The Wages of Sin

by Judith Cutler

  ‘No worse, or I would have summoned Page. How is Beatrice?’

  ‘How would you imagine? But she is puzzled: why is he not angrier? In his position, in Hortense’s indeed, I would be fulminating against the perpetrator! Even a model employee like Beatrice declares she would. Loyalty and devotion are all well and good, but that sort of behaviour, even from the most generous employer, is surely … unacceptable.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Neither of us wanted our conversation to end, but we could hear the voices of the churchgoers as they returned across the yard. I picked up the tray and followed her back to the sickroom.

  By now Samuel was awake and getting fretful, insisting that he must get up and dress. ‘I must serve her ladyship’s luncheon,’ he declared. ‘I must. No one else can do it.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Harriet said decisively. ‘Although it is Sunday, there are still plenty of footmen who could do it quite admirably.’

  ‘No! No!’ He pushed at the bedclothes. ‘It must be me! It must!’

  I looked at Harriet and then at Beatrice. ‘Laudanum?’ I mouthed.

  They nodded as one.

  ‘Come, my friend,’ I said gently, ‘you have trained your young men to perfection: what about Tim and Thatcher working together?’

  ‘Them enter her ladyship’s room? Never!’

  ‘Let us talk about it when we’ve had our tea,’ I said quickly. ‘Today Harriet entrusted to me the difficult and skilful task of making it. I hope you will approve and forgive my efforts if they don’t match Beatrice’s.’ As I spoke I supported him so that Beatrice could put the feeding cup to his lips.

  Letting her voice drop gently, Harriet gave a detailed account of the morning’s sermon. I cannot imagine that whoever gave it would be flattered by the result as he drifted into sleep.

  Beatrice insisted on staying with him for a few more minutes, though soon she would have to supervise luncheon.

  My office was a less compromising place for Harriet and me to talk, so we adjourned there – separately, of course, to maintain a vestige of decorum. She even seated herself at the far side of my desk: we were there to talk seriously, firstly about what should have been an entirely trivial matter – her ladyship’s lunch.

  ‘There must be two servants,’ she said firmly. ‘A maid, yes, but a footman in case her ladyship becomes violent again and needs to restrain her. Tim is excellent at serving, but he is still too young and anxious to take on the task.’

  ‘I might have just the person.’ I flung open the door. ‘Thatcher, step inside and close the door behind you.’ He did as he was told. ‘Now, you really must get out of the habit of lurking so close to doors where important matters are being discussed. I am sure Mr Bowman has trained you all to be as silent as the grave, but it might well seem that you are spying.’

  Red to the ears, he spluttered his apologies.

  ‘Very good,’ I said. ‘But this simply will not do. I think you have choices here. Continue as you are, and I will have you dismissed. Or learn to do as you are told.’

  ‘Sir! Please sir—’

  ‘Do I deduce you are doing what you are told? But by someone other than me? Well, that is another choice: tell whoever gave you your orders that you have been found out and cannot – in the words of the Bible – serve two masters. If you serve the other person, you cannot do it outside my room.’

  ‘But sir – please sir!’ I had not once raised my voice but he was near to tears.

  Harriet glanced at me: might she take over? ‘Dick Thatcher, we have known each other a long time. Since you were so high.’ She put her hand, palm down, about four feet from the floor. ‘Yes? You have never been very brave, have you, because you were afraid that if you got into a fight or even answered back you might lose your job, and your family would go hungry. Now, to someone who does not know you, you might seem strong and powerful. But I remember the scared little boy. I think you’re scared now, even though your family now work for Farmer Twiss’s cousin. So there’s no need to be frightened: you can be brave. And the bravest thing you can do is simply tell me the truth: who is telling you to spy on Mr Rowsley?’

  ‘I swore on the Bible, Mrs Faulkner.’

  ‘Very well. How did she persuade you to swear?’ Her voice was very reasonable – gentle, concerned. But the question elicited the response we needed.

  ‘She—’ He broke off, scarlet again.

  ‘Very well. Now, you need not tell her ladyship about this conversation when you prepare her luncheon table and serve her.’

  ‘But I’m not a butler. I’m just a footman!’

