The Wages of Sin

by Judith Cutler

  He turned to me. ‘Surely, Matthew, the estate can offer a reward for anyone finding her safe and sound? Surely!’

  ‘Of course. I will contact the constabularies of all the towns around Wolverhampton and ask them to organize it forthwith.’

  ‘There must be,’ Harriet said, her voice thick with emotion, ‘the chance that she will be found … dead. And we are not the only ones concerned. Someone must break the news to Mrs Billings. Marty, are you well enough acquainted with her?’

  ‘Only with her menfolk, I’m afraid. But if you wish—’

  ‘That must be my job,’ I said decisively. ‘But I would be so grateful, Marty, if you would go with me.’

  ‘Bless you, I have to pass by the gatehouse to get back to the village. We could walk together.’

  Beatrice said, ‘You must have a woman with you. I would offer but I hardly know her.’

  ‘No, I will go,’ Harriet said, gently but firmly. ‘Could you prepare a basket of essentials, Bea? She may not wish to eat, but feed her family she must.’

  Mrs Billings seemed less interested in the news of Maggie than in telling me about the bright blue pills Dr Page had prescribed her, which she swore were doing her the world of good, all thanks to me and my generosity. The words tumbled out of her toothless mouth almost at random, becoming a torrent as she saw what Harriet was carrying. Marty, lurking behind us in case she had demanded details of her daughter’s departure, stayed silent until she went in, closing the impressive door behind her. He shrugged eloquently. His face told of his sadness: he must be contrasting his own grief for a girl with whom he’d done no more than pass the time of day, if that, with her own mother’s apparent lack of feeling.

  His departure for the Royal Oak left Harriet and me in an embarrassed silence. To break it I told her about the fate of his wife and child.

  ‘That’s why he’s moved here: to get away from the scene of his tragedy. You’ve probably heard what a good influence he is in the village. He won’t let anyone drink more than they should – which in his reckoning is more than they can afford. He doesn’t begrudge them the warmth of the snug for no more than half a pint of ale carefully nursed for a whole evening.’ I could chatter no more. I turned to her, hands outstretched. ‘Oh, Harriet!’

  She reached for them, but snatched them back, as if they might be burnt.

  We had not moved from where Marty had left us.

  She set us in motion, keeping a respectable distance from me and obviously trying to find something to say, but failing. I honoured her all the more for offering to come on an errand which must necessarily involve us in an unchaperoned and probably embarrassing walk together.

  ‘I am sorry about this morning,’ she said at last. ‘I broke my promise to you. I was wrong.’

  ‘I was wrong to extract a promise you didn’t want to keep,’ I countered. ‘I am sorry to have caused you so much pain.’

  ‘It is pain – but mixed with so much happiness. I can’t bear to leave here, and I couldn’t bear the House without you. What shall we do, Matthew?’

  ‘For the time being we will do nothing. You know that I love you and would marry you tomorrow if I could. I know – I believe that you love me, but I know something holds you back.’

  ‘It’s because I love you that … No, I have to be able to confess everything to you before I agree to marry you.’

  ‘Let us consider ourselves engaged, then – with a couple of provisos! Oh, Harriet, there has to be joy in this world. Think of Ianto, grateful for even the very few years he had with his beloved wife and their daughter. It is wrong not to accept joy in whatever form.’

  To my amazement – and yes, joy! – she put her hand in mine. ‘Yes. Let us consider ourselves engaged – with provisos. And, oh Matthew, I promise that I will not try to give you the slip again.’ She took a deep breath, as if to return us to some form of normality, and withdrew her hand. ‘Tell me, are you going to practise your new bowling grip in time for Saturday’s match?’

  ‘This very evening, if you will supervise.’ We were both shaking with emotion, but stayed apart, rather than let the embrace we both so desired provide entertainment for a group of labourers making their slow progress to their next task.

  ‘I believe you must find a moment to tell her ladyship,’ Samuel said, ‘despite all the evidence leading me to suppose that she will not take kindly to the news.’

  ‘One of her own servants brought so low!’ Beatrice said. ‘No, my advice is you should continue to do good by stealth, Matthew. She’s told you to run the estate: run it. And make sure your plans for Stammerton are in place before the Reverend Kill-joy gets better – which he won’t for some time, I hear. He’s suffering from – no, modesty forbids me to mention the parts affected.’

