Rustication (30 page)

I knocked at Effie’s door and heard her say come in. I thought at first she must have taken me for Betsy for, although the room was dark and the only light came from a small fire in the grate, I could see that the tin bath was before the hearth and that Effie was sitting in it. I began to back away closing the door but she called out:
Don’t be shy, Richard. Come on in
.

I kept my eyes cast down and she ordered me to sit on a sopha nearby which was made up as a bed. The door of the inner room was open and I saw a large bed in there. The room was very warm—there was a fire blazing in the hearth—and the air was heavily scented with some exotic fragrance—attar of roses? sandalwood?—and my head swam with it. As we spoke I looked up and she was silhouetted against the fire. I could almost make out her breasts. I could hardly pay attention to what she was saying. Seeing my embarrassment she laughed and said:
You’re my brother, Richard. And it’s almost pitch dark. There’s no impropriety
.

I looked up and she splashed water over her neck and bosom. She started talking about the ball and how much she and Mother were looking forward to it and how it would break Mother’s heart not to go. I hardly know what we said but I gave way and said that I had not intended to be taken seriously when I said I would not go.

I left and came back here.

Δ

[This is the next of the anonymous letters relating to the case and it is again addressed to Mrs Quance.
Note by CP
.]

Friday 8
^th
of January, 11 o’clock.

M
other went out very early this morning before I was even down for breakfast. And Euphemia had already set off to walk to Thrubwell.

When Mother came back she told me she had been into the village to ask Mrs Quance to show her the letter the governess had told me about!

I asked:
Why did you do that?

She didn’t look at me. She muttered:
It was vile. Unimaginably vile. It said things about your sister that
. . .

She suddenly said:
Weren’t you known as Harry at school?

Yes. I preferred my second name at that time. What of it?

She stared at me without speaking. And then I understood. I said:
Mother, please tell me you don’t believe that I am responsible for those deranged letters?

She didn’t answer and continued to evade my gaze. There was nothing to say. If she could believe that about me, I was not going to defend myself. I got up and walked out.

· · ·

Can Mother really believe that I have been spewing out that filth? Can she think that I have sat up here day after day scrawling those letters that could only have come from some mad hell of rage and cruelty?

3 o’clock.

Utter, utter madness! I was walking through the village on my way to try to find Euphemia and see if I could catch Lloyd skulking after her, when I was suddenly accosted outside the shop by that lunatic Fourdrinier, red in the face and shouting. He started accusing me of having stolen some tool of his.

I asked him:
What in heaven’s name would I want with it?

He said:
Sirrah, the whole district knows what you wanted with it
.

I said:
What on earth are you implying?

He said:
You walk about at all hours of the night. You were strangely anxious to learn my address when we first met. Then only a few days later I received one of those vile letters
.

I shouted:
How dare you!

He began to walk away but I wasn’t going to let the scoundrel insult me with impunity. I grabbed him by the coat and hauled him back and demanded an apology. He started bellowing as if he was in danger of his life. Several of the onlookers stepped forward as if to support him. I saw that evil witch Mrs Darnton staring at me. I let go of the old fool and gave him a push.

I said
: You’re a depraved old lecher. A whoremonger. Everyone knows that
.

I turned my back on him and left him standing there.

½ past 5 o’clock.

Effie wasn’t back when I got home and Mother told me she wanted to have a serious talk. She began by saying that although Euphemia had tried to protect me for a long time, she herself had noticed the odd smell coming from my chamber and remarked my eccentric behaviour at times and realised that I was indulging in a very dangerous habit up in my room and that was what was making me behave so erratically. She had asked Euphemia if her suspicions were correct and after prevaricating for a while, my sister had admitted it.

I told her it wasn’t true. (I don’t want her to worry about me.) What she had smelled was merely an exotic variety of tobacco. I wasn’t sure if she believed me.

½ past 6 o’clock.

Dreadful. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. We can’t go on living together like this.

Euphemia got back this afternoon and burst into the parlour. She said to Mother:
Have you heard of this new shame he has brought upon us?
She gave Mother a grotesquely distorted narrative of my encounter with Fourdrinier and ended by saying:
Everyone in the shop was talking about how Richard assaulted the poor old gentleman
.

Poor old gentleman!
I exclaimed.
Repulsive old sensualist, rather
.

And it’s worse even than that, Mother. People are saying that Mr Fourdrinier’s stolen tool is the one that is being used to harm animals
.

Mother turned to me and said:
Your conduct is becoming more and more disgraceful. You seem to have cast off all restraints. Even after my warning, you behaved shamefully towards the Greenacres’ governess
only
yesterday
.

I tried to defend myself but Mother held up her hand and went on:
There is a graver charge against you, Richard
.
I understand from your sister that you have dishonoured this very house. Euphemia has told me that Betsy has complained of you
.

