The Wages of Sin

by Judith Cutler

  ‘But what if?’

  ‘Wait and see?’

  ‘Too late by then.’

  ‘Family would take care …’

  A snort.

  ‘Got to make sure.’

  ‘Pennyroyal tea …’

  SEVENTEEN

  ‘I would need Luke to confirm it, but in my opinion this is from his lordship’s summer-weight evening suit,’ Bowman said heavily. ‘And you say, Rowsley, that you heard an altercation between a young man and a young woman?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, but on another evening entirely. I thought it was just a lover’s tiff, and decided not to intervene.’

  ‘A tiff it might have been. But between his lordship and a young woman?’ Mrs Arden put in. ‘Between him and Maggie? Such a relationship is not unknown.’

  Harriet went so white I feared she was about to faint. But she kept herself sitting upright somehow or other. Lest others remark on her pallor, I said, ‘I think we must speak to Mrs Billings again. I know Maggie forbade us to reveal her whereabouts, but if the child she’s carrying is his lordship’s it puts an entirely different complexion on the matter. Poor child. Poor, poor child,’ I sighed.

  A tap on the door silenced us all. Florrie, fresh from her ladyship’s chamber, was as white as Harriet. She curtsied, but stumbled. Bowman supported her to a chair. ‘Such a rage she’s in! I let slip about the policemen, and I thought she’d kill me.’ She raised her head high and managed a smile. ‘She might have done, except with a couple of bobbies handy down here she might have been caught a damn sight quicker than she liked.’

  ‘No swearing, Florrie,’ Harriet said absently. ‘Mr Bowman, I fancy that a drop of your medicinal brandy might be in order. Florrie’s had a nasty shock—’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Bowman, but no, if it’s all the same to you. I’ve signed the pledge. My whole family have. There’s a new Methodist chapel down Dudley way, so we started going. And I know Mr Pounceman doesn’t approve of the demon drink, so I often feel like having a noggin to spite him, but a promise is a promise, isn’t it?’

  Unless it was made by an irresponsible man so he could have his way with a girl who allowed herself to believe him.

  ‘It is, Florrie,’ I said. ‘Now, how did you leave her ladyship?’

  She laughed. ‘Quickly! To dodge a hairbrush. Nice silver one, too – I bet it got a nasty dent when it hit the door.’

  ‘I hope so. Now, answer me truthfully, Florrie – I know this might mean breaking a promise, but sometimes, except when it’s made to God, you have to. Hortense left here with a really bad injury, didn’t she? Do you think that might have been caused by a flying hairbrush?’

  She considered. ‘Summat much heavier, I reckon.’

  ‘Something,’ Harriet said gently.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am. It’s just that I’m all het up and I forget what you’ve learned us. Taught us.’

  ‘Good girl. Now,’ Harriet continued, her colour returning, ‘if Hortense wasn’t hit by a brush, what do you think did hurt her? And who? I’m sure she swore you to secrecy but Mr Rowsley is right: we really need to know. Sometimes if someone hurts someone they might want to try again.’

  ‘Ah, and do a better job – do her in, second time round,’ Florrie agreed, with a sage nod. ‘Don’t reckon as how it’s – don’t reckon that it was her ladyship. Thing is, this might get Hortense into trouble.’

  ‘She’s left now, so we can’t punish her. And only I know where she has gone to live.’

  There was a loud knock at the door, swiftly followed by the entrance of Thatcher. He bowed. ‘Beg pardon for breaking in on your talk. But the policemen are insistent they speak to her ladyship, whether she is ready or not. They want someone to show them up to her room right now.’

  Mrs Faulkner got swiftly to her feet. ‘I’ll take them.’

  And I couldn’t even scream at her to be careful.

  ‘Very well, Florrie,’ I said as Thatcher closed the door behind her, ‘Hortense was hit very hard by something, we all agree on that. By what and by whom?’

  ‘It was a man, and that’s all you’re getting out of me,’ she said, ‘until I hear otherwise from Hortense. But I don’t want those bobbies to go sniffing round asking for her in case the bastard gets wind of it and finds her first. And that’s flat.’ She got up, dropped a curtsy that was as challenging as a gauntlet, and marched out.