  ‘Orchitis,’ Samuel said loftily. ‘A result of the mumps.’

  Serious indeed, in a man not yet old.

  ‘Oh, don’t talk to me about mumps!’ Beatrice said. ‘Another kitchen maid’s got a face out here.’ She gestured. ‘Elsie.’

  ‘Three of my girls have already had it or are getting over it. What about your young men, Samuel?’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘Thomas – but then he’s sweet on young Elsie, isn’t he? He’s probably caught it from her. Oh, dear. I hope he doesn’t suffer what Mr Pounceman has.’

  ‘At least the wretched man’s not the marrying sort,’ Beatrice snorted. ‘But Thomas and Elsie – a nice, normal, young couple. You don’t want the bedroom side stopped before it’s even started. Oh, drat! There it goes.’

  In response to his bell, Samuel heaved himself up, donned his most impassive face and set off upstairs.

  Having an uneasy suspicion that Beatrice might try to leave us unchaperoned, I grinned. ‘Ladies: I have borrowed a cricket ball from young Will. It would be so helpful if you could assess for yourselves whether I have made any progress.’

  Beatrice was on her feet in a flash. ‘What fun! So long as we stick to the south side of the building, mind. We don’t want to annoy her ladyship.’

  ‘We’d better stick to the north side then: if she craned her neck she’d be able to check on us from her boudoir otherwise. Do you mean to recruit a footman or two to join the game?’ Harriet’s eyes danced.

  ‘I think Samuel’s presence will suffice,’ I declared.

  XXV

  ‘I know that entertaining Master Augustus is not what some might see as your job, my dear,’ Mrs Cox says, ‘but I’d advise you to do it with good grace. The more you meet with the aristocracy, even their schoolboy sons, the easier you’ll be in their company. So tomorrow, when her ladyship gives me her orders for the day, I will tell her that I can excuse you your duties. It’s such a shame the other young gentlemen are so full of measles they can’t leave their rooms, and it’s as likely as not the unaffected guests will depart as soon as maybe. But this will be yet another opportunity for you to prove how useful you are.’

  ‘Wouldn’t a footman be better company for him?’ I venture.

  ‘His mama fears they would be too rough with him or lead him into bad ways. So tomorrow there will be no dusting, no sweeping: you will be out in the fresh air. And apart from enjoying yourself, you may earn a nice fat tip. Off you go now – but remember, you need to have learnt that sonnet by heart for tomorrow evening.’

  TWENTY-SIX

  Given the heightened state of our emotion, it was probably for the best that the following day involved visiting Shrewsbury to discuss with an architect my plans for Stammerton. Sadly the surveys in progress encompassing the whole of the United Kingdom had not taken in Shropshire yet, so I found the most detailed maps I could and all my sketches. We had a most productive day, including an excellent luncheon at the Lion. I also found time to do a little shopping, desperate, as you can imagine, to find a present for Harriet to celebrate our unofficial and unannounced betrothal. A ring or brooch would have been too obvious, in a sense perhaps premature in any case. But a gift she must have.

  A books
hop called me – but I suspected she had books I’d never dreamed of. Nonetheless, I bought a beautiful edition of Northanger Abbey. I was tempted by a volume of poetry by Matthew Arnold. Would she find him too gloomy? How would she deal with the sentiments of ‘Dover Beach’? It went back on the shelf at once. What was I doing, looking in a haberdasher’s, of all things? I emerged the purchaser of a length of blue ribbon, the colour of her eyes; surely it might find a place on her best hat? And some fine chamois gloves.

  Thence to a gentlemen’s outfitters for new shirts and two splendid bow ties; and a bootmaker – my riding boots were a disgrace. On impulse, I added Samuel and Beatrice to my shopping list. Gloves for Samuel to match some I might need myself, and a return to the haberdasher’s for gloves like Harriet’s for Beatrice. They were not imaginative, I had to admit, but at least none of us would suffer from cold hands later in the year.

  I returned like a happy schoolboy. The fact that I did not know when I might find a moment of privacy to present the gifts added an almost enjoyable frisson.

