“From what?”
“Making the girl an offer – which she, of course, accepted.”
“That is a little surprising,” said Giles.
“That she accepted? Why wouldn’t she? She is no fool.”
“No, that he offered. I had no idea she was anything more than an acquaintance.”
“I don’t believe she is. But she has manoeuvred him into it somehow – the minx. I told him to retract it of course. I hope he has done so. I shall have to go and make sure he has, of course, then deal with Pritchard, who is a ninny of the first order and no doubt will be as difficult as he can be. What he was thinking of I do not know!”
Giles would have responded but Mrs Morgan had appeared on the half landing. She was wearing a dressing gown, a golden damask affair which was more theatrical than utilitarian, and her pale hair was still flowing over her shoulders. It was an intoxicating sight and he found himself admiring her rather more than he would have liked.
“Ma’am,” he said, nodding to her.
Rothborough turned at once and said, “Anna, my dear, there you are! What have I done to offend you? Why wouldn’t you let me come up?”
He bounded up the stairs towards her.
“Nothing, I’m simply not well,” she said, putting up her hands to deter him.
“What? We must get you a doctor, my dear.”
“No, no, it’s not at all serious,” she said, gently repelling him with a light touch of her hand. “I just need to rest. First I must talk to Major Vernon, and then I will rest.”
“You are sure?”
“I am sure. And if I do feel worse I will get a doctor, I promise.”
“I am to glad to hear it.” He took her hand and kissed it with some fervour. “I will not have you neglecting yourself.” He let go off her hand, and came downstairs. “Don’t keep her long, Vernon.”
“I shall not, my Lord.”
Rothborough took up his hat and stick and went to the door.
“I shall call later, my dear, be assured of it!” and with a wave he was gone.
“Shall we...?” Giles indicated the door to the ground floor sitting room.
“I would prefer to go back upstairs,” she said. “If you don’t mind?”
He was a little surprised but he tried not to show it, especially as he followed her into the bedroom. Fortunately her maid was in attendance, though Giles was not entirely sure whether that made it less or more indecorous. The sight of one beautiful woman helping another out of her dressing gown and back into bed had nothing of ordinary domesticity about it. It seemed to him suggestive of another world and customs different from those of Northminster. He was obliged to look away, for it gave him an unsettling amount of guilty pleasure, a little like reading a French novel on a Sunday.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I was going to send Berthe down to dismiss him, but he never listens to servants. He would only go if I dismissed him in person, so I was obliged to get out of my bed.”
“Are you sure you are well enough to talk to me?” said Giles, allowing himself to turn and face her again. She was now installed in her bed, the damask dressing gown replaced with a shawl draped about her shoulders. Modesty was perfectly observed but the sight of her was still disturbing enough for a man who had no woman in his bed with whom he might take regular comfort.
She did not answer until the maid had left.
“I would rather not talk about this at all,” she said, “but needs must. Do please sit down, Major.”
He had retreated to the window and was obliged to take a chair and move it to the bedside.
“So, another letter?” he said.
“Yes,” she said, and reached under her pillow for an envelope. “And this one is worse.”
He examined it. It was fashioned in the rough-lettered style – the style of the first letter she had shown him.
“Death to you whore. You are a dirty whore who deserves to be treated like a whore so COUNT the days. There will be no mercy. You are discovered. Your deeds are known. You and your child must suffer the consequences of your vile actions.”
“It is that threat to Harry – that is what so disturbs me.”
He nodded. “Where did you find it?”
“It was with my wool work, in the bag I keep it in – it is on the chair there. You saw it the other night, I think – I took it to Canon and Mrs Fforde’s.”
“And where was the bag when you found it?”
“By the piano downstairs. I went to fetch it after dinner last night, as Paulina needed my scissors. It was fortunate I was alone when I found it, I think. I have told no-one about this. I did not want to alarm anyone.”
“Why did Paulina need your scissors?”
