The Four Swans (39 page)

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Authors: Winston Graham

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas

BOOK: The Four Swans
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Morwenna shook her head. `I cannot pray with you, Ossie.’

`Then I shall pray alone - and aloud - beside this bed.’

`You may pray - I cannot stop you. But I must ask you to look elsewhere for the-the satisfaction of your desires.’

`That I cannot do. I am bound to you by the sacrament of the church.’

`It has not prevented you from, disgracing my sister.’

`Then you must help me to try to avoid such error in the future. It is your duty. Your bounden duty.’

`It is a duty I cannot fulfil.’

`You must. You swore it.’

`Them I must break my oath’

He began to breathe more deeply, as anger and frustration grew, in him again. `You must help me,. Morwenna. I need your help. I will just say a little prayer.’

He came to the foot of the-bed and knelt down in his tight nankeen trousers. She stared at him with. horror.

`Lord God,’ he began. `Creator and protector of all mankind, giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life, send Thy blessing upon us, man and wife, that we may cleave again and be of one flesh. We beseech Thee -‘

‘Ossie!’ she screamed. Ossie! You shall not touch me!’

‘-and look mercifully upon Thy servants, that with meek and quiet spirit we may enter–’ He broke off his prayer and looked at his wife. ‘You cannot deny me, Morwenna. It is against the teachings of the church. It is even against the explicit law off the land. No man in law can commit rape upon his own wife. The definition of marriage renders this impossible –‘

`If you touch me I shall fight you!’

`Almighty and ever-living Father, who by Thy ordinance did institute the holy state of matrimony. in the time of man’s innocency so that -‘

`Ossie`!’ she whispered vehemently, ‘Ossie! And I shall do something else. Listen to me. If you force: yourself upon me-tonight or any night in the future - the next day - some time during tomorrow or the next day - I will kill your son.?’

The praying stopped. Mr Whitworth unparted his hands and looked across the length of the bed at, the anguished woman pushing Herself away from him towards the curtains of, the bed canopy.

`You will what?’

‘You think I love our son? Well, yes, I do. Partly I do. But not so much as I hate what you have done. We are bound together by the vows of matrimony, and so I cannot leave you. And so - and so, if you agree never to touch me, never even to touch me again, I shall continue as your wife, shall be it in name, shall look after our son, shall be a good mother to your daughters, shall tend the house and help you in parish matters. No one shall say I ever fail in my duty to you or to them! But – come near me, touch me, force your body upon me, and next day or the day after I will kill your son! I promise it; Osborne, I promise it before God! And -nothing, nothing you can do or say will alter me!’

He got up. `You’re mad! You’re insane! Merciful heaven,’ you are utterly out of your senses! You should be locked away in Bedlam!’

`Perhaps. Perhaps that is what will happen to me after John Conan is dead. But you cannot have me locked away before, for I have done nothing and would deny that I had ever threatened you - or him. But I’ll do it, Osborne. I swear it to you! I swear it to you ! Before God I swear it to you !’

He was on his feet, licking his lips, staring at the fury he had aroused. Could this be the demure girl he had married? This drawn up, convulsed, tear-stained shrew who was prepared to spit at him like a cat if he made another movement towards her? And threatened such a thing! And threatened his son! John Conan Osborne Whitworth, his first male heir ! And her son too! Could she possibly mean a word of it? Nonsense ! It was just the hysteria of an overwrought woman working herself into a frenzy over some real or fancied wrong she had suffered! He remembered the convulsions she had had during childbirth. It was clearly all part of the same nervous malfunction. Tomorrow she would altogether have forgotten what she had said tonight. Yet … was it not best to leave her just this once? Was it not better, a little bit safer this once not to bring the situation to a head, especially with the other beastly sister in the house?

What a day! A dreary wedding, offensive to his very soul; a frustrated whist evening thanks to that old crock Pearce and now this! He stared at Morwenna again to see if by any chance her mood were changing, if perchance, having made her vehement protest, she was likely any moment to dissolve into tears, whereupon he might comfort her and then a little later come almost casually to share her bed.

