I hoped that bout would relieve him, but it did not. I spoke to Dr Craig in the corridor, but he said bluntly, ‘It won’t make any difference – there’s more than one abscess now.’ And I realized that my brother’s lungs were simply rotting away. Cooper asked to see me the next day and told me, his eyes fixed on the shining toes of his shoes, that John had suggested he should sleep in the butler’s pantry, instead of Robert – so as to be near the bells. ‘I was ready myself, my lady’ – he looked up, his eyes anxious that I should understand – ‘but I’m not as spry as I was, I can’t move very fast – John’s a reliable youngster, and since he’s been valeting Mr Robbie…’
I touched his sleeve with my hand. ‘Thank you Cooper, and thank John for me. We’re very grateful to both of you.’
I felt the tears prickling behind my eyelids as he left the room, and then anger came to me at the thought that the servants had guessed, while our own family seemed so unaware. But at dinner that evening I saw both my parents glance in turn at Robbie’s empty place – then each looked quickly away – and I wondered whether they were so oblivious, or just too frightened to face reality.
In the night I heard him call me; and even as I awoke I heard the new note in his voice – high-pitched and afraid. I ran through the door, pulling on my dressing gown. ‘I’m here, Robbie – I’m here.’ I fumbled to turn up the light and press the bell with one hand while he gripped the other like a vice.
He was gasping and panting and I could barely hear him as I bent down, ‘Hellie, don’t leave me.’ His eyes closed as the tears forced their way from under his lids.
‘I won’t leave you, Robbie – I’ll never leave you.’
There was a soft tap and the footman slid noiselessly through the door. ‘Phone for the doctor, John – tell him to hurry. But it must be Dr Craig – only Dr Craig – no one else will do. Wait downstairs for him – have the door ready open.’
My brother writhed white and sweating on the bed, but he did not cry out as I talked to him, repeating over and over again, ‘John’s gone to phone the doctor – it won’t be long now, hang on old man, the doctor’s coming.’
But the footman came back too soon – and there were only his footsteps in the corridor. I felt Robbie’s shoulders go rigid against my arm as John came alone through the doorway. The footman whispered, ‘He’s been called out for a confinement over Hallam way, so I got Barnes up and told him to go for him there – was that right, my lady?’
‘Yes, quite right, John. Would you wait outside the door in case I need you?’ But as I spoke I was already thinking – a confinement, how could he leave a confinement? Oh why had not John asked how long he had been there? But even if we knew – a difficult confinement could take hours… And my brother’s body arched up and he choked and the blood and pus spurted from his mouth before he fell back against my arm – and as he stared straight up at me I saw the desperation in his eyes – and knew he could not wait.
I would not let my brother scream his life away in pain and filth – and the agony of defeat. I knew now why the glass bottle had been left with me. I put my face close to his and said, ‘It’s all right, Robbie – I know what to do, I can help you,’ and I saw understanding dawn, and with it a great relief. But then he moved his head in a little gesture of renunciation, and I sensed rather than heard him say, ‘I can wait.’ But my mind was made up, and I replied quite loudly, ‘You don’t have to wait, Robbie. Lie still, I won’t be a minute.’ And I ran for the bottle.
My hands were quite steady as I unscrewed the needle and drew the water into the syringe. How much? It suddenly seemed very important not to give him more than he needed – yet that was absurd, enough was too much – my head began to spin – then I had a sudden sharp memory of Captain Adams’ lean face as I had watched him fill his syringe, and I remembered and put in the same number of tablets. But now it was my hand that drove in the needle, my fingers which pushed down the plunger, and my own brother who looked up at me from eyes tortured with pain – and gratitude.
I drew the needle out gently and rubbed my warm palm over the mark it had made, whispering, ‘It’s all right, Robbie – not much longer now, little brother.’ I put my arms around his shaking body and held him close, telling him again and again, ‘I love you, Robbie – I love you.’ Gradually the shudders weakened and his breathing slowed, and I felt him begin to sag against me. Still holding him I laid him back against the pillows, then drew away a little so that I could search his face. His eyes were already dulled, but desperately I watched his lips, willing him to speak. But he could only move them slightly in one last attempt at a parting smile – then I felt him slump into unconsciousness.
