‘Could you get sense out of him? Was he in his right mind?’
‘They had dosed him up so much that it was hard to say where he was, sir. He is fearful – and I am not sure of what. His wits are wandering but I would not call him mad. The one thing I am sure of is that he is not suited to the regimen of that place. It is doing him no good. I asked him whether he would consent to be released into my custody, on the understanding that we would live apart from the world for a while without seeing anyone from his former life, including his mother. I think he would be agreeable to that. Such a course could not harm him and might indeed be of benefit. We cannot do worse with it than he is doing now.’
‘We must have Jermyn’s opinion on this,’ Carbury said. ‘We must proceed in the proper way.’
‘I doubt he would be in favour, sir. He came upon me unexpectedly while I was talking with Mr Frank, and he was not at all pleased. He had me escorted from the premises.’
Elinor said in a low voice, ‘If Mr Frank went from Dr Jermyn’s, and that fact became known to the world, would it not seem that his health had improved? Would it not suggest that his wits were no longer disordered?’
Carbury grunted. ‘That is certainly a consideration, madam. It does not help the college’s reputation that Mr Frank Oldershaw is known to be in Dr Jermyn’s madhouse. So if he is not there, if he seems cured, it can only be to the good.’
‘I believe it to be a matter of urgency, sir,’ Holdsworth said. ‘If he is not mad already, that place will soon make him so.’
‘This is all very well, but you cannot move at all in such an important matter without Lady Anne’s leave.’
‘If we sent an express tomorrow, we should hear from her by Tuesday,’ Elinor said.
‘Would you support the plan too, sir?’ Holdsworth asked. ‘A letter from you would carry far more weight than one from me.’
‘Perhaps.’ Carbury gently rubbed his stomach. ‘Yes, it will help no one if Mr Frank is made worse. Very well, I shall write to Lady Anne directly. It is worth trying. But I shall emphasize that the notion is yours, Mr Holdsworth. After all, her ladyship has deputed you to act for her in this. Where would you take Mr Frank if you could get him out of Barnwell?’
‘I wondered whether perhaps we might hire a cottage a few miles distant from Cambridge. I would prefer that to taking lodgings. The people of the house might talk.’
‘You would need someone to look after you, sir,’ Elinor put in. ‘What about Mulgrave? He would be a familiar face and he already knows how Mr Frank is, and would be quite prepared for what he would find.’
‘Let me think on it,’ Carbury said. ‘The college has a number of estates near Cambridge, and there may be something there. I will look into it in the morning.’ A bell began to toll in the distance, and he heaved himself out of his chair. ‘Well, well, it is time for dinner.’
‘Are you perfectly convinced of the wisdom of dining in hall?’ Elinor said. ‘I could send Ben to the kitchens and have them bring you something up.’
Carbury, now swaying on his own two feet, waved his hand. ‘I shall go down.’
‘But sir –’
‘I am not at all fagged now, and I hope I do not need you to teach me anything about my duty, madam.’
Holdsworth saw Elinor colouring. She turned away without saying anything.
Holdsworth and Carbury went downstairs slowly together, with Carbury clinging to the banister rail.
‘Why must women fuss a man so?’ Carbury said, not troubling to lower his voice. ‘It is unamiable, is it not? Still, I suppose one must not blame the fair sex for their weaker understanding.’
In the passage they met Mr Richardson, coming in from Chapel Court. He greeted the Master and Holdsworth with a bow and a smile.
‘Where is Sir Charles?’ Carbury demanded.
‘He and his nephew are coming directly, Master. Why, Sir Charles is such an agreeable man, is he not? So genteel, and yet so unaffected.’ Richardson paused with his hand on the door of the combination room. ‘By the way, Master, have you heard the news? Miskin has had the promise of a living in Gloucestershire – a snug little parsonage and seven hundred a year.’
‘I know,’ Carbury said. ‘He told me yesterday.’
‘We shall miss his merry laugh in the parlour, eh? The present incumbent intends to vacate after Christmas, so we shall need to elect a new Rosington fellow in the new year.’
