The Beguiled

by Thomas Cullinan

  And that was true. Marie Deveraux had dropped out of line and rushed into the dining room to sample the corn cakes with blackberry jam. Finally she did return, nibbling one messy looking cake and carrying two or three others in her other hand.

  “Will you kindly step more lively, Miss?” I requested. “You’ve kept me waiting here and irritated Miss Martha no end.”

  Marie just winked at me and started up the stairs with her mouth full, dropping crumbs and jam at every step. I was so put out at her contrariness that I just felt I had to rebuke her by grabbing her skirt, pulling her back and taking one and a half of the cakes away from her. I’d’ve taken them all away had she not struck and kicked at me and spit crumbs in my face in the most unladylike way you can imagine. Then I let her continue up the stairs, yelling savage threats at me—as only Marie can do—while I disposed of the corn cakes by eating them.

  Then I went back to the parlor for a last quick glance at McBurney. He was still sitting on the floor leaning back against the settee, not laughing any more but weeping again, this time as though his heart was about to crack in two. I slipped away again before he noticed me and went upstairs to my room.

  “No sir,” I remember saying to myself, “there is absolutely no place for anyone like Johnny McBurney in my father’s brigade. Johnny McBurney may be good for something but I’m convinced that something is not soldiering for our cause.”

  And so, thinking that Farnsworth School had experienced quite enough excitement for one evening, I retired to my bed, hoping to be able to fall asleep immediately.

  However my descent into the grasp of the well-known Morpheus was interrupted before it had scarcely begun. Not ten minutes after I had drawn up my blanket there was a terrible uproar from the vicinity of Miss Martha’s room. Miss Martha was shouting and Miss Harriet was screaming and for a moment I thought the Yankees must have arrived in force and were besieging the school.

  I went into the hall to investigate and found my fellow students doing the same. Marie was there with the others—which cancelled out my second thought, that she might have been apprehended in a raid on the dining room for more corn cakes and jam. It never entered my head that McBurney might have caused the trouble, since I had left him, seemingly helpless, only moments before.

  But that was where I was wrong. It developed later that McBurney was behind this second disturbance of the evening also, although his complicity was not discovered immediately. At first it seemed that Miss Harriet was the guilty party. Miss Martha was very plainly accusing Miss Harriet of having broken into her room and stolen several valuable items. Money, I gathered, was missing and also Miss Martha’s key ring and possibly other things.

  “I don’t see why poor Miss Harriet has to be charged with everything,” said Amelia from her doorway, sticking her nose into what was obviously none of her business. “Maybe some robber from outside the house came in here and took the things.”

  “Maybe nothing much at all is missing,” suggested Alice Simms who had come down from her garret room. “Possibly Miss Martha only misplaced those things she’s shouting about.”

  “That’s not likely either,” said Edwina with her customary nasty smile. “Miss Martha never misplaces anything. She is a paragon for keeping things in their proper place.”

  “Then that leaves only two possibilities,” remarked Marie. “If Miss Harriet didn’t take the keys to get at the wine—which I gather Miss Martha is implying—then one of us must be the culprit . . . or else it’s dear old Corporal McBurney.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to suggest,” said Alice sharply.

  “About one of us?” asked Edwina.

  “Well it certainly is a thousand times worse than awful to say about Johnny who can’t even walk,” Amelia shouted.

  This started a small private commotion led by the two roommates and they and the others made so much noise in the hall that it caused Miss Martha and Miss Harriet to interrupt their argument in Miss Martha’s room and come out to investigate the cause of this new disturbance.

  And when Miss Martha learned the cause of it she was very indignant that we young people had been listening to what she said was a very private disagreement. However the mention of McBurney’s name did cause her to stop and think about the possibility of his having been involved in the robbery of her room. Apparently she had not considered it before but now I guess she began to realize that it would not have been impossible for the fellow to have dragged himself up the stairs, one leg and all, at a time when her room was unguarded.

  Well what happened next convinced Miss Martha and the rest of us that McBurney must have been the culprit. Now would you say that two very loud commotions were more than enough to expect on one evening in what was at one time a fairly fashionable young ladies’ school—and even now is not one of the worst such places in the country. Then you may be astounded to learn that we had still another disorder on that evening, and this third one was far louder and more alarming than both of those that had gone before.

  It began with a loud crashing noise downstairs, resulting in the immediate end of the controversy upstairs as all students and teachers froze in their tracks. The crashing noise—which seemed to include the sounds of wood splintering and glass shattering—was followed by a terrible banging and thumping and then more crashing.

  “Dear Lord,” whispered Miss Harriet, “is he smashing all the furniture in the house?”

  “He must be breaking all the china and the crystalware too,” said Miss Martha, very pale.

  “Maybe he fell down again,” suggested Amelia nervously, loyal to her hero to the bitter end. “Maybe he fell against a window or something, and possibly even cut himself.”

  Did anyone whisper “good” in answer to that? I don’t remember actually hearing anyone utter the word but I believe I can state that from the expressions around me it seemed evident that one or two people were thinking it. One of the people might have been Edwina Morrow and another, Alice Simms. A third person who didn’t seem overly concerned about McBurney’s health at that moment was Miss Martha Farnsworth herself.