  Forgetting myself, I mimed a round of applause. In for a penny, in for a pound: ‘If that girl can lose some of her accent and remember the grammar that Mrs Faulkner is trying to teach her, she’ll go far.’

  Bowman looked at me curiously. ‘I really believe you approve of her attitude.’

  Mrs Arden’s face was unreadable. ‘Do you want Mrs Faulkner or me to accompany you to the lodge, Mr Rowsley? Or Mr Bowman?’

  I looked from one to the other. ‘It’ll be obvious if you leave your posts. No one expects me to be here on a Sunday, so I’ll go alone. But I think I should take some food – not quite a bribe, but a little encouragement. Something small and discreet, that will fit in my pockets. Can you help me with that, Mrs Arden? Thank you.’

  I do not know how Mrs Billings dragged herself to the gate each time she was summoned. She was nothing but skin and bone: perhaps Dr Page would have known if it was because she did not eat enough or whether some terrible illness had struck her. She leant against the door jamb as if she needed its support – as I feared she would when I had finished speaking to her. I felt my way into the conversation by asking a genuine question.

  ‘Mrs Billings, a week or so a couple of gentlemen, maybe three, arrived at the House very late at night. You must have opened the gate for them. Do you recall who they might have been?’

  Her expression was totally blank, but she made an effort. ‘Would they have been in a coach, like his lordship’s, say, or were they riding?’

  ‘On horseback.’

  She nodded. ‘Ah, they’d have no call to rouse me then: leastways, if they knew their way around the estate. There’s a couple of little gaps in the wall, far side of the woods. Tight fit for a horse, mind.’ She did her best to smile. ‘My grandfer used to call them the Eyes of the Needle.’ She seemed happy that I was laughing. ‘As for a coach, gaffer, hasn’t been one since her ladyship’s.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll get one of the estate lads to point the gaps out to me.’ Now came the part I was not looking forward to: ‘Mrs Billings, I am sure you told me the truth last time we spoke about Maggie, but I am also sure you did not tell me the whole truth. I don’t know why. I know there is some trouble. Yes?’

  Her eyes filled with terror.

  ‘I also know she does not want to be a bother to you. Actually, I know where she is, but she refuses to let me tell you.’

  Her lips moved but I detected no sound.

  How did I begin? I thought of my mother: I searched for the words she would have spoken. ‘A kind Baptist minister and his wife are keeping an eye on her. They have some money to make sure she eats well enough for her and for her baby. When her time comes, they can pay for a midwife. All of this is being done in secret. No one will betray her whereabouts, not even to you, unless she permits it. But I will make sure that if you want to send her a message, it will reach her.’ I waited. ‘I promise,’ I added.

  I might not have said a word. Was she deaf? Stupid? But then I saw the tears coursing down her face. She made no effort to wipe them away.

  ‘If ever you have anything else you want to tell me, send a lad to my house and I will come as soon as I can. Mrs Billings, you can trust me. If you know the name of your daughter’s seducer, tell me, and I can bring him to book: I can’t force him to marry her, but I can make him pay for his child’s upkeep.’ And if not, I would do it myself. ‘Now, I fear you are not eating enough,’ I said more briskly, in a slightly louder voice. ‘Here: please accept this.’ I dug in my pockets for the packages of ham, cheese and cake. There was also a packet of tea. ‘These are for you.’

  Her tears still
rolled; now her mouth worked. But she did not speak, and I had to lift her hands in order to press the gifts into them.

  I raised my hat and said softly the words my father would have used, ‘May God bless you, and keep you, and cause His light to shine upon you.’

  Rather than head straight back to the House I turned Esau towards the village and Dr Page’s establishment. His maid showed me straight into the garden, where, in his shirtsleeves, he was tending the roses.

  We discussed greenfly for a while – more accurately he did, because dealing with pests was an art regarded by my gardener as a secret available only to the initiated. However, I took all Page said to heart, and felt that in future discussions I would be able to do more than nod in agreement to everything the expert suggested.

  As the maid brought out a tea tray which she placed, at his request, on a table in an arbour, he put down his secateurs and led the way to the shade. ‘Have you something to tell me about my patient’s progress?’

