The Emperor (28 page)

The second course was no better. Instead of the goose
she had particularly ordered there were four ducklings in
blackcurrant sauce; the oysters she expected appeared
under the guise of crayfish, and the piglet seethed in milk was represented by a quarter of lamb stuffed with apricots. Only the cheesecakes, Lucy's particular favourite, remained unchanged, and the Yorkshire curd tarts for which Barnard was famed equally with his onion soup.

She had been mocked, she thought. Looking up the table towards her mother-in-law, she acquitted her of having
changed the menu: it was the cook's doing entirely, and
since, on reflection, she knew there was nothing she could do about it while Jemima was mistress, she was prepared to forget it and enjoy herself. It was at that moment, unfortunately, that she caught her husband's gaze upon her and, meeting his eyes, received from him a faint and mocking smile.

Did he know? Had he guessed? Surely that was impos
sible? If he saw her looking about her at the dishes, there
was no reason for him to assume anything from that. She
was sure he could not know — unless one of the servants had
told him? Under his eyes she reddened slowly and turned from his gaze, her pleasure in the evening spoilt. All around
her the talk rose like bubbles, a froth of pleasurable
comment on the day and speculation about tomorrow, and she listened inattentively, her mind turning resentfully to old wounds.

Suddenly her attention was caught. Helena McNeill had asked James which horse he thought would win the big race the following day.

‘I cannot advise you,' he replied cheerfully. 'Whichever
horse wins, it will have to do it without my support, for I
shall not be there.’

Mary Ann looked at him, and though he did not betray
by so much as a flicker that he was aware of it, she knew he was.

‘But how can you bear to miss it?' Miss McNeill said,
laughing. Mary Ann saw she did not believe it. 'Do not,
pray, be telling me you are giving up pleasure for work. I should be so disappointed in you!'

‘
No, not for work, but for another, greater pleasure,'
James said. 'Tomorrow I shall do myself the honour of
restoring a piece of property to its rightful owner.'

‘What can you mean? What property? To whom?'

‘Something precious which has been in my keeping for a long time, until the owner could claim it. There were times when I thought I would never be able to give it back, but I have kept it safe all the while, untouched and unblemished. She shall have it tomorrow. I would not keep it from her a moment longer.’

Miss McNeill did not, of course, know what he was
talking about, and teased him obligingly about there being a lady in the case, and he talked some nonsense to her to keep
her amused. Mary Ann knew that it had been said not for
Miss McNeill's sake, but for hers. There seemed to be a dull ringing in her head, as if someone had boxed her ears, and the talk around the table was drowned by it, as she stared ahead of her at nothing and put together piece after piece of evidence to come to a conclusion.

So many things became clear all of a sudden: James's behaviour towards her since they first married, his violence
when she had used the phaeton, his moroseness, his
drinking, the extraordinary tension in the house the day Hèloise had appeared; the strange fact that while she had been staying at Shawes she had never once set foot inside
Morland Place; the fact that she had not come to stay for
race week; and finally James's long day exercising the cream ponies in the phaeton she had been forbidden to touch.

Bitterly Mary Ann considered her own stupidity: that she
knew the truth even now she owed not to her own wit, but
to James's desire to hurt her, because she was not the
woman he loved.

Lord Ballincrea spoke to her; she was aware that it was
the second time he had spoken, and she forced herself to answer, to smile, to appear normal. However badly James behaved, he would not goad her into betraying her position and her upbringing. Somehow she must get through the
evening; and somehow she did, and stood at last alone at
the door of her bedchamber, more weary than she had ever felt before.

Dakers undressed her and prepared her for bed, chattering at first about the evening, and falling silent when she saw her mistress was not responding. 'You get into bed, madam,
and have a good night's sleep. You're over-tired, I know.
You'll feel a different person in the morning.’

Would to God I could be a different person, Mary Ann thought. Dakers was talking about hot milk, and Mary Ann dismissed her abruptly.

‘Let me see you in bed first,' Dakers said cunningly, but
Mary Ann ooly turned away from her with a vague look,
and reluctantly the servant withdrew. Mary Ann sat by the
window for a long time, until the house settled, and then
taking her candle she left her room and walked quietly along
to the bachelor's wing. She knew which rooms Ned and
Chetwyn had been put into, so James must be in one of the
others; but as she entered the corridor, she saw Durban
coming out of one of the rooms, so she had no need of
guessing.

She passed him without a glance, aware of his puzzled
glance at her, and tapped upon James's door, opening it
before he could reply. He was in his bed, leaning towards his candle as though he had been on the point of blowing it out. A look of consternation crossed his face at the sight of her, quickly replaced by his blankest look. He sat up straight in bed and said, ‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’

She stood in the centre of the room, contemplating him. Now she was here, she hardly knew how to begin. In the candlelight he looked very young in his nightcap, with his ruddy hair and his cheeks flushed with wine. He was very handsome; would have been more so if his expression had been pleasant and happy.

‘
I know where you are going tomorrow,' she said, and
was slightly surprised by the words, not having been quite
sure what she was going to say until she said it. James raised
an eyebrow.

‘Indeed. How clever of you,' he drawled.

There were shadows swooping around the room, and
Mary Ann became aware that her hand which held the
candle was shaking. She felt sick inside with fear and anger,
and the horror of facing and articulating what they had both always kept unspoken.

