The Reckoning (59 page)

‘
Oh yes, the lovely Miss Haworth,' Hawker said thought
fully. 'She still lives with your sister then? And they are fixed
at Stainton? What a great pity that such a beauty should be
walled up for ever in that remote place.'

‘
Yes, they don't see much company there. Minnie doesn't
mind – she's never been at her best with strangers – but it
must be dull for Polly.'

‘
You'll be in a position to help once you're married,' he
pointed out. 'You can invite her to stay with you in London,
and chaperone her to parties, as I imagine you'll be expected
to do with your sister-in-law.'

‘
Yes,' Rosamund said, 'I could have her to stay, couldn't I?
I suppose I'd have to ask Minnie, too. She'd never let Polly
come without her. Still, Minnie's never any trouble. Poor
soul, I hope she's not very unhappy about her babies.'

‘
Fortunately, babies are easy to come by,' Hawker said.
‘And as Penrith plainly never means to marry, Sale will be
sure to try again for a son to inherit the title. I think you may
safely assume that your sister will be
enceinte
again by the
end of the year.’

*

Polly Haworth, reaching the top of the stairs, saw the back of
Mrs Hill, Minnie's woman, disappearing down the main
bedroom corridor. She called out to her, but to her surprise,
Hill didn't stop.

‘Hill, just a moment! I asked you where Lady Harvey is.’

Hill turned to look at her, a burning look of resentment
which took Polly aback. 'That's for me to know, and you to
find out,' she growled.

Polly flushed. 'If you are insolent, I shall have you
dismissed.'

‘
Aye, I don't doubt you'd try,' Hill said. 'But I'll not leave
my mistress until
she
tells me to, so you may do as you
please.’

Polly was as much puzzled as angry. She had noticed that
Hill had been growing ever more sour lately, and had some
times intercepted dark and brooding glances from the
woman, but until now Hill had never behaved other than
with rigid correctness. Polly wondered if she was perhaps
becoming unbalanced. It did sometimes happen with unmar
ried female servants of a certain age; and God knew, this
place was enough to turn anyone's mind.

Discipline, however, must be maintained. 'I insist on your
answering me civilly,' she said coldly.

‘
Insist all you like – I've got your measure, my fine lady! I know how you'd break my lady's heart if you could – you and
that creature she calls a husband! And if it weren't that she
loves you, for God knows what reason, I'd tell the world
about it this very minute.' Polly stared, dumbfounded. 'Yes,
you can put on airs and look at me how you like,' Hill went on
fiercely, 'but when it comes down to it, what are you? A poor
relation! You're no better than a servant. And you're worse
than me, for I'd know better than to tamper with another
woman's husband.’

Polly glared at her in dull rage, unable for a moment to
speak. 'How dare you?' she gasped at last. 'Are you mad? Are
you ill? How dare you say such things?'

‘
I've seen you and him together – whispering and pinching
fingers! So don't play Madam Innocent with me. Aye, he'd
like to be rid of her now he's got her money, I know! That's
why he's paying all these visits, after neglecting her so long –
plotting with you how to be rid of her!'

‘
You must be quite deranged,' Polly said, drawing herself
up with dignity. 'That's the kindest thing to think. But
I
warn
you, if you repeat one word of this – this
babbling
to
anyone –'

‘
I
know how to keep my mouth shut,' Hill snapped, 'but it won't be for your sake! And if you want my mistress, you'll
find her in the nursery, poor lamb, where I doubt even you'd
have the heart to disturb her.’

She turned and stalked away, leaving Polly shaken. Was it
possible Hill had really seen anything? They had been so
careful, and their stolen moments – innocent enough in all
truth! – had been snatched in the least frequented and most
uncomfortable of places, the last places a servant would go.
No, it was impossible Hill could know anything. She had
made the accusation out of her own disturbed imagination,
and had merely hit by accident on something that was almost
true. She was mad, that was all.

All? It was a horrible thing to contemplate, being shut up in
this house with a deranged serving-woman. With automatic
tread, Polly went on up the stairs towards the nurseries on the
top floor, right under the roof. She thought longingly of
Harvey. It was true, as Hill said, that he had been paying
more frequent visits to Stainton in the last six weeks, after
having neglected them entirely for so long. Recently he had
been coming down for a couple of days every week: he had
been here only yesterday. Polly wondered whether it was
because the babies had died – to comfort Minnie, perhaps. But no, his increased attentiveness had begun before their
fatal attack of colic.

