Enlightening Delilah (18 page)

‘Sit down, Sir Charles,’ said Amy wearily. ‘Now you must realize Delilah has had a very nasty experience. Very nasty. It is not you she dislikes at the moment, she is simply afraid of all men. If your courtship had not been so forward, she might perhaps be less afraid of you. If you want to win her back, then I suggest you begin to woo her properly and patiently.’

‘And what do you, a spinster, know of such matters?’

Amy looked like a whipped horse, and Sir Charles said quickly, ‘Forgive me. I did not mean that. But you must see how it looks from my point of view.’

‘I can understand your point of view,’ said Amy. ‘Now try to understand Delilah’s. She was badly beaten by Mr Berkeley and nearly raped. She may believe that is how all men are. I know you want to shout at her and give her a good shaking, but if you still want her, then that is not the way to go about it.’

‘Do you not think I, too, have sometimes had doubts about this marriage?’ said Sir Charles. ‘I was sometimes afraid that she would turn from a flighty girl into a flighty matron. But the love I had for her was so strong, I was prepared to take that risk. I can see now that I have had a lucky escape.’

Amy sighed. ‘And I can see your pride is badly hurt. Are you come to take her home?’

‘Yes. Mr Wraxall was knocked unconscious in a carriage accident. Mrs Cavendish is nursing him and he is recovering fast, but he is anxious to have his daughter back home.’

‘Then it is as well she goes,’ said Amy sadly. ‘You cannot travel alone with her in a closed carriage. Effy and I will go with you. It is the least we can do for Delilah. I have an account with the livery stables. We can set out in two days’ time.’

‘Why not earlier?’

A ghost of a smile played on Amy’s lips. ‘Because it will take some time to persuade my sister to face the evils of the countryside. Please think of what I have said, Sir Charles. Delilah is a warm and generous woman, a woman any man should be proud to court and woo. All it takes is a little patience.’

‘I shall call for her in two days’ time,’ said Sir Charles stiffly. ‘Your servant, ma’am.’

‘Absolutely ridiculous,’ raged Effy when she heard the plan. ‘You know how I detest the country, Amy. Bad smelly drains and bad smelly peasants. Besides, Mr Haddon is to take us to the playhouse.’

‘Look, Effy.’ Amy sat down and glared at her sister. ‘You are forgetting about our job, and that job is to find a husband for Delilah. She loves him and he loves her, but there’s fright on the one hand and pride on the other. We should see it through. Thanks to Delilah, our reputation is much restored. Now if only we could get her married, I feel we would be back in business again.’

In vain did Effy protest; Amy was adamant. Effy had made up her mind to pretend to fall ill when a letter arrived from Mr Haddon to say he was suffering from the ague and would be unable to escort them to the play. Effy thought of being left alone in the house (for she did not consider the servants as company), expecting every moment that another mad rapist would come bounding up the stairs. At last, she set her mind to travel to the dreaded country, deciding to wear a pair of smoked glasses so that she should not have to look too closely at the place.

When they finally set out, the mercurial English weather had changed again. The sky was leaden and a biting wind blew from the north-east. Effy, Amy, Delilah, and the maid, Baxter, travelled inside the coach and Sir Charles rode alongside.

Delilah had feared he would renew his attentions, but he was polite and chilly and distant and she consoled herself with the thought that she was better off not being married to such an icy mortal.

But she could not help glancing out of the carriage window at him. He rode easily and well. A cheeky housemaid, shaking a rug out of an upstairs window, blew Sir Charles a kiss and he smiled and raised his hat.

If that girl were in my employ, thought Delilah, I would send her packing. She took out a book and began to read.

When she looked up again, it was to see small flakes of snow beginning to blow outside the carriage.

‘What weather!’ said Amy with a shiver. She pulled down the window and called to Sir Charles, ‘How far to the nearest town?’

‘About ten miles, I think,’ he called back. The snow fell heavier and heavier. The wind had dropped, but great flakes blanketed the landscape. Soon, Sir Charles looked like a snowman on horseback.

Amy leaned out of the window again. ‘Tie your horse on behind,’ she called, ‘and travel inside with us.’

‘Madam,’ came Sir Charles’s voice, ‘I can assure you it is much warmer out here.’

‘Which means he is still in a huff,’ said Amy, slamming up the window. ‘Are you quite sure you cannot bear the idea of him, Delilah?’

‘We have been through all that before,’ said Delilah, barricading herself behind her book.

