Stephen

by Amy Cross

  Finally I whispered a prayer for the man's survival, and then I made the sign of the Lord across my chest, and then I turned to hurry away.

  And then suddenly I saw Doctor Brooks and Mr. Smire standing in the doorway of the building nearby, staring at me. I froze. I did not know it in that instant, but I was about to be offered the position far outside London for which I had just minute earlier been deemed unsuitable. And of course I had no option but to accept, which is how I ended up exactly one week later making the journey to Grangehurst, where I would meet Severine and, of course, little Stephen.

  Chapter Two

  I still recall the moment when I reached the gate and first saw Grangehurst. I recall the sight of that magnificent, dark-stoned building standing tall and proud on the moor, surrounded by a walled garden in which even the trees were stooped and bent. I recall the rustle of dead leaves above me as I opened the gate and stepped through with my suitcase, and I recall the sense of absolute isolation. Even the windows of the house, at that point in the early morning, offered no glimpse into the building and instead reflected the dark clouds that hung over the moor.

  As I made my way along the path that ran through the garden, I could not help but note that the ground on either side was deeply uneven. Whereas the road from town had been mostly flat and straight, within the boundary of Grangehurst itself the soil seemed to have been carved open in several places, leaving great trenches that exposed twisting tree roots. I half expected, even, to be able to see all the way down to the foundations of the great house. It was as if all the land within the garden walls had been churned over and over again, although now the scene appeared relatively calm and there was even a fine layer of frost covering the earth. Whatever had happened to cause such disorder, then, had not been terribly recent.

  And yet, as I made my way up the stone steps that led to the front door, I realized that although I had been employed as a governess, I could hear no baby cry.

  ***

  Having waited another ten minutes, I finally tried knocking again.

  I was shivering slightly in the cold morning air, and I desperately wanted to get into the house so that I might warm myself. Unfortunately, I had been knocking on the front door for quite some time and so far there had been no indication that anybody was even inside. I did not want to be too forceful, and in my meekness I believed that there was no need to keep knocking. After all, I supposed that Doctor Brooks and his staff must know that I had arrived, and they would simply come and greet me when they had the time.

  Until then, I would have to wait.

  Taking a deep breath, I saw after a moment that my own breath was visible in the cold air. I turned and looked back across the uneven garden, and I saw the long road that I had followed from Bumpsford. The walk had been pleasant enough, if a little bracing, but I had been surprised that I was not met when I arrived in the town. Indeed, I had been forced to ask at the local sorting office, and I had been advised to follow the road all the way here. I had been warned that the journey would take a few hours, but I had resolved that this was no great hardship. Still, the walk had taken a great deal out of me and I was shivering so much that my teeth had begun to chatter.

  Finally, after another ten minutes or so had passed, I supposed that perhaps it would not be too rude to knock again. So that is what I did, a little louder this time, and then to my relief I heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door.

  Taking a step back, I straightened my posture and waited to meet the house's butler.

  A clicking sound indicated that the great door was being unlocked. Sure enough, a moment later the door began to swing open, although I was surprised to find that I was being greeted not by the household staff but by Doctor Brooks himself, who peered out at me from the gloomy interior. For a few seconds, indeed, he seemed rather blank-faced and unresponsive, almost as if he had forgotten that I was due to arrive that day.

  “Oh,” he said eventually, “yes. It's you.”

  He stepped back as I picked up my suitcase, and then I waited to be invited inside.

  “Well?” he asked finally.

  “I beg your pardon, Sir?” I replied.

  He nodded for me to enter.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Oh, how servile and weak I was back then. Indeed, as I carried my suitcase inside, I felt grateful to be finally admitted into the house. Now, of course, I admonish the gentleman for being rude, but at twenty years of age I felt as if I was in no position to do anything other than smile politely and take any mistreatment that was dished out to me. And as I carried my suitcase into the entrance hall of Grangehurst, I was struck instantly by the realization that the interior of the house was – if anything – actually even colder than the garden.

  Behind me, the door clanged shut.

  “Somebody was supposed to come and meet you,” Doctor Brooks explained, sounding rather distracted, “but...”

  I turned to him as his voice trailed off, and I saw that he was adjusting the top button on his shirt. When he saw that I was watching, he immediately stopped and made his way around me. He said something under his breath, something that I did not quite make out, and then he began to walk toward a door at the far end of the hallway. I was not entirely sure that he meant me to follow, so I waited as he disappeared from view. I could see the faint orange glow of a fire burning in the far room, and I desperately wanted to warm myself, but instead I simply stood with my suitcase in my right hand, and I waited.

  “Well?” Doctor Brooks called out suddenly. “Are you coming?”

  “Of course,” I stammered, hurrying forward gratefully but then slowing as I reached the doorway. Looking into what turned out to be the handsome study, I immediately felt a faint glow of warmth as I saw Doctor Brooks taking a seat behind his desk. But only a faint glow.

  Again I waited, uncertain as to whether I was actually allowed into the room.

  Honestly, when I remember my timidity, I despair.

  “Come in,” Doctor Brooks said finally, almost as if I had been correct to wait.

