by Anna King
Squeezing her eyes to blot out the painful sight, she remembered the last words Mabel had said to her. ‘Don’t let them bury me in the rain, Ruby. Promise me, child! Don’t let them bury me in the rain.’
‘Can you manage, dear? The path is very uneven.’ Daisy stood beside her daughter, her face etched with concern.
Unable to speak, Ruby merely nodded before linking her arm through her mother’s, grateful that she had come with her. They waited a few minutes until the carriage carrying Michael and the rest of the staff had deposited its passengers before following the pallbearers to the open grave.
Throughout the brief service, Ruby kept her eyes fixed on the tall middle-aged man who stood solemnly by the side of the parson. She had first made the acquaintance of Sir Charles Caldworthy four days earlier, when he had arrived unannounced to take over the estate of his late stepmother. Not yet over the first stages of grief at the loss of their beloved employer, the staff, including Michael and herself, had been told by the new owner that he intended to close up the house and therefore would no longer have need of their services. The news had had little effect upon Ruby, who had already decided to leave just as soon as Michael found himself another post, but Mrs Rodgers and Mr Masters, both nearing retirement age, had been devastated. She hoped with all her heart that Mabel had left them well provided for.
The sound of Mrs Rodgers’s sobs broke into her reverie, and she laid her hand on the old woman’s arm. Unable to bear the sight of her friend’s grief, she shifted her gaze to where Michael stood at the back of the small group, a black band on the sleeve of his best grey suit, his body slumped in an attitude of deep sorrow, and fought down the wild impulse to shout out ‘Hypocrite!’
With a supreme effort she focused her attention once again on the imposing figure of Mabel’s stepson. Not once since entering the cemetery had she looked at the coffin now reposing in its shallow grave, her mind still refusing to accept that her dearly loved friend was really dead. She couldn’t believe that never again would the familiar voice call to her, or the bright twinkling eyes laugh at her. If she could only endure the ceremony without breaking down, if she could avoid looking at the coffin, then she would be able to keep alive the memory of the woman she’d loved so dearly. Closing her eyes, she listened with detachment as the parson finished his eulogy. Thank God she had stood out against Michael’s wish for the children to be present and had insisted instead that Lily came to the house to look after them.
The sound of the first clods of earth being shovelled onto the coffin roused her, and then she was staring down into the grave. But there was something wrong, for the coffin seemed to be jumping and turning from side to side.
‘Come along, dear. There’s nothing more you can do for her, poor soul,’ Daisy said gently as she made to turn Ruby back in the direction of the waiting carriages, but the figure beside her refused to move.
Ruby stood as if transfixed. She could feel a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach, then, as if gathering momentum, the feeling surged through her body, and when the two grave-diggers shovelled another spadeful of dirt onto the exposed coffin, she cried out piteously, ‘Stop it, stop it, she won’t be able to breathe! Get her out! Oh please, somebody, get her out before she suffocates!’ and then she was falling, her head bursting with tiny bright lights before plunging into total blackness.
* * *
‘Here you are, dear. Try and take a sip of tea, it will make you feel better,’ Daisy coaxed softly, her arm round Ruby’s shoulders. As the hot tea touched her lips, Ruby jerked her head back, so that the steaming liquid ran down the front of her black silk dress. ‘Oh dear, I’m sorry! It was too hot. I should have checked. Let me fetch a cloth to clean your dress.’
As Daisy removed her arm, Ruby’s head flopped back against the pile of pillows, the memory of the day’s events crowding over her. And when the scalding tears cascaded down her cheeks, she made no effort to restrain them. After the spasm had ceased, she became aware of another presence in the room, and, turning her head to one side, she saw the stooped figure of Dr Benson watching her, his eyes full of sadness. Immediately she struggled to sit up in the bed, only to be gently pushed back by her mother.
‘Lie still for a while, dear. There’s nothing for you to get up for; everything’s being taken care of.’
‘The children?’ Ruby croaked weakly. ‘And the mourners? I have to see to the funeral tea.’
‘The children are with Lily in the lodge, and the mourners left over two hours ago.’
