Sidney Chambers and The Forgiveness of Sins (14 page)

‘They don’t.’

‘So I am having lunch with Elizabeth.’

‘Good.’

‘And you’re coming too.’

‘Really, Amanda, wouldn’t it be better if you were alone together?’

‘No it would not. You are not wriggling out of this one. It’s in Cambridge next Tuesday.’

‘I’m sure I’ve got something on.’

‘Well, cancel it. Bleu Blanc Rouge, twelve thirty. Mark will be out. I got Henry to check. That’s one thing my wholly inadequate suitor managed to do for me. Now it’s up to us.’

Christmas was not the best time of year to be arranging assignations. Aside from seeing his family and sending out Christmas cards (a task that would, inevitably, fall to Hildegard), Sidney was about to embark on a run of carol services at Corpus, in church, and around local schools. He had also made a vow that he would call in on every parishioner personally to bestow the compliments of the season. Despite Malcolm’s diligence, he wanted to make it clear that this was his primary duty and that he was able to fulfil his obligations as a priest without distraction. As a result, he hoped that no one would see him when he bicycled across the meadows on a cold winter morning to meet Amanda at Cambridge station. The decorations were up and a banner had been hung across the entrance:
Peace on Earth, Goodwill to all Men
.

‘I see women don’t get much of a look-in,’ Amanda observed.

‘Is Elizabeth meeting us there? I hope she turns up.’

‘I think she’s desperate to tell someone what’s really going on.’

The Bleu Blanc Rouge had been decked with festive cheer and offered a menu that was a French version of the kind of food that might be served at Witchford Hall: a chicken chasseur, brandied roasted goose, turkey with chestnut stuffing and a
Bûche de Noël
.

‘At least we know it will be properly cooked this time,’ Amanda smiled before ordering a glass of champagne.

‘Do you think that’s appropriate?’ Sidney asked.

‘It’ll be gone by the time Elizabeth arrives, don’t worry.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait?’

‘She said she might be held up. We’re early. I didn’t want her to have to be stuck here on her own.’

‘I can think of worse places to be stranded.’

Elizabeth arrived fifteen minutes later and was unusually poised, dressed in a camel coat and scarf, dark woollen skirt, stockings and sensible shoes. Every part of her was covered but, Sidney supposed, it was winter. Amanda asked if her husband knew she was with them.

‘He has allowed me an hour and a half.’

‘Is that all?’

‘I think it will give him time to see his mistress.’

‘You know about that?’

‘He’s had one for years. Have you ordered?’

‘Not Nancy Hayworth?’ Sidney asked.

‘Her mother.’ Elizabeth spoke as if this was a natural state of affairs. ‘Why do you think Nancy works for us?’

‘Why would she want to?’

‘Because he pays her well. And she acts as her mother’s spy.’ She put down her menu. ‘I think I’ll have the goose.’

‘Does your husband know that you are aware of the situation?’

‘He thinks I’m not, but I am. And even if he knew that I knew, he can be confident that I wouldn’t make a fuss about it.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘I don’t have much choice.’

‘Because he frightens you . . .’ Amanda began.

‘Do we have to talk about this?’

‘Please . . .’ Amanda touched her friend’s hand.

‘I suppose he thinks it helps him get over Peter. Consolation I can’t give because I am part of the grief.’

The waiter came to take their order and Sidney tried to assess the situation. This was a very different Elizabeth from the woman who had been his hostess. He asked again about Nancy Hayworth. ‘Sir Mark seems very fond of her.’

‘He’s attentive to most women, Canon Chambers.’

‘Doesn’t that worry you?’

‘They are a distraction. And they put him in a good mood. It means he’s kinder to me.’

Amanda came to the point. ‘Not all the time.’

‘Please, Amanda, I didn’t come here to be lectured.’

‘Mark hits you, darling. We know. Please tell us.’

‘What good would it do?’

‘Perhaps we can help stop it.’

‘It’s too late for that.’ Elizabeth looked out of the window, perhaps hoping that by doing so her fellow diners would disappear. ‘Besides, I’m used to it. It’s not something anyone else should be concerned about.’

‘But we worry.’

‘That’s kind. I don’t think Mark knows the pain he causes. He says he hates himself afterwards, and he needs consoling. That’s hard sometimes, comforting a husband who has been violent. But he doesn’t mean it.’

‘Then why does he do it?’ Amanda asked.

‘Because he is lost. Because we don’t know who we are any more. Ever since Peter . . . I don’t know. He buys me presents to apologise.’

‘With your money,’ Amanda interrupted.

‘Our money. What’s mine is his.’ She held out her hand. ‘Look. He bought me an eternity ring. He knows that whatever happens we will always be together.’

‘Are you frightened of him?’ Sidney asked.

‘Not all the time.’

‘Most of the time,’ Amanda suggested.

‘Some of the time. Mainly in the evenings; and when he’s been drinking.’

‘That’s most of the time.’

‘It’s been getting better. He’s very sweet to me in the mornings – if he doesn’t have a hangover. And he says he’s trying to do better. He promises me it will stop.’

‘And do you believe him?’

‘He’s very sincere when he makes his promises.’

The food arrived and there was a temporary respite. Elizabeth asked Sidney about his Christmas preparations, Anna’s birthday (it was the following week) and if Amanda had seen any more of Henry Richmond. She thought he was coming for dinner in the next few days. How were they getting on?

‘Very well. But I am taking it as slowly as I can. I need to be able to look Sidney in the face when I tell him about these things.’

‘You don’t need my approval.’

‘You know perfectly well that I do.’

‘Dear, oh dear,’ said Elizabeth. ‘To think if you’d married each other we would have had hours of banter.’