  “It’s quite apparent what he’s doing now,” said that lady as she listened at the top of the stairs. “He’s just opened the door to the wine cellar. That door has a peculiar squeak like no other in the house.”

  “Mattie’s down there,” I said. “Why doesn’t she stop him?”

  “Why don’t you go down and stop him,” Marie retorted sarcastically. “Old Mattie knows what’s good for her all right. She’s not about to fool around with a white man on a rampage. She probably ran out of the kitchen and off to her old place in the quarters as soon as Johnny started acting up.”

  “In any event it’s quite plain now where my keys are, if not my money,” said Miss Martha, “although I don’t understand how he could have come up here without someone seeing or hearing him.”

  “Perhaps you dropped the keys downstairs and he found them,” Alice suggested.

  “No, I did not,” replied Miss Martha. “I remember hanging them on a hook in my closet and anyway, even if I had left them downstairs, that wouldn’t explain the money which is also missing.”

  “Was all your money stolen, ma’am?” Edwina inquired.

  “No, Miss, but a very substantial part of it was.”

  “Maybe you’ve miscounted,” persisted Edwina. “Count it again, carefully, and perhaps you’ll find it’s all there after all.”

  “If you please, Miss,” said Miss Martha, exasperated. “I know what has taken place. My room is in disorder and some jewelry is missing besides the keys and money.”

  “All the same it doesn’t seem to me the kind of stealing a man would do,” said Amelia, still defending him. “If Johnny wanted to rob you why wouldn’t he take all your money and jewelry and not just some of it?”

  “Oh be quiet now,” commanded Miss Martha, tilting her ear down t
he stairs again. “I’ve had quite enough comments and advice from the lot of you. Go to your rooms, all of you, and remain there.”

  “But aren’t we going to do anything about him?” I asked, quite baffled. “I think we should all go down there together and subdue him and tie him up or something.”

  “Do you, Miss?” Miss Martha answered. “Perhaps when you are made headmistress of a young ladies’ seminary you will find opportunity to risk the minds and bodies of your charges in such activities, but nothing of the sort will take place at this institution. Now at this time I will issue an order that must be obeyed under penalty of my severe displeasure. From henceforth no student in this school is to have any communication or contact with this man as long as he is in the house. And that will not be long, I promise you.”

  “We are safe enough up here, girls,” said Miss Harriet, trembling. “Miss Martha has Father’s loaded pistol in her room.”

  “Miss Martha does not have Father’s loaded pistol,” her sister snapped. “The pistol is in the library cabinet and the key to that cabinet is among the others on the ring.”

  “Well maybe Johnny doesn’t know that,” said Marie. “So all we’ll have to do is rush downstairs, smash open the cabinet, take the pistol and capture him.”

  “We wouldn’t even have to do that,” Amelia interjected. “I could go down alone and ask him for the keys and if he has them—which I’m not sure of at all—but if he has, I’ll bet he’d give them to me.”

  “Will you people go to your room as you’ve been instructed,” Miss Martha hissed, really annoyed now, though mostly at the younger students I believe.

  “Move along, move along,” I told them, taking a hand in clearing the hall. “There’s nothing to see here. Obey your superiors and vacate this area.”

  I managed to shove Amelia and Marie back into their rooms without much trouble although the latter little person did aim another kick at me, which did no serious damage fortunately. Edwina and Alice were greater problems because the former refused to move at all at my command and just stood there glaring at me and the second, when I nudged her, clenched her fist and indicated that she was prepared to resist me with extreme violence. However to prevent any further complications, Miss Martha stepped in and shoved all of us along—me included, in order not to seem to be showing any favoritism—and in that manner Alice returned to her garret and Edwina and I went back to our rooms.

  I left my door open a trifle in order to be able to hear any student who might attempt to sneak out of her room again. Then it occurred to me I ought to take some precautions in case McBurney decided to invade the upstairs while I was asleep. I was certainly not afraid of him but I realized that my value to the school as a leader of the students would be greatly diminished if I were to become injured or incapacitated as a result of a conflict with McBurney. Therefore I determined to reduce the chances of something like that happening by moving some of my furniture in front of the door. What I did was wedge my door in place with my open Bible and then I shoved my chest of drawers and my two chairs in front of the opening. Then I went to bed.

  Well there was no more turmoil on that night, as far as I know. After I had been in bed for a quarter of an hour or so, I heard Miss Martha leave her room again and start down the stairs, whereupon I sat up and called, “Miss Martha, is there anything I can do?” but she evidently didn’t hear me. Then a moment later Miss Harriet came out of her room and to my door and said, “Thank you, Miss Emily, but Miss Martha and I can take care of everything.” Then she followed her sister down the stairs.

  And so I retired under my blanket again, feeling that I had done my duty to the best of my ability. I always try to be in this frame of mind before I relax in slumber. I had volunteered my help, it had not been accepted, and so quite satisfied, I went to sleep.