  Supper was devoted to a discussion of my plans for Stammerton, which I conceded could not go ahead until George declared the roof watertight and I had accorded Pounceman the courtesy of breaking the news myself.

  ‘Don’t hurry with that!’ Beatrice said with a huge and decidedly unladylike wink.

  Harriet flushed deeply.

  I was spared the necessity of replying by the bell summoning Samuel.

  ‘She’s in a funny mood today,’ he said, as he hauled himself to his feet. ‘I might have to water the dessert wine.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the change in the weather,’ Harriet said. ‘Look at it!’

  ‘All the better for testing George’s repairs,’ I said, watching the drops hurtle down the window. But my heart sank. There would be no gentle walk for the four of us – the two twos – tonight. ‘It looks as if it’s here to stay. It reminds me of when I was a child, praying it would be dry in time for the next day’s cricket match – and I find that child in me again! What if I can’t try out my new grip tomorrow?’

  The rain drenched down all morning. George and I conducted a tour of the attics, finding only one leak in all the work he had organized.

  To celebrate – and to save him another soaking – I invited him back to my office to share coffee and Eccles cakes, some of Beatrice’s best handiwork. When we were done, I reached out the plans I had taken to Shrewsbury. ‘I would rather not start without his lordship’s approval,’ I admitted, ‘and meanwhile there is plenty of work left to occupy you and your team in the House.’

  ‘Ah, it’d be good to catch some of that dry rot before it spreads through the plaster and brick. Have you thought any more about all those paintings and such in the attics?’

  ‘They’re not mine to think about – nor, in fact, her ladyship’s.’

  ‘But some are really nice – and it can’t be good to keep them up there, getting hot or cold according to the season. They’d be better off in some of the bedrooms, surely. Which reminds me, gaffer, do you still need me to tackle the door in that locked room? It’s just the weather for an indoor job today.’

  ‘So it is. But we found the key for it. There are just odds and ends in there.’ I hoped he wouldn’t have occasion to find it was still locked. ‘Anyway, here are the plans.’ I unrolled them. ‘The church here, a school here …’

  He peered. ‘It’s a bit too dark to see, isn’t it?’

  I rang for Thatcher, asking for more lamps. ‘And could you ask Mr Bowman for a considerable favour, please – the loan of his spectacles?’

  I could not understand the tension. Something was simmering, I knew not what: it had been throughout the silent meal in the servants’ hall. At first I put it down to my imagination; I was as sulky as a bear at losing my game of cricket; I could not argue with the captains’ joint decision, conveyed to me in a brief note, but I could wish it had not been necessary.

  At last, adjourning to the Room, I saw yesterday’s beautifully ironed newspapers in a pile on the table usually occupied by Harriet’s reading matter. Why would anyone put them there?

  Samuel’s voice was unusually solemn – the point of pomposity, in fact. ‘It is a matter of great good fortune that I managed to prevent her ladyship from seeing these,’ he said, touching the pile before we sat down. ‘My dear Matthew, what are you doing?’

  ‘Forgive me if I tell you I do not have any idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Your name involved in a murder case. The Oxford Murder Case.’

  Flummoxed, I stared. At last I clicked my fingers. ‘Oh, the trial of the little girl alleged to have murdered her lover. But what does it have to do with me?’

  ‘What indeed? Your name is here, clear as day.’ He jabbed a finger at me. ‘I have to tell you that you are sailing very close to the wind, Matthew.’

  ‘Let me see,’ I said. ‘Oh, my apologies and thanks for these.’ I returned his spectacles. ‘Poor George is sadly in need of his own pair.’ Taking the top newspaper, I made my way to the window, to catch the little light available. ‘Thank goodness! My cousin has agreed to defend her! Mark Rowsley, Samuel, not Matthew! He is my cousin.’ The clever cousin, who drew up my contract. Criminal law was not his forte, but even I would have been able to make inroads into the prosecution case.

  ‘It is your doing, then?’ Samuel spluttered.

  ‘My doing? I wrote to him alerting him to the case, of course I did, when I saw it.’

  ‘But he shares your name. Consider the affront to the Family that he should take on such a case!’

