If James knew I had money, well, he was still my husband, and as such he had the legal right to seize it. Furthermore, I thought he was capable of doing so.
With a shock – and it was a shock, and it filled me with outrage – I realised that I dare not spend that money, except in an emergency. I would be wiser to live, if I could, without using it. The law, the damned law, would keep me from benefitting from it.
Hadn’t I once said to my mother that there were agencies in places like Minehead and Taunton that would help people to find work? Minehead was where Ralph and Harriet lived and I must not go there. I must not turn to Ralph, because of Harriet. I clung to that. I had made love with Harriet’s husband, harming her, even though she might never know it. But Taunton – yes, Taunton would do. I did briefly think of going to Mr Silcox but that would also mean telling Edmund Baker what had happened and he was Harriet’s brother. No, that was no solution. Taunton it would have to be.
The White Horse sometimes hired out traps for people wishing to make journeys, and would provide a lad to drive it. Next day, I hired a trap and went to Minehead. There would be no harm in passing through it. From there, I knew, I could get a stage coach to Taunton.
I would have to tell any agency something about myself and it couldn’t be the truth. I must pretend to be … what? A widow, left without a home, perhaps. I began to invent a story to account for myself.
I have never felt more alone. Nothing seemed real. I felt as if I were in a dream from which I would soon wake up. But there would be no waking.
I longed for home but Foxwell was lost to me.
Probably for ever.
The Exile
I was in a daze, of course. Things had happened too swiftly. One moment I was Mrs James Bright of Foxwell Farm, secure, with husband, home and children; then, literally overnight, I was cast upon the world like driftwood on the sea. In the stage coach to Taunton, I dozed a little and then woke, thinking it had all been a bad dream, only – where was I now, and why? And then I woke fully, to the creak of the coach and the smell of the leather seat and the decidedly unwashed farmer beside me and the sound of the horses’ hooves, and I knew that my horrible situation was no mere dream, but reality.
I had bought some clothes in Exford. There was a dressmaker there who always had some ready-made dresses and pelisses in average sizes, ready-made in stock, and some underwear items as well. I also wanted some white cloth that I could cut up for my personal needs. I bought a hamper too and I was now provided with luggage. Once more, I silently thanked my father for his gift of money, and the help that Josiah Duggan had given him. James had tried to fling me out to beg my bread but I had no need to beg. Legally, of course, all my money belonged to James. Well, how absurd, to have money and not dare use it. James would never know my hoard existed.
In Taunton, I found a hostelry that would take me, and next morning, I found an agency. Miss Jane Connor, who ran it, was tall, angular and intimidating, but efficient. She could suggest a suitable position. It was in the home of a Taunton lawyer who had a wife and several children. The rate of pay was good. Regular attendance at the parish church was expected and everyone employed by the Waters family at the Grey House must be a true Christian. There were morning prayers every day, at seven o’clock, and more prayers in the evening and everyone had to be present.
I said I was agreeable. Like most farm wives, I was used to early rising. I didn’t mention my farm background, though. I said my name was Mrs Margaret Woodman and my story was that I was the widow of a Dorset shopkeeper. He had sold tools, including farm tools. He had died three months ago, leaving me homeless, since my imaginary husband had rented his shop and the living quarters above it and now the landlord wanted to put a new tenant in. I had relatives but they were a long way off, in … er … Salisbury, I said hastily. I didn’t wish to seek their charity. I preferred to seek respectable employment. I had come to Taunton because I had lived there before my marriage, returning, as it were, to my home district.
I was sent to the Grey House to be interviewed by Mrs Waters. She was a plump and well-spoken lady but her dark hair was austerely dressed and her blue eyes were uncomfortably like James’ eyes. I noticed, too, that the maidservant who answered the door was not only respectful towards her mistress, but rather too much so. Mrs Waters did not at any point smile at her or at me. She told me to stand in front of her, while she looked me up and down.
‘Can you do everything required to run a household well? Cook and clean? Do laundry? I expect my housekeepers to work, not merely supervise. Can you make preserves and read and write well enough to label them?’
‘Yes, Mrs Waters. I am fully literate.’
‘Have you children? Do you not have a family?’
I thought of William and Rose and John, thrust their memory away and said steadily: ‘God did not see fit to grant us that blessing, Mrs Waters.’
‘I have three children,’ said Mrs Waters. ‘My son Thomas, who is now twelve, is at Blundell’s school, here in Taunton. He boards, however, so you will see him only occasionally. My daughters are aged thirteen and ten, and are educated at home. They have a governess. When the governess has her time off, I hope you will be able to look after them, even though you have not had offspring of your own. You will not be required to teach, just to amuse them, take them for walks – except in inclement weather, naturally – and the like. It won’t encroach very much upon your time.’
‘I am quite willing to do that, Mrs Waters,’ I said.
‘If you come here, you will address me as madam at all times. I take it that you are of honest reputation and a regular communicant at the altar of our Lord?’
James and I had usually attended church, unless the farm work were too heavy. I said: ‘Yes, Mrs … madam.’
