Winterwood (12 page)

“Of course you won’t be,” Charlotte said, as if indeed this was the situation for which she had hoped. “I imagine she will keep mostly to her room. The Italian doctor warned her against any kind of exertion.”

“Frankly, I’d never take the word of a foreign doctor,” Sir Timothy declared. “You might have her for a long spell, Charlotte. I’m a year older than her if I’ve calculated rightly, and I expect to keep above ground for another ten years. Give old Tameson a new heart and me a new pair of eyes, and we’d give you young people a dance yet.” Chuckling, and fumbling for his spectacles, which he had pushed onto the top of his head, Sir Timothy meandered off to the smoking room. He banged the door firmly behind him, as if he expected Aunt Tameson’s immediate encroachment on his privacy.

Aunt Tameson’s next visitor was Doctor Munro, an elderly man with a drooping white moustache and twinkling blue eyes set beneath grizzled white eyebrows. He, unlike Sir Timothy, had not known Aunt Tameson when she had lived at Croft House as plain Mrs. Willie Peate. He had no comparisons to make, and in any case was interested in her body, not whether she wore a diamond brooch on her nightgown.

It was unfortunate that Lavinia was just taking Flora to the yellow parlor when the doctor came downstairs, talking very audibly.

“Keep her happy, Mrs. Meryon. That’s the best advice I can give you.”

“You can’t say how long, Doctor?”

“One can’t, with a case like this. It might be today, or in six months. With care, it might be a year. Her heart’s worn out. That’s all there is to it.”

The voices died away, and Flora said intensely, “She’s going to die, isn’t she!”

“But you knew that, darling. You saw for yourself on the ship.”

“Her medicine kept her alive. Why can’t it always?”

“She’s old. People wear out.”

“Well, I just don’t like people dying around me. Why can’t she go back to Venice? We don’t want corpses!”

“Flora! I thought you hated Aunt Tameson.”

“So I do, so I do.”

Flora pummeled the arms of her chair, on the verge of one of her hysterical outbursts. Lavinia stood up.

“We’ve done too much this morning. You’re tired. I’ll ring for Joseph to take you upstairs.”

“I don’t want to go upstairs. I want to show you my blue garden.”

“Later today, darling.”

“Then it might be raining. The flowers will be all withered and spoiled. I want to show you the baby’s head.”

Flora’s conversation sometimes became so ghoulish that Lavinia looked at her sharply.

“A baby’s head?”

Flora smiled slyly, thinking she was getting her own way.

“Yes. You’ll like it. It smiles although it’s broken.”

If Lavinia was expected to recognize the same gallant courage in this child with her own damaged body, she refused to be beguiled in this way. She tugged the bell rope.

“Later today, I said. I’m coming up with you to rub your legs. We’re going to do this for half an hour every day. After that you’re to have luncheon in your room and then rest.”

Flora looked at her in fury.

“Miss Hurst, you’re to do as
I
say! That’s why I made Papa engage you.”

“And do I look so weak? Come now. Here’s Joseph.” Lavinia turned to the tall young footman. “Take Miss Flora to her room, Joseph. She’s going to rest. Don’t mind if she struggles. She’s simply overtired.”

Joseph grinned, his bright young eyes admiring Lavinia.

“I’ll manage, miss.”

Flora looked as if she were about to scream, instead changed her mind and went limp. She remained like that after Joseph had laid her on her bed and gone. When Lavinia took off her shoes and stockings to rub the pitifully thin legs, Flora said between clenched teeth, “I’ve made a mistake about you, Miss Hurst. You’re worse than Miss Brown. I shall tell Papa to dismiss you.”

“Does that hurt?” Lavinia asked clinically, busy with her task.

“Yes, it does.”

“Can you move your toes?”

“You know I can’t. I’ve told a thousand doctors I can’t.”

“Try, all the same.”

Flora’s thin body went rigid. The skirts of her tartan dress bunched up, hiding her face. Her feet, a child’s feet, too small and narrow, stayed limp. Would they ever support that frail body again?

“You’re going to try that every day,” Lavinia said calmly. “And one day it will happen. Have you got a pink dress?”

Surprise forced a polite answer from Flora.

“No. Mamma says I can’t wear pink, I’m too pale.”

“I think you could. Say, a white muslin with sprigs of pink roses, and a pink sash. I’ll speak to your mother about it”

“She won’t pay any attention. She hates me. She thinks I’ll never get married and she’ll have me forever and ever.”

