Never, I thought, though I kept silent. That said it just as well, perhaps.
Mother said, ‘Has your father ever been harsh with you?’
‘Not knowingly.’ I turned back to Father. ‘Wouldn’t any brother want to see his sister?’
‘You’re not any brother and sister,’ he replied.
My hand flew to my mouth. I had broken my promise by mentioning it before Mother. Father had likewise let his tongue run away with him; he would perceive it directly, and what then?
Mother at once took my hand in hers, saying, ‘Pray don’t distress yourself.’ I knew then that my father had gone back on what we agreed and, for some reason of his own, had already enlightened her. I squeezed her hand, murmuring, ‘Mother.’ If it was only one word, it was the right one; but I was less inclined to be submissive towards him. ‘Well, Father,’ I said, ‘would you have given up Robin like this?’
He said, ‘You try my patience,’ but I saw I had played a winning card: his eyes avoided mine. At last he said, ‘If it sets your mind at rest –’
‘Mathew,’ my mother said warningly.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t undertake to answer every question. Very well, what do you want to know?’
I thought rapidly. ‘What class of persons are they lodged with?’
‘With a gentlewoman. They form part of her private household.’
‘How did you persuade her to take them on?’
He laughed at this. ‘How do you think? I pay her.’
‘That can’t be much, Father. They’re used to living on so little.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Nothing at all, just a doctor for Joan, bedding, linen, food … They have a blazing fire day and night, and there Joan sits, hugging it.’
He paused and sat watching me.
‘She must think she’s in paradise,’ I remarked.
He waited a little longer. Then: ‘Ask after Tamar.’
‘Can I ask anything?’
‘Anything I think fit to answer.’
‘How do they treat her?’
‘Their hostess believes her guests to be gentlewomen like herself, but disinherited and degraded by the war. Tamar was presented to her as a girl of good family, raised like a peasant and forced to marry beneath her station; the lady takes it upon herself as a Christian duty to raise her from the mire.’
‘Raise her, how?’
‘By instructing her in breeding and manners. A schoolmaster is employed for the rest and he finds her an apt scholar.’
‘She would be.’ I wondered what Tamar was teaching the schoolmaster. ‘And the child? What of that?’
‘Tamar’s a widow.’ He put his hand on mine as if to comfort me. ‘That makes her safe, son. While she stays where she is, none can expose her.’
‘So I’m dead,’ I said, more to myself than to him. ‘You’ve put an end to me.’
‘To your folly; not to you.’
Sometimes reason is less bearable than rage. ‘Is she happy?’ I burst out. ‘Does she cry, does she ever ask after me?’
‘Of course not,’ Father said. He was in command of himself now, sure of his ground. ‘She has everything she needs. You would be happier, Jon, if you followed her example.’
*
Mother gave way over the damson trees, so Father set me to mark out a plot for them. I hammered in the stakes, feeling as if I were nailing down my coffin lid. This was to be my life, then: making marks wherever my father pointed out the place, marrying where he wanted me to marry. I had rebelled once, and it had cost me dear.
Both he and Mother talked more frequently now of the desirability of my taking a wife. The woman they had set their hearts on was Poll Parfitt.
* * *
It was not until the beginning of March that Master Blackett came to the house with news. He had also brought the miniature left me by Uncle Robin, so while Mother went off to fetch some wine, Father and I unwrapped my legacy. For the first time I was face to face with the lad the village girls called Absalom. There was no hint of the coarse, ruddy uncle I had found so distasteful. As a young man Robin had a neck like a tower of ivory, as the Bible says, and carried his head proudly atop of it. He had crinkled blond hair, a broad jaw, a full mouth. As far as the hair and the mouth went, I could have sat for the picture. I thought how Aunt Harriet must have hated me for that.
‘I suppose it’s like?’ I asked.
Father nodded. I wondered what it was that Robin had, and I did not, that so drew women to him.
Mother returned and served the three of us with wine and cake before returning to the kitchen.