‘You must understand that I do not allow my women servants to have followers – at least they may not bring them here. They have their times off and may do as they wish elsewhere, provided I hear of no impropriety. I recognize their right to marry, naturally. I will also recognize yours, since you are still comparatively young. But there is to be no hint of scandal. Anyone who incurs the slightest breath of that is instantly dismissed. You understand?’
‘Yes, madam.’
Dear heaven. She looks like a plump kitten and she talks like a headmaster.
She said: ‘You may have a month’s trial. We will see how you acquit yourself.’
Life with the Waters family was dreadful. Oh, not on the surface. For instance, I was given a room to myself, and if it was plain, it was also comfortable. My dressing table had one lockable drawer and here I hid my bag of money and Ralph’s ring. I wondered if James was missing me now, and surely my children were crying for me. Perhaps, one day, he would soften and I could go home. One day.
The schoolroom, just across the passage, would not usually be my concern, but as I was to relieve the governess on occasion, it was shown to me. It had an ink-stained table, a cupboard holding supplies of paper, pens and ink, a set of bookshelves laden with educational works and, ominously, a birch. I looked at it with dislike and a determination never to touch it. I made no comment, though. I already knew that in this house, one trod carefully and watched one’s tongue.
There was no butler at the Grey House. The other servants were a cook, a kitchen maid and two other maids, one of them the girl who had opened the front door when I arrived. There were two gardeners-cum-handymen and two grooms for the horses, but they were outside staff and I rarely had to speak to them, except to order the grooms to harness or saddle horses when required. All the staff, indoor and out, were extremely correct in their manners and conscientious in their work. Again, a little too much so.
Mr Waters was a large, quiet, serious man, who spoke to me only rarely. He was perfectly courteous but something about him worried me. Perhaps it was the lack of expression in his light brown eyes. He presided at the household prayers, which took place in the drawing room every morning and evening. The evening o
nes, after supper, were particularly wearisome because there was a rule that no one should sit down. By then, many people were tired, but there we had to stand in attitudes of respect, the whole household, grooms and gardeners included, while Mr Waters stood commandingly before us, his back to a sofa upholstered in dark red velvet and his heels precisely placed at the edge of the square Turkish carpet with its pattern of red and blue, and recited interminable prayers, some of which contained digs at his family and servants and business clients.
He regularly asked the Lord to look with favour on his servant and then to grant him various blessings such as dutiful daughters who conned their lessons as they ought or trustworthy clients who would not try to deceive him as so and so had – he named names – and would pay their bills on time. He referred to himself as a servant but he addressed the Almighty in an astonishingly familiar way, as though the Almighty were his personal servant instead.
When this tiresome process ended, we were all supposed to say Amen. The one who said it with most fervour was Miss Ariadne Worth, the governess.
Before I was introduced to her, I had imagined her as a wispy and downtrodden creature, anxious to please her exacting employers and practically curtseying whenever she encountered them. I was wrong. Ariadne Worth was one of the most terrifying women I have ever come across. She was at least five feet ten inches tall and sometimes looked taller because she held herself so very straight; as though her spine was an iron rod. She always wore black dresses and she had a nose so sharp that it looked capable of being used as a pick or a chisel. Her mouth was set as though she had just been sucking a lemon and her eyes, which were of no particular colour, stared straight through one. She too, was perfectly courteous towards me, and her speaking voice was cultured. Mrs Waters, making a rare jest, said after she had presented me that Miss Worth was rightly named, for she was of very great worth. ‘Highly educated and properly firm with her pupils. I feel safe when I entrust my daughters to her. Not that they are brilliant pupils, I fear. My son is doing well at Blundell’s, but my girls are not clever.’
Probably too frightened to think straight, I said to myself.
‘Not that it matters particularly,’ said Mrs Waters. ‘Girls need not be intellectuals. They are both good with the needle, and they can sketch and play the piano. However, my husband feels that they should have informed minds and some knowledge of English literature and the French language, and there, I fear, neither of them show much aptitude, though Maria, the younger one, will I think turn out to be brighter than Augusta. Augusta has a bad memory. However, that is hardly your concern. I must finish showing you round the house and explain where we buy our foodstuffs …’
When, presently, I met Augusta and Maria, they resembled two pink and white dolls, prettily dressed, their light brown hair tightly braided. They had their father’s eyes, but theirs were not expressionless. They seemed, always, to have a pleading look. During my first three weeks in the house I had to watch over them several times and when I took them for walks, I found it difficult, even in an open park, to get them to run about and be playful. They were clearly used to walking sedately and taking great care not to soil their clothes or gloves in any way.
The housekeeper’s work was not that onerous, simply because all the staff knew their tasks and did them well. The Grey House was well furnished and thoroughly polished, with bowls of flowers in the hall and the downstairs rooms. I did not like my employers but I had a sound roof over my head, enough to eat – the servants’ meals were plain but ample – and enough to do to keep me from brooding too much.
Though I did brood, of course. God help me, I think I cried myself to sleep every night, longing for home, for my children, even yearning to get up at five to milk cows, even wishing for James’ unexciting embraces. We had not made love for weeks before that fatal night and the parting in the morning, but we usually put our arms round each other for a few moments before falling asleep.