  Harriet Farnsworth

  I was not particularly alarmed by Corporal McBurney’s first outbursts on that night. I appreciated the young man’s feelings about having been badly treated here. I think I would have felt the same had my leg been amputated as quickly, and seemingly recklessly, as Corporal’s McBurney’s. Even though, in the days since the operation, my sister had just about convinced me that her action was justified, I still believe I would have felt very rebellious had I been in Mister McBurney’s shoes. Or in his case, shoe—to make an unfunny joke.

  Anyway he did cause another disturbance later that night, frightening the students and causing my sister to return downstairs to investigate. After she had been gone for a few moments, I decided that Mister McBurney could be in such an overly anxious state of mind that she might need help in quieting him. I wasn’t thinking of any physical restraint, of course. I’m afraid I’d be the last person in this house to whom such a notion would occur. All I planned to do was offer him a few soothing words which I was sure was the only remedy needed to calm him.

  But, unfortunately, he was beyond that kind of placating. When I found him and my sister in that corner of the cellar where my father used to store his small stock of wine, Mister McBurney was sitting on the floor, his back against the open wine cupboard, drinking wine from a broken bottle. There were several other empty bottles with their necks smashed around him on the floor. He was just sitting there, glaring at my sister by the light of her candle, and trying to see how fast he could gulp that good Madeira wine.

  As I may have mentioned before, I enjoy a tiny glass of wine myself on occasion. Therefore, I certainly did not object to Mister McBurney’s enjoyment of it. What did offend me was the manner and amount of his consumption. At the rate he was going, I was certain the small remaining supply would be completely exhausted before morning.

  I had paused in the shadows on the stairs so that neither my sister nor McBurney was aware of my presence. I assumed that he had reached the cellar by lowering himself a step at a time on his haunches, although he had his one good crutch with him and he was holding this like a lance in his free hand, keeping my sister at bay. He was getting very drunk but there were signs of fear in his eyes, too. That is something which should be remembered about McBurney. Although he may have seemed to have the upper hand here for awhile—indeed did have it—he never really lost his fear of my sister.

  He finished the bottle now and threw it against the far wall. It didn’t miss my sister’s cheek by much before crashing behind her, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching. It was he who finally lowered his eyes, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and reached behind him in the cupboard for another precious bottle.

  “You might at least try to remove the cork,” my sister told him in a steady voice.

  “No time for that,” said he, and he rapped the bottle sharply against the cupboard door, snapping off the neck and splashing half the contents on the floor.

  “You’re going to cut yourself severely on that glass,” Martha told him.

  “Ah wouldn’t that be the luck, dearie? You’re hopin I’ll cut my throat, aren’t you, old thing? Wouldn’t that solve all your problems now? Well, run along to bed now like a nice old sweet and say your prayers and maybe when you come back in the light o’ dawn, you’ll find me bled to death down here . . . and then you can just sweep me away with the other mess I’ve made. I think it’s the mess that bothers you more than the wine, isn’t that right, Miss Martha dearie? Now if it was your sister, it might be the other way around, eh?”

  I’m not really sure what he meant by this—assuming that at this point he was capable of any coherent meaning. If it was a criticism of my housekeeping, it was unjustified, since I am no less tidy than my sister.

  “I’ll ask you again,” was the next thing my sister said to McBurney. “How did you obtain my keys?”

  “And I’ll answer you again, dearie,” he smirked. “A little bird brought them to me . . . a little white bird flew in the parlor window with the key ring in his beak. He circled around the room a few times, dropped them i
n my lap and then flew away.”

  “Did you go upstairs to my room this afternoon?”

  “Maybe. I came downstairs to your wine cellar tonight, didn’t I?”

  “Then if you admit taking the keys from my room, I assume you will also admit taking the money.”

  “Money? Is there money missing, too?”

  “Don’t add poor acting to your list of failings. You know there is two hundred dollars in Federal gold coins missing from my jewel box and a piece of valuable jewelry, too.”

  “This?” grinned he, taking something from his shirt and revealing it to her.

  “Yes, that,” she answered not quite so steadily.

  I came down another step or two and could see the object now as it caught the light. It was a small gold locket which had belonged to our mother.

  “I opened this a while ago,” McBurney said, “and saw a picture inside. Is it your sweetheart?”

  “It’s my brother,” Martha told him. “Give me the locket please.”

  “Not so fast, ma’am,” he said, lifting his crutch as she started to approach him. “If I stole the thing from you, why would I want to give it back?”

  “Because it’s of no value to you. I’ll make a bargain with you. You may keep the money and drink as much of the wine as you like . . . providing you return the locket . . . and agree to leave here in the morning.”

  “Bag and baggage as they say?”

  “Whatever possessions you brought with you . . . whatever we’ve given you . . . you may take when you leave.”

  “Everything I brought?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “What about my right leg? Can I take my right leg or must I leave that behind?”

  “There’s no point in discussing that.”

  “Maybe for you there isn’t, lady.” He hurled his still half-filled bottle and this time my sister was splashed with wine as the bottle burst against the wall.