“You certainly won’t get a husband if you make this fuss every time I want to make your legs stronger.”

There was a long silence. Finally Flora said in a barely audible mutter, “Would it be any use if I said prayers for her?”

“For Lady Tameson? Of course it would. You can pray that she has courage, and you, too.”

“Is that what you pray for yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Because you haven’t got a husband?”

“For a great many reasons.”

“Do you mean that about the pink dress?”

“Certainly.”

“A pink dress isn’t going to stop people dying around me. Is it?”

Lavinia met the unhappy belligerent eyes. A strange sensation took possession of her. She wanted to put her arms around the frail little body, draw it close, protect it. She had done that for that wretched little chimney sweep dying in jail, a child of not more than eight years who had stolen an apple from a plate in some fine dining room. She had wept over him. She mustn’t allow herself to weep over Flora or she would be no use at all.

“No, it isn’t, lamb. But Lady Tameson might like to see you in it.”

“She won’t. She called me an unmitigated nuisance.”

“Which was true. Now, I’m going to ring for Mary to bring you a tray, and after that you’re to sleep.”

“Phoebe looks after me, not Mary.”

“I thought you might like Mary better. She’s not much older than you, and she’s pretty.”

“Mamma’s going to be furious if you order the servants about. That’s one thing she won’t stand from a governess.”

“I’m not a governess,” Lavinia said calmly. “I’m in charge of your physical health, which at the moment comes before your education. I’m afraid my orders will have to be obeyed. By you, too. Do you understand?”

“Only if it pleases me,” Flora said sulkily. “I’m to be humored. The doctor said so.”

“And I don’t want any more repetitious remarks. I’m going to tell Mary to draw the curtains as soon as you’ve eaten your luncheon so that you’ll sleep. I don’t want to hear any more from you until four o’clock.”

Before she went down to luncheon herself, Lavinia heard Flora telling Mary, who had brought her tray, that she was very clumsy and inefficient, and much too small.

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen, miss.”

“I’m only eleven, and I’m sure I’m taller. If I could stand up I would prove it. Miss Hurst is going to make my legs strong enough so that I can stand.”

“That’ll be grand, miss,” came Mary’s cheerful voice.

“Why do you have to work when you’re really no bigger than Edward?”

“Because my dad likes the bottle, and my mum has six smaller’n me at home. And they has awful big appetites.”

“Don’t they get enough food?” Flora asked in a shocked voice.

“We has plenty of bread and dripping. But I’m going to be a housekeeper one day and then I can help my mum and my brothers and sisters, see?”

“Don’t you want to be married?”

“I’d as soon dig my grave.”

This macabre statement brought an admiring giggle from Flora.

“Goodness! You must hate men. If I don’t get married, either, and I don’t suppose I will, you can be my housekeeper. Papa will buy me a house…”

Remembering that conversation, Lavinia was able to face Charlotte at luncheon with perfect equanimity.

“I thought it a good idea to make this change, Mrs. Meryon. Mary is such a cheerful little creature. Flora will like having her about.”

She didn’t at first notice Charlotte’s anger. She had learned to look for her petulance, her imperious manner, and her constant dying air, as exhaustion overcame her or a headache was threatened, but she hadn’t yet met this hectic look of unreasoning temper. In one moment Charlotte had changed from her languid camellia beauty to something quite distraught.

“Miss Hurst, you are taking altogether too much on yourself. Are you suggesting my daughter make a friend of a servant?”

“Charlotte, my love!” Daniel spoke quickly and placatingly. “Miss Hurst is only doing her best—”

“Oh, yes, you will take her side, of course. I’ve seen that ever since we left Venice, Miss Hurst is the complete paragon.”

“Miss Hurst happens to be the one person Flora has liked since her illness.” Daniel still spoke with patience. “If only because of that she is a paragon, I agree.”

“Yes!” Charlotte had pushed back her hair and was standing. The rose pinned among the lace ruffles of her bodice trembled violently. “She has already seen that she occupies the best bedroom. You have taken away my favorite yellow parlor for her use. And now she presumes to manage my servants.”

“Mrs. Meryon!” Lavinia’s heart was beating almost as violently as Charlotte’s. “I did come here only on the condition that I had complete charge of Flora.”

“And I made a condition, too. That you were engaged on trial only.”

Lavinia was standing, also.

“If you wish to terminate my employment, Mrs. Meryon, I am only too happy—”

Daniel would not allow her to finish.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Miss Hurst.” He went to put his arm round his wife. “Charlotte, I’m going to take you upstairs. I think you should rest.”

