The Golden Bird
A certain king had a beautiful garden, and in the garden stood a tree which bore golden apples. These apples were always counted, and about the time when they began to grow …
I didn’t hear her come in. I had been so enthralled with my gift. But suddenly, the book was snatched out of my hands, and I yelped before I knew what was happening.
‘You little thief!’ she whispered. ‘This is what happens to sneaky children who defy their mother’s wishes.’ She pulled my arm towards her, her hand locked tight around my small wrist. Then she lowered her candle and tilted it over my bare skin. One. Two. Three drops of hot wax splattered onto my arm. I clenched my teeth together, so as not to cry out. But the tears rolled out of my eyes before I could stop them and it was then I looked up at her and saw the satisfied turn of her lips.
I never saw that book again. I wonder what she did with it as I brush my fingers tentatively over the faded scars. Did Mama burn it in the fire? I look again at the charred remains of my stays, and my heart turns ice cold.
I jump as the door opens. But it is only Lillie. She stumbles in, rumpled-haired, clutching a shawl around her pokey shoulders. ‘I smelled smoke, miss,’ she says as she rubs her eyes awake. She walks over to where I am still sitting by the fireplace. ‘If you had wanted a fire, you had only to call me,’ she says testily.
I stand quickly and try to block her view of the grate. But I am too late. Lillie’s stare flicks from my unfettered form, to the burned mess behind me. Her hand flies to her mouth in disbelief. Then she stiffens and sniffs. ‘I’ll have to tell the mistress of this,’ she says, her weasel eyes glinting.
‘But you don’t, Lillie. You don’t have to tell her anything,’ I say, knowing as I speak that my words are wasted.
Lillie’s mouth twitches. ‘Oh, I do,’ she says defiantly. ‘And I will. First thing in the morning.’
I look hard into her face – at her eyes, like two shrivelled currants pushed into a ball of raw pastry – and, suddenly, I know how I can stop her. ‘As you like,’ I say to her. ‘But remember, Lillie. Everyone gets what they deserve in the end. Everyone.’ Lillie makes a noise at the back of her throat, like a disgruntled dog, then turns on her heels back to her room.
I laugh bitterly. I will make her regret this. Somehow, I will make her pay for her spitefulness. I know I cannot hide my burned stays from Mama, but I will not give Lillie the pleasure of tattling. I will teach that piece of poison a lesson she will never forget.
I climb into bed and try to clear my mind of all thoughts, except one. I lay my head on the pillow and close my eyes. I concentrate as hard as I can on my next wish. I imagine Lillie’s pale, pinched face, her eyes gleaming with delight as she rushes to Mama’s room to tell of my terrible sin. I imagine Lillie opening her mean little mouth and finding to her horror that there is no sound to come out of it. I imagine her voice, shrivelled to a black lump, rolling off her tongue and falling to the floor. I wish and I wish as hard as I can, and as I fall asleep, all that is in my head is a picture of Lillie with her mouth, empty of words, gaping wide like a goldfish.
Six
Temperance Angel woke from a fitful sleep. As she came to her senses, the terrible feeling of having been snubbed descended upon her again. As she thought of Lady Egerton, her throat filled with bitter bile and her temples ached. She had banged her fists so many times on her dressing table the night before, that she had grazed her knuckles and Jane had had to bathe them with salted water. She glanced at them now. They looked hideous. She would have to wear gloves for the foreseeable future.
Temperance never knew that disappointment could be so crippling. It was as though she had lost control of everything. Her vision of what should have been had come to nothing. And she couldn’t bear it. She tried to reassure herself. Lady Egerton had been badly injured, so of course she could not have kept her appointment. It hadn’t been a deliberate snub. But no matter how Temperance thought of it, and broken ankle or not, the result was the same. Without the gilded presence of Lady Egerton in her drawing room, Temperance would not be accepted into the tight inner circle of Bridgwater’s finest ladies. Her delicate features tightened into a sour grimace. She would not be beaten, she decided. She would allow herself this one slip only. She shook herself slightly, like an injured bird fluffing its feathers, and set her mind on the day ahead.