“She said had lost hers. But I keep mine on a ribbon in the bag so they are always to hand.”
“And when did you last do any of your work – before this, I mean?”
“At Mrs Fforde’s – that was the last time. That is why it was by the piano. I came straight back in after dinner and did a little practice before I went to bed – that is my habit. And the whole of yesterday I did not touch it, I am sure of it.”
“And the bag was where you had left it?”
“Yes.”
“So anyone might have put it in there, at at any time yesterday?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Giles took the letter to the window to get a better light upon it. He glanced out and saw Dick Ridolfi playing energetically with his nephew in the garden, while Paulina looked on.
“You son looks pleased to have his uncle here,” said Giles.
“They are a pair of rogues together,” said Mrs Morgan with a smile.
“Perhaps it made you sleep better to know you had your brother here last night – after you discovered this?”
“Yes and no. I am not sure what Dick would say if he saw that. He would be...”
“But your sister-in-law will have told him about the others.”
“Yes, I imagine so.”
“But you did not want to tell him?”
“Why should I disturb him unnecessarily? Last night we were such a happy family party, I could not bear to break it up. So I decided I would let it lie a night and seek your opinion this morning.”
“You have not questioned your servants?”
“No.”
“And none of them have mentioned anything strange to you?”
She hesitated a moment.
“Hannah did say something – but I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Hannah, that’s your son’s nurse?”
“Yes. She said she saw a man in town who was the double of my husband. She did not think it was him, but that she and Harry passed him in the street, and she was surprised at the likeness, as was Harry. But that doesn’t mean anything, does it?”
“It might mean something,” Giles said.
“I am sure it does not,” she said. “I hope it does not.”
She looked away, twisting her fingers in the fringe of her shawl.
“You clearly have a theory, Mrs Morgan,” he said.
“You have put it in my head, then, and it is just a theory,” she said.
“But the thought that your husband might be here in Northminster disturbs you?”
“Of course.”
“From what you know of his character, do you think him capable of something like this?” asked Giles, tapping the letter.
“I don’t know. Perhaps,” she said. “I don’t know what your experience has been, Major Vernon, but it was my thought that when one marries and one becomes intimate with someone that you will then know that person, truly know them, but I found I did not. He was unpredictable, at the best of times. I found I could not master his character – he was not a like a part all written out for me to be interpreted. He was a mystery, I suppose.”
“Was he jealous?”
“Yes – I can say that. Very jealous.”
“It must be said that the letter-writer
seems preoccupied with the idea of your infidelity.”
“Yes,” she said, “that is true.”
“You must not mistake what I am about to say to you, Mrs Morgan – I mean no slight by it – but these impressions on the part of jealous men often spring from some seed, unintentionally sown. Do you think you at any time gave your husband cause to think that you had not been constant? Does your husband know of your...” he hesitated, choosing his word with care, “friendship with Lord Rothborough, for example?”
“He may do, yes.” She sighed heavily. “Oh dear Lord, I suppose that might provoke him, if he had heard of it. For he must think as I suppose everyone does, that it means – well, I suppose you have wondered about that yourself.”
“Yes,” he said, “I admit I have.”
“You were doing as you should, given what I have asked you do,” she said. “And I owe you some honesty in return.” There was a little pause before she began to speak again. “I am not Lord Rothborough’s mistress.” She went on, “And if we were in some way more deeply involved, it would not be as the world would imagine it, I am not one of those –”
“No, of course you are not,” he said.
“But perhaps I am deluding myself,” she said with another great sigh. “Trying to make nice distinctions when there are none. Perhaps I am everything those letters accuse me of being, and more. Perhaps I deserve to be tormented.”
“An anonymous letter is the act of a coward,” said Giles. “And no-one who writes one in such fashion as these are written has the right to judge another. We will get to the bottom of this, ma’am, I am sure of it it. Do you have a likeness of Mr Morgan, by any chance?”