But the tears on her face were tears of determination not of near collapse: The dementia was still upon her. He knew it was dangerous to give her best even once, lest she should think herself able to dictate to him in the future. Yet the alternative was to assert himself now, to crush her physical resistance and to claim his marital rights. It would not be difficult and it was not an unattractive prospect; but the threat, the spoken threat, echoed uneasily through his mind. If he took her now he would be worried tomorrow, worried for the health of his baby son. It was outrageous but it was a fact. Tomorrow

would be another day. Everything would seem different once Rowella had been out of the house and out of sight for a while.

He said: `You are grossly overwrought, Morwenna. You have been ill and I do not wish to upset you, again. I will leave you now. Leave you to think over your position in this household and your duties to me. But never again let me hear you say what you have said tonight ! Never! It is the greatest blasphemy that can be conceived of, even to utter it as an empty threat. Drive such evil from your mind, or you will, indeed become deranged and have to be put away. As your father’s daughter pray for forgiveness that such thoughts have ever been allowed, to enter your head. I too will pray for you. If you are not better in a day or so I will send for Dr Behenna.’

He turned and left her, shutting the, door behind him, with unnecessary force. It was a fair exit, covering up what he believed to be a temporary set-back. But that he forgot to take his coat and waistcoat with him was a measure of the defeat he had suffered

CHAPTER EIGHT

I

 

Just before Easter Drake learned that the Warleggans were back at Trenwith House, so he decided to call on Mrs Warleggan.

Geoffrey Charles had not come home at Christmas because his parents were in London, and Drake knew that the Easter Holiday at Harrow was of only two weeks’ duration, so there was no prospect of his being at Trenwith too.

He did not intend his call as in any way a presumption, and he would certainly try to make that clear at the outset; he just wanted a few minutes to speak respectfully to Mrs Warleggan about Geoffrey Charles and about the increasing persecutions to which he himself was being subjected. Having seen Mrs Warleggan in the distance more than once; and knowing the respect in which she was held in the surrounding villages, he could not believe she could be privy to what was going on.

He wanted to point out first that, though his liking and esteem for Geoffrey Charles was great, his continuing friendship with him was not of his special seeking. But living where he now did, he could hardly rebuff the boy or refuse to speak to him when he called. He valued his friendship and hoped it would continue all through their lives; but if, as seemed to be the case, Mr and Mrs Warleggan disapproved wholly of the association, then please would they put a stop to it from their end. If they wanted this, and then forbade Geoffrey Charles to come to Pally’s Shop, that would finish it. By no act on his part would he attempt to revive the friendship. But did Mrs Warleggan know that the farm immediately above his shop had been bought by a Mr Coke, who everybody said was a nominee of the Warleggans, and that as a result of this the stream running through his shop had been diverted so that in dry weather he hadn’t enough water to ply his trade? Did she know that attempts, partly successful, had been made to poison his well-water by dropping dead rats into it? Did she know that often carts and other articles he repaired for people one day were found broken again the next? Did

she know that some folk were no longer coming to him because they feared the consequences?

All this he was hoping to say, quietly and respectfully, and then he hoped to ask her if she could do anything to bring these occurrences to a stop. And supposing she were to tell him that this was all imaginary persecutions on his part, he had some small pieces of evidence to produce to prove his points.

He knew there was a risk that he might be refused admittance at Trenwith House. He knew he was only a humble tradesman and he knew his unpopularity with Mr Warleggan. So he had hoped for a day or two that he might be lucky enough to catch Mrs Warleggan when she was out in the village. But he did not see her.

So on Maundy Thursday he set out to make his call. It was a brilliant day but with a fierce east wind which made one walk brisk in the sun and shiver out of it. A heavy swell had developed overnight and the rollers kept overbalancing and sending-‘ up siphons of spray as the wind caught the cracking tips. The sky was gun blue and the landscape without colour.

Since his business was formal he did not take the forbidden short cut but went up to the gates and along the main drive. It was a way he had taken many times to see Morwenna and Geoffrey Charles two years ago. Whenever he passed the gates the pain-pleasure of that time returned; walking up the drive made it all more poignant.