Wiping his eyes, which were wet from looking on his brother’s picture, Father now said huskily to the lawyer, ‘How did you get this? Not from my sister-in-law?’
‘It was left with Ousby,’ Blackett answered. ‘The only bequest that your brother chose to leave in his keeping. Finding that was nothing, compared with finding Abel Canning.’ He set down his goblet and I noticed that my mother had poured me a much smaller measure.
Father frowned. ‘Is he dishonest, this Canning?’
‘Oh, no. After Master Ousby’s decease he couldn’t find another place; he went to live with some cousins in Gloucester. He’s seen the will now, and your Seatons are lucky: he remembers witnessing it.’
‘I don’t see that, myself,’ said Father. ‘Why would he?’
‘Because Mr Dymond seemed so fearful.’
I said, ‘Mrs Dymond is a passionate woman.’
‘Hmm.’ Blackett took another sip of wine. ‘On that subject, I must ask something of you. You may wish to consider it before agreeing.’
Father and I pulled up our chairs as one man.
Blackett said, ‘I wish you to accompany me when I go to break the news to her.’
‘To Harriet!’ Father looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘What do you say, Jon? Shall we go?’
‘I’ll wait in the stable, most likely,’ I said. ‘I doubt she’ll let me into the house.’
* * *
I tied the miniature around my neck, under my shirt. I wished to have it about me, but not in any way that might pain my mother and father, or suggest I had rather be Robin’s child than theirs. Still, he sired me. There can only be one man who does that. The fear I once associated with him was gone entirely: the will was come to light and Robin was sunk back into his grave. I knew, now, why he had singled me out from all the rest, and like Aunt Harriet I could even find a part of me that would have clung to his ghost. Had he come to me one last night, and stood by the road in the old way, I might have called him Father – it was the only gift I could still bestow – but he never appeared again.
Was his spirit bound for Heaven or Hell? For Heaven, I hope. I would have him rest in peace; he was a sinner, but I know a worse one. Still, even should she sneak into Heaven, he will be safe from her. According to Scripture, there is no marrying there.
No, marriage is a thing of Earth, where my aunt’s good fame shines bright throughout Tetton. What took place within the Guild Hall is never spoken of. The soldiers, like sparks carried on wind, went off to lay waste to other lives; if any of them remembers, I would like to think he trembles, looking on his own daughters, when he calls to mind what was done here. A frail hope! More likely he recalls a willing whore; he smiles to think he came through the wars, after all, and sighs for his youthful time, and thinks he will take his wife early to bed. As for the village men, that despicable crew, their hands have been clean and their memories blank ever since that night. My poor lustful, cowardly father, you were weak, not merciless; compared with their sins yours were as nothing; and yet your wickedness opened the way to theirs and went on deepening the wound afterwards. Even so, I do not hate you. I am too like you for that.
* * *
When the time came to visit my aunt, Master Blackett took us in his own cart. The land was starting to show green and the trees thickening up, but the roads were still boggy; in places we were all obliged to get out
and push, even the learned lawyer himself, so that it was dusk before we arrived.
‘Are you quite ready, Jon?’ my father asked as we came out from the wood into Tetton Green. I said I was, but when I saw the dark shape of End House backed up against the trees I felt myself grow cold. Father must have iced, for he said, ‘You’re with us, now.’
‘And we’re armed,’ Blackett said.
I stared. ‘Armed?’
He waved the satchel that contained the paper. I could barely smile in reply; the chill was spreading through my limbs and my teeth chattered in my head. It came to me that this was how I had felt after my near-drowning: my body remembered.
‘You’ve left a copy with your clerk?’ Father said for the third time. The lawyer smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.
Three men armed with law, about to ambush a solitary woman. One would say that woman had little chance, even though she was my aunt. The blood stung its way back into my cheeks and hands; the qualm had passed.