She reached the top of the stairs. Through a skylight in the
roof she saw a square of blank, grey sky, from which a steady
rain was falling. She could hear the warm drops drumming
softly on the roof just above her head as she walked along the dusty drugget, and felt her muscles tense, and her hands grow damp. It had rained every day for weeks now, confining them
indoors, and the tedium and frustration had grown in her to
the point where they tipped over into a morbid terror.

For outside the wet, green world relished the rain. The
grass grew lush and long, the trees shook their full-leafed
heads softly, whispering together like conspirators. She began
to feel that the growing things were creeping closer day by
day to the isolated house. Stealthily, inch by inch, they were
reclaiming the little space Stainton had stolen from them. She
would wake one morning and find the trees pressing up
against the windows, trying to get in. The moss would creep
over her chamber floor, over her bed, over her face, smoth
ering her, stifling her screams ...

She shuddered, catching herself back with an effort from
the brink. She must not allow her imagination to wander.
Whatever the reason for Harvey's visits, Polly was deeply
grateful for them, for without them, she felt she must have
gone mad, shut in day after day with the ceaseless sound of
the rain. It was no wonder that Minnie was brooding so over
the death of
her
babies. While they lived that had been the
only changing thing in her monotonous life. She had nothing
else to think about, nothing to stimulate her senses.

Harvey was fatalistic about the babies. He had been upset
when they died – far more than she would have expected.
Polly had witnessed his reaction, and had been surprised at
how white and silent he'd gone when the apothecary came
downstairs to say they were dead at last, poor wailing things.
But babies did die, as he said afterwards in a hard voice –
that was a fact of life, as any sensible person must accept.

Polly entered the nursery – empty now of the bustle and
to-and-froing that had always attended the short lives of Miss
Mary and Miss Elizabeth – and found Minnie all alone,
sitting on a hard chair between the two empty cradles. The
air was warm and stuffy up here under the roof-tiles, and
quite still. It smelled dusty, and the silence was somehow
emphasised by the close but muffled drumming of the rain
above them. Minnie sat quite still, her hands in her lap,
staring at the floor between her feet. She was very pale, and despite the best attentions of Hill, she managed somehow to
give the impression of being slightly unkempt, as if she no
longer cared about her appearance.

Polly felt a vast pity for her, tinged, albeit unwillingly, with
irritation. It was somehow typical of Minnie that she should
be so utterly cast down by the loss of her daughters. It was
true what Harvey said – babies died all the time, and you
knew with each one that there was a good chance it would not
survive to its fourth year. Minnie had had two miscarriages
before the birth of the twins: she knew the odds against them.
Why then did she creep away and hide up here like this? Why
had she refused to go to Rosamund's wedding? Why had she
become so listless and disinclined for any occupation that she
seemed hardly ever to move at all?

‘
Minnie, what are you doing here?' Polly asked now – quite
gently, but Minnie startled all the same, and looked up
quickly with an expression almost of fear. She scanned Polly's
face, and the doorway behind her, with one quick look, and
then looked down again. Polly saw her mouth tremble, and a
glistening of tears under her eyelashes, but she didn't speak.

‘
You really shouldn't keep coming up here all alone like
this,' Polly went on reasonably. 'It doesn't help to brood over
things. If you'd only find something to do, turn your mind
away from it, you'd be over it in no time.'

‘
Please, Polly, go away.' Minnie spoke so quietly that Polly
could only just catch the words. They were an indication of
how far from her usual frame of mind Minnie was: she had
always wanted to tie Polly to her side, not send her away –
uneasy if Polly left the room even for a minute.

‘
Come downstairs,' Polly coaxed gently. 'Come down and
take up your sewing again. Or I'll play cards with you, if you
like, or read to you. Don't sit here all alone and brood. It only
upsets you more.’

But Minnie looked up at her, a look of sadness and longing
and reproach and apprehension that struck Polly to the heart.
‘Please go away,' she said again. 'I want you to leave me
alone.’

Polly hesitated, looking at the top of her cousin's head,
wondering what more she could do or say. But Minnie sat on
the small, hard chair as though planted, and Polly knew how
stubborn she could be if ever she did make up her mind to
something. There seemed to be nothing to do but to leave her
as requested.

But Polly puzzled as she went away. Was there more to
Minnie's withdrawal than grief over her lost babies? Was it
possible that Hill had said something to her of her mad suspi
cions? No, surely that was impossible! Minnie would have said
something – she had no notion of concealment, and had often
in the past repeated things, to a general embarrassment,
which anyone with more wit would have known were never
meant to be repeated.