I sat gripping his hands and listening to the irregular rhythm of his breathing, and watched the final tremors shake his body until the room went suddenly very quiet. Then I lifted his hands and placed them neatly, one above the other, on his chest, and looked down at him for an eternity. From long ago, in a vanished ballroom, I heard Gerald’s voice: ‘I believe you would follow your brothers to the gates of hell itself.’ Tonight the gates of hell had opened for me, and I had passed through.
I knew I could not live with myself any longer, now. And the remaining tablets seemed to wink at me through the glass, and I looked at them gratefully and reached out my hand for the bottle and slipped it into my dressing-gown pocket. It lay there, cool and comforting to my touch. I sat on by the bed until I heard the faint slam of a car door, and knew that the doctor had come – too late. He arrived panting, and shut the door quickly behind him, but he slowed as soon as he saw the still form on the bed. As he put the stethoscope down he looked across at the empty syringe. ‘So you did have the guts – I wondered. How much did you give him?’
And without thinking I answered, truthfully. He glanced at the syringe again then his eyes narrowed and he came round the bed and stood looming over me. ‘Then I’ll have the rest back.’ He held out a large square palm.
I shook my head. ‘No – please – let me… The little glass bottle clung lovingly to my hand.
‘Oh no you don’t, my girl – I’ve put my head on the chopping block once already tonight.’
I was begging now. ‘No I want them, I must have them!’
And suddenly he lost his temper and hissed, ‘Look, my lady, if that’s what you want you can go and fling yourself under a train. But you’re not playing silly games with my morphia. Give them to me.’
Slowly, reluctantly, I took my hand from my pocket. Roughly he seized hold of it, prised my fingers apart and took my friends away. Then, as I looked up at him, his face softened; he put a heavy hand on my shoulder for a brief, clumsy pat and said, his voice more gentle now, ‘Don’t be a fool, girl – you only did what you had to do. You had no choice.’
He went to the door and sent John for hot water and towels and fresh bed linen and began to tear off the soiled sheets. I stood up to help him and together we washed Robbie and dressed him in fresh pyjamas and laid him between clean sheets until he looked smooth and young again. I stood gazing down at my brother until the doctor gave me a little push towards the dressing room. ‘You’d better get changed before we call your parents.’ I looked down in dull surprise at my stained robe and went to do as I was told.
When I came back I went out to the patient John. ‘Go and ask Taylor to wake Lord Pickering, please, and send Miss Fisher to her ladyship.’
He ducked his head. ‘Yes, my lady.’
It seemed a long time before my parents came, and I was grateful for the doctor’s fidgety presence. My mother and father were suddenly shocked and old. They stood apart, looking at Robbie’s still face, then Mother turned to me, her voice sharp and reproachful. ‘You should have sent for us, at once. He would have wanted to speak to us.’
‘He never spoke, Mother – he was unconscious.’ The lie slid easily off my tongue. She was not appeased, but I did not care. I realized with a pleased relief that soon nothing would matter any more.
Back in m
y room I thought of how much simpler it was this time. I had had to mourn for Gerald, and for Eddie – dear Eddie, I had missed him so much – but now I would scarcely have time to grieve. Why, if I could just keep my mind empty for a few short hours, I need never feel sorrow at all. I was pleased with the idea, and I smiled to myself and hummed a little tune as I waited for Norah.
She came very quickly, her eyes red-rimmed from weeping; I saw the sympathy in her face and wanted to tell her there was no need to feel sorry for me, no need for the black clothes she was dressing me in – but I thought she might not understand.
As soon as my hair was pinned up I went to my jewellery drawer and took out the fine diamond brooch that Robbie had given me on my last birthday – how long ago that seemed! But I must wear it today, of all days. But as I stood with it in my hand I noticed an unaccustomed red leather case in the drawer. Its presence puzzled me for a moment, and then I remembered – it was Eddie’s watch. I would take that with me too, today, and remember both my brothers. But as I picked it up a flicker of unease touched my mind – it was not mine to take, Robbie had wanted me to give it to somebody – but to whom? My mind was very slow today; I stood, cudgelling my brain, then it came back to me – of course, Sergeant Holden – that was who Robbie had asked me to give it to, only just the other day. I held it, uncertain, I had not got the time – I had something else to do – yet Robbie had asked me, so how could I refuse? Then my mind cleared. I would take it first, I would deliver it on my way – after all it did not really matter where – perhaps it was better if I went further away, then nobody would know me and try to stop me.