Ruby stared up at her mother in bewilderment. ‘Two hours ago? But… I mean… How long have I been asleep?’
Dr Benson moved to the bed and took her hand, saying kindly, ‘Not so much asleep, my dear, more like collapse from complete exhaustion. As to how long… well, let me see.’ Taking out his watch, he added, ‘It’s now six o’clock, so you have been… sleeping for over seven hours.’
‘Seven hours? I can’t have been!’ Ruby exclaimed. Then, before either her mother or Dr Benson could stop her, she threw back the blanket that had been covering her and swung the bottom half of her body over the edge of the bed, then froze as she realised that the artificial limb that was almost a part of her had been removed. She felt a sudden rush of blood to her face as she imagined her mother and Dr Benson pulling up her heavy silk skirt to unhook the leather corset and straps that held the leg in place; but worse, much, much worse, was the knowledge that they had witnessed the sight of the mutilated, scarred stump.
Since the age of 14, when she had finally mastered the technique of attaching her leg, the only person who had seen her deformity was the carpenter at the Seamen’s Mission Hospital. On these half-yearly visits she had made her mother wait outside the workshop while the cheerful ex-sailor had measured her for a new leg. These visits had ceased shortly after her seventeenth birthday when it was decided that she was unlikely to grow any taller. She had returned to the hospital only once during the intervening years, and that was only because the leather straps had become worn, as had the corset. On that occasion she had insisted on removing the necessary objects in the dubious privacy of the tiny store-room behind the workshop, and had then waited while the carpenter, a man she had never seen before, had taken her measurements. When he had finished, she had thanked him politely, ignoring the amused expression in his eyes, and had quickly re-fitted the leg while he was making out the invoice. Not even Michael had ever seen her wholly undressed, she had made sure of that.
And now these two people whom she trusted most had invaded her privacy in the worst possible way. The tears of grief turned to tears of mortification, and, angrily wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, she glared up at her mother, saying bitterly, ‘How could you? Either of you? Both of you know how I feel about keeping my handicap private. It was unforgivable to do this to me when I was in no fit state to object!’
‘Listen to me, dear, please,’ Daisy said, her voice filled with distress.
‘William was concerned about you. You’ve not been off your feet for weeks, what with seeing to Mabel and looking after the house. Mrs Rodgers has told me that you’ve not been bothering to take the leg off even when you’ve gone to bed. The skin must be red raw, and despite what you say to the contrary, it must be hurting badly.’
‘Your mother’s right, Ruby,’ Dr Benson said quietly, ‘and you should know better than to keep the leg attached for long periods of time. The skin could break with the constant chafing, causing infection, and if that should happen… well, it would be weeks, maybe months, before you could wear the leg again.’
Ruby looked from one anxious face to the other, her mind telling her that they were right, but still she couldn’t help feeling as if she’d been violated. She buried her face in the pillows, her body shuddering with a sense of shock and deep, intense shame.
Daisy and Dr Benson looked at each other, their faces mirroring their concern, but neither spoke until Ruby said in a muffled voice, ‘I’m sorry… I know you acted
for the best… but you shouldn’t have done it… You shouldn’t have.’
‘No, we shouldn’t have, and we’re both deeply sorry for upsetting you so. But, Ruby, we both love you, and if you think for one moment that the sight of your… stump would alter that feeling in any way, then you must imagine our love for you to be very shallow.’ Daisy’s voice had dropped to a whisper, and Ruby, hearing her pain, gave a loud cry and threw herself into her mother’s arms.
Dr Benson stood back from the bed, slightly embarrassed by the emotional scene. He waited for a few more minutes before giving a discreet cough, then said briskly, ‘Ahem! This may sound insensitive, Ruby, but the reading of Mabel’s will took place over an hour ago. I took the liberty of asking Sir Charles to let Mr Cox, the solicitor, proceed without you. They are both at present waiting in the study, but if you don’t feel up to it at the moment, I’m sure Mr Cox can came back tomorrow.’
Daisy felt Ruby’s body stiffen and pulled her closer, saying firmly, ‘I don’t think that now is an appropriate time, William. If you would be kind enough to go downstairs and inform them that tomorrow would be more convenient, I’d be most grateful.’