‘
How dare you?' she said quietly. 'How dare you treat
me so?'

‘How do I treat you?' he mocked.

‘With such – such insolence!' she cried passionately. am your wife, your wife!'

‘Do you think I can ever forget it?' he said bitterly.

‘In God's name, why did you marry me?' she cried, and then waved the question away with her hand, making the candle flame dip wildly. 'No matter why. That makes no difference. You married me, and that was your choice, and you have
no right
to treat me like – like – ‘

She could find no simile. James stared at her, not in the least inclined to laugh at her confusion. Her face was taut with fury, she looked magnificent with her fine hair flying
loose about her shoulders and her eyes glittering like
burning coals in the candlelight. This was an aspect of his wife he had never seen. Her monumental calm, her passivity, her statuesque coolness – he had thought these not the surface but the real Mary Ann. He felt a dawning of some new feeling towards her – respect, was it? But for the moment he had his own end to keep up. 'You accuse me of treating you badly?' he inquired ironically.

‘But after all, you married me of
your
own choice. Or was it love?' he sneered.

Her nostrils flared at the tone of his voice. She felt her cheeks burning, and her voice shook as she answered him. ‘Yes, I chose to marry you, and God knows I did not expect you to be in love with me, any more than I was with you. I
am not a romantic fool. My father chose you as a good
match for me, and I accepted you on those terms. I have put up with your breaking of your marriage vows; I have put up with your neglect, with your slights; I have turned a blind eye to your drinking and your – and the other things you do
during your trips to the city.' James's eyes shifted at that,
and she paused for a moment, her breath coming light and fast.

‘But I
will not
have you publicly humiliate me!' she concluded in a rush. 'I am your wife, and I insist that you treat me with respect. Today at the races, you spoke so
insolently to me in front of Lord Ballincrea that I saw he
was shocked – '

‘
Oh, yes, Lord Ballincrea! Quite your
cher ami,
isn't he?
I wonder if he isn't what's behind this little outburst.'

‘
You dare to cast your insinuations at me! And if he were
more, if he were my lover, what right would you have to
reproach me? But you know he isn't. And tomorrow –
tomorrow – '

‘What I do tomorrow is not your business,' James said sullenly.

‘If you drive that carriage and those horses to Coxwold along the public highway, everyone will know where you
have gone, and why, and that is very much my business,' she
said burningly. 'You must not, you shall not! I will not be humiliated so!’

She stopped, and for a moment they stared at each other, she trembling with outrage, he frozen with shock and then his eyes dropped, and she saw his mouth tremble, and for a moment he looked agonizingly like Fanny trying not to cry.

‘Go to bed,' he said in such a muffled tone of voice she could not tell whether he spoke in anger, shame or defiance. ‘Go to bed.’

She looked a moment longer, and then knew she must go before her legs gave way under her, before the tears burning behind her eyes forced their way out. She turned and went
out, leaving him to the solitude of his own unwelcome
thoughts.

 
James greeted the first tentative cock-crow of dawn with the
relief and gratitude only known to those who have lain
awake all night. He got out of bed and opened his curtains
to look out, placing his hands against the window panes with
the unconscious gesture of a prisoner. The sky was greenish-yellow, streaked low down with thin purple bars of cloud. Away to his right there was a glow on the horizon where the
sun was waiting like an actor in the wings for the cue to
enter; then suddenly the edges of the clouds caught fire, deepening their purple almost to black by contrast, and the
first gilded fingernail of the sun's rim appeared, broadening
to a pool of molten gold as it lifted clear of the earth.

James watched, his mind curiously blank. The hours of
darkness had resolved nothing for him. The only action he
felt capable of performing was taking the phaeton to
Héloïse: that was something which required no thought, a
discrete decision, leading nowhere. Beyond it he did not dare to look, as a man balanced on a knife-edge will not
look down into the chasm to either side of him.

He dressed himself, and left his room. It was early, and
the house was still sleeping, though from up the backstairs
came sounds to indicate that the servants were astir; and
when he stepped out into the yard, he was observed by M. Barnard, who was taking his morning breath of air at the buttery door. The Frenchman regarded him shrewdly as he walked towards the stables, and then went back into the
kitchen, seized the nearest kitchen-boy, and with a
surprising access of English, despatched him up to the
servants' quarters, to warn Durban that his master was abroad.

James found no-one in the stables but the two boys
whose turn it was to do the early watering, but the horses
knew what time it was, and their soft whickerings and
stampings would soon wake the rest of the stable staff. He
set the two boys to groom the cream Arabs while he went to
 
mix them a feed, and when he emerged from the fodder-
room, he was met by Durban, neatly clothed, his face
expressionless, like a caricature of the perfect servant.

‘
What are you doing up at this hour?' James asked,
knowing nothing of the alarm system he had set off.

‘
Better let me take those, sir,' Durban said evenly,
removing the two buckets from his grasp. 'We'll be needing
two more feeds for Nez Cane and Forest. Would you mix
them, sir, and I'll start the grooming.’

Durban could guess something of his master's state of
mind, and by asking nothing and assuming everything, he
hoped to induce James to believe that he had meant all
along to take him with him. By the time the rest of the stable staff were tumbling sleepily into the yard to tackle their first
tasks, James was driving out through the barbican, with
Durban behind riding Forest and leading Nez Carré.