‘Bring my hat, Norah – any will do.’
My maid looked startled. ‘You’re not going out, my lady?’
‘Yes, yes I am, and I’ll be away all day, so don’t wait up for me.’ Then seeing her concerned expression I added, to reassure her, ‘I have a little package to deliver, Mr Robbie asked me to – as soon as possible.’ Her face cleared and as she reached for the hatbox I thought how clever I had been not to arouse her suspicions – and it was the truth.
I sent her for Barnes at once – there was no point in waiting for breakfast – I would catch the first train to Manchester. When it came in there was an empty compartment, and I felt I was in luck. I hummed a strange little tune to myself – it kept going round in my head, over and over again, yet I could not place it – normally I could always place a tune, and I felt a little spurt of irritation, then I smiled at my foolishness – as if it mattered today!
I had to wait at Victoria, so I strolled up and down the platform, breathing in the smoky air and smiling to see the porters scurry around with their absurd, bustling gait. We left the station into brilliant sunlight, and I was so pleased because it was going to be a fine day. How lucky I was!
A pleasant-faced woman with a small boy got in at Bolton – I wondered idly why they were both out so early, and without Nanny. The little boy kept rushing up and down between the seats and his hands were getting dirtier and dirtier. His mother became flustered; he would not obey her and she kept darting apologetic glances at me. I smiled reassuringly back. Then he fell heavily against my knees so she picked him up, with an, ‘I am so sorry!’ and swung him on to her lap and held him there, as he wriggled. Suddenly I felt a piercing sense of loss – but I thrust it ruthlessly from me; my way was best, I knew it was. I looked away from the child, out of the window at the small stone cottages and round green hills.
There was a moment of confusion at Ainsclough, when the cab driver asked me where I wanted to go. I stared at him blankly for a moment, then out of the air around me came the words ‘Clegg Street’, and I said, confident now, ‘I have a small package to deliver, to a Mr Ben Holden who lives in Clegg Street. Perhaps you would be so good as to inquire for the number?’ He raised his hand to his cap and climbed up on to his perch. We set off with a jolt down the steep slope and I gazed, in mild interest, at the tightly packed grimy stone houses.
There was only a short delay while he questioned a group of quick-voiced schoolchildren, and then we drew up in front of one of the flat-faced terraces. The driver opened the door. ‘It’s Number Six, miss, just ’ere.’ I thanked him and asked him to wait, then I lifted the gleaming brass knocker, admiring the clean varnish and freshly whitened front step. Ben Holden’s landlady must be a good housewife; I was pleased for him: he was a nice man.
A thin-faced woman with grey hair opened the front door. She looked surprised to see me – of course, it was far too early in the morning for a call – but then I only wanted to deliver a package. She asked politely, ‘Yes, miss, and what can I do for you?’
I smiled at her. ‘I’m so sorry to inconvenience you by calling at this hour, but I have a small package to deliver. Would you be so kind as to give that to Mr Holden, please?’ I held out my little parcel, ready to turn away – but she did not take it. Instead she swivelled her head round and called back into the dark passageway, ‘Ben, there’s a lady at door, with summat for you.’ She turned to me again and explained, ‘He’s on nights – but he’s not gone to bed yet.’
I was disconcerted. ‘Please don’t trouble him – if you would just be so kind…’
But Ben’s face appeared behind her, blinking in the bright sunlight. The woman stood aside and he pushed quickly past. He was in his shirtsleeves and braces, with no collar on, and I noticed the telltale smear of egg yolk on his chin. I was embarrassed at having taken him unawares like this. ‘Oh, Ben – I didn’t want to disturb you at your breakfast – I am so sorry to have been such a nuisance.’ He just stood there staring at me – the expression of astonishment on his face was so comical I only just managed to stifle a giggle. I held out the small parcel. ‘This is for you.’ But he did not take it. I began to feel impatient; after all I had delayed my plans especially to deliver the watch, and now no one would take it from me. I spoke again. ‘Captain Girvan wanted you to have this. It’s Mr Girvan’s watch – my brother always intended you to have it, but you know how it is’ – I gave a little shrug – ‘he couldn’t bring himself to part with it before.’