‘Then it’s just as well we didn’t,’ Amanda replied, refusing to meet Sidney’s eye. ‘But, in any case, we’re not here to talk about my relationship but yours. When did your husband last hit you?’

‘Really, Amanda . . .’

‘Tell us.’

‘It wasn’t much of a blow . . .’

‘What was it?’

Elizabeth picked up a glass of water, looked at it, and then put it down again. ‘Sometimes I think it’s my fault. After Peter . . .’

‘That wasn’t your fault.’

‘Mark thinks it was.’

‘He was with his nanny,’ Amanda reminded.

‘Then we should have chosen a different one. Someone more reliable.’

‘You can’t blame yourself.’

‘I think Mark blames me for everything. He says I provoke him. I ask too many questions. I’m too nervous. I am not a good enough hostess.’

‘You’re a brilliant hostess,’ Sidney chipped in.

‘I’m not. I never know how to put people at their ease.’

Sidney put his hand on hers, and realised that he was covering the eternity ring. ‘Perhaps that’s because you are never at ease yourself.’

Amanda gave him a look that Sidney read as a form of punctuation: his gesture was too intimate, he had gone far enough. He withdrew his hand.

‘I can’t leave him, if that’s what you want me to do.’ Elizabeth pushed her food around her plate. She had hardly eaten.

‘I think you must.’

‘I made a vow on my wedding day. I cannot break it.’

‘Perhaps your husband has already done so . . .’ Sidney observed.

‘I thought you always spoke in favour of reconciliation?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Not if there is the danger of something worse.’

‘There is nothing wrong.’

‘We all know there is,’ Amanda said gently.

And then the mask fell and the tears came. ‘He says he can’t help himself. It’s because he is unhappy. He feels a failure.’

Sidney handed her a handkerchief. ‘He doesn’t look a failure.’

‘It’s an act. Some days he’s happy and excitable; at other times he’s unutterably depressed. That’s when he drinks. Although he drinks when he’s happy too. He says he doesn’t know who he is. He can never be the man he was expected to be, the man he says his father wanted him to become. He misses his mother. He doesn’t even know where she is or if she’s alive or dead. She abandoned him. And he thinks I might do the same. He says he can never hold on to things – not even a son. Everything flies away. He feels utterly alone. I suppose that’s why he has his affairs. He’s desperate. He wants to escape his fate but he can’t. He needs my money. And he says he can’t live without me even though sometimes he hates me for it. I should be more of a wife.’

‘Leave him,’ said Amanda.

‘I can’t. He needs help. There’s even a man in Harley Street but Mark won’t do anything about it. He’s too proud. He told me that he’d kill himself if I ever left him.’

‘That’s cruel,’ said Sidney.

‘I can’t put it to the test, can I?’

Amanda changed tack. ‘Henry’s going to talk to him.’

Elizabeth gave Sidney back his handkerchief and looked at her watch. ‘I don’t think that will do much good.’

‘He promised.’

‘Mark won’t listen to anyone. Serena tried again only recently . . .’

‘When?’

Elizabeth picked up her handbag. ‘Just before you all left. Now Mark says he never wants her in his house again. I don’t know what to do. Would you like me to pay for this?’

‘Not at all. We will help you,’ said Sidney.

‘Come and stay with me in London,’ Amanda offered. ‘Come now. Until things blow over. We can send for your things.’

Elizabeth stood up. ‘I have to go.’

‘He might kill you.’

‘Then I am at God’s mercy.’

‘That’s not enough,’ Amanda observed before Sidney could say anything.

‘All I can do is try to look after him. I want to make things right. If I leave he will follow me. That is what he has threatened. He will follow me to the ends of the earth and he will murder me. Then he’ll shoot himself. That’s what he says.’

Police cautions, Keating told Sidney, were rarely appropriate in cases of domestic violence. If something needed to be done then Sidney and Amanda would have to gather more evidence from potential witnesses. ‘The morality and practice of intervention in domestic affairs is incredibly difficult.’

They were in Keating’s car and had stopped before the final approach to Witchford Hall. Sidney had telephoned to ask whether he had left any of his shooting paraphernalia on his previous visit and the butler had told him that he was fairly sure this was unlikely, but if sir would like to call then he would be welcome at any time apart from Tuesday afternoon, when both Sir Mark and Lady Kirby-Grey would be out at a Rotary Club luncheon. Sidney and Keating had therefore picked this exact time for a visit in order to speak to the staff; and to Nancy Hayworth in particular.

The maid was not in uniform but wore a geometrically patterned black and white mini-dress, with dark tights and patent-leather ankle boots. A friend was coming to pick her up and take her Christmas shopping. ‘I can’t think what you want with me,’ she said. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’

Keating assured Nancy that he was not accusing her of anything. He only wanted to ask a few questions about her employers.

‘They don’t like me talking.’

‘Have they warned you not to?’

‘I shouldn’t be saying anything. You’d best speak to the butler.’

‘Do you like your job?’ Sidney asked.

‘What’s it got to do with you?’

‘It seems strange. You don’t seem to be a girl who would want to be in service.’

‘Some of us don’t have much choice.’

‘Did your mother get you the job?’

‘She put in a word. It’s not meant to be for long. It’s so I can save up a bit. I’m planning to go abroad. I quite fancy Switzerland. A friend of mine was a chalet girl. Managed to pick up a rich husband who ran his own perfume business. I like the sound of that.’

Sidney asked if there was somewhere private they could talk. It wouldn’t take long.

Nancy Hayworth went on the attack. ‘You should have asked when you were here last. I saw you on the back stairs. Snooping.’

‘I was trying to get some cocoa.’

‘No you weren’t. You were
snooping
. I’ve heard about you.’

‘Then you won’t mind telling me what was going on.’

‘I’m sure you could see well enough. That man gives me the creeps.’