed out of the house at last, he went to visit his cousins in Clerkenwell.
They were delighted to see him and when he told them he had a plan for bringing Caroline and Henry together again they listened with undivided attention.
‘It all depends on you in the first instance,’ he explained. ‘If you would invite Henry here for supper, on the first day of the trial perhaps, I could come round later in the evening and tell all three of you what had happened, just as though everything were back to normal, d’you see. And after that we could offer other invitations, a celebratory dinner when the case is over for example, with lots of people there and plenty of good food and wine and so forth and Caroline and Henry both among the guests. We can’t let them go on and on not seeing one another. It’s ridiculous. What do you think?’
Matty thought it was a wonderful idea.
‘To play Cupid,’ she said, her scarred face shining. ‘What could be better? Oh, you are quite right, Will. They should be brought together again.’ It would make amends for her brother’s dreadful behaviour, running off like that just at the moment when the firm needed him most.
‘Do you really think we ought to meddle?’. Jimmy said, cautiously. ‘It is a matter between husband and wife, when all’s said and done.’
But his wife overruled him. ‘Of course we should,’ she said. ‘Tell us how we are to go about it, Will. We will invite him here on the first day of the trial, of course. What else would you like us to do?’
So Henry received his invitation and accepted it gratefully. And Will’s plot was laid. And the case of Easter versus Furmedge was a mere three days away.
Chapter 33
On the night before the court case Caroline Easter couldn’t sleep at all. She lay in her white bed, hot and uncomfortable and fidgeting, while the house slept all around her. She listened to Euphemia’s soft breathing and the crack and creak of the cooling stairs and the occasional muffled thud of soot falling in the chimney, and the more she strained after the rest she needed, the more it eluded her. Finally she got up, easing herself carefully from the bed so as not to wake Euphemia, and went to open a window, so that she could cool herself while she looked down into the garden in the middle of the square.
It had been warm and dry over the last few days and the pavements were so thick with dust that now, in the moonlight, they looked as though they were covered with sand. The plane trees were dusty too and from time to time, when a slight breeze caught them, they rustled like tissue paper.
She was doomed, Caroline thought miserably as she leant out o
f the window. By the end of that day she would be named and known for a ‘purveyor of filth’, just as that awful man described her in his letter. She would never live it down. Even if the judge found for the firm she would still be tarred with it. Purveyor of filth. It was a horrid thing. And there was no escaping it. There in the clarity of moonlight, looking down on the uncompromising emptiness of the square, there was no escaping the truth of anything. How was she to endure it?
And as if in answer to her questions the baby moved for the first time. It was such a little tentative wriggle that had she not been standing so still she might have missed it. But there was no mistaking it. There it was again, flicker, flicker, flicker, but stronger now, and more like a pulse than a wriggle. A reminder that life went on, that there was always hope, that she carried both within her, even in a moment as bleak as this.
She stood at the window for a long time enjoying the sensation of this new life she carried, rejoicing in it, despite her anxieties. Even if the judgement went against her, even if she never saw Henry again – would she ever see him again? – there was always this life, this new precious life. When she finally climbed back into her bed, she slept almost at once.
The next morning Euphemia brought her breakfast upstairs, as though she were a bride. She was touched to be so tenderly treated and kissed her cousin most lovingly to thank her. But it was doomsday come at last even so.
And such a peculiar day. The breeze that had stirred the plane trees during the night had become a gale by daybreak, hurling the dust into the air in choking grey-brown clouds. The sun rose slowly through the murk that morning, and the sun was red as blood. It made Caroline shudder to see it. It was a horrid day for a horrid deed.
The journey to the law courts was unpleasant too, even though Nan and Will and Euphemia were all with her. There was dust everywhere, kicked up by the horses’ hooves, swirled into the air by the carriage wheels, blown high by the gale, coating their shoes, dirtying their gloves, settling visibly on hats and jackets, clogging the very air they tried to breathe. By the time they reached Temple Bar, Caroline even had grains of it under her tongue.
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