The coach creaked forward, becoming slower and slower.

‘I can’t see a thing,’ said Effy, wiping the glass with her sleeve.

‘Then take those dark glasses off,’ snapped Amy. ‘You look like a guy.’

‘I’ve heard there are highwaymen in these parts, mum,’ said Baxter with a shiver.

Suddenly they were surrounded by lights and noise. Amy seized the window-strap and lowered the window. They had rolled into the courtyard of an inn.

‘Praise be to God,’ said Baxter fervently.

The ladder was let down and the ladies alighted from the coach. Sir Charles had dismounted and was shouting orders to the ostlers.

‘Go into the inn,’ he called. ‘I shall join you directly.’

They made their way into an old-fashioned hall where the carcasses of game and legs of mutton hung from the ceiling.

Soon Sir Charles joined them and summoned the landlord. They all went up to their rooms, agreeing to meet in the dining hall as soon as they had washed and changed.

When they entered the dining hall half an hour later, it was to find they were not the only stranded passengers. The long tables were full of people.

It was a silent meal. Sir Charles was stiff and formal and icily polite and Delilah picked at her food and seemed on the point of tears. Well, what did she expect? thought Amy desperately. Doesn’t she realize she’s jilted the man?

Then Amy’s gaze softened as she looked at Delilah. Delilah had all the beauty that Amy herself had always longed to have. This stubborn pair, Sir Charles and Delilah, Amy thought, would probably go off and marry other people and be totally miserable. Amy drew the other guests at the table into conversation, but most of them were young men who seemed dazzled with Delilah, which made Sir Charles frostier than ever.

At last the meal was over and they could retire to their rooms. But it was still snowing hard and there seemed little hope they could set out in the morning.

Effy was sharing a bedchamber with Delilah, and Baxter had a truckle-bed set up in the corner of Amy’s room.

Despite her misery, Delilah was amused by Effy’s preparations for bed. Effy carefully wound her silver hair into curl papers, then she slapped her face vigorously with cream before tying a chin-strap tightly about her head.

‘Do you mind if I read for a little?’ asked Delilah.

‘If you must,’ said Effy huffily. ‘I shall put on my dark glasses to protect my eyes from the light.’

Delilah settled back against the pillows, opened a romance, and began to read.

It was a Gothic romance in which an Italian countess was locked in a haunted room in an old castle in Tuscany. In the book, Delilah had just reached the bit where the heroine was trying to persuade herself that the ghost of the murdered princess did not exist when a loud and eerie wail came from behind the tapestry. The description was so vivid that Delilah thought she had actually heard that sinister cry. ‘Get thee to Hell, or get thee to Heaven, but do not plague me, restless spirit,’ cried the heroine. Another eerie wail.

Delilah put down her book and frowned. That wail had not been her imagination. Then, from next door, she heard Baxter cry out.

Delilah climbed out of bed and pulled on a wrapper and went next door.

‘It’s Miss Amy!’ cried Baxter. ‘She do be mortal sick.’

Delilah nervously approached the bed. Amy stared at her with feverish, dilated eyes. ‘Who are you?’ she said faintly.

‘It is I, Delilah.’ Delilah sat down by the bed and took Amy’s large hand in her own. She looked up at Baxter. ‘You must fetch Sir Charles and tell him to find a physician. And get Miss Effy.’

Soon Sir Charles and Effy were standing by the bed.

Effy began to cry, wringing her hands, and moaning, ‘Oh, my poor sister.’

‘I shall go and search for a physician,’ said Sir Charles quietly.

Amy appeared to fall into a restless sleep. Effy, Baxter and Delilah sat by the fire, waiting and worrying. After an hour, Sir Charles entered the room with a small, elderly man.

‘Mr Mackay will take a look at Miss Amy,’ he said. ‘I suggest we all wait outside.’

They stood out in the corridor. Effy was leaning against Baxter for support, her lips moving in prayer. They waited and waited for what seemed like a very long time. Then the doctor came out, shaking his head.

‘Miss Tribble has caught a deathly chill,’ he said. ‘I have attended many such cases in this town and they all died.’

Effy let out a cry and fainted dead away.

‘Carry her to her bed,’ said Delilah to Baxter. ‘I shall sit up with Miss Amy. Tell me, Doctor, is there anything I can do?’

The doctor shook his head mournfully. ‘Very little now,’ he said. ‘I have bled her. Bathe her temples with cologne and keep the fire made up. She may surprise you by being very hungry. They are like that in the final stages. Give her any food she wants. I shall call again in the morning.’