Alice, she suddenly remembered. The girl had been left to her own devices all night. She was bound to have stepped out of line. But even if she hadn’t, Temperance could always find an excuse to vent her wrath. It would take her mind off Lady Egerton at least. Temperance was slightly cheered by this notion, and she reached out to pull the bell for Jane.
Down in the kitchens, Lillie’s mind was doing somersaults. She couldn’t wait to see the mistress and spill the beans on what had happened last night. Alice Angel was a strange one all right, but there was a part of Lillie that could not help admiring her. It was as though she really didn’t care about anything. Taking off her stays was bad enough, but what Lille had seen in the grate late last night had set her heart pounding with a mixture of fear, awe and excitement.
Alice had still been asleep when Lillie had gone into her room first thing – curled up like a cat and snoring gently. Lillie had drawn the curtains back, but when that had not woken the girl, Lillie had decided to leave her be while she went to the kitchens to fetch warm water for the girl’s morning toilet. As soon as she was done with her duties, she’d go and find the mistress. Lillie could barely contain herself. Being the bearer of terrible news filled Lillie with a delicious self-importance and she held her head high, ignoring the other servants in the kitchens as she filled the water jug and snatched at a piece of bread to eat on her way back upstairs. The bread was fresh from the oven and still steaming gently as Lillie popped it in her mouth and began to climb the stairs. Then two things happened at once. First, the knot in Lillie’s apron strings slipped, causing her apron to drop to the floor where it caught on her right foot just as she was lifting it to climb another stair, and second, she flicked out her tongue to lick a stray breadcrumb from the side of her mouth. Before Lillie had time to close her mouth she had crashed onto the sixth step up and landed heavily on her chin. The jug of water flew from her hands and smashed into pieces on the hall floor below. But worse, as her chin hit the stair, the force of the fall clamped her teeth shut onto her protruding tongue and she bit the end of it clean off.
Seven
I am torn from sleep by the most dreadful screams. I sit bolt upright. The walls of my room tremble with the sounds of running feet and shouts and the banging of doors. I jump from my bed and rush to the door. ‘Fetch the doctor!’ someone shouts. As I reach the landing I see the stairs are crowded with servants. The screams have stopped, and instead there is a loud keening noise, like nothing I have ever heard before. I think of wild animals and of a kitchen cat we once had that made a similar sound before it gave birth to six dead kittens. But this is worse. I want to put my fingers in my ears to silence it. Suddenly I think of Mama and how she didn’t come to my room last night. Something terrible has happened to her, I am sure of it. My first feeling is one of relief. Now perhaps she will never have to know that I burned my stays.
Then Eli is standing next to me, hastily belting up his dressing gown. ‘What has happened, Alice?’ he asks me quickly.
‘I … I don’t know,’ I stammer. ‘I think, Mama. Maybe?’
Eli pushes past me and begins to take charge of the chaos. ‘Move out of the way. Let me see,’ he orders. The clamour quietens and the servants step back to make room for Eli. There is a moment of silence.
‘It’s all right, Alice,’ he shouts back up to me. ‘It is not Mama. It is only Lillie.’
Disappointment clutches at my stomach briefly. I peer over the banisters and the first thing I see is blood. It is smeared all over a kitchen maid’s apron and hands and is splotched onto the pale rose-covered paper that runs up the stairwell wall. Lillie
is slumped against the wall and a blood-soaked cloth is being held to her mouth by another servant.
‘What has she done?’ asks Eli. ‘Do we really need to call for a doctor?’
‘She’s bit her tongue off, sir,’ says the servant with the cloth. ‘Look. Here it is.’ She opens her hand and I see what looks like a small piece of red meat resting in her palm. Eli recoils and starts walking back up the stairs towards me.
‘Get her into a bed,’ he says. ‘And yes, indeed, please call Dr Danby.’ His face has paled. ‘Don’t look, Alice,’ he tells me as he reaches the landing. ‘Go back to your room and let them deal with it.’