  I stepped forward again, and it was all I could do to keep from rushing over to warm my shivering body closer to the fire in the hearth.

  “I trust that your journey here was without incident,” Doctor Brooks said as he opened a ledger on his desk.

  “Yes, my journey was absolutely fine, thank you,” I replied. “Everybody I met along the way was most helpful. Most helpful indeed.”

  As I spoke, I noticed a large riding crop hanging on the wall.

  “I instructed Mr. Smire to advance you a small sum for sustenance,” Doctor Brooks continued, although he seemed more interested in his ledger than in speaking to me. “I trust that this was adequate for your needs?”

  I turned to him. “It was.”

  “And did you use it all?”

  “I did not.”

  I hesitated for a moment, before taking the remaining coins from my pocket and heading over to set them on the edge of the desk. I was not told to do so, of course, but neither was I told to refrain. I suppose I simply wanted to please my employer, and to prove to him that I could be trusted.

  “Put your suitcase down,” Doctor Brooks said sternly. “It irritates me to see you still holding it like that.”

  I did as I was told. “I am sorry,” I told him, and I must confess that at that moment I was beginning to once again feel a little cold. The fire in the hearth was of only moderate size, and was certainly not strong enough to heat the entire room.

  “This is your first time out in the world, I believe,” he continued. “Your first time away from the convent, I mean. Am I correct in thinking that even when you attended our interview at Mr. Smire's office, you were still holding room and board with a friend of your Mother Superior?”

  “I was, yes.”

  “So you were still dependent upon the convent?”

  “I was.”

  “And you had been living at the convent since childhood?”

>   “I had.”

  “So this, then, truly is your first time out in the world.”

  I pause, before nodding. “Yes, Sir, it is.”

  He muttered something under his breath, but I did not make out any of the words and I supposed that the comment was not intended for me. Indeed, Doctor Brooks still seemed preoccupied by the contents of his ledger, before he finally glanced at me and then looked me up and down. I recall forcing a rather unconvincing smile, while feeling once more as if I was desperately disappointing. After a few seconds, however, Doctor Brooks merely looked back down at his ledger. He muttered something else, but yet again I did not hear the words.

  I waited, but now the only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire. Although I wanted to speak, I was not sure that this was permitted, although after a few minutes I began to wonder whether I should be a little more forthcoming. I gave a great deal of thought to what I might say, and eventually I settled on what I felt would be a reasonably straightforward question.

  “Should I go to the lady of the house?” I asked finally. “Or is she out at present?”

  “Out?” he replied, glancing at me as if the idea was utterly preposterous. “Why would she be out?”

  “I just...”

  My voice trailed off, and I stood in silence for a moment.

  “I am sorry,” I added. “I just thought that since... I suppose I thought that maybe she was out with the...”

  Again, I could not quite finish the sentence.

  “My wife is in her room, I imagine,” Doctor Brooks said curtly. “Or in the library, perhaps, or... the nursery.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Actually, I believe she will most certainly be in the nursery at this time. She usually is at this point in the morning.”

  “And you have a son, I believe?” I asked, forcing a smile and hoping to turn the conversation to happier matters. “I believe Mr. Smire said that the child is three months old?”

  “Have you ever looked after a baby, Ms. Seaton?”

  “I assisted with five births at the convent,” I explained. “Young ladies would come for help, and Mother Superior never turned them away. Not once. She was a very charitable woman, and she believed that the Lord sent those poor girls to her for a reason. I learned a great deal from the nuns, including many medical techniques.”

  “Which is how you were able to assist that wretch in the street?”

  “The man who was hit by the carriage? Yes, I helped as best I could.”

  “So I saw. You rushed to action while the others around you simply froze. It was the first time I saw you move with any real vim and vigor.”

  “I feel that perhaps the Lord chose to have me there,” I told him, “so that I could help.”

  “The Lord?”

  “He places us where we are needed,” I explained. “Where we might do some good.” I smiled again, hoping that he might understand. “It is not for us to know why He directs us as he does. Perhaps He simply wanted that gentleman to survive his accident, so that he could perform some good in his life. I am simply pleased that I could be of some use.”

  “You are, are you?” He stared at me for a moment. “You know, I assume, that the man subsequently died in the hospital?”

  I felt a shudder pass through my shoulders, and I immediately made the sign of the cross on my chest. “I did not know that, no.”

  “I inquired after the fact,” he told me. “The man had lost far too much blood by the time the real doctors were able to get to him.” He paused for a moment. “They also told me that he would have died sooner, had you not acted to set his leg. They told me that while you did not manage to save him, you at least gave him a chance. And his carriage to the hospital was delayed by blockages on the road, without which he most likely would have survived. So his death was not your fault, and in ordinary circumstances you might even have saved his life.”

  “I did what I could,” I replied, but I must confess that I felt utterly sorrowful at the thought that the gentleman had not lived.

  “Alternatively,” he added, “one might argue that you merely prolonged his agony.”

  “That was not my intention,” I explained.

  “You do not inspire much confidence, Ms. Seaton,” Doctor Brooks continued. “Outwardly you appear drab and common and meek, and almost as gray in character as your dress. Yet when you rushed to help that man, I spied some degree of competence. You were not afraid to get blood on your hands, nor to do whatever you deemed necessary. That, I felt, was an encouraging sign. It's the only reason that I chose to give you this chance.”

