The Poisonous Seed (20 page)

‘But our reputation!’ he squeaked.

‘As long as those allegations stand, we
have
no reputation!’

Frances left the house and strode rapidly down the street, by now so possessed with anger that she could hardly see.

A
s Frances walked to the Keanes’ house, her first passion of anger gradually subsided. She could not help arguing with herself, and as she did so her decidedly unladylike strides became a more moderate pace. Was this desperate approach really the correct course of action, and yet, she asked, what else was there she could do? Appealing to the sympathy of Inspector Sharrock was hardly likely to be successful, and Constable Brown, who would understand her plight, was powerless to assist. As she neared the house, still with no plan in mind as to how she was to gain an interview with Mrs Keane, her steps became less determined, and she thought again. Herbert, she was forced to acknowledge, was right, there was no possibility of her being admitted to the house, let alone confronting Mrs Keane; the lady’s husband would surely see to that. Frances knew she might enter though the kitchen and so make her way up the stairs, but that way she would be suspected of being a thief. Mr Keane had already seen her at the gallery, and entertained suspicions of her motives, how much worse would it be if she was found wandering in his house without permission? The consequences of such a situation to her family were too unpleasant to contemplate. Frances told herself she was doing a foolish thing, but at the same time she was unwilling to give up and go home without even trying to see Mrs Keane, since she would for ever afterwards be wondering if she might have succeeded had she gone on. There was, perhaps, just once chance – she must wait outside the house, unobserved, until Mr Keane departed, and then go boldly to the door. She would need some excuse to be brought into the lady’s presence. Perhaps, given the tendency of servants in the house to stay no longer than a few months, she might claim to be applying for a position of lady’s maid, something that would require a personal interview with Mrs Keane. The unhappy lady might be sufficiently bereft of female company to condescend to see her.

Frances calmed herself, smoothed her hair, and checked, as far as she could, that her garments were not in disarray, and walked slowly on. Whatever slight chance she had of admission to the house, it would be better if she did not come to the door resembling a madwoman. As she drew nearer to the Keanes’ villa, she heard voices, and these were voices not in conversation, but raised, as if in anger. As she drew closer, it became apparent that the dispute was taking place in the cobbled yard outside the Keanes’ coach house. So extraordinary was the sound, so unlike what one might expect to hear on a public street where persons of quality resided, that she hurried forward to see what was happening, and peered around the thick hedges that fringed the property. To her astonishment, she came upon a scene that would have been better suited to the popular stage.

The doors of the Keanes’ coach house were open, and the brougham was out, the horse harnessed, with the coachman and Adam, the young stablehand, in attendance. Mrs Keane was dressed in a travelling cloak, and Adam was putting a large leather handbag into the carriage, but as soon as this was done, Mr Keane, his face red with fury, strode over to the carriage, pulled out the bag and threw it violently to the ground.

‘Now go indoors and we will hear no more of this!’ he exclaimed.

Frances noticed that Mrs Grinham and Mr Harvey were at the top of the steps leading to the front door, peering anxiously at the unseemly events, while Ettie and Ellen were half inside the house, peeping out, their faces pale in wide-eyed alarm.

‘I will not remain in this house a moment longer!’ said Mrs Keane, her voice if anything richer and more thrilling than at the inquest. ‘You have made me into a criminal! I would rather live in want than stay here!’

‘How
dare
you accuse me!’ he raged. ‘You did it willingly! You took pleasure from it!’

‘Yes, I confess that much,’ she admitted. ‘To see everyone hang upon one’s words as if they are a treasure, how many desire such a thing – but I have thought upon it since then, and now I regret it. You have destroyed my love, James. I must depart.’

‘Do as I say!’ her husband exploded. ‘And you,’ – he turned and barked at the house servants – ‘get back into the house at once!’

Ettie and Ellen withdrew inside with squeals of alarm, but Frances saw their faces emerge from the doorway as soon as Keane withdrew his attention from them. Mrs Grinham and Mr Harvey stepped back less hurriedly to the doorway, but remained there, where Frances could still see them watching what was happening. The coachman shrugged and retired back into the coach house, but Adam stood quiet and still, a frown on his broad face, his fingers tightening into fists.