As the house came in sight a solitary man crossed his path coming from the direction of the wood where he had picked the bluebells. Drake recognized Tom Harry, and he very slightly quickened his pace to avoid him.

`Hey!’ shouted Harry.

Drake had almost reached the second gate; which led into the garden.

`Hey you! Where d’ye think you’re a-going?’

He could only stop then. Harry was carrying a stick and he hastened up, his face sourly swelling.

`Well?’

Drake said : `I come to ask if Mrs Warleggan’d kindly see me for favour of maybe five minutes.’

`See you? What for?’

`I come to ask a kindness of her. Just to see her on a matter as concerns me close. I just want to go to the back door and ask. If she says no, I’ll come away again.’

`You’ll come away again afore ever you get there!’ said Harry’ His dislike for the Carne brothers had grown over the last year. First, Sam the Bible-preaching one, had tried to worm his greasy way round his girl, trying to turn her into a praying Methody and although he’d failed and although she laughed at Sam every time they passed each other by, he, Tom was not quite convinced that there hadn’t been some ill-wishing along the way, some stinking, crapulous Bible-spell that had been put on Emma - for though she was still his girl she still wouldn’t marry him, and upon-times she was moody and discontented and her big handsome laugh disturbed the crows less often than it had been wont to,

And second, and second, whisperings had been begun more than a year gone, and had eventually reached Tom Harry’s waxy ears, that all that there trouble with the toads, all the trouble that had come to Harry following from that, had been the work of Drake Carne, the younger brother, the one that was standing in front of him now, claiming with his arrogant, insolent, damn-cursing gall the right, the actual right to force his way into Trenwith House and talk with Mistress Warleggan. It was more than a decent man could stand. It was certainly more than Tom Harry was prepared to stand. He put his fingers in his mouth and, blew a piercing whistle.

Drake stared at him. This was the encounter he would have done - anything to avoid. He was not afraid of Tom Harry, stick or no, but the very last outcome he desired of this visit was that there should be fighting. He could hardly go on with this big gamekeeper barring his way; and a sure prejudice to the attempt to convince Mrs Warleggan as to the fairness of his complaint would be to leave one of her servants behind him with split lips and a bloodied nose and present himself to her in a likely similar state.

`Well,’ he said, `if you’ll not leave me through I must call ‘gain. Tis a peaceful request I came to make and tis no part of my wish to force myself anywhere. So I’ll bid ee good-day.’

`Oh, no ye’ll not,’ said Tom Harry with a tight’ grin. `Not yet just awhile. Overbrangled up-jumps like you did ought to be taught a lesson for trespassing on private property. Ye could be jailed for

less-!’

Drake heard footsteps behind him and turned to see, two other gamekeepers coming in. They were of Harry’s type and he had seen them about together in Grambler and Sawle.

`We caught a trespasser, lads,’ Harry said. `Like as not a poacher.

Reckon he’s been setten his snares in our woods. Got to be dealt wi, lads. What do ee say? One of the others had a stick, the third a dog’s lead. They came to within about six feet of Drake and surrounded him. They stared at him, then at their leader, not quite used to being asked for advice; not quite aware that they were not being so asked.

One said: `Reckon he’d best be took up to ‘ouse. Mr Warleggan’ll deal wi’ ‘im.’

`Nay,’ said Harry. `Nay. We don’t wish to be hard on him, lads, do we? Tis more a lesson he d’need. Just so’s he’ll mind not to come this way again. Just’ a bit of a cootin’ - Catch ‘im.’

Drake had made a sudden feint towards Harry and then darted with that exceptional speed of his between the two other gamekeepers. A hand clutched his coat, held, tore, held and then the coat was from his back and he was running. A stick had come across his legs making them numb, but he only stumbled and did not fall. He made for the wood.

He was much faster than any of the three men and would have reached it well ahead of them but for one thing. Across the first field was plain running, then over, a Cornish wall into a ploughed strip before the wood. Normally he could have jumped the wall with one hand on it, but he had not realized that some muscles were still numbed by the blow from the stick and his foot caught the stone at the top. Instead of landing lightly he fell over with a crash, all his weight awkwardly on one ankle and a pain shot up his right leg.

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