Voices in a Haunted Room (39 page)

“There’s no comfort,” said Dolly, “or not much. But she wants to see you.”

“Is she in bed?”

“She’s up there. She doesn’t seem to know where she is.”

“Shall I go up?”

“Yes. I’ll take you.”

Mrs. Trent came out of her bedroom and we went into a small dressing room. There were two chairs in it and we sat down. Dolly stood by the door. Mrs. Trent was wearing a grey dressing gown which she must have slipped over her nightdress. Her face was blotched with weeping and her eyes swollen. She did not look like the perky Mrs. Trent we had known.

I took both her hands in mine and on impulse kissed her cheek.

“Oh, Mrs. Trent, I am so sorry. We are all so distressed.”

She nodded, too emotional to speak.

“If only we could have known… we could have done something,” I said.

“I’d like to murder him,” she muttered, coming to life. “I’d take him to that river and I’d hold his head down and not let him go until he was dead… as she is.”

“I understand how you feel.”

“She couldn’t face it, you see. She couldn’t face
me.
I shouldn’t have made her feel like that. She ought to have been able to come to me in trouble.”

“You mustn’t say that, Mrs. Trent. I know you would always have done anything for her.”

“I would and all… but she knew how I’d set my heart on her doing well. I’ve gone wrong somewhere.”

“You always did your best, Mrs. Trent. None could say other than that. You must not blame yourself.”

“I blame him,” she said fiercely. “The dirty swine! He deceived her, he did… promised he’d marry her and when this happens it’s goodbye and he goes off to marry a real lady.
She
was a real lady, my Evie was.”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Trent.”

She clenched her hands together and I knew she was imagining them round the throat of Harry Farringdon.

“And now there’s this Reverend gentleman… the vicar. He won’t take my Evie. He says the likes of her can’t be buried among decent folks.”

“No, Mrs. Trent!”

“Yes. He says suicides can’t be buried in consecrated ground. They will put her at the crossroads. They’ll give her the suicide’s grave. I just can’t bear that… not for my little Evie.”

“Something will have to be done about that.”

She looked at me with hope in her eyes.

“I’ll go and see the Reverend Manning. Or my husband will. Don’t worry about that, Mrs. Trent. Evie is going to be buried properly. There must be no doubt about that.”

“It’s kind of you… and it’s her due. You know who she is. It’s different I suppose with the gentry. No one would think of putting them anywhere but in a proper grave.”

I was glad that there was something I could do, something which would relieve her, even though nothing could ever bring Evie back. I said: “I will go along to the vicarage now and see him. Don’t worry, Mrs. Trent. I am sure it will be all right.”

“Thank you,” she said; and there was that glint of determination in her eyes which I had noticed before her grief had descended upon her and made her a pathetic shadow of what she had been. “It’s her due,” she said with a certain firmness.

Dolly conducted me to the door.

“Goodbye,” I said. “I will do everything I can.”

I went straight to the vicarage. It was not as easy as I had thought it would be.

The Reverend Richard Manning was the kind of man I disliked on sight. He was pompous, self-righteous, and I was sure completely lacking in compassion and imagination.

We saw little of him for the living did not belong to Eversleigh. The family had always had its own chapel and although nowadays we did not have a priest living in the house, there was one who had a small place on the estate and whose duty it was to officiate when needed. He came every morning to conduct prayers for the household.

Therefore the family had no jurisdiction over the Reverend Richard Manning.

I told him that I was concerned about the burial of Evie Mather.

“The suicide,” he said, and I immediately felt a sense of outrage at the cold and precise tone of his voice, and to hear Evie spoken of in that way.

“Her grandmother is very distressed because you are denying her normal burial.”

“I have said that according to the laws of the Church she cannot be buried in consecrated ground.”

“Why not?”

He looked surprised. “Because she has offended against the laws of God. She has committed the sin of inflicting death on a human being.”

“Herself,” I said.

“It is a sin in the eyes of the Church.”

“So everyone who is buried in your churchyard is quite beyond reproach?”

“There are no suicides buried there.”