  ‘And as you probably know, our dear butler is too badly hurt to do this task himself. You are young and healthy, Dick. You will report to the Hall at eleven forty-five exactly. Do I make myself clear? Oh, and just to remind you: no more putting that ear of yours to Mr Rowsley’s door, for her ladyship or anyone else.’ At no point did she raise her voice above a quiet conversational level. She even smiled kindly as he bowed himself out.

  Once I made sure he was obeying her orders, I closed the door and kissed her hands. ‘You were magnificent, Harriet, far more effective than I would have been with all my bluster.’

  She accepted my tribute with a laugh. But then her quiet, watchful expression returned. ‘Something rotten is going on here, isn’t it? This violence. This spying. Spying on someone you would have thought had the Family’s absolute trust. You are totally beyond reproach—’

  ‘You may be biased in your judgement!’

  ‘I was not … as prejudiced in your favour … when I understood that you were trying to put heart back into the estate and tenant farms, not just milk them for his lordship’s hedonistic schemes. Perhaps,’ she added, her eyes twinkling again, ‘it was your decency to the poor and powerless that made me …’ She tailed off, cheeks aflame. She took a deep breath. ‘As I was saying, you are as honest as the day is long, so it cannot be that she suspects you of any misdemeanour. Which means, in my book, that she is afraid of you. Do you know why?’

  ‘No. That is the long and short of it. I wish I did: it might make things clearer. You don’t think, do you, that she believes I know what happened to his lordship? That I might have killed him? After all, I know of his – shall we call them peccadillos? – and had I a mind for revenge I know the estate well enough to be able to dispose of his body. All those heaps of leaf mould and mud from the lake, for instance. Or cottage gardens with flourishing bean rows. We spoke once of using lime-washed wallpaper to improve fertility: a body might do just as well. Or pigs like Alf’s with a taste for flesh.’

  ‘What?’ she gasped.

  ‘Apparently an enraged sow in farrow is a perfect executioner.’

  ‘Heavens, Matthew, all my time living in the country and I never knew that. So you could dispose of a body – his and Luke’s, of course! – with ease. That’s always a consideration when committing murder. Do you have a motive?’

  I spread my hands. ‘We have argued about money? He has forbidden me to develop Stammerton?’

  ‘That sounds a little academic. Would you kill for such a reason?’

  ‘Not personally, no. After all, I am at liberty to terminate my contract and find a more enlightened landlord if I wish. I was,’ I corrected myself, ‘until my circumstances, our circumstances, changed. I might kill if – say – I had been sweet on Maggie, or one of his other victims. Harriet, that is truly what I fear most. That some enraged young man has had his revenge and availed himself of one of those many hiding places.’

  ‘Would you condone it if one had?’ There was no laughter in her eyes now.

  ‘I would understand it. I would sympathize with the perpetrator. But despite that, I would want justice done and seen to be done.’

  ‘And what would that justice be? Being hanged by the neck till dead?’

  I shook my head slowly. ‘The perpetrator might be said to have been bringing justice on his beloved’s behalf. I would understand. I could forgive. The French h
ave a less cut and dried law than ours …’

  ‘Crime passionel?’ She could still surprise me.

  ‘Exactly. I suppose the law’s inflexibility is what prevented me from emulating Mark. But even he knows the law’s limitations – the biggest being that it was designed and enacted by rich men largely for their own benefit. I shall be so glad to introduce you to Mark: our after-dinner discussions will be a joy. Even if they bring us no closer to any conclusion than we are to determining why – if! – her ladyship is afraid of me.’

  The topic was discussed exhaustively over our tête à tête luncheon, though still no conclusion was drawn, except that perhaps that, given her newfound propensity for violence, her ladyship had gone mad and fancied I might be spying on her. Given the fact she had given me carte blanche to run the estate, I found this hard to credit – unless she wanted to make sure I was doing just that. But that didn’t ring true even to my own ears. ‘But, call me fanciful if you will, I am worried about Samuel’s safety in this building. If her ladyship has lost her reason – even intermittently – then perhaps she might come and finish what she started. If Dr Page was in agreement, he could be removed to my house, with the two of you to nurse him. She would not follow him there.’