“I do – if you look in that lacquered box on the chest.”
“This one?” he said, rising and pointing to the box. She nodded and he brought it over to her.
“Why I keep it here I don’t know,” she said, opening the box and looking through it. “Out of habit, I suppose, or sentiment. I... felt so differently about him when this was taken. Here.”
She handed him a miniature. The man in the portrait was strikingly handsome, enough to make him memorable, even allowing the for the flattery of the miniaturist.
“May I borrow this?”
“Yes of course,” she said. “It is nothing to me now,” she added with a slight shrug.
“Thank you. I will go and speak to your nursemaid,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Giles found Hannah, the nurse, sitting by the fire darning a small sock. She started up when Giles came into the room.
Giles motioned to her to sit down again.
“Mrs Morgan has told me that you think you saw Mr Morgan in Northminster the other day. Can you give me some more information?”
She hesitated for a moment before she answered him. “I’m not so sure now that I did, sir,” she said rather quietly.
Giles frowned and took a chair and sat down opposite her.
“You don’t think you saw him, then?”
“No, sir.”
“Yet you told your mistress you did?”
“I didn’t say that exactly, sir,” she said, “I only said it might have been him, and now I think about it, I’m not so sure.”
“Well, perhaps you could tell me what happened.”
“If you think it matters, sir,”
“It might, a great deal.”
“I was mistaken.”
“Tell me anyway, if you will. What day was this and when?”
“Yesterday morning. I generally take Master Harry for a walk about ten. We usually go about the Precincts here – but we went through the big gate at the end down the shops – I can’t remember the name – the one with the big confectioners on the other side.”
“Minster Gate?”
“That’s the one. We went through that one. You see, his Lordship had given Master Harry sixpence the day before and he wanted to spend it.”
“Lord Rothborough, you mean?”
“Yes, sir. He had it when they came back from their drive the other day. And of course Mrs Ridolfi was scandalised by that, but Master Harry, he does like his own way, and he hid it from her, for she told him he must put it in the poor-box. So when we were out of the house that morning – the morning after, he digs into his pocket and shows me it and says, with a great big grin on his face, and says, “Hannah, I want to spend it all now.” And bless him, he didn’t want to buy anything for himself, but for his mamma. So that’s why we went down to the shops, and Master Harry was excited as anything, and going so fast, it was all I could do to keep up with him, and there were so many people about that I’m not sure what I saw now. I just saw this gentleman in the crowd and I thought for a moment it was him, but that was all it was, sir, I swear it!” she finished, with a touch of desperation.
“Yet you thought enough of it to mention it your mistress? Why was that?” She did not answer and looked down at her work. “Hannah, why was that?” She glanced up at him for a moment and he saw the confusion in her face. He pressed on: “Are you sure that was all that happened? A face in the crowd?”
She bit her lip and looked away. Now Giles asked, “Did Master Harry see him, this gentleman who looked a little like his father? Children can be very observant. Did he point him out to you, perhaps?”
It was a guess on Giles’ part, but it made her stare back at him.
“How did you know that, sir? Has Master Harry said something to you?”
“No, but I may have to speak to him. What are you afraid he will say?” said Giles. “You are afraid of something, Hannah, I am certain of that, but surely you know it will be better to tell me everything?”
“But...” she began and twisted up her mouth.
“But?” he said. “I think there was a little more to this sighting of Mr Morgan than you are telling me, is there not?” She nodded. “Did he in fact speak to you and Master Harry?” She nodded again. “So the whole story, if you please?”
She hesitated for a long moment and then said, “I’d hoped I’d never see him again, to tell you the truth. I was as glad as anyone when the mistress sent him packing. It was a relief, and when I saw him there yesterday, in the street, and there was Master Harry tugging at my hand and saying “look it’s Papa, it’s Papa!” I didn’t know what to do, and then next minute there he was talking to Master Harry. I knew I should take him away at once, that it wasn’t right, but when I tried to say that, Mr Morgan looks at me and says, “you mustn’t rush away Hannah, you must respect a father’s rights” and then he said that it was God’s law that he should be allowed to see his boy, and if I stopped him I was doing wrong. And he’s not an easy man to stand up too, sir, he’s a big man and he... well...”