Dr Benson nodded in agreement, and was about to leave the room when Ruby stopped him. ‘No, I’d rather see them now, Mum. I might feel even worse tomorrow, so it’s best I get it out of the way tonight.’
‘All right, dear, if that’s what you want,’ Daisy replied, bending over to kiss her tear-stained cheek. ‘I’ll wait for you at the lodge. It will give me an opportunity to spend some time with my grandchildren.’ Ruby waited until Daisy had pulled on her gloves and was preparing to leave before asking,
‘Where’s Michael? You said earlier that Lily was looking after the children. Why isn’t Michael with them?’ She was quick to note the glance that passed between her mother and Dr Benson, and felt a shrinking sensation in her stomach. ‘Well, I’m waiting, Mum. Where is he?’
‘He— he said he had to go out for a while, to— to visit a friend. I’m sure he’ll be back shortly,’ Daisy said, her eyes avoiding Ruby’s.
Ruby nodded slowly, with an expression of understanding. Then, in a firm voice, she asked, ‘How much did Mabel leave him?’
‘Well now, I’m not sure, dear. Why don’t you wait until he gets home? He…’
‘I asked how much, Mum, and don’t pretend you don’t know! I can tell by your face you’re keeping something from me.’
Daisy cast a desperate look at Dr Benson, then, plucking nervously at her fingers, she replied, ‘Two hundred pounds.’
Ruby blinked in disbelief. Two hundred pounds! So that’s why her mother was so nervous – she probably thought he wouldn’t be coming back! She nearly laughed out loud at the notion. Of course he’d be back! He wouldn’t leave without finding out how much his wife was now worth. As to where he was… the nearest pub would be the most obvious bet. Forcing a smile to her lips, she said cheerfully, ‘It’s all right, Mum, there’s no need to look so tragic! I know where he’s gone as well as you do, but he’ll be back, that’s one thing I am certain of. Now, I’d best get ready to go downstairs. I’ll meet you at the lodge. I shouldn’t be too long.’
‘Very well, dear.’
‘Goodnight, Ruby,’ Dr Benson said gruffly, then, pointing to the dressing table, he added, ‘I’ve left some salve and a lint bandage. They will help to ease the chafing.’
Ruby swallowed before replying, ‘Thank you, Doctor. I’m very grateful for all your help.’
After they had left the room, she hopped over to the dressing table, picked up the bottle of salve and the small piece of linen, returned to the bed, and sat down. Pulling up her skirt, she gingerly applied the salve to the inflamed stump, then winced as the burning pain brought fresh tears to her eyes. When the pain had abated, she gritted her teeth before applying another liberal helping and then padded the stump with the soft linen bandage. She waited a few more moments until the pain had eased further then pulled the leg towards her.
When she was ready, she limped painfully over to the dressing table and dabbed some powder over her face. At the sight of her red-rimmed eyes, she shrugged wearily: what did it matter how she looked? Collecting her wide-brimmed black bonnet, she walked over to the connecting door and opened it wide.
The sight of the large empty bed made her eyes fill with tears again. Choking down the sobs that were starting to fill her throat, she quickly closed the door, then murmured, ‘Goodbye, Mabel. I’ll never forget you.’ Dashing her hand across her eyes, she made her way across the room that held so many memories, and ignoring the pain in her leg, made her way downstairs.
* * *
‘Ah, Mrs O’Brien. Please sit down. I trust you are feeling better?’
‘Much better, thank you, Sir Charles,’ Ruby answered as she gratefully accepted the chair that had been placed for her. The journey down the long stairs had been a nightmare, with each step sending a searing pain through the top half of her leg.
‘This is Mr Cox. I believe you’ve already met?’ Sir Charles was saying, indicating the small, dapper man standing by the side of the writing-desk.
‘Yes, indeed we have,’ the solicitor replied, smiling gravely. ‘Your late stepmother changed her will a number of times over the past few years, and Mrs O’Brien always saw to it that I had some refreshment before I left the house – an action that was much appreciated.’