As we went by the Guild Hall with its altered windows, I found myself compelled to look inside, as if by so doing I might glimpse the riot and brutality once enacted there. The interior of the Hall was dark, so that I could barely make it out. Yet it seemed to me that the building must retain some trace, some distant echo too faint for human hearing, some tenth part of a tenth part of a fleck of dust from a soldier’s coat. The world is full of these gossamer threads, like Robin’s signature on the will, tying the present to the past; once perceived, they breed and multiply in the mind.
No matter where they lead us, we have need of them. That what once existed is lost utterly, that time’s river can never return to its source, is a thought more terrible than any act recorded here. So I choose to believe in such traces, of which I am one – the record of a certain act committed upon a certain day – and every man and woman on earth another.
I could wish that Robin had written to me, as well as to my father. Then I might trace back the trail of ink to his first mark upon the paper and see it as a thread stretching between his breathing, blooming time, long gone, and mine, which is now.
And now.
How I Lost Part of My Hair
She was not expecting us – of course not. I say this because fear had made me as superstitious as an old trot whenever I thought of Aunt Harriet: I almost thought nobody could deceive her, and would not have been surprised to observe her stationed at an upstairs window, holding a musket. In the event, we passed through the gate in the usual way and a boy (not Billy; I wondered what had become of him) took charge of the cart while we knocked at the door. We were admitted by Geoffrey Barnes, whose face was tight with suppressed curiosity. That he knew of my connection with Tamar was obvious; Aunt Harriet had most likely covered it up for as long as some shred of polite pretence remained between us, but not a moment longer.
The lady of the house was upstairs with her maid. We were shown to some seats near the fire and requested to wait while she was informed of our arrival. After some twenty minutes or so Aunt Harriet, splendid in a mourning costume trimmedwith black pearls, came swishing down the stairs and walked right up to my father.
‘Mathew,’ she said as we rose to greet her. There was nothing gentle in her demeanour; she was brusque, even mannish.
My father nodded. ‘Harriet.’
Me, she looked straight through. Returning the compliment, I wondered if she had been wearing that rich dress when we were announced, or had donned it specially for our benefit.
My father now presented Blackett, but without mentioning his profession. Aunt Harriet looked the man over with quiet insolence and did not ask us to sit. We stood awkwardly, the fire popping and hissing behind us, waiting for that courtesy.
‘You will be aware, Harriet, that after what Jon has told me I would not come here without good cause,’ Father began. ‘You may not wish the servants to hear our business. Is there a room where we can be private?’
My aunt said stonily, ‘Here will do.’
He shrugged. ‘Then have a table fetched for documents.’
She glanced at him, then, and at Blackett, before going to the bell-pull. Rose entered, looking every bit as strained as her husband.
‘Tell Geoffrey to come in here and move the walnut table over to the fire. And we want light.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
Barnes arrived, making a show of strength as he singlehandedly carried the heavy table to the fireside.
‘Not so close, you fool, it’ll scorch,’ my aunt snapped. Meekly he moved it to her directions. Rose entered with candles in silver candlesticks and set them down on its polished surface.
‘And Geoffrey, remain outside the door until I call you,’ my aunt said, as if we were ruffians who might do her some injury. My father retorted that she might bring in the entire household and seat them round the table with us, if such were her wish; it was nothing to him. My aunt did not deign to answer, and Barnes withdrew.
At last we were seated. Aunt Harriet chose the chair directly opposite mine and skewered me with that blue glare of hers. I will not deny she could still frighten me. I thought everyone in the room could hear my heart; perhaps it could be heard as far off as the stables.
‘Master Blackett’s a lawyer,’ Father said. Her eyes flicked away from me then, towards the stranger. He went on, ‘Another will has come to light – Robin’s will. It’s drawn up by the same man as –’
‘Ousby?’
‘Yes, Ousby. But it’s of a later date.’
‘My husband never mentioned any will.’
‘It was found among Master Ousby’s paper,’ Father said, giving the truth but not the whole truth. ‘Master Blackett here has checked the will and spoken with the witness. Everything appears to be correct.’