‘I’m obliged to you, Mr Richardson,’ Carbury said, sweeping into the combination room. ‘But you need not trouble yourself in the matter. According to the terms of its endowment, the Rosington Fellowship is in the Master’s gift. You may safely leave it to me.’
Dinner on Sunday was a lengthy affair, and one that had an air of celebration. They began with a fresh salmon boiled and garnished with fried smelts, anchovy sauce and shrimps, with a calf’s head, chicken pie and a chine of roasted mutton. The second course involved a haunch of venison with gravy sauce and currant jelly. There were also collared eels, a green goose, lobsters and tarts. Holdsworth wondered whether they always dined in such style at Jerusalem high table on a Sunday, or whether this was in some sense a special occasion, perhaps because of the presence of Sir Charles Archdale.
Harry Archdale sat beside his uncle. His debauches on the previous evening had not harmed his appetite. Holdsworth stared at the sizars’ table in the body of the hall. The fare was simpler there. Soresby was hunched over the board, his elbows protruding and the sleeves of his stained black gown trailing on either side of his plate as he shovelled food into his mouth.
The conversation at high table was largely sustained by Carbury and Richardson, operating in competition, each attempting to monopolize the attention of Sir Charles. After dinner, Holdsworth found himself next to Harry Archdale in the movement towards the combination room. Holdsworth said nothing but stood back to allow the young man to precede him through the doorway. They were the last persons left on the dais, apart from the servants behind them who were busy clearing the table.
Archdale hesitated. ‘Pray, sir, how is poor Frank? You must not mind my asking. Mr Richardson told me that Lady Anne sent you here to see how Frank does, as well as to look over the library.’
‘His health gradually improves,’ Holdsworth said quietly. ‘But he is still not entirely himself.’
‘I wish you would oblige me by telling him when you see him that Jerusalem is devilish dull without him. If – if it is convenient, that is.’
Afterwards, Holdsworth drank a cup of tea in the combination room and made his excuses. He walked down to the western arcade and climbed the staircase to the library. Soresby must have heard or seen him coming, because he was standing in the doorway and bowing low as Holdsworth appeared. On the big table behind him were several open volumes and a sheaf of loose, handwritten papers.
‘I hope I have not interrupted your studies, Mr Soresby,’ Holdsworth said.
‘Not at all, sir. I am quite at your disposal.’
Holdsworth looked about him. ‘Is this the collection in its entirety?’
‘Apart from those on loan.’
‘Do you know how many books the library contains?’
‘No, sir. I do not believe anyone does.’ Soresby’s fingers plaited themselves together. ‘I would hazard a guess that there must be somewhere between fifteen hundred and two thousand volumes.’
‘Is there a catalogue?’
‘Mr Richardson’s predecessor attempted the task. Unfortunately it was left incomplete at his death.’
‘And has the library other materials, apart from what we can see here?’
‘What you see on the shelves, sir, are all the bound volumes we have.’ Soresby gestured at the cupboards below the bookshelves. ‘But in the past many fellows have left the college the fruits of their scholarship, and we store their papers here. It would be a formidable task to catalogue them. Also, we have a number of manuscripts of considerable antiquity, the earliest of which I understand goes back to the
reign of King John. But these are kept in the Treasury along with the college plate, the deeds, the leases and so forth.’
‘I am obliged to you,’ Holdsworth said. ‘I shall need to make a survey. It may take several days. But there is no need for me to trouble you, or not in the normal way of things, for I work better at my own pace. If I have any questions, you may be sure I shall apply to you directly.’
‘Will you begin now, sir?’
‘No. And I shall not take up any more of your time this afternoon.’ Holdsworth indicated the books on the table. ‘I see you are already at work.’
Soresby tugged at the index finger on his left hand with sudden violence. ‘I must read every moment I can, sir.’
‘Because you wish to take a good degree?’
‘I cannot afford not to, sir. I have not sixpence in the world. If I am to make anything of myself, it is not enough merely to take my degree, I must be highly placed on the list, the Ordo Senioritatis, I hope as a Wrangler.’ He broke off. ‘Forgive me, sir, I prattle too much of my own affairs.’