I stared at Effie. She said:
She has told me that you have given her presents. And cajoled her into committing various acts
.

I seized her by the arm and said:
What do you mean?

She squirmed and said:
Richard, you’re hurting me. Let go of me. You’re frightening me. But I’m telling the truth. Betsy has told me of the disgusting way you’ve been pestering her. The filthy things you want her to do
.

I was so surprised I released her.

She sprang away rubbing her arm and said:
Can you deny that you’ve indulged in unrestrained grossness with the poor child?

How dare you!
I said.
And what a hypocrite you are! You’re the one who’s gross. Everyone knows what you’ve been doing in the tower with that man
.

She stared at me sullenly.

I won’t have this
, Mother said.
Richard, go to your room
.

No
, I said.
You need to hear this, Mother. What those foul letters accuse her of, it’s true. She has been meeting that man. On the Battlefield. And then he takes her to the tower on the hill and . . . Well, he has it fitted out for entertaining women. I won’t say any more
.

They both stared at me: Euphemia in horror that I knew so much and Mother in dismay at learning the truth.

Then to my astonishment Mother seemed to lose control of herself completely. She almost screamed at me:
That proves it! You’re the one. Nobody in the world believes that nonsense apart from the madman who’s been writing those foul letters
. She paused and said more calmly:
I’ve decided. You leave the house tomorrow morning
.

I stared at her in amazement.

Then something even more extraordinary. Effie spoke up for me! She said:
Mother, you’re quite wrong. I know Richard has been behaving strangely but I don’t believe for a moment that he has anything to do with those letters
.

I don’t know whether Mother or I was the more surprised.

You’re mistaken, Euphemia. The last letter Mrs Quance has received, the one she showed me
this morning, it makes exactly that allegation—that absurd allegation—against you. In the coarsest terms. And not only that. It displays a vicious—a quite deranged—hatred of Maud Whitaker-Smith and her family for the harm they’ve done to us
.

That proves I can’t be the author
, I protested.
I don’t know what they did
.

Don’t you?
Mother said.
Hasn’t your friend told you the whole story?

Bartlemew? How could he? I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back
. I corrected myself:
I haven’t spoken to him
. Mother gazed at me with such open disbelief that I faltered not because I was lying but because I couldn’t bear to see her look at me like that.

You’ve been in correspondence with him
, Mother said coldly.
But one thing above all convinced me though, God knows, I didn’t want to be convinced. When we went to tea with Mrs Quance you teased her with the word “lucubrations.” A little later a disgusting version of that word appeared in one of the letters she showed me this morning
.

I don’t know what you are referring to, Mother. So I can’t defend myself
.

There is no defence. The evidence is overwhelming—the parallels with the letters, the actions I’ve seen and heard you commit, what you’ve been doing with Betsy, and Mr Fourdrinier’s claim that you stole the implement being used in the attacks. I’ve made a decision, Richard, and it’s irrevocable. Tomorrow morning you leave here. I have a few sovereigns I can spare you. You depart this house and this district. You go to Thurchester and you get on a train to somewhere. I don’t know where and frankly I hardly care. But you leave here for your sister’s sake and, if it comes to that, for mine
.

Before I could say anything Euphemia exclaimed:
No, Mother! Let him stay a little longer
.

Mother remained obdurate.

Then Effie turned to me:
Leave us, Richard
.

I obeyed.

11 o’clock at night.

So my own mother thinks I’m a night-prowling madman! Isn’t your mother supposed to be the last person to give up on you?

And I’ve been betrayed even by Betsy.
I thought you liked me
. And I didn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to.

They’ve been shut up in that room for
½
an hour. I must try to find out what they are talking about.

½ past 11 o’clock.

Shamefully I lurked outside the parlour door but nothing was audible except the murmur of voices. Then I heard a quick step and hastened into the hall. Mother came out walking fast. As she passed she started at the sight of me and shot me such a haggard, careworn look that I almost forgave her for the cruel things she had said. I turned to follow her but Euphemia hurried out and seized my arm:
Let her go, Richard. I want to talk to you
.

She almost pulled me back into the parlour. We sat down and she said:
You don’t have to go away. I’ve convinced Mother that you didn’t write those letters or do any of those other things
.

I hardly knew where to begin. If that was so, why did Mother look as if she had aged ten years?

What did you tell her?
I asked.

Never you mind and I don’t want you to ask her. Anyway, she won’t tell
you
.

I’m going to wait until Effie has gone to bed and then try to talk to Mother.

A ¼ past midnight.

I sneaked along the passage and knocked very quietly at Mother’s door and went in. The sitting-room was deserted. I tapped at the door of the bedroom and cautiously pushed it open. Mother was lying fully dressed on her bed holding an open bottle of wine. It was nearly empty and there was no drinking-glass. She looked up at me in terror, frowning and squinting. I had never seen her like this—apart from the night I returned from town, but this was much worse.