‘Now get back inside,’ snapped Keane to his wife. ‘Have you no shame, behaving in this way in front of the servants? Practically on the public street in full sight of our neighbours? You are making a spectacle of yourself!’

Mrs Keane laughed unpleasantly. ‘Oh, that I have done already and in a far worse way! I have reached the depths of iniquity, and you have brought me to it. My father told me I should not marry you, he said you were a rogue and a thief and a fortune hunter and he was right.’

He advanced upon her, and looked down contemptuously from his far greater height. ‘Your father is a beggar unless you go back into the house and abandon this indecent adventure.’

She returned his gaze without fear, her head tilted back defiantly. ‘I will not. I should have left before. My father will consider the price well paid for my happiness.’

He gave a derisive laugh. ‘I doubt that very much. You will earn only his curse. You already have mine. Now get inside and let us continue our lives of misery.’

She shook her head. ‘No, James. I cannot set foot in there ever again. Adam – put the bag in the carriage. I am leaving!’

Adam came forward to pick up the bag but Keane, without even turning to look at him, said, ‘Adam, if you so much as touch the bag you will leave the premises this instant.’

Adam hesitated, and looked at Mrs Keane. ‘Very well,’ said that lady, ‘I will not see a good servant lose his place.’ She picked up the bag herself and placed it in the carriage, then went to climb up the steps.

‘You had better climb up on top and drive it yourself for no servant in my employ will drive you!’ said Keane with a sneer. ‘Don’t be foolish, woman!’

She hesitated, and then stepped down with an air of dignity. ‘Very well,’ she said, calmly. ‘I had assumed that you would allow me the consideration due to me as your wife, but I see now that you will not. So be it. I will carry my own bag and walk until I can get a hansom.’

She made for the gates, but Keane stepped in her way. ‘I see you have lost all sense of decency,’ he said. ‘Do not forget that as my wife you are under my control and you will not leave my house if I have to knock you down and carry you inside.’

Despite the dreadful situation there was a muffled titter from the doorway, since Mrs Keane, though far shorter than her husband, undoubtedly outweighed him.

‘Strike me, then’ she said dramatically, squaring her shoulders and offering her face for the blow. ‘You have done everything else, why hold back from that?’

He smiled. ‘I promise you, I will not.’

For a moment or two they stared at each other, both expressions set and determined, as if looks alone would make the other give way. Frances saw that Keane confidently believed that his forcefulness and the total command he had over his wife’s fortunes would make her crumble. Perhaps it had done so many times before. He merely waited, therefore, for her to bend her head in submission, turn and creep back into the house. This time, however, was different. She started to walk around him and towards the gate, and Keane, with an expression of rage, raised his fist.

‘Don’t do it, Sir!’ exclaimed Adam, suddenly.

‘
What?
’ said Keane, pausing in sheer incredulity.

‘I said don’t do it,’ repeated Adam, who had now overstepped a servant’s place so far as to be past caring what he said. His sturdy and muscular form was drawn to its full height, the shoulders back and impressive chest thrown out as if in a challenge. ‘I have stood by long enough and seen you insult this good lady, and I can do it no more. If you try to strike her she will find a protector in me.’

‘You impudent mongrel!’ spat Keane, ‘Get out at once!’ He then became aware that the house servants were still watching. Both Ellen and Ettie had their aprons to their mouths to stifle exclamations of mingled horror and amusement, Mrs Grinham was scowling, though whether this was due to the scene or her lumbago was unclear, and Mr Harvey had taken the view that
someone
in the household ought to be dignified, and as no one else was it had better be himself. ‘And you – all of you,’ roared Keane, ‘set about your duties at once or you will be on the street with no character, like this one!’ He turned to Adam. ‘Are you still here? I want you gone this instant!’

Adam pondered this for a moment. ‘Very well, Sir,’ he said calmly, ‘I will go, and I wish well to Mistress, who deserves far better than you.’ He turned, and stood quite still, facing the gate, but did not walk towards it. ‘But there is one thing I must do first.’ With that, he turned around and punched James Keane squarely on the nose.

Adam had a large fist and a brawny body behind it. There was a crunching noise, and Keane’s nose seemed to explode into something red and very ugly. He crashed backwards onto the cobbles, with dark blood streaming down his face and into his mouth. There were screams from Ettie and Ellen, while Mrs Grinham chortled, and Mr Harvey closed his eyes in distaste. Keane, sprawling on the ground, shrieked and spluttered incoherently, spraying blood and saliva over the front of his shirt.

