“Yes, Katie dear.”
I put in three and stirred vigorously before she could do anything about it. I hoped Ben Aldridge had doctored them. I set the tea in front of her, piping hot, and said, “Toast, Aunt? I could build up the fire.” I could see that she was perspiring, her fringe of curls clinging to her forehead.
“No, thank you, dear. You are too kind.”
I came around the table as unobtrusively as possible, and handed poor Hannah a cup of her own while Aunt Alice perched on the edge of the chair, brushing onion skin from her skirt. Hannah sipped quickly, before my aunt could decide to take it away.
“Katharine,” Aunt Alice said suddenly, “where is your uncle?”
I saw Mrs. Jefferies go stock-still at the washbasin, and then look to me in alarm. I smiled sweetly at my aunt, sat down at the table across from her, and changed my expression to one of concern. “You are probably not aware, Aunt, that there has been a … catastrophe at Stranwyne. I’m afraid that’s why we were not prepared to receive you properly. The entire lower portion of the estate has been flooded, and the people there displaced.”
“Oh?” she said. “The servants were displaced, were they? How dreadful.”
“Yes. Some are even staying in the house now, temporarily.” The children upstairs squealed.
“And just how many servants were displaced, Katharine?”
I folded my hands in front of me. “All that lived there, Aunt. And my uncle is, of course, very distressed and tired from the execution of his duties. He is … ill, as a matter of fact.”
“Ill? Then perhaps I should go to him now, to see if there is any relief I could offer him.”
“No need for that!” Mrs. Jefferies interjected. I held in my sigh.
“You are always kind, Aunt. But he is resting at the moment, and it would be harmful to disturb him, I’m sure.”
Mary burst through the door, remembering, rather late, to drop my aunt a curtsy. “Your room is ready, Miss, uh, Ma’am,” she said, panting.
“Thank you, Mary,” I said quickly. “My aunt is undoubtedly tired and will wish to retire at once. We shall have breakfast in the drawing room at … eight o’clock, Aunt.” I decided to give myself a one-hour margin. “I shall send Mary to fetch you. And Aunt, I do wish to warn you that some of the lower portions of the house are in water, as I referred to earlier, and other parts are now sheltering the displaced, and other places are possibly … unsafe. So I wouldn’t wander about, if I were you. And if you should hear things in the night — odd noises, howling, screams, and such — please do not distress yourself. But do lock your door, Aunt, merely as a precaution, I assure you. Good night.”
Aunt Alice’s eyes were wide. I bobbed her a quick curtsy and left the kitchen, waiting in the shadows until Mary had taken both my aunt and Hannah away, somewhere down the corridor in the opposite direction. I would not risk Aunt Alice seeing which way I turned to go to my rooms.
Upstairs, my uncle’s blue eyes were wide and unseeing, staring into the canopy. “Uncle,” I whispered. “Uncle Tully?” He blinked once. I took his hand and put it on my cheek, but when I let go it dropped like a stone to the bedclothes. He was wearing my nightgown, I saw, and Lane had somehow managed to change out the linens. The others were in a pile by the door.
“I’ll try wrapping him,” Lane said, “but that works when he’s upset and thrashing. I’ve … never seen this.”
I nodded. “Tomorrow I will try to make my aunt go and convince her to leave me here. But this … will not be successful. Most likely I will have to go with her, and she will start the proceedings to take Stranwyne, if she hasn’t already. I’ll give you all the money she gave me to come here, and you and Mrs. Jefferies, you’ll have to take Uncle Tully away somewhere and hide him.”
“Come with us.”
I shook my head. “I’m only another mouth to feed until someone finds work. If she’ll keep letting me do the accounts, then I can change the numbers, and if I can change the numbers, I can get you money. It’s what I was going to do for myself … before.” That “before” seemed like an age ago. And I would have to make very sure Aunt Alice believed that I hated, detested, and despised keeping those books. After what she had seen in the hallway, she would need new ways to punish me. “Keep in touch with Mr. Babcock,” I said, “and I’ll do the same. He’ll pass the money along. Otherwise none of you will have anything to live on.” Mr. Babcock would be on the side of whoever was helping my uncle, I was sure of that.
“I don’t know if he will live,” Lane said, “if he has to leave here.”
“He has to.”