  Had he gone mad? Mark was a lawyer. What would anyone expect him to do but take on a case? ‘Let us sit down and talk like the friends we are,’ I said, desperate not to lose my temper.

  Harriet said firmly, ‘The tea will be stewed if we do not drink it. Beatrice? Samuel? Matthew?’ The smile she awarded me as she passed my cup was so intense it seemed her face glowed. ‘Perhaps, Matthew, you could tell Beatrice and me why the case so outrages Samuel?’

  What a strange way of putting it. But I thought I understood.

  ‘The case is likely to become a cause celebre.’ Samuel and Beatrice would just have to keep up. ‘I read about it in a paper the other day, and’ – I must choose my words carefully – ‘and I knew at once it would be hard for the defendant to get a fair trial. In brief, a girl had sexual relations with him in a back alley of the town. She stabbed him. The defence is that … I don’t know what angle Mark is taking. Ah! Here we are: he’s spoken to the press about his plans for Monday. “Eleven years old … small for her age … evidence that she was a virgin … drunken jape … night out with six friends, all witnesses … eight o’clock the following morning … ” Well done, Mark. Just the line I’d have taken!’

  Samuel was still blustering. ‘You are proud that your cousin is defending a murderer!’

  ‘I am very proud that he is acting as a defence lawyer. At such short notice, too.’ I spoke with the most naïve enthusiasm I could, as if I knew that they all really shared my beliefs, and that Samuel was merely acting as devil’s advocate. ‘I couldn’t believe that the poor little girl had no proper legal representation so I brought the trial to Mark’s attention. I told him I’d only pay his fee if he won, too,’ I added with a smile.

  ‘You are paying for this – this scandalous behaviour!’

  ‘I am paying for a child of eleven to have a defence lawyer. In the interests of fairness, since I should imagine the witnesses, the sort of young men I came across at university, will have prepared their story beforehand to make themselves look good. You see, not all students behave like the gentlemen they eventually become. Not when they are drunk. I have seen – no, I will spare you since many of their little amusements are not fit for any sober person’s ears, man’s or woman’s. One of the least bad – and even telling you this disgusts me – was playing football in their college quadrangle. The football was a hedgehog.’

  ‘A hedgehog? In my last place
we had to invite the sweet little things into the kitchen to deal with the beetles!’ Beatrice said. ‘Shame on them.’

  ‘Did these students inflict similar harm on humans?’ Harriet asked quietly.

  For answer I touched the newspaper. ‘Can you imagine otherwise? I am sorry – the men I knew were foolish boys thinking they were unfettered by the law and even by the laws of common decency. Yet at least three are now barristers, and two are clergy-men. When those louts grow up,’ I added, touching the newspaper, ‘they will blush with shame for their part in this.’

  ‘If they have committed perjury, they may blush before that,’ Harriet said.

  ‘Sadly I doubt if it will come to that. It’s one thing to find what a lot of people will still see as a guttersnipe walk free, quite another to send a group of “young gentlemen” to jail for lying.’

  ‘Of course.’ Her anger sizzled.

  ‘And quite wrong, I agree. Remember, the law is made and enforced by the same sort of person.’ I stopped abruptly. I was in the right, of course, but there was no point in upsetting Samuel further, when I knew I had the one person who truly mattered on my side. Truly, I think that everything I said had been directed at her.

  ‘So had Maggie taken a knife to her villainous seducer, would you have condoned that?’ Samuel persisted.

  ‘I do not wish anyone ever to take another’s life. “Thou shalt not kill.” But sometimes, just sometimes, there may be extenuating circumstances. And justice must always be combined with mercy.’

  ‘Would that mean letting her get off scot-free?’

  ‘A young man seduces a very young woman and gets her with child. She will walk to Wolverhampton on her own. She will give birth in absolute poverty. If she had struck him with a weapon and hurt him, would she not have been justified? I am not a judge, thank goodness.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I have shocked you, my friends, and I am sorry. But sometimes friends have to agree to differ on certain subjects, for the sake of their other friends, if for no other reason. To be frank with you, when I read about the trial, I saw not an anonymous child in the dock, but yes, I saw little Maggie. That’s why I acted as I did.’