The Shrouded Walls (10 page)

“ ‘Because I’m not afraid of the truth,’ he said, mounting his horse without a backward glance. ‘And I know too damned well that Papa hasn’t spoken two dozen words to Mama in twenty years and has slept in a separate bedroom since before you were
born
. You’re so busy consorting with stable-lads and scullery maids that you haven’t seen enough of either Mama or Papa to realize they’re married in name only. Why do you suppose Papa keeps a mistress at Hastings and Mama has discreet affairs with any man she can contrive to seduce?’

“Even speech was impossible now. I could only stand in the doorway and lean against the post and watch the world crumble before my eyes.

“He was in the saddle. I remember that moment so well. The sun was shining down on him and his eyes were very blue. ‘To hell with the lot of you,’ he said, ‘I’m going to ride until I’m too weary to care. To hell with you all.’ And he rode off down the hill to the Marsh and the sun went in and I felt the rain sting my cheek. The mist blew in from the sea soon afterwards and the sun was gone.”

There was a silence. To the west the Marsh was now indistinct and the clouds stretched to the blurred horizon. I was going to speak, but he spoke first, his eyes watching some distant point on the Marsh as if he were seeing other scenes long ago.

“I watched him go,” he said. “I watched him until he was out of sight. Afterwards I thought how unfair it was that we parted in such anger, but at that moment I was aware of nothing at all, only a dreadful emptiness. Afterwards I went back into the stable and flung myself down on the straw again. I didn’t even cry. That came later. After a time I thought: ‘I must find Papa and ask him for the truth.’ So I left the stables and went back into the house.

“There was no footman in the hall. I went to the library and knocked on the door but there was no reply, so I went upstairs to Papa’s rooms. He wasn’t there. Then I thought: ‘I’ll find Mama and speak to her.’

“At first I thought she wasn’t in her rooms either. I went into the boudoir but that was empty and then when I was turning to leave I heard the murmur of voices from the bedroom beyond.”

I turned my head sharply to look at him, but he was still staring out across the Marsh, his elbows on his knees, his fists clenched.

“I knew then it was all true,” he said at last. “I didn’t need to be convinced further. She was with some man. The very discovery seemed instantly to confirm everything Rodric had said.”

I was perfectly still. “Who was the man with her?” said my voice with polite interest. “You’re sure it wasn’t your father?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

He did not answer directly. Then he bent down and began to tug up the grass at his feet as though some form of action however mild would excuse him from replying.

“Ned?” I was still very polite.

“I heard his steps crossing to open the door into the boudoir,” he said in a muffled voice. “There wasn’t time for me to escape so I hid behind the Chinese screen in one
corner
of the room. He came out a second later and she followed him.”

“Who was he?”

“I’ll not tell you.”

I grabbed his wrist and jerked him as hard as I could so that he spun around to face me. I was trembling in every limb now no matter how hard I tried to conceal it.

“Was it Axel?”

“I’ll not tell you.”

“It must have been! There was no other man in the house who was not related to her.”

“There were servants.”

“Ned!”

“I’ll not tell you,” he said stubbornly. “I’ve never told anyone before and I’m not telling you.”

“You didn’t tell the coroner at the inquest?”

“No, why should I have done? He would have wanted to know why I went in search of my mother in the first place, and I had no intention of repeating to the Coroner and half the population of Rye what Rodric had told me.”

I stared at him.

“I wish I had never mentioned it,” he said sullenly. “I don’t know why I did. You made me forget to guard my tongue.”

“Did they discover you in the boudoir?” I demanded, ignoring this. “Did they see you?”

“No, thank the Lord. It was lucky the screen was there, for there was nowhere else I could have hidden.”

“What did they say to each other?”

“She said ‘I must go and see if anything can be done.’ And the man said: ‘I’ll come downstairs with you.’ They went out of the room and I heard her say to him in the passage: ‘What do you suppose he wanted?’ And he said after a moment: ‘Perhaps to ask you if you knew about the French contraband he found in the
barn
below the thirty-acre field. He told me two days ago he was watching the ba
rn
to catch whoever was in league with Delancey, but when I told him to go straight to the Revenue Men he wouldn’t, too afraid it might be one of Rodric’s foolish pranks again, I suppose.’ Then they turned the
corner
to the landing, and I didn’t hear any more.”

“And the next moment you heard Esther’s screams when she discovered Mr. Brandson dead?”

“No,” he said. “It was about ten minutes later.”

“Ten minutes! But it couldn’t have taken her that long to reach the library!”

“Then maybe it took her ten minutes to draw breath to scream,” he said, “for I didn’t hear the screams till some time later. I left the boudoir as
quickly as I could and went to my own room and lay on my bed thinking. I must have lain there at least ten minutes.”

“How very curious.”

“When I heard her screams I went to the head of the staircase. George and Mary were in the hall with my mother and Alice was descending the staircase ahead of me. I ran downstairs. One of the footmen was wandering around white as parchment and saying ‘No one left the library save Mr. Rodric.’ A great deal
he
knew about
that
!
He hadn’t even been there when I had knocked on the library door.”

“What did you do?”

“I went into the library. The others were too busy soothing Mama’s hysterics. Papa was sprawled across the floor and Rodric’s gun lay beside him, the butt smeared with blood. Rodric had been out shooting with George that morning. I was stunned enough already and when I saw the scene in the library it made no impression on me at all at first. And then gradually I felt full of panic and a longing to escape so I ran back to my room, locked the door and broke down completely. I lay on my bed and sobbed till I had no strength to do anything except fall asleep. It was like being in a nightmare unable to wake.”

“When did you hear of Rodric’s death?”