“There must be greater sins than finding one’s life so intolerable that one takes it.”

“It is a sin against God’s laws,” he said complacently.

“I do want you to understand that this is a terrible blow to her family. Could you not waive the laws for once and give her the burial they want for her? It means such a lot to them.”

“You cannot ask me to break the holy laws of God.”

“Is this a holy law? Is it God’s will to inflict greater pain on people who have already suffered infinitely?”

“You miss the point, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

“On the contrary, I think you do that. But please, will you do this for the sake of humanity… for pity’s sake…”

“You cannot be asking me to go against the rule of the Church?”

“If these are the laws of the Church, then I will say they are cruel… unkind… uncaring… and yes, wicked. And I want nothing to do with them.”

“You are coming near to blasphemy, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

“I will speak to my father-in-law.”

“I am not responsible to Eversleigh,” he said. “This living never has been. This is a matter between me and my conscience.”

“Then your conscience, if it has any humanity in it, should give you a very uneasy time.”

“Mrs. Frenshaw, you must leave now. I have nothing more to say.”

“But I shall have a great deal to say.”

I rode home in a fury. My mother was astonished to see me in such a state.

I told her what had happened.

“Oh no!” she cried. “Not this as well.”

“Poor Mrs. Trent… she cares so much about this.”

“I understand that,” said my mother.

“What can we do? The man is adamant.”

“Unfortunately we have no power over him.”

“I know. He made that clear. But something has to be done. I am determined on that.”

I chose a moment when I knew that Dickon would be alone. My stepfather had always maintained a mild friendship with me; I fancied that in his heart he harboured a certain resentment because he was not my father, and he had loved my mother even when she was married to my father.

“Claudine,” he said now. “This is an unexpected honour.”

“I want you to do something,” I said.

“Well, if it is in my power to serve a beautiful young lady, rest assured that it shall be done. What do you want?”

“I want Evie Mather to be buried in the normal way.”

“Is that old idiot Manning making a fuss?”

“Exactly.”

“He would. I’m sorry, Claudine, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t threaten him with the loss of his living because the living isn’t mine to bestow.”

“Nevertheless you could do something.”

He shook his head. “No. If he says no… then it has to be so. It’s in his power to decide.”

“The poor woman is distraught.”

“It’s a terrible business. What a foolish girl! Girls have had babies before.”

“Harry Farringdon has behaved badly.”

Dickon shrugged his shoulders. “These things happen. She ought to have known that he was unlikely to marry her.”

“I expect he promised.”

“She should have made sure.”

“You’re very unsympathetic.”

“No… I understand. I just think she was a fool, that’s all. I daresay if she had come to your mother, she would have helped her… and you certainly would.”

“Don’t you understand how a girl would feel? And there’s that grandmother… you knew her well… so you must realize how much she wanted good things for her grand-daughter… all that she herself had missed.”

He nodded.

“We’ve got to help her,” I said.

“It’s no use with old Manning.”

“I know. But there are other ways.”

“Such as?”

“You do own land in the cemetery… Eversleigh land. I mean where the family is buried.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I want Evie to be buried there.”

“Among our people!”

“Dickon,” I said, “isn’t Evie one of us?”

He showed no sign of embarrassment. “You must be referring to that little entanglement between me and Grandmother Evalina in the distant past.”

“Yes. I am.”

“H’m. Well, it took place.”

“Then Evie
could
be your grand-daughter.”

“It’s a possibility. Evalina was a shrewd little piece.”

“If Richard Mather was your son… then Evie has a right to a plot of your ground.”

I saw the smile break out on his face. “I love you, Claudine,” he said. “You’re like your mother.”

“Dickon, will you?”

“You know how hard it has always been for me to refuse a beautiful young lady anything she asks.”

“Dickon… thank you. Thank you so much.”

I was in tears. He looked at me in a benign, amused kind of way.

My mother came in.

“What are you doing in here, you two?” she asked.

“Your daughter has just made a request which I have granted.”

“A request… and she’s crying. What are you crying for, Claudine? It’s so unlike you.”

I went to her and kissed her. “Dickon has just made me so happy.”