  “And I am grateful,” I told him, still shaken by the news of the man's death.

  “Your duties will primarily be with my wife and...” He paused again. “Well, my wife will explain. In truth, it is she who needs you here, not I. As you will no doubt have noticed, Grangehurst is somewhat cut off from the rest of the world. My wife and I live here alone, we do without staff. We have our own world here, and to be honest I disagreed with my wife when she first suggested that we required additional help. She then... changed my mind.”

  “I look forward to meeting her,” I replied. “And to meeting your son.”

  “I am not sure that...”

  His voice trailed off, and for the first time he seemed a little uncertain, as if he was concerned about what he had to say next. After a few seconds he looked back down at his papers, and it seemed to me that he was trying to give the impression that he was busy. And then, finally, he glanced at me again.

  “Well?” he said. “What are you doing standing there? My wife will be in the nursery. Go to her, and she will tell you everything that you need to know. I'm far too busy.”

  “And my room?”

  “She'll show you all that.”

  “And -”

  “Go, woman!” he snapped, gesturing for me to leave. His mood seemed to have changed very suddenly, becoming darker and less patient than ever. “I have work to do! Find my wife, she has more than enough time to show you around.”

  So it was that I took my suitcase and left the room. And I remember wondering, as I ascended the main staircase in search of the nursery, why it was that I still heard no baby cry.

  Chapter Three

  “And when the little boy noticed what was happening, he put down his toys and went to the window. What do you think he saw there, Stephen? What do you think he saw when he looked out the window?”

  Silhouetted against the curtains, the woman hesitated for a moment before leaning down a little closer to the crib.

  “He saw the whole wide world,” she purred happily, her voice just an inflection away from becoming a laugh. Holding the book in one hand, she reached into the crib with the other. “He saw everything that's out there, all the wonder and fun and -”

  Suddenly she stopped. She stayed completely still for a few seconds, before slowly turning to look this way. I still couldn't see her face properly, since the curtains behind were were rather bright, so I simply waited for her to say something. Instead, however, she stared and stared at me, until even I – even meek, shy young Beryl Seaton – felt compelled to speak.

  “Mrs. Brooks?” I said finally. “My name is... My name is Beryl Seaton. Your husband told me to come and find you.”

  I had been standing in the doorway for several minutes, ever since I had located the nursery. Too timid to interrupt, I had chosen to wait while Mrs. Brooks continued reading to her son Stephen, but it had taken quite some time before she seemed to notice that she was being observed. And even then, she made no effort to speak or to really acknowledge my presence, and I felt rather awkward as I stood holding my suitcase.

  I think fully half a minute elapsed before she said a word.

  “Miss Seaton,” she murmured finally, still sounding as if she had been stirred from some deep reverie. “Of course, we've been looking forward to your arrival a great deal. Won't you come in?”

  I took a step forward.

  “Oh,” she added su
ddenly, stopping me in my tracks, “but whyever are you carrying your suitcase with you?”

  “I thought I should keep hold of it until I'm shown to my room,” I told her. “I did not know where else to put it.”

  “Shown to your room?” She set the book on a small table and then got to her feet, causing her great dress to rustle dryly in the process. Still silhouetted against the curtain, her features were not yet visible. “Please, tell me that my husband did not send you up here without even letting you go to your room first.”

  “I am sure he's simply very busy,” I told her.

  “Oh, that's quite dreadful,” she said, coming over to me and finally emerging from the haze of the curtain. It was now that I saw her smiling face, although I confess that the first thing I really noticed was a deep and very prominent harelip. “Elliot can be so incredibly rude sometimes,” she explained, reaching out and touching my arms. Her hands were so cold, I could feel the chill through the fabric of my dress. “We receive visitors so infrequently, I think he's quite forgotten how to act. Please, I shall show you to your room at once. I prepared a bed next to a south-facing window, I thought perhaps you would like a view of the moor.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, pleasantly surprised by her friendly demeanor, especially after her husband's rather brusque tone. Indeed, now that I could see her face properly, I was struck by how friendly and jolly she seemed, although I do recall noticing a hint of keenness in her eyes, perhaps even of desperation. “I am happy with any room at all. I shall only sleep and read in there, after all.”

  “Here's what we'll do,” she said, linking her arm with mine. “I shall show you to your room and you can settle in. You must take your time and get really comfortable.”

  “Shall I not meet young Stephen first?” I asked, glancing past her toward the crib.

  “Stephen?” At the mention of her son's name, Mrs. Brooks seemed a little hesitant. In fact, although I did not judge it at the time, looking back now I think I noticed a hint of concern in her expression, as if she was not quite ready. “Of course,” she added after a moment's long pause, “how silly of me. Yes, of course you must meet him, and I'm quite certain that you'll get on with him marvelously. He's an easy child most of the time. In all honesty, I don't really need any help with him at all, but Elliot – my husband – fusses and, well, perhaps it would be for the best if I had just a little assistance. After all, Elliot knows what's good for me.”