He looked long into my face. “And you will live with that … woman.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes. I have to.”
I stayed with Mary that night, the two of us squashed into her little bed, and when the sun rose, so did we, I think without either of us having slept at all. The trogwynd had blown until just before dawn, as loud as I’d ever heard it. I could only hope my aunt had not closed her eyes either. Mary helped me dress in silence, pulling my corset strings tight, slipping the worsted over my many petticoats and smoothing my hair. By a quarter till seven, the mirror showed the girl I had been when I first came to Stranwyne. Though I knew I would never really be her again.
“Good-bye, then, Miss,” Mary whispered. I hugged her tight before I left.
When I entered the drawing room, I found that Aunt Alice had anticipated me. She was sitting before the cold hearth one hour before her time, the early sun shining through the pink of the drapes, and with Mr. Lockwood by her side. I looked from my satisfied aunt to the distressed Mr. Lockwood, my last hopes shredding.
“Ah, Katharine. Good morning. You know Mr. Lockwood, I gather.”
“Miss Tulman,” he said, and stood hastily to offer me a chair. I had no idea what conclusions he might have drawn about me or my current situation, but the robust, businesslike man now struck me as thoroughly cowed.
“Thank you, Mr. Lockwood.” I took the seat opposite my aunt, and we all looked at one another. Lane, now clean and shaven, came with an armful of kindling and stopped at the door, surveying the group.
I turned to Mr. Lockwood. “I am very glad to see you well, and that you were not caught in any of this terrible flooding.”
“Yes. Though I hear you were, Miss Tulman. A most remarkable accident. I am very pleased to see you looking so healthy and well.” He placed particular emphasis on these words. Lane came across the room and began laying the fire.
“Mr. Lockwood has been telling me that there are hundreds upon hundreds displaced on the estate, Katharine. How extraordinary that there would be so many. We shall have to find suitable places for them to go as soon as may be, shall we not?”
A lump of wood crashed hard into the hearth, causing Aunt Alice to jump.
“I rather think that decision will be up to my uncle Tulman, Aunt.”
Mr. Lockwood looked uncomfortable.
“Mr. Lockwood has also been telling me, my dear, about the strange circumstance that brought him to Stranwyne. My, my, but you have been having a busy time. Small wonder if she found no time to write, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Lockwood?”
“Well …”
The fire was crackling, and Lane was only busying himself now, unwilling, evidently, to leave.
“But it is a rather lovely old place.” Aunt Alice looked happily about the room. “Sadly neglected, of course, but men never think of such things.” She reached over and placed a delicately gloved hand on Mr. Lockwood’s. “It takes a woman’s touch, don’t you think?”
My eyes widened. Aunt Alice was truly playing all her cards. I looked to the fireplace. Lane did not need to see or hear any more of this; I didn’t trust his temper. “Thank you, Mr. Moreau. Would you tell Mrs. Jefferies that we’re ready for breakfast?”
Lane inclined his head, gazing at me for a long time as I pled with my eyes for him to go. He moved reluctantly toward the door.
“Katharine has such
a way with the servants,” my aunt whispered loudly. “They just seem to give her whatever she wants.”
“Miss Tulman,” said Mr. Lockwood, the bushy beard turning my way. “Let’s stop the shilly-shallying. I am going to have to see Mr. Tulman. We both know that.”
Lane was in the doorway beneath the stairs, and he stopped again, his back rigid. “I’m afraid that is impossible, Mr. Lockwood,” I said.
“And why is that?”
“Because my uncle is quite ill.”
“Ill or no, Miss Tulman, I will be seeing him.”
My aunt’s eyes went demurely to her lap, the little pursed smile on her lips. Lane’s long body melted away through the door, and I knew he was running, getting ready to move my uncle. “I truly believe that seeing my uncle would be a grave risk, Mr. Lockwood. Are you sure you don’t wish to wait a few days, to be certain?”
“Certain of what?”
“Why, the nature of his disease, of course. Perhaps you aren’t aware, Mr. Lockwood, that our resident surgeon is concerned about an outbreak of typhus?”
“Typhus? I saw nothing of …”
“Such diseases often follow flooding.” I smoothed my skirt. “But perhaps you are right, perhaps it is nothing but a cold. Or cholera.”
