The Beloved

by Alison Rattle

  I pick up the pen that is lying on the desk and dip it into the pot of ink. My hand is trembling and a drop of black ink falls onto the centre of a clean page. I stare down at the splash. It looks like the sun with its rays spread out around it. I remember seeing my future before in a stain of ink and blood and I am glad it is the sun I see now, at least, and not a dark cloud or a page of tears.

  I begin to