  ‘Yes – and to ask you to treat another woman on the estate.’ It was clearly understood that he would invoice his lordship, via me. ‘Hortense was well enough to leave us, and has taken up employment with a lady in Warwick: only Mrs Faulkner knows her whereabouts.’

  ‘Good. And who is the other lady in question? Another lady’s maid?’ he added meaningfully.

  I thought of Florrie and the hairbrush. ‘Not this time,’ I said truthfully. ‘Mrs Billings. She is thinner each time I see her.’

  He sucked his teeth. ‘I fear you will not see her at all by the end of the summer. Constant hunger, lack of proper nourishment – how can a woman like that shake off illnesses that would do no more than inconvenience someone in her ladyship’s position? Of course I will talk to her, and give her some pills she will believe will do her good – the mind is a powerful tool, Rowsley, you mark my words!’

  ‘Pills – good. And I will ask Mrs Arden to ensure a constant supply of food reaches the lodge.’

  ‘No. Make sure it reaches her, and no one else. It is the way of the poor, Rowsley, to share food in a way you or I would find incomprehensible. The man of the house must eat, even if he is a drunken layabout. Paralysed, in Billings’ case! The sons must eat. So if there happened to be any meat in the meal, that is the end of that. Then any girl likely to get into service must be briefly fattened up: no one would employ a waif, and the family needs both her space and the tiny wage she will send home, remember. Then, and only then, do the other females share the rest.’

  When I got back, the staff were about to sit down in the hall: seeing a spare seat, I took it, nodding to Bowman, who was opposite me. Naturally we preserved the rule of silence, though there were questions I was desperate to ask. However, as the four of us adjourned to the Room, I spoke quietly to George, who had been sitting diagonally across from me. ‘My office, good and early tomorrow, please, George – whatever the weather.’

  ‘This time I’ll bring a change of clothes if needs be, gaffer!’

  XVII

  This is a different sort of pain. Someone is squeezing my insides. Twist. Squeeze. Twist. Yellow blobs float in front of my eyes. My stomach heaves. Nurse has a bucket ready.

  There is nothing of me but pain.

  I am on fire.

  Nurse lifts my nightgown. ‘I think we’ve won!’

  Someone kisses my forehead. ‘Something else to drink.’

  I float away on the pain.

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘Said nothing! How can the policemen have said nothing?’ I demanded, as the four of us adjourned to the Room for tea and coffee. Harriet and Beatrice had decided that although Florrie was acting as her ladyship’s maid, she was not yet her properly appointed lady’s maid and would not expect temporary admission to the Room. ‘They simply left without telling us what her ladyship had revealed? I cannot believe it!’ I strode about the room in frustration. At last I realized how childish I must appear, pacing in such a tiny space, to the imminent risk of a pile of books and a pretty work-box, and put my energy to better use by handing round the cups. For penance I sat in the least comfortable chair.

  Harriet smiled. ‘It is not impossible that a conversation with Elias might reveal something, Mr Rowsley. What a shame that Mr Baines does not open the pub on Sunday evenings …’

  ‘A shame indeed,’ I agreed. ‘But some of the team practise in the nets on Monday evenings – I might just drift down. Meanwhile, some of you will have seen me break the rule and talk to George. When we were surveying the House for rain damage, we found a locked room.’

  Harriet nodded. ‘The one near his lordship’s accommodation. A room adjoining one he always insists is allocated to one of his friends.’

  ‘Does he indeed? I know – as I am sure you all do – that his lordship keeps pornographic books in his dressing room. I am – let us say, I am just being nosy. Unless any of you has a key that I don’t, I will ask George to remove the lock so we can see what lies within.’

  Bowman’s eyes widened to their fullest extent. ‘Mr Rowsley, consider what you are doing!’

  ‘I should imagine Mr Rowsley will find a water leak to justify the exercise,’ Harriet said. ‘I could even create the leak: I could make sure a maid leaves a bucket unemptied, couldn’t I?’

  I shook my head. ‘If anyone is going to get into trouble, it will be me. Yes to the water leak, no to anyone else being involved in the subterfuge.’

  ‘The lie!’ Bowman exploded. ‘I will have no part of this!’

  ‘I quite understand, Mr Bowman. And in any other circumstances I would not dream of anything so low. I will keep it as undetectable as possible, entering not through the corridor but through the door to the adjoining room. And George will repair any damage immediately. I just wish I had a key and didn’t have to ask him.’