But there was no going back. So I wept, silently, under my bedcovers, and each morning rose to carry out my duties, and fit in, because the Grey House was my only refuge. Twice during those first weeks, when passing the schoolroom, I caught the sound of a swishing birch and heard one of the girls wailing, but I closed my ears. My heart ached, but there was nothing I could do.
I had been at the Grey House for over three weeks when there came what I still, even now that I am old and looking back across the years, remember as That Terrible Evening.
From the start of the evening prayers, there was a tension. I saw Miss Worth once or twice give sharp looks at Augusta and I saw that the girl’s shoulders were hunched a little, as though she was trying to make herself smaller. In the course of his prayers, Mr Waters implored the Almighty to grant him the favour of a truly dutiful and obedient elder daughter, at which Augusta seemed to hunch a little more. I was near enough to see that her right hand, clenched on a fold of her skirt, was trembling.
At the end, Mr Waters did not dismiss us all as usual. He said: ‘The servants may leave but not my family. Miss Worth will remain and Mrs Woodman, since you occasionally take charge of my daughters, I think you should remain as well.’
The rest of the servants filed out. Their faces showed very little, but I heard the kitchen maid whisper to the cook that it was too cruel, and heard the cook whisper back that it was none of their business.
As the door closed behind the last of them, Mr Waters said: ‘Step forward, please, Augusta.’
She did so. He beckoned her right up to him and then caught her shoulder, turning her so that we could see her face. Inside myself, I recoiled in shock. In my whole life, I have only seen one other face as terror-stricken as that, and that was the face of a man confronting death. Augusta was so white that I thought she was about to faint.
She didn’t, however. Her father, still gripping her shoulder, said: ‘You have one last chance, Augusta. If you can recite, without any mistake, the speech from Shakespeare’s work Henry V that you were given to learn yesterday and bidden to recite in the schoolroom this morning, you will be forgiven. For I hear that when asked to repeat it to Miss Worth during your lessons, you were unable to do so. How often has she had to complain to me that you will not apply yourself; that you will not try hard enough to acquire the skill of learning by heart. Now!’
In a trembling voice, Augusta began: ‘He that hath no stomach for this fight, let him depart. His passport shall be made and mon … no, crowns … crowns for convoy p … put into his purse.’ She saw Miss Worth frowning over her stumbles and visibly shrank, but ploughed on, with stammerings and hesitations, for some way before she reached ‘… then will he s … strip his sleeve and sh … show his scars and …’
She broke down. ‘I can’t … I can’t … it’s too long and I can’t … I can’t remember … Oh, Miss Worth, I begged you not to tell Papa … I knew he would be so angry. I did try, I did, I did! Papa, please …’
She burst into tears. Mr Waters let go of her shoulder. ‘Miss Worth,’ he said. ‘You know what to do.’
Miss Worth stepped forward. From a reticule that she had concealed beneath her bodice, she drew out what appeared to be some short thongs, and advanced upon Augusta. Augusta did not resist, or say anything more, but her eyes were the eyes of an animal being led to slaughter and aware of it. She went obediently with Miss Worth and lay down on her face on the dark red sofa. Miss Worth used the thongs to tie her wrists and ankles to the legs of the sofa.
Meanwhile, from a drawer in a polished corner cabinet, Mr Waters was taking out what I at once recognized as a set of leather strips, bound together at one end. They looked like lengths from a cut-up belt, for the free end of one of the strips was tongue-shaped. Mercifully, the buckles had been removed. But what was left was bad enough.
With my stomach gradually clenching into nausea, I watched – along with Mrs Waters and the ten-year-old Maria, who was now silently crying – as Miss Worth removed Augusta’s lower clothing. Augusta did cry out in protest t
hen. ‘Papa, please don’t, please don’t … I’ll try harder; let me have another chance, I’ll have it perfect tomorrow, I promise, I promise …!’
And then, anything more that she meant to say, was lost in the sound of the leather strips swishing through the air, and the tortured scream that followed.
I don’t know how long it went on. Between her screams, Augusta implored him for mercy, in vain. Mrs Waters remained still and silent throughout. Maria was silent too, though the tears ran down her face. Miss Worth stood upright, a pillar of rectitude, her hands folded at her waist, her face like stone. It seemed interminable. At last, Mr Waters desisted. And then he walked round to face the wailing, writhing wreck he had made of his own daughter, pushed the leather strips against her mouth and ordered her to kiss the rod.
I stood rooted for one moment more and then I turned and fled from the room, away along the passage to the green baize door that divided the kitchen and the servants’ quarters from the main house. I burst through it. The cook and the maids were all there, sitting or standing, but silent. I brushed past them to the back door, threw it open, and went outside, in order to lean one hand against the kitchen wall, and be sick.
Dear God. Philip Duggan has now been proved innocent, but because I helped him to escape while he was a suspect, I would probably, in the eyes of the law, still be accounted a lawbreaker. And I would certainly be condemned as such for warning Ralph of the Revenue’s plans. Even though I had but warned a group of lawbreakers not to proceed with their crime!
Late Harvest Page 18