What self-mastery my aunt could exert, when she chose to. She sat upright, folding her hands on the edge of the table, and waited.
Blackett now brought out the paper from his satchel. ‘This, Madam, is a copy of the original, which I believe to be the only legitimate will of the late Mr Dymond. As you will see, there are significant alterations to the bequests.’
My aunt pushed the candles towards him. ‘Read.’
The lawyer inclined his head and in a soft, deadly voice, like poisoned honey, began to read Robin’s will, explaining each foreign term as he came to it just as he had done with us. Sometimes she anticipated him with a brusque ‘Yes, yes, go on,’ but mostly she was silent. She was not, however, at peace: the rise and fall of her bosom were visible even in candlelight. I would have laid any money that her skin, seen by day, would have shown pink.
‘You have a life interest …’ Blackett began to explain the provision made for her. She closed her eyes – so that we could not read them, I am sure – and listened without the slightest flicker of her features. Her body she also held rigid and motionless, always excepting the throbbing within her stays. That, she could not master.
‘… and after your death to Joan and Tamar Seaton,’ Blackett finished.
The room grew so quiet that I could hear the wax being sucked up the wick of the candle nearest me. Still my aunt did not open her eyes. Father, Blackett and I glanced at one another.
‘You have a life interest,’ Blackett said a little more loudly. ‘Do you understand what that means?’
My aunt swallowed and opened her eyes. Despite the darkness her pupils showed as pinpricks. ‘And if I wish to sell the property?’
My father said, astonished, ‘You don’t, do you?’
‘What if I remarry?’ She leapt up, smacking her hand on the table. ‘Your will’s a forgery. Robin would never have tied me like this, never!’
‘I assure you –’ Father began.
‘Those women had it made by one of their acquaintance! Some hedge-lawyer!’ She stopped, her eyes moving from Blackett to Father and from Father to me, and I saw ugly thoughts take shape in her mind.
‘Your surprise is natural,’ said Blackett, whose calm manner betokened many years
’ experience. ‘However, Master Ousby’s widow attests that the will was stored –’
‘You’re all in it together! Your creature, here,’ my aunt spluttered, ‘he drew it up.’
The lawyer’s smile had the faintest tinge of . ‘I repeat, all is correct and duly witnessed. The clerk who witnessed it remembers Mr Dymond.’
‘Does he, indeed. How much did you pay him?’
‘Pray, Harriet, be reasonable!’ my father exclaimed. ‘What have you lost? You’ve everything you need for as long as you live –’
‘Aye. As long as.’ She resumed her rapid walk. ‘And how long’ll that be, eh, with those creatures waiting on my death?’
‘I believe she served here and did you no harm,’ Blackett pointed out.
‘She soon finished off Robin, though!’ my aunt spat, striding back and forth with her fists clenched in her skirts. ‘Yet you dare pretend this house belongs to a pack of beggars –’
‘They’re not beggars, not these days,’ said Father.
‘Thanks to you. What are they giving you in return, a share in an inheritance? Robin would never have put me in such a position. If he were here, to see this … !’ My aunt’s voice had tears in it now; her eyes glittered and her bosom heaved so violently that I wondered she could breathe. She turned towards the door, screaming, ‘Geoffrey! Geoffrey!’
He came in at a run, then slowed to see us sitting harmless at the table while my aunt rampaged about the room.
‘Fetch Dr Green!’ she flung at him, stamping her foot. ‘And tell Rose to come here. Now, now!’
Barnes disappeared.
‘Are you saying Tamar Seaton did some injury to your husband?’ asked Blackett.
She glared at him and did not answer.
‘Calm yourself, Harriet,’ Father urged. ‘There’s nothing to be done.’
‘Hold your tongue – you and your bastard!’ She turned and resumed her pacing, her arms wrapped round her now as if to keep off rain.
The Wilding Page 27