“Oh?” she said, looking in puzzlement from one to the other of us.

“It’s that old hypocrite Manning,” said Dickon. “Wants Evie Mather in a suicide’s grave. Retribution from his God. The sanctimonious old devil.”

“And…” began my mother.

“Dickon has promised me that she shall be buried in our ground… among the Eversleighs. Oh, it has made me so happy. I’m going to tell Mrs. Trent right away.”

My mother was smiling. “Oh Dickon,” she said. “Thank you. You’re so wonderful.”

I lost no time in getting over to Grasslands.

I was taken at once to Mrs. Trent, who was still in her grey sombre robe.

I said: “Don’t worry, Mrs. Trent. It’s going to be all right.”

“You’ve seen him… that vicar?”

“We don’t have to worry about him. I have spoken to my father-in-law. Evie shall be buried in Eversleigh ground.”

“Consecrated Eversleigh ground,” she cried, wonderment dawning on her ravaged face.

“Yes,” I told her. “He has promised me that it shall be so.”

“Oh thank you, Mrs. Frenshaw. Though it’s no more than her due.”

“I know. I know. But that little trial is over.”

She nodded. “Thank you, thank you,” she said. She was silent for a few moments, then she went on: “I worry… I worry so much about Dolly.”

“Dolly will be all right,” I assured her.

“If I went, where would she be? I used to think when Evie married she would go with her and be looked after. That’s all changed now.”

“I’d see that she was all right, Mrs. Trent. Don’t worry about Dolly. We’d see that she was all right.”

“It’s like the family… in a way,” she said.

I felt almost happy. It had been so wonderful to bring her that little bit of cheer.

It was the day of Evie’s funeral. It was hot and humid. There was a stillness in the air—a hushed silence everywhere. People talked in whispers in the house; and there was no breeze to make the slightest rustle in the trees.

Dickon had promised to go to the church and David and I would go with my mother. I was sure that would please Mrs. Trent.

In the morning there was a visitor to the house. I was in the garden picking some roses which I was going to lay on Evie’s grave. I saw him coming and my heart missed a beat. I ran to him and said: “You shouldn’t have come.” It was a strange way to greet a visitor.

He looked pale and distraught.

“I heard,” he said. “I was so shocked.”

“I’m not surprised.”

I hated Harry Farringdon as he stood there, although he was all contrition. I could not help thinking that but for him Evie would be alive today.

“I had to come,” he said.

“It would have been better if you had stayed away.”

“But I was fond of her.”

“That was unfortunate for her.”

“You don’t believe that I…”

“Harry,” I said, “don’t go into the house. I think it would be better if you were not seen. Go right away… now. I don’t know what would happen if Evie’s grandmother saw you. I believe she would try to do you some harm.”

“I have behaved badly.”

“Indeed you have.”

“But is it true… what I heard about a child?”

“Yes,” I told him. “It’s true. Evie was three months pregnant, and it seems that was the reason she could no longer face the world.”

“You don’t believe that I… was the cause of her condition?”

I looked at him angrily.

“Oh, no, no! It’s not true, Claudine. I swear to you. It could not be. There was never anything like that between us… never any intimacy.”

“Do you expect anybody to believe that?”

“Yes, because it’s true.”

“We all knew that you were interested in her.”

“I was. I was very fond of her.”

“So fond of her that you deserted her?”

“It was just that we did not meet very often.”

“You liked her in a mild sort of way. You led her to believe your feelings went deeper… and this happened.”

“It is months since I’ve seen her. It couldn’t possibly have been my child, Claudine.”

“She was such a quiet, gentle girl. Please don’t try to blacken her character, Harry.”

“I would have done anything I could for her.”

“A not very taxing exercise since she no longer needs your assistance.”

“Oh, Claudine. You doubt me.”

Of course I doubted him! We had never heard of her having another lover. And we should surely have known if there had been anyone else. Who could there be? I had imagined Harry coming surreptitiously to Grasslands, their meeting in secret, his persuading her to become his mistress… no doubt with a promise of marriage. It was an old story.