It was Mrs Keane’s reaction that was truly shocking, and with all attention suddenly on Keane, Frances, from her position by the gates, may have been the only one to see it. The unguarded naked look of admiration in the lady’s eyes as she gazed up at her young protector was indecent, even carnal. Frances shivered at the sight, though she did not know why.

Keane, gurgling and spitting blood from his mouth, was calling for something to be fetched, though his words were indistinct and he was howling with pain and rage.

‘Quick, get a towel and basin of water!’ snapped Mrs Grinham. Ettie and Ellen hurried indoors, while Mr Harvey helped his master to his feet, taking care as he did so not to stain his own clothing. He and Mrs Grinham tried to assist Keane inside the house, but, almost at once, the stricken man started to shake, and before he reached the door, his knees began to give way. There was some danger that Keane might faint, so he was helped as far as the front steps, where Harvey saw he was seated, his head between his knees, blood dripping to the ground. Ettie and Ellen emerged, and a towel was dipped in water and applied to what remained of Keane’s nose, though even the gentlest touch made him almost weep with agony.

Adam, who appeared entirely satisfied with the outcome, came forward and took the bag from Mrs Keane and placed it once more in the carriage. She smiled at him, a kinder smile now that she had composed herself. ‘Thank you, Adam. I hope you have not injured your hand?’

‘Thank you, Ma’am, I have not.’ He returned the smile, and for a brief moment they looked at each other. The scene of consternation about James Keane could have been happening a hundred miles away.

‘Mr Harvey, shall I run for a doctor?’ asked Ellen.

Keane coughed and seethed and moaned. ‘Fetch —, I want you to fetch —,’ he gasped, ‘
why will someone not fetch a policeman? Go and get a policeman this instant!
’

‘I don’t think that will be necessary Sir,’ said a familiar sounding voice, and Frances saw Inspector Sharrock entering through the gateway, accompanied by Constable Brown. They had both seen her, pressed against the hedge, and she coloured immediately, but apart from a raised eyebrow from Sharrock and a smile and a polite nod from Wilfred, they did not give away her presence.

Keane sat up and pointed to Adam. ‘That man! Arrest him at once! He has assaulted me!’

‘All in good time, Sir,’ said Sharrock. ‘I do have one other more important duty to perform first. James Keane, I am placing you under arrest, and require you to accompany me to the police station where you will be formally charged with fraud, forgery and embezzlement. Constable Brown, the cuffs!’

Wilfred stepped forward with a set of handcuffs and proceeded to put them onto Keane’s wrists, oblivious to the astonishment all around him. The servants were suddenly immobile, like puppets who had lost their human operator. Keane could only gasp and choke with outrage, the red stain spreading on the towel at his nose. His wife, open-mouthed in amazement, watched the operation with a certain amount of pleasure.

‘Good day to you, Mrs Keane!’ said Sharrock as he and Wilfred took a firm hold on their prisoner and led him to a waiting carriage. ‘That’s a bit of a knock, you’ve got sir. Don’t worry, we’ll see to it down at the station.’

‘What about that young criminal?’ exclaimed Keane, stumbling along between the two policemen. ‘He struck me! I want him arrested at once!’

Sharrock hesitated.

‘Excuse me officer,’ said Mrs Keane quietly. ‘I think my husband must be mistaken. He tripped and fell just now, and struck his nose on the ground. It was an accident.’

‘That is a
lie
!’ bellowed Keane. ‘He hit me!’ He twisted his body round towards the servants. You all saw it! Tell the police what you saw!’

Ellen and Ettie hesitated and looked at each other, Mr Harvey took a deep breath, and then Mrs Grinham folded her arms, sniffed and said,’It’s just like Mistress said. He fell.’

Sharrock glanced round at the other servants, who, one by one, nodded their agreement. ‘Looks like you got confused, Sir,’ he said. ‘It often happens when you have a nasty bump.’ Keane, now whimpering like a dog, was hauled out of the gate, his toes trailing on the ground, and pushed into the carriage. Frances hurried up to Wilfred.