Ruby smiled back, wishing the man would stop his chattering and get on with matters. She was tired and in pain, and she wanted to see her children.
As if sensing her impatience, Mr Cox cleared his throat, before seating himself behind the desk. ‘Well, now, I’m sure you’d rather I got straight down to business, Mrs O’Brien. But before I tell you how much Lady Caldworthy bequeathed to you, I must say I expected the amount to be more substantial. I’m only telling you this beforehand to save you any disappointment.’
The tone of the solicitor’s words sent a tremor of apprehension through Ruby, and it was with a supreme effort that she kept her face impassive. Her voice steady, she replied, ‘Whatever the amount may be is of no consequence. The happy times I spent in her ladyship’s company are payment enough. Please continue.’
Clearing his throat once more, Mr Cox looked over his moon-shaped spectacles, and said, ‘Her ladyship left you the sum of £300, Mrs O’Brien. And if I may repeat my former comments, I am deeply shocked and surprised that she should have left you such a small amount, compared with the bequests to the rest of the staff. I know how very fond of you she was, and I confess to being baffled at her decision.’
Ruby’s breathing quickened as the solicitor’s words sank in. It wasn’t possible. Surely Mabel wouldn’t have left her only marginally better off than Michael? There must be some mistake… There must! She had certainly had no hopes of a large bequest – indeed £300 was a great deal of money – but why had she left Michael such a large amount? She’d never trusted him. She’d liked him, yes, but never trusted him. And if she were being completely honest with herself, she would admit that she had expected a rather larger amount. Dear Lord, what was she thinking of? Poor Mabel had only been buried that morning and here she was fretting as to the whys and wherefores of who had received what.
Her head began to swim, and, taking a deep breath, she smiled at Mr Cox again and held out her hand. ‘Thank you for waiting for me. It was very good of you. As to the bequest, rest assured that I am very content with my legacy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll bid you both good evening.’
Both men stood up awkwardly, and as Sir Charles led her to the door, he leaned forward and said softly, ‘I realise you must be exhausted after all the work you’ve had to shoulder these past few weeks, but I know that the staff are anxious to see you. They were very concerned about you, and I know they’d appreciate it if you would pay them a visit before returning to the lodge.’
Ruby groaned. She was in no fit state to be sociable, even if the people in question were her friends. Bowing her head, sh
e replied, ‘Very well. I’ll have a quick word with them before returning home.’ Once outside the door, she resisted the temptation to ignore Sir Charles’s request and make for home, but took another deep shuddering breath, and headed for the kitchen.
* * *
Half an hour later she was once more standing in the hall, her face bewildered as she recalled the news they had given her. Mrs Rodgers and Mr Masters had received £500 each, and Rosie and Agnes £250. She didn’t begrudge Mrs Rodgers or Mr Masters one penny of their legacies; they had been with Mabel for over 30 years and it was only natural that she would see them provided for. Even in their grief, the relief had shown in their faces, and could she blame them? It would be very hard for either of them to find another post at their time of life. It was different for Rosie and Agnes, who were young enough to find other positions, and yet Mabel had left them both enough to see them comfortably off for a couple of years at least. Obviously her late employer hadn’t thought as much of her as she’d been led to believe. And what would Michael’s reaction be when he found out? He hadn’t said as much, but she knew he was expecting a small fortune to be coming his way. Well, he was in for a great disappointment, wasn’t he? For not only would he have to give up his plans for a life of ease, he’d also have to find another job, and that prospect wasn’t going to go down too well.
Then the study door was opened, and when she saw Sir Charles standing in the doorway, she nodded curtly and made to move on. She had heard Mabel refer to him on only one occasion, and that had been to tell her that her stepson had disapproved of his father’s remarriage and had never set foot in the house since the day of his funeral. Well, he’d been quick enough about getting his foot back in the door now that his stepmother was no longer alive! she thought bitterly.
‘Ah, Mrs O’Brien, I was waiting for you to emerge from the kitchen. If you could spare me just another moment, I promise I won’t keep you long. I know you must be desperate to get home.’