  ‘But yours is a bachelor establishment, Matthew. Do you even have sheets for the bed?’

  ‘Indeed. And the beds are in fact made up. I was hoping for some visitors and – this was while you were so unwell, my love – Beatrice despatched some maids to spring clean the place, did you not?’

  Harriet narrowed her eyes in puzzlement.

  ‘My visitors did not materialize after all. So there would be no problem in accommodating you.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Samuel would have to have my bedchamber. Meanwhile, I would occupy his.’

  ‘On the grounds her ladyship could assault you as well!’ There was alarm as well as mockery in her voice.

  ‘On the grounds that I would be both locked in and have a chair wedged against the handle,’ I said, omitting to point out the fact that I might well be patrolling the building at a time when all might be presumed to be asleep.

  I did not need to. ‘You are planning something foolish, aren’t you? Remember,’ Harriet pointed out dryly, ‘it’s not just her ladyship you have to deal with – it’s Thatcher, who makes up in brawn what he lacks in brain.’

  ‘I might invite Elias to accompany me,’ I said, improvising. In fact, it seemed a good idea.

  ‘On what grounds? It would be a brave man indeed who admitted to being afraid of a woman!’

  It was the patient himself who scotched the notion.

  ‘Move me out of my own bed? I tell you straight, Matthew, I will not go. In fact, I’m getting up now to go and serve her ladyship’s dinner, and that’s final.’ He heaved himself unsteadily to his feet. ‘But you might help me to get dressed. I would take that kindly. Ouch!’ He sat down again, clutching his head. ‘The world is turning.’

  I laid him back gently. ‘Samuel, you are a good loyal man, the very best. But someone hit you so hard you might have died. So if you will not go to a place of safety …’

  He clutched my hand. ‘I cannot! And, to be honest, I fear I could not even if I wanted to. I have hardly been ill all the time I have served here. But now …’ He sank back with a sigh.

  Putting my head round the door, I summoned a servant, and passed him a note I had in readiness. ‘Take this to Dr Page now. Find him, wherever he may be. Now, I said!’

  In the event, all my fine plans for heroism came to nought. Dr Page deemed Samuel too ill to move, despite my covertly expressed fears for his safety.

  ‘I understand, and I am tempted to agree with you – not that I think anyone would have the gall to strike the poor man in his own bed. Perhaps I can suggest a solution: my apprentice, Job, is a strong young man. I will tell him that as part of his training he must watch over our patient, checking his vital signs and ministering to his other needs.’

  ‘Thank you. I will make sure he is well rewarded,’ I said.

  ‘Excellent. Now, while I am here, I will go and see how her ladyship does.’

  ‘Before you do, Page – the Rivers baby? Everyone will want to wet its head.’

  ‘A sturdy girl.’

  The women almost ignored the news about the baby beyond perfunctory hopes about her future. They were more concerned about Samuel’s health, of course, but admitted they were pleased with the neat solution. Even so, Beatrice did no more than toy with her supper; neither Harriet nor I was much more enthusiastic. I was keen to draw the meal to a close so that I could speak to Thatcher. I was pleased to see that he had survived the ordeal.

  ‘How is her ladyship? Did she enjoy a good meal?’

  ‘Sir, she was angry to see me. But she was more angry that I’d been sent in the place of Mr Bowman.’

  ‘Angry? I presume you told her how ill he was. Dr Page’s apprentice is staying overnight to nurse him, incidentally. Job.’

  Even the sturdy Thatcher looked impressed.

  ‘Go and have your own supper now. But remember, if the bell rings for Mr Bowman, you are to answer it immediately – mid-mouthful if necessary. If she has not rung by the time you finish your meal, you present yourself to her to enquire what she would like for dessert, and return to serve it to her. This is all good training for you, Thatcher, though you may not think so just now. Off you go!’

  He turned slowly, but then faced me again. ‘Mr Bowman – he will be all right, won’t he, sir? He’s always been good to us footmen – straight as a die.’

  ‘All we can do is pray,’ I said gently.

  Job arrived at about nine, quickly establishing himself in the sickroom. For their health’s sake, I insisted that since the evening was fine, Harriet and Beatrice joined me in a turn round the rose garden, the scent of which was almost overpowering. We strolled in silence, all no doubt, contrasting the happy evening when we walked as a foursome with tonight.