“Did he threaten you?”
“He said he wanted five minutes with his boy and if I didn’t let him – well he had my wrist and he squeezed it so hard and –” She held out her hand and rolled back the cuff, showing a bruise. “So I let him, I stood there and let him talk to him.”
“And why didn’t you tell your mistress all this?”
“Because... because...” It was clearly becoming hard for her to speak. “I only told her what I did because, well I wanted to say something, give her a hint, but he told me if I breathed a word of it I could expect the consequences, that he was watching us all and he could come and get me any time he wanted. Just like he did before.” She looked away.
“Before?” Giles said. “What do you mean by that?”
“He used... sometimes he used to come up to my room and once, well, you know, he...” She broke off, looking down at her hands which were now furiously twisting up the piece of darning.
“Can you bear to tell me a little more plainly what he did?” he asked gently, hearing the rapidity of her breathing.
“He got into my bed,” she managed to say. “I couldn’t push him off – he’s a big man, like I told you. He, well you know, sir, don’t you, what I’m talking about?”
“Do you mean
he forced himself on you?” She nodded.
Then she burst out, as if she had been dying to speak of it, “He said he’d tell Mrs Morgan that I’d lured him in, if ever I breathed a word of it. That it was all my fault. That I mustn’t make a sound. It was...” She was clearly struggling to continue. “I tried to push him off, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. It was... it was...” She could no longer speak, her arms wrapped tight about her, her body hunched up, her faced screwed up in pain.
He would have liked to have comforted her, but he had the good sense to know that she would have flinched at any man’s touch.
“I am glad you have told me this, Hannah,” he said. “You have done the right thing in telling me. What he did was unpardonable. If I can lay my hands on him, I will make sure he goes to the gallows for it.”
“But what if he finds out, what if he comes back here tonight?”
“You won’t be here for him to find you,” said Giles. “I want you to take Master Harry out when he comes up from the garden. Just leave the house as if you are going to for a walk but instead you are to take him to my sister, Mrs Fforde’s house. I will write a note for you to give to her. She will make you both welcome, and you will stay there as long as needs be. You will be perfectly safe there.”
“But what about the mistress?” said Hannah. “He said... when he was... he said that he gave her the same treatment – he said that she was a dirty whore who deserved to be treated like a whore –” she stumbled over her words.
Just as the letter had said, Giles thought.
“She will be safe too,” said Giles. “I will make sure of it.”
“May I go now, sir?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She made a bolt for the door.
These revelations he made him both depressed and angry. He was used to catalogues of misdeeds – the darker side of human nature was familiar to him – but it was still shocking that a man could prey on the women of his household, treating both his wife and a trusted servant as soulless objects.
He forced himself to wonder what and how much Mrs Morgan might suffered at her husband’s hands, though it disturbed him to think of her being treated so. She had only hinted at unpleasantness, masking it all in that bright gilding of her personal courage, but Hannah’s bitter testimony suggested a routine callousness that would have made her life beyond miserable. In the eyes of the law, if Morgan forced himself on a servant without her consent and the facts could be proved, he would be found guilty of rape. However, his wife was afforded no such protection by the law. Rape within marriage did not exist – it could not when a woman’s body was effectively the property of her husband. Giles suspected it was a more common state of affairs than anyone with a shred of decency or feeling would like to admit. That Mrs Morgan had managed to evict him from her life seemed a remarkable achievement – if unfortunately a short-lived one. There was now no doubt that Morgan was in Northminster and if the tone of his letters was anything to go by, it was a dangerous development.
The Dead Songbird (The Northminster Mysteries) Page 18