I thrust my package forward again, but Ben still did not take it. He was behaving very oddly this morning – perhaps he was tired. But he did, finally, speak. ‘Before what, Lady Helena – he couldn’t bring hisself to part with it before what?’
I smiled at him; he really was being obtuse today. ‘Before he died, Ben,’ I explained patiently.
I saw his eyes narrow; he must be understanding at last. Good, I wanted to get on, I had something important to do. But he still would not take my package; instead he asked me another question, quite quietly. ‘And when did he die, Lady Helena?’
‘Why, last night, of course – or was it early this morning? Yes, that’s right – it was actually this morning.’ I smiled at him again, but he did not smile back. I thought, of course, he liked Robbie, he must be quite distressed – it’s not as easy for him as it is for me. Poor Ben, he will have to grieve. I wanted to comfort him. ‘He didn’t suffer for too long, Ben – not at the end.’ Then I bit my lip; that was not quite true. ‘That is, it was bad for a while, but…’ How could I explain? Then I had a sudden inspiration – of course, I could be discreet, but Ben would understand. ‘Do you remember Young Lennie, Ben? How he was in such pain – and then Captain Adams came?’
He said quietly, ‘Aye, I remember.’
‘Well, that’s what happened with my brother – at least’ – I paused for a moment, anxious to be quite truthful – ‘it didn’t happen exactly like that because the doctor had been called out, you see, so he couldn’t come soon enough – but it was quite all right, Ben, because he’d given me what I needed, so Robbie didn’t have to suffer for too long.’ I felt pleased with myself as I finished. I had explained it all very neatly – I had not given anything away, but Ben would understand, and realize there was no need to worry. And I was so tired of holding out my little package, so I bent down and placed it carefully on the snowy white step, sa
ying firmly, as if I were talking to a rather slow-witted child, ‘That’s for you, Ben. Goodbye.’ Then I turned back to the waiting cab.
But before I could get in Ben suddenly leapt forward and barred my way, and when I tried to step round him he seized me by the arm; so hard, that it hurt. I looked at him blankly. The cab driver tried to interrupt, but Ben spoke to him quickly, in some kind of dialect – I could not follow it – and the man stood back. Ben turned to me again, and asked loudly, ‘Where are you going to now, Lady Helena?’
I felt a sudden spurt of irritation – first he had refused to put out a hand and take my package, and now he was trying to stop me going. ‘You don’t need to shout at me, Ben. I can hear perfectly well.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He spoke more softly now, but very distinctly, with little pauses between each word: ‘Where – are – you – going?’
But I knew it would not be wise to tell him – he might not understand how clever my idea was, so I decided to be evasive. I smiled again. ‘I haven’t quite decided yet.’
‘Then wouldn’t it be nice if you was to come in for a cup of tea?’ His voice was cajoling.
I replied quickly, ‘But it isn’t teatime, Ben. Why, it’s still the morning – I can’t pay a call before lunch!’ Ben’s reply was quick. ‘Ah, but it’s different here in Ainsclough, Lady Helena. If you come to door in Ainsclough, whatever time, then folks expect you to come in and have a nice cup of tea. Mrs Greenhalgh here, her’ll be right upset if you don’t come in for a cup of tea – right upset, her’ll be.’ I stole a glance at the woman in the doorway. Her thin face did look quite anxious – perhaps Ben was right. He seemed to sense my uncertainty, and lowered his voice confidentially. ‘She won’t be able to face the neighbours if you don’t come in – they’ve all seen you calling, a young lady in a cab – and then, if you don’t come in! Why, they’ll all be talking – and she sets great store by neighbours, does Mrs Greenhalgh.’
Song of Songs Page 45