Delilah’s voice trembled. ‘Is there no hope?’

‘You can pray,’ said the doctor, making his way to the stairs.

Delilah slowly entered the room. Sir Charles followed her.

Amy, with a face like clay, lay against the pillows. She was snoring horribly and her nightcap was tipped over one eye. Delilah gently straightened it and sat down by the bed. Sir Charles built up the fire and carried a chair over to sit with Delilah.

‘She
must
live,’ whispered Delilah. ‘She is always so strong, so well. I had come to love her.’

‘There is always hope,’ said Sir Charles gently. He smiled ruefully at Delilah. ‘You are having a miserable time.’

‘None of that matters,’ said Delilah fiercely. ‘If only she would recover.’

‘We will stay here and nurse her until she does,’ he said firmly.

‘Are you sure my father is well?’ whispered Delilah. ‘Somehow, Miss Amy’s illness has made me fear for him.’

‘Mr Wraxall will probably be restored to health by the time you return,’ said Sir Charles. ‘Let us call a truce, Delilah. We are not to be married, but we can be comfortable together while we care for Miss Amy.’

His voice was gentle and kind and his smile sweet. Delilah felt all those old treacherous stirrings in her body that she had almost forgotten.

‘Very well,’ she said in a stifled voice. ‘Truce it is.’

‘My hand on it.’ Delilah took his hand and then dropped it abruptly as if she had been burned. She muttered an excuse and went to her own room to change into a warm gown. Baxter was holding Effy, who had fallen asleep. Delilah returned to Sir Charles. They sat quietly together, taking comfort from each other’s presence as the hours slowly passed.

‘While Miss Amy sleeps, I may as well give you the gossip of Hoppleton,’ said Sir Charles. He began to talk softly while Delilah listened and watched his face in the firelight. ‘And you will not think me too bad a fellow,’ he ended, ‘when I tell you that one of my scullery maids was with child and I managed to find a husband for her before I left.’

‘You found a husband for her? How?’

‘One of the farm labourers was only too happy to wed her in return for a cottage and some money.’

‘Could you not find the real father?’

‘No. He was a travelling chapman.’

‘But does the girl
like
this labourer she is being constrained to marry?’ asked Delilah.

‘That does not enter into it,’ said Sir Charles. ‘Yes, she is delighted not to be turned out into the street.’ ‘But why should she be turned out into the street for something that was not really her fault?’

‘I cannot persuade myself the girl was entirely blameless,’ said Sir Charles dryly.

‘No, of course you can’t,’ said Delilah. ‘You must always blame the woman, must you not? I—’

Amy groaned and shifted in the bed. Then she sat bolt upright and stared at the bedpost. ‘Oh, bright angel,’ she cried. ‘You are come to take me home!’

‘Shhh,’ said Delilah, pressing her back against the pillows. ‘There is no angel there. Oh, Charles, help me. I cannot bear this.’

He put a hand on Amy’s brow and said in a deep, quiet voice, ‘You must rest and grow strong, Miss Amy.’

Amy appeared to lose consciousness. But her breath was rapid and shallow.

Sir Charles sighed. ‘You had best fetch Miss Effy, Delilah.’

Soon they were all clustered about the bed. A red dawn crept into the room. Amy tossed and muttered and then said feebly, ‘Effy, are you there?’

‘Oh, yes, sister dear,’ whispered Effy. ‘Don’t leave me, Amy. Please don’t leave me.’

Amy’s eyes opened. ‘I am going to a far country where there is no pain, no suffering,’ she said in a hollow voice. Tears were streaming down Delilah’s cheeks. Sir Charles gathered her in his arms and she leaned her head against his chest. Baxter fell to her knees at the foot of the bed and began to pray.

‘My last dying wish,’ said Amy faintly, ‘is that Sir Charles and Delilah will marry.’

‘Please tell her you will,’ cried Effy.

Sir Charles looked down into Delilah’s eyes. ‘We are a pair of fools, are we not? I love you with all my heart and soul, Delilah Wraxall. Will you marry me?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Delilah. ‘I love you, too, Charles.’

Amy sat up straight and raised her hands to heaven. ‘My blessing on you both,’ she said. ‘Now I can go to my grave with a clear conscience.’

Effy flung herself across her sister’s body. ‘I shall be all alone,’ she sobbed. ‘There is no one but you, Amy. I cannot live without you.’