At first she pushed his arm away violently, but then sank against him. The hectic flush had died from her cheeks, leaving her with an extreme pallor.

“Yes, I must rest I’m so tired. The journey—having a dying woman in the house—you warned me it would be too much for me.”

Daniel led her away. Sir Timothy, who had said nothing during the uncomfortable scene, motioned to Lavinia to resume her seat.

“Your soup’s getting cold, my dear. No need to starve. Daniel knows how to manage her.”

Lavinia was still inclined to tremble.

“Was it my fault, Sir Timothy?”

“Don’t give it a thought, my dear. Charlotte enjoys making a fuss.”

“Was that all it was?”

The old man nodded. “And it won’t be the first scene you’ll see. She’s a highly strung creature. She gets overwrought with one thing and another, and then you have it—firecrackers!”

But Daniel didn’t seem to dismiss the affair quite so lightly. When he returned to the dining room, his face looked drawn and remote. Nevertheless, he noticed Lavinia’s anxiety and said,

“Don’t worry, Miss Hurst. You did nothing wrong. The exchange of Phoebe for Mary is an excellent idea. My wife agrees.”

“Agrees! But—”

“She has a headache. That makes her a little unreasonable. She wants you to go up and see her after luncheon.”

Charlotte lay on a couch in a darkened room. At first Lavinia could see only the pale shape of her face. But presently her eyes adjusted themselves to the gloom and she saw the bed with its ornate headboard and rich satin spread, the multitude of bottles on the bedside table, the bowl of roses scenting the air.

“You wanted to see me, Mrs. Meryon?”

“Come in, Miss Hurst.” Charlotte’s voice had its familiar languor. “I am quite prostrate. I shouldn’t have attempted to go down to luncheon.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Just pass me my smelling salts. The bottle with the crystal stopper. Does life ever become too much for you, Miss Hurst?”

“Occasionally. But I—but you—”

“I know what you’re going to say. That I have a beautiful home, a husband, children. That is all true. But one is never free from problems, even so. I have my wretched health. And Flora. What would you do with a crippled daughter all your life, Miss Hurst? And now my poor aunt as well. One gets frightened—” Her voice died away.

“Frightened of what, Mrs. Meryon?”

But Charlotte was following an odd line of thought.

“I had sixteen trunks when I came to Winterwood as a bride. And my dowry. Oh, I didn’t come of an ancient or a noble family. But my husband didn’t care about that. He said I was so beautiful he couldn’t stop looking at me. It was true, too. And I still am, even if the money’s all gone, even if Winterwood is such a hungry monster.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, then opened again, showing themselves still a little wild from that hysterical scene. Lavinia waited a little, then said, “Why did you want me, Mrs. Meryon?”

“Oh, just to tell you that your duties are entirely with Flora. Don’t concern yourself with anything else.”

“The business about Mary is concerned with Flora, Mrs. Meryon.”

“Yes, yes, I realize that. I will inform Mrs. O’Shaughnessy of the new arrangement. If it makes Flora happy, then I am happy.”

But she wasn’t happy. She kept staring at Lavinia, until Lavinia was impelled to ask, “Is that all, Mrs. Meryon?”

“Yes, that’s all. Just remember your duties are with Flora.”

“But have I exceeded—”

Charlotte waved an agitated hand.

“Please, Miss Hurst! I don’t want to discuss the matter further. It is only that you haven’t the right manner. Miss Brown and the others were meek. They kept their eyes downcast.”

“Perhaps that’s why they couldn’t manage Flora, Mrs. Meryon.”

“Perhaps. But I won’t have your eyes roving all over the place. Devote them to your charge.”

Lavinia returned to her room to continue the letter she had begun to Robin. She read the last sentence, “If only you could see the room I am sitting in you would be happy for me.” She went on compulsively, finding the act of writing a relief. “But I am disturbed by Mrs. Meryon’s behavior. She is delicate and inclined to be hysterical and she made a quite unprovoked scene at luncheon. I can only think that she has something on her mind. She seems suspicious of me, as if I will see too much. She seems frightened, too, although of what except her aunt’s impending death, I can’t imagine. Is it that she is jealous of me—how can she be, she is so beautiful herself? Is it that she has moods when her mind becomes slightly deranged? I did think that for a moment today. Mr. Meryon is so tender with her. But there is something hanging over this place…”