“Cholera? Really, Miss Tulman, I …”
Mrs. Jefferies came in then, with her lace cap on and a tea tray clattering over the various rugs. We watched her come in silence, and then turned as one to the door. It was not just the tea cart jangling, there was a rattle from the drive as well. A carriage rolled past the front door, which in less than thirty seconds was thrown open.
“Hello! Hello, all! A thousand apologies for my late arrival.” Mr. Babcock threw down his hat and came hurrying across the room, tossing a satchel to the floor beside my aunt’s chair. “Miss Tulman,” he said, leaning forward to kiss my hand. “Enchanted, as always. And Mrs. Tulman.” He turned to my aunt and bowed his oddly shaped head. “Keeping a stiff upper lip, I see. And you are, sir?”
“Mr. Lockwood, this is Mr. Babcock, the Tulman family solicitor,” I said. My aunt gave me a dark look, reminding me that he was not her solicitor. I ignored it. “Mr. Lockwood is a county magistrate, Mr. Babcock.”
“Of course, of course,” said Mr. Babcock, pumping his hand. “A pleasure, sir. An infinite pleasure. Ah! Breakfast!” He settled with a slight thud on the settee that contained Mr. Lockwood, and took the cup handed to him by Mrs. Jefferies. “A tower of strength as always, dear lady,” he said to her.
Mrs. Jefferies set the tea tray on the low table at the center of our little gathering, and Mr. Babcock slurped his tea with an enjoyment that seemed to preclude all other thought. “Just before you arrived, Mr. Babcock,” I said, “I was telling Mr. Lockwood and my aunt about the outbreak of disease we are experiencing on the estate.”
“Were you indeed, Miss Tulman?” The shrewd eyes met mine over the teacup. Mrs. Jefferies paused briefly in her ministrations.
“Yes,” I replied. “It is most unfortunate.”
“Cholera or typhus?” Mr. Babcock asked. My aunt raised an eyebrow.
“Mr. Cooper isn’t certain,” I said firmly.
“My niece is so considerate of my health,” said Aunt Alice. “She feels it would be unwise for Mr. Lockwood or myself to even be in the same room with Mr. Tulman.”
“These country doctors,” said Mr. Babcock, helping himself to a roll, “always looking out for epidemics and whatnot, when likely it’s all down to nothing but a bad bit of beef.”
I closed my mouth and looked hard at the little lawyer. “I think,” I said slowly, “that it would be wise to follow Mr. Cooper’s recommendation, Mr. Babcock.”
“Tosh, young lady. I am surprised at you. No reason why Mr. Lockwood shouldn’t have a peek at Mr. Tulman, and if Mr. Tulman is indeed ill, the assistance of his family might be appreciated. Do you have him in Miss Marianna’s rooms, then? That’s as good a place as any for being ill.”
Mrs. Jefferies dropped a plate to the floor and it shattered, feeling as I did, no doubt, the depth of Mr. Babcock’s betrayal. He was giving my uncle away, handing him over to Mr. Lockwood. I would never have believed it possible. I banged down my cup and stood quickly, looking down on my aunt’s triumph and Mr. Lockwood’s concern. Mr. Babcock chewed his roll.
“Then I will just let him know to prepare for visitors,” I said icily. “But please do finish your breakfasts, and then Mrs. Jefferies will show you the way up. Mrs. Jefferies?” She looked up at me from the floor, where she was collecting the broken bits of plate, tears rolling from her eyes. “Take them by way of the clock room. I think that’s fastest, don’t you?”
She opened her mouth once to protest, but then only said, “Yes, Miss.”
I left the drawing room at a dignified pace, and as soon as the door was shut, I ran.
When I flung open the door to Marianna’s room, my uncle was in the same attitude as before, staring at the canopy. Lane looked up from the bag he was stuffing.
“They’re coming,” I said. “Ten minutes at the most. Does he have any clothes up here?”
“All in the workshop.”
“No matter.” I shoved the soiled linens under the bed while Lane scooped Uncle Tully into his arms, but my uncle chose that moment to show his first signs of life in hours. He yelled like a banshee, flailing so hard and suddenly that Lane dropped him back on the bed.
“Hush, Mr. Tully. It’s all right, everything is —”
He struggled and wailed, one of his wild arms striking Lane’s face. He didn’t appear to be seeing what was in front of him.