But I cannot move. I hold on to the banisters and I cannot tear my eyes away as Lillie is helped to her feet by the grave-faced servants and led away, her moans echoing down the hall.
‘Alice!’ hisses Eli. ‘Don’t be so ghoulish. Come on.’
He doesn’t understand.
I don’t understand.
I made this happen.
My wish came true.
I turn from the stairs and start to walk slowly back to my room. I am dreaming all of this, surely?
The floor feels soft beneath my feet, and the walls on either side of me are closing in. I think that if I were to touch them, they would give beneath my fingers, like melted wax. My bedchamber is at the end of the corridor, but it seems much further away. My belly is rolling around inside and I have to move faster, although it is hard to lift my feet. My belly forces its way up into my throat and suddenly I am in my room and vomiting into the bowl on my washstand. Now I know I am not dreaming. I see again the small piece of meat in the maid’s hand and I shiver.
I wanted Lillie silenced. But not like this.
As I catch my breath and reach for a towel to wipe my mouth, I hear a small noise. A quiet, shifting, stirring sound. I lift my head from the bowl and my throat tightens as I see Mama. She is standing by the fireplace. She has the poker in her hand and is swirling it around in the ashes. Every now and then it clinks on the charred steel bones of my stays. She has her back to me, but I can see by the movement of her shoulder blades – sharp as elbows through the thin silk of her robe – that she is breathing deeply. ‘How dare you,’ she says quietly, her voice quivering slightly. I retch into the bowl again.
‘Unforgivable.’ Her voice comes closer. I look over the rim of the bowl. She is standing next to me and I see the poker still clenched in her hand. It has left a trail of soot on the pale pastel of her morning robe. ‘One night,’ she says, in a voice so calm it makes the base of my skull prickle. ‘For one night I leave you. And look what you do.’ She aims the poker under my chin and slowly forces me to lift my head from the bowl. ‘I was quite convinced it was your screams I heard just now,’ she says. ‘It is the sort of thing I have come to expect from you. But no. Jane told me it was Lillie. A foolish accident, I believe?’
She slides the poker out from under my chin, and instead of leaning to the bowl again, I get to my feet and dare myself to look her in the eyes. The green of her irises is a little too bright and the narrow furrow between her brows twitches a heartbeat. I think it is best I keep quiet for now.
She strolls back towards the fireplace. ‘I was pleasantly surprised to find it was not you shrieking like some vile creature,’ she says. ‘But then I come to your room, and what do I find? That you have spent an unremarkable night sleeping? That although I was remiss in not coming to check on you last night, all would be in order? All would be well?’ She places the poker back in its companion set and wipes some imaginary soot from her hands. ‘How foolish of me to think that.’ She sighs heavily. ‘Not only did you defy me by removing your stays, but you saw fit to burn them.
‘It is my fault,’ she says, still so strangely composed. ‘I should never have listened to your father. He said you would change as you grew older. That you would calm down, and become more biddable.’ Mama laughs, but it is forced and hard. ‘I should have done what needed doing years ago.’
She turns to the window and stands looking out, with her hands clasped neatly over her belly. The butter-soft light of the morning catches in the pale down on her cheeks. I wait for her to say more. To explain what she means. What needs to be done?
In the silence that follows, I think of Lillie again. There was so much blood. I never wished for blood. Will she bleed to death?
Then Mama clears her throat. ‘Such a beautiful day,’ she murmurs to herself.
I don’t know why this bothers me, but it does. It bothers me that Mama can make even a beautiful day sound so wrong and sinister.
My throat is tight and bitter with the aftertaste of vomit. I want to ring for Lillie to bring me tea. I want her to clear the mess I have made and bring me warm water so I can wash the staleness and fear from my skin. I want Mama to leave now, to tell me what my punishment is and to leave. But I know, even as I think all this, that none of it will be.
Nothing will ever be as it was.
Suddenly, Mama turns from the window and fixes me with a determined glare. ‘I believe I heard that Dr Danby has been called?’
‘Yes,’ I say quietly. ‘To attend to Lillie.’
‘Good,’ she says. ‘Then I shall have him come to attend to you afterwards.