  Harriet got up, walking swiftly to her bedroom. She returned with a wooden box, perhaps twelve inches by six, and four deep. She set it on the table, before unclasping the bunch of household keys from her chatelaine. ‘This,’ she said, flourishing one of the bunch, ‘unlocks about half the chambers, this the other half. Let us see if there is anything in here that is similar in size and shape to them: it might save a great deal of trouble.’ Picking up yesterday’s newspaper, she spread it on the table and upended the box.

  We searched with as much glee as if we were children, even Bowman joining in with a will. At last we had a choice of three possibilities.

  Bowman smiled slowly. ‘Only because I wish to exclude George from the proceedings, I assure you, I suggest you test these this evening, Rowsley, when her ladyship is taking sherry. It being such a fine evening, I will encourage her to take it in the red drawing room, with its fine views across the county. And then it will be but as a step for her to adjourn to the dining room. She is accustomed,’ he said, in an aside to me, ‘to eat there occasionally even when his lordship is not at home. I shall forget to ask her if she would rather be served there or in her own suite. I suppose a dish or two the aroma of which lingers would not be impossible, Mrs Arden? The sort of thing one would not wish to awaken to the next morning?’

  ‘Fish? And she does like a curry of meat and vegetables.’

  ‘Excellent! In fact, Mrs Arden, I really enjoy your curries myself. Might it be possible …?’

  Mrs Arden patted his hand indulgently. ‘Of course it might.’ But I could see from the expression on her face that she was busily tearing up all her plans and working out how much of the evening’s menu she might salvage.

  By chance Harriet turned towards me, her fine eyes full of laughter. Though we both averted our gaze immediately, I did not believe that no one had seen the bolt of love between us.

  And I did not care a jot.

  I did care that I must not invite Harriet to accompany me on my expedition. I suspect from her wistful expression – the one she wore when I talked about my cricket exploits – that she would have liked to participate. She did offer, in the presence of the others, to walk up and down the corridor in
question to warn me of anyone’s approach, but Bowman was very much against the idea.

  ‘Would you usually be on duty at such a time? Walking in the Family corridor? Well, then, Mrs Faulkner, it will simply draw attention to our conspiracy if you did today. No, you and Mrs Arden must maintain a convincing pretence of normal Sabbath behaviour. You might even sit in the evening sun on that seat of yours by the herb garden, might you not, and read? Off you go. And Mrs Arden, given the change in the menu, you might wish to be seen in the kitchen. Very well, Mr Rowsley, give me fifteen minutes. It may take me that long to ensconce her ladyship in the red drawing room. If I am not back in that period, I think it might be safe for you to take an idle stroll.’ Having disposed of his cast like a theatre producer, he turned back to me and clasped my hand. ‘Godspeed, Matthew.’

  After all the latent drama, my adventure was very banal. The door opening on to the corridor swung open sweetly in response to the key Bowman had picked out. It locked equally sweetly behind me. My candles – I could hide them in a pocket, unlike the lantern I would have preferred – would have lit up, had there not been a small window affording enough light, a plain dressing room, equipped with all the appropriate furniture. The cupboards were all locked, but the tiny keys remained in the locks, and it was the work of moments to scan their shelves. Most were completely bare. For some reason a pile of sheets lay loosely folded on one. Some, equally empty, seemed shorter from back to front than the others, but I searched in vain for a reason. There were no pornographic books, nothing to suggest why anyone should wish to lock the room. The drawers? Yes, they were firmly locked, with no key in evidence, and the cupboard ones were the wrong shape. There was a slightly musty smell, although the window swung open easily enough when I tried it. Mystified, I made sure I had left no sign of my visit behind me, and slipped out of the room. If I looked hesitant I would only occasion remark, so I strode along as if I owned the place – not meeting anyone, of course.

  I wanted to return to my house to change for supper – the light summer suit which Mr Bowman recommended for weather like this. Perhaps guilt took my footsteps the backstairs route, which naturally led me to the Room and – when there was no response to my light tap – to the servants’ hall and the kitchen. Mrs Arden was sitting at her ease by the open door, perhaps to escape the strong smell of spices. She turned when she heard my footsteps.