“I’ll have to drag him,” Lane said, raising his voice over the noise. “I won’t be able to carry him when he’s doing that!”
“Uncle!” I shouted, coming around the bed. “Uncle Tully, look at me! Do you remember what Marianna said?”
He went instantly still, and I got in his line of sight, so that his eyes could focus on me. I had no idea what Marianna might have said, but surely she had said something to benefit the occasion. “Yes,” he said slowly.
“Such behavior is not good, Uncle, even when you are frightened. It is not splendid, isn’t that so?”
“Yes,” he whispered. His lips were dry and cracked.
“Lane and I are going to take care of you. We want to help, do you understand that? Now, I’m sure you are hungry, and thirsty, and that you haven’t had your playtime, or your toast and tea. Take my hand and come with me.”
And he did. He was weak and tottering, but he took my hand firmly enough while Lane held his other arm. We started across the room.
“What is thirty-four times twelve, Uncle Tully?”
“Four hundred and eight.” He took one step and then another, his skinny legs sticking out of my nightgown.
“Four hundred and eight times nine?”
“Three thousand six hundred and seventy-two. There was water,” he said shakily. “I saw water….”
“Yes, Uncle.” We were entering Mary’s room, though she wasn’t in it. “You will have to build new things now. Eighty-eight times naught?”
“N-naught. New things, little niece?”
“Oh, yes, think of all the lovely new things to build. All brand-new, and right out of your head.”
My uncle’s face lightened, he was moving quicker, and some of my fear had actually begun to ebb when we entered the library and he spied the box of toys. Uncle Tully jerked away from both of us and charged for the box, flinging it open.
“Uncle, no. Not now! Tea first, and toast, remember?”
“We had it in here before,” he said stubbornly, rummaging through the box.
“Yes, but not this time. This time we —”
“The boat is gone away! It was just right, and now it’s …”
Lane was speaking low into my uncle’s ear, trying to pull him upright. There were voices coming down the corridor.
“Uncle, please!” I pleaded. “Thirty-five times fourteen?”
> “Gone! It’s gone! No, NO!” he shouted, his face turning red. “It’s not George’s, or Simon’s! It’s mine! Mine, mine!”
“Ah, here we are,” I heard Mr. Babcock say.
When the library door opened, I was clinging hard to my uncle.
Sad,” Mr. Lockwood mused, leaning back into the settee in the drawing room. “Very sad.”
“Truly,” said my aunt. “The fall of a great man.”
I wished my gaze could do anything I wanted. I wished with one look I could drop my aunt into a puddle of mud, or perhaps dung, or boiling oil. And Mr. Babcock, I wished I could flay him, or twist his thumbs…. Mr. Babcock drained his third cup of tea.
“So, Mr. Lockwood,” said Mr. Babcock, his large jowls shaking, “is it your opinion, sir, that the head of the Tulman estate should be declared incompetent?”
“I don’t see how it cannot be so,” said Mr. Lockwood, studying his hands. He, at least, was not enjoying this process. I could almost forgive him for shooting Bertram. “Mr. Tulman is in no fit state to make decisions of finance or to provide for his own welfare. It is my opinion, sir, that he must be institutionalized, for his own safety.”
“Ah,” replied Mr. Babcock, “very judicious of you, I’m sure, very prudent. But that particular decision will be made by the next head of the estate, will it not? If Mr. Tulman is declared incompetent, the estate passes downward.” Mr. Babcock smiled and turned to my aunt. “Is that not correct, Madam?”
My aunt inclined her curled head, her tight smile threatening to burst its bonds. “But as the heir of Stranwyne is not of age, Mr. Babcock, I, of course, will have to stand in that stead.” She leaned toward Mr. Lockwood. “It is a great burden, and one I feel keenly, I assure you.”
Then her hard little eyes moved from Mr. Lockwood to me, and my aunt and I reached an understanding. My position had been made all too clear. Not another penny would pass my way in her lifetime, or ever, if she could help it. I looked into my teacup, and began drafting an advertisement in my head. Young lady, well educated — no, perhaps moderately educated — seeks work as … I had no idea what I could seek work as. I realized Mr. Babcock was talking.
The Dark Unwinding Page 24