‘But I am not ill,’ I say. I glance down at the froth of vomit in the bowl. ‘It was only the shock of seeing Lillie. And the blood. I am recovered now. There is no need to bother the doctor on my account.’
‘Oh, but it is not on your account, Alice. It is for my sake he will attend you.’ She smooths back a wisp of hair from her forehead. ‘You will stay in your room from now on. It would not be safe to have you running loose in the house.’ She flicks her gaze around my room. ‘There will be no more fires in here and, of course, no candles.’ She looks back at me and shudders slightly as her eyes fall on the washstand bowl. ‘I will send a maid up. You will wash, and ready yourself for the doctor.’
‘But there is no need for the doctor, truly, Mama. Why do I need a doctor?’ A thread of fear is stitching my insides tight. I had expected anger, coldness and the usual blank disappointment. But a doctor?
‘Do not question me, Alice!’ she says through clenched teeth. Her composure disappears and she is now the Mama I know best. ‘You are always questioning, questioning, questioning.’ Spots of dangerous red have marked her pale cheeks. She grips her robe tight at her throat and sweeps from the room, slamming the door behind her. I hear the thunk of the key in the lock, and my heart drops like a stone into my empty belly. My sentence has been passed, but I have no idea what my punishment will be.
I sit on my bed and wait. There is nothing else to do. My head is a muddle of thoughts that I cannot untangle. I think of Lady Egerton and her broken ankle and Lillie and her severed tongue. But the edges of my thoughts are tinged red with Lillie’s blood. I want Papa to come back from Bristol and make everything better. And I want Eli. He has always cushioned me from Mama’s wrath. But where is he? Why has he not come to me? When I was little, he would always come; as sure as the long-case clock in the hall chimed each hour, Eli would find a way to offer me small comforts.
I remember a summer long ago when I was confined to my room for some misdemeanour that I cannot now recall. But I remember how I longed for the outside world, for the feel of the sun on my skin and for the scent of grass and roses and the taste of fresh air. Eli would sneak into my room and bring the outside to me. He brought me feathers, soft downy ones, which I imagined the garden sparrows had shaken from their tails. He brought me polished pebbles, ‘jewels for a lady,’ he would say, and once he brought me a rose head in full bloom that I pressed between the pages of my Bible. Even after the petals had dried and crumbled to dust, I could still smell the sweetness of that rose whenever Mama instructed me to read the scriptures.
I have heard the long-case clock strike twice now. Eli is not coming this time.
Eventually, my door is unlocked and a young maid with red-rimmed eyes and a plain face scuttles into the
room carrying a large jug and bowl. ‘Water for you, miss,’ she says shyly.
I look at her closely. I am not certain I have seen her before. But maybe it is just that she has never been upstairs. ‘Can you tell me how Lillie is?’ I ask, as she covers the soiled bowl with a cloth and replaces it with the new bowl and jug of water.
The girl looks at me and her eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh, miss,’ she says, sniffing loudly, ‘the news ain’t good. She’s gone ’alf mad with the pain she has. And the blood … she won’t stop bleeding. They say … they say Lillie might bleed to death.’ On the word death, her voice rises to a wail and the tears she has been trying to control come tumbling down her face.
‘I … I am sure she will not die. I am sure she will be fine,’ is all I can think to say to her.
‘I hope so, miss,’ says the girl. ‘Doctor says she’s to be taken away. There’s nothing more can be done for her here.’ She takes up her apron and messily wipes her face. ‘Sorry, miss, sorry,’ she says. ‘Must be terrible for you, miss. Her being your lady’s maid an’ all.’
‘Yes,’ I manage to say. ‘Yes, it is terrible.’ The girl stands there, twisting her apron around in her hands. ‘Is everyone so upset?’ I ask. A dreadful guilt is pressing hard on my chest. ‘Was she well liked downstairs?’
‘She weren’t, miss, I’m sorry to say. She had a wicked tongue on her – oh.’ The girl realises what she has said and she clasps her hand to her mouth as though she can stuff the words back in.
The Beloved Page 4