  ‘Some people,’ I said quietly, as we turned back towards the House, ‘believe that prayers are acceptable wherever they are raised. And I think a garden, in the cool of the evening, would be a good place, don’t you?’

  XXVIII

  Christiana Willes, the new master’s son calls me. Willes for short, as they call boys at school, he says. I am as good as any fellow he knows. Better than most. I am now not just the upper housemaid, but also the chief cricket coach, and Sir Peregrine has personally raised my wages by two guineas a month. ‘What is a little dust,’ he asks rhetorically, ‘compared to a son getting his cricket Blue?’

  But I know my place. Master Alfred tried to kiss me. He knows that if he tries again, I shall not teach him how to deal with the new way I have devised to make the ball spin when it hits the ground.

  I would like to kiss him.

  But I know that what that man did means I cannot ever kiss anyone or be kissed. Ever.

  When Master Alfred goes back to Cambridge, there are more guineas in my box, another ball, and a pile of books he tells me I shall enjoy.

  Though I have already read some of them, I relish every page.

  TWENTY-NINE

  It was remarkable how quickly the household settled back into its routine after the trials of Saturday and Sunday. Samuel was no longer feverish, but Dr Page, on his regular visits, insisted he must keep to his bed for a few more days at least, though he permitted Beatrice to reduce and finally to discontinue the dose of laudanum. Thatcher continued to carry out his duties, his demeanour becoming more sober and stately by the hour. But it seemed to be with some trepidation that he accosted me outside my office towards the end of Wednesday afternoon, bowing in the stiff-hipped way that Samuel himself cultivated.

  ‘Mr Rowsley, sir, I wonder if I might have a word in private?’

  ‘Of course.’ I unlocked my office door – it still seemed strange but now I deemed it necessary – closing it behind us. I gestured him to a seat, and retired behind my intimidating desk. In the
face of his continuing embarrassed silence, I said, ‘It seems to me that you have changed a great deal since our last conversation in this room. Yes?’

  I was rewarded with a bashful smile, which took five years off him.

  ‘But do I sense that something is troubling you? Are you worrying what will happen to you when Mr Bowman is well enough to return to his duties?’

  He blushed. ‘Well, of course, that does cross my mind. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish him well, sir. He’s been like a father to me, like I said. To all of us. I suppose, until he gets strong again, I might assist him, carrying trays and opening doors – that sort of thing.’

  ‘I will suggest it to him – recommend it, in fact, because you know as well as I do that he will wish to return to his post before he is truly recovered. But there’s something else?’ I leaned forward. ‘Thatcher, would you rather talk to Mrs Faulkner? You’ve known her a long time and it might be easier.’

  He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t want to worry a lady’s head with anything like this. And you may wish to sack me for even thinking what I … I’m sorry.’

  ‘Just tell me what is worrying you, young man. Dismissal could not be further from my mind.’

  There was a long pause. He gnawed a hangnail. ‘I wonder – sir, do you think her ladyship … this is why I can’t speak to Mrs Faulkner … Sir, might she have – I don’t like to use the word …’

  ‘Man to man, Thatcher,’ I said.

  He looked around, as if someone had replaced him as a spy. ‘Agentlemanadmirer, sir.’ He spoke so fast he blurred the words together.

  I was flabbergasted by the notion. ‘An admirer?’

  ‘She’s started to lock her door at all times – Florrie says she has to wait a long time on some occasions, and so do I. And I’d swear I heard a man’s voice once. Just the once, mind you.’

  All sorts of explanations, none I could share with him, chased each other round my brain. Personifying reason, I spread my hands. ‘Thatcher, how could a man – how could anyone – get into the House unseen? Get up to her rooms unseen? There is always someone around.’ But not in the Family wing, of course. The corridors had been deserted whenever I had been near the locked dressing room. Or had someone seen me? In an old house like this there might well be spy holes so that promiscuous husbands or equally adulterous wives might know if they were about to be caught out. Perhaps her ladyship had indeed got wind of my activities, and installing Thatcher as her informer had been her response. I thought Harriet would have a better chance of discovering that than I.