“Later that evening when George returned. Mary came knocking at my door. Have you talked much to Mary? If you have, you’ll realize she was infatuated with Rodric and used to imagine herself affianced to him and other such nonsense. Rodric tried to be patient with her out of kindness, but I fancy she irritated him more often than not. But, poor girl, she was beside herself with grief then and came to me because she knew how fond of him I was too. As soon as she told me I went downstairs.

“George was in the saloon with Vere, Alice and Mama. He was soaked to the skin and looked more shaken than I have ever seen him. I said: ‘How did he die?’ And George said: ‘He must have fallen from his horse. There was a dyke, a tract of bog, and I found his hat nearby and his horse wandering further on. He must have drowned in the Marsh.’ And Vere said: ‘Perhaps he was overcome with remorse.’ And Alice said: ‘God forgive him.’ “That was what everyone said after the inquest. ‘God forgive him,’ everyone kept saying. ‘God forgive him.’ It was horrible! He was branded as a murderer without so much as a fair trial!”

Close at hand long fingers of white mist wreathed the landscape so that the Marsh seemed eerie, adrift in some strange twilight. I shivered. “You’re cold now,” said Ned. “We’d better go in.”

I stood up without argument, and we walked together in silence through the garden to the house. I felt so numbed that I hardly noticed that it was beginning to rain.

“Perhaps the greatest shock of all came when Mr. Sherman read the will,” Ned said. “We all thought that Haraldsdyke had been left to Rodric with a suitable bequest to Vere. We had no idea Papa had made the other will the day before he died.”

“Yes,” I said. “Axel told me it was a matter of embarrassment to him.”

“
Embarrassment!” scoffed Ned. “He wasn’t embarrassed! I swore he knew all along about the new will! I was so angry that Vere, who’s always worked so hard for Haraldsdyke, should have inherited nothing, that I lost my temper when I should have guarded my tongue. George was having a word with me in private before he departed for Vienna—he wanted to tell me he would arrange for me to have an income of thirty pounds a year, but he made it sound as if he were bestowing a great favor on me. And suddenly I thought how generous Rodric had always been with his money and that this man was now sitting in Rodric’s place and dealing with money that should have belonged to Rodric himself.

“ ‘I think I should have fifty pounds per annum,’ I said. ‘You can afford to be generous. You took Haraldsdyke from Papa after his death and you took his wife before his death—’ ” He stopped dead in his tracks.

It was raining steadily now. The mist was falling between us. Everywhere was very quiet.

“So it
was
Axel whom you found with Esther,” I heard myself say calmly from a long way away.

He looked as if he could have bitten out his tongue. “Yes,” he said at last, face flushed with embarrassment. “It was. But I never told him how I had seen him come out of Mama’s bedroom that day. For God’s sake never, never tell him that.”

“Why? Are you so afraid of him?”

“I—” The words seemed to stick in his throat.

“You think Axel killed his father, don’t you? That Rodric was innocent?”

“I—I’ve no proof
...
only that they went downstairs together to the library and that Mama didn’t scream till fully ten minutes later. Perhaps Papa had found out they were deceiving him, perhaps there was yet another quarrel in the library after Rodric left
...”

“But surely Mr. Brandson was already dead? You said that after lingering a while in the stables you returned to the hall, knocked on the library door, and received no reply—”

“There are a dozen other explanations for that. He may have stepped out on to the terrace for a moment—or next door into the saloon—or he may not have heard me—or he may even have been asleep. He did sleep there sometimes. I’ve no proof that he was dead then, just as I’ve no proof that he quarreled with George and that George killed him. But I think Rodric was innocent. I shall always think that. I’ll never believe that Rodric killed Papa.”

We reached a side-door which led into the saloon from the terrace, and he opened it for me. The saloon was empty. “What did Axel say,” I said abruptly, “when you revealed to him that you knew about his relationship with Esther?”

“He asked me to explain myself. I merely shrugged and said: ‘I saw you once with her. ’ I pretended to be very casual. Then I said as an afterthought: ‘I wonder what the coroner would have thought at the inquest if he knew you had been having an affair with your step-mother besides having that will made in your favor?’ ”

I drew a deep breath. “What did he say?”

“He was very still. Then gradually he went white with rage. After a moment he said: ‘If you so much as attempt to create a scandal for your mother after she has endured so much shock and suffering, I swear I’ll break every bone in your body.’ At least, he spoke in rougher language than those words, and called me a bastard—and other names as well. How I hated him at that moment! Presently I said: ‘I’ve no intention of making a scandal, but I would like that fifty pounds a year which I mentioned just now.’ ”

“And what happened?” I said blankly. “Did he agree to the sum you wanted?”

“Oh yes,” said Ned. “He agreed.”

Four

Axel and Vere were not at Haraldsdyke for dinner. After the meal I was obliged to sit for a while in the drawing room with Esther and Mary while Alice went to the nursery, but at last I was able to make my excuses and escape. Dusk was already falling as I reached our sitting room upstairs; I lit two candles, carried them to the secretaire by the window and sat down. Pen and ink were quickly found, but there was no paper. I thought suddenly of the huge desk in Rodric’s room. Surely there would be paper in one of the drawers
...

I stood up, took one of the candles and went out into the passage. No one was about. I had some trouble finding Rodric’s room again, but eventually I remembered my way and discovered a plentiful supply of the writing paper I needed. It was quite dark now. Back in my own rooms again, I sat down with a strange feeling of relief, picked up the pen and began to write to Alexander.

Time was short; at any moment Axel might return from Rye. My pen scratched rapidly across the paper, dropped a blob of ink and scratched on without pausing, The entire appearance of the letter would have horrified old Miss Shearing at my academy in Cheltenham. Miss Shearing and her environment all seemed very far away indeed.