‘Indeed you do not. I asked you a question and you most courteously answered it. In fact, you would do me a great service if you would allow me to satisfy my curiosity a little further. You must understand I am not familiar with the ways of the University. If you take a good degree, what happens then?’
‘I hope to attain a fellowship and take orders.’
‘What is the advantage to a young man in your position?’
‘Why, sir, as to that a fellowship gives one an income and a place to live. Besides that, it offers the chance of improving one’s lot with a little private tuition, perhaps, or a lectureship. And the college has a number of livings at its disposal and, in the course of time, one of these may fall vacant, and so preferment within the Church is not an impossibility.’
‘I hear the Rosington Fellowship may become vacant soon.’
Soresby’s expression changed: his face narrowed and sharpened. His features might have belonged to a starving man. ‘If I were to get the promise of it, my situation would improve beyond all recognition. But it’s in the gift of the Master.’ He paused and then added in a sudden, savage rush, ‘It’s all of a piece, here at Jerusalem, sir: one can hope for nothing, large or small, without the support of Dr Carbury.’
20
On Tuesday morning, Elinor sent Susan to rinse collars and cuffs in the wash-house, which was in the little service yard. It was always damp and gloomy because it was overshadowed by the high blank wall of Yarmouth Hall on one side and the back of the Master’s Lodge on another. Later that morning, Elinor passed through the yard herself on the way to the necessary house. The door to the wash-house was ajar, and she heard Susan laugh softly.
Elinor paused. She was about to go in to see Susan when a man said something. Her maid wasn’t alone. Suddenly Susan cried out, and the sound was like a dog’s yelp when someone treads on its paw. The cry was hastily smothered. Elinor took a step towards the door and then stopped again as she became aware of a rhythmic movement inside the wash-house. It rapidly gathered momentum.
She could now see a little way inside. Two people were lying on the brick floor. She could see only part of their legs and their shoes – Susan’s shoes and stockings, a man’s square-toed shoes, part of his breeches and a flash of white muscular thighs pumping up and down.
‘Ah, yes,’ said Susan. ‘Ah! Yes!’
Susan was lying there with Ben. What they were doing was foul. It was immoral. By rights Elinor should sweep in there and instantly dismiss them both. Instead she felt herself flushing, and her breathing accelerating.
Ben grunted urgently.
‘Hush!’ Susan whispered.
Elinor went back in the house, slamming the door behind her. The words formed in her mind: My servants are copulating in the wash-house, snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. She was trembling. How dared they? And to do it in broad daylight, where anyone might stumble across them. Such brazen behaviour beggared belief.
She found Dr Carbury was sitting in an armchair drawn up to the window of the little dining parlour at the Master’s Lodge. His mouth was open, his feet were up on a footstool and a book was open on his lap. He was so very still that for an instant Elinor thought he was dead. He sat up and looked around wildly before his eyes fell on her. He looked old and unwell.
‘My dear sir,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing – nothing in the world. I was merely dozing a little, that’s all. What do you want?’
She had intended to complain to him about the lewd behaviour of their servants. But she could not trouble him when he was in this state. Then she was distracted by footsteps in the hall behind her.
‘Is that Mr Holdsworth?’ Dr Carbury asked. ‘Pray ask him to step in here.’
Holdsworth was already coming towards them. What if it had been Holdsworth with Susan in the wash-house? Snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. The very notion was absurd and fantastical but she felt a sensation strangely like jealousy.
Jealousy?
But if it had been herself with Holdsworth? Snuffling and grunting like pigs in our sty. She turned aside, shocked by the wanton immorality of her own imaginings. She made as if to straighten a salver on the sideboard.
‘I have not been idle, Mr Holdsworth,’ Carbury was saying. ‘I think I have found somewhere where you may stay with Mr Oldershaw, at least for a few days. The college has a small estate out beyond Histon, on the edge of Whitebeach Fen. It is no more than a farm and a watermill with a cottage attached to it. The mill is empty at present – we’re between tenants.’
‘Are there neighbours, sir?’ Holdsworth asked.
‘Only the farmer, a man called Smedley. He’s a taciturn fellow, and will not trouble you if you choose to stay there. But I shall write to him today, and tell him to send a servant over to make the cottage ready in case.’
‘But what will you tell him?’ Elinor said, turning back to face the men. She was tolerably sure that nothing about her would betray the unpleasant fancies that had just passed through her mind.
Carbury replied to Holdsworth as if he had asked the question. ‘I shall say that a small reading party may come over for a few days, and must not be disturbed on any account. The last tenant died, and his furniture is still there – his family have not collected it yet so they can hardly complain if we use it. I will speak to Mulgrave too.’
Elinor stared at Mr Holdsworth’s hand, which had touched hers through the gate. She thought of Ben and Susan in the wash-house. Dear God, she was even envious of them. Snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. What must it be like to feel like that?
There was a knock at the hall door.
‘Where are the servants?’ Carbury demanded when no one came. ‘Never here when one wants them. You must speak to them.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Elinor said. ‘Susan’s in the wash-house. Perhaps Ben’s in the garden. I’ll see who it is.’
She opened the door. She recognized the man waiting outside. It was one of the grooms from Golden Square, and he had a packet from Lady Anne in his hand.
Her ladyship was graciously pleased to approve Mr Holdsworth’s proposal. She agreed that he might remove Frank from Dr Jermyn’s establishment, though her agreement was hedged round with caveats and veiled threats. She did not say it in so many words but her son’s repeated refusal to come home to her was clearly a blow she found hard to bear.
Matters now moved swiftly. The livery stable was reluctant to hire out its larger chaises without hiring out one of their coachmen or grooms too but Lady Anne’s money soon overcame this reluctance. At four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon Ben was sent to collect the carriage.
Carbury made the point that the fewer people who knew of Frank Oldershaw’s whereabouts, the better for everyone. He was, he said, reasonably confident that he could trust Ben to keep his mouth shut. ‘It is easier to manage these matters with one’s own servants, Mr Holdsworth. They are not cal
led our dependants for nothing, eh?’
Mulgrave was late. The chaise was already waiting when he came through the screens from Chapel Court at a smart trot.
‘Beg pardon, sirs,’ he said, panting. ‘Mr Archdale is in such a taking and he’s late for dinner at Mr Whichcote’s.’
‘Dinner?’ Carbury said. ‘At this hour?’
‘Oh they dine very late at Lambourne House, sir, especially when there’s a club meeting. Why, they do not sit down until five or six o’clock I believe.’
‘Well, well, never mind that now,’ Carbury said. ‘You are here, and that is what matters. Remember, my man, you are entirely at Mr Holdsworth’s disposal. You must put all your other gentlemen to one side for the time being.’
Mulgrave and Ben loaded Holdsworth’s portmanteau on to the chaise with a great show of speed and efficiency. Mulgrave made as if to mount the box with Ben, but Holdsworth told him to ride inside.
The chaise jerked and rattled through the archway leading into Jerusalem Lane. The road to Barnwell was crowded and they made slow progress at first, as they were trapped behind a pair of wagons rumbling out of the town.
‘I do not anticipate any trouble with Mr Oldershaw,’ Holdsworth said quietly. ‘However, unless I tell you otherwise, I wish you to stay within earshot when we are at the mill. I must repeat what the Master said: for the time being you are working solely for me as her ladyship’s representative. For no one else. I wish to make that quite clear.’
The chaise edged forward through the press of traffic.
‘Mr Archdale asked where I was off to, sir,’ Mulgrave said. ‘He wanted to know why I would not wait on him tomorrow as usual.’
‘What did you say?’
Mulgrave shrugged. ‘I said you’d hired me to look after Mr Oldershaw. I didn’t say where and he didn’t ask. Lord, his head was so full of this evening, he couldn’t spare a thought for anything else.’
The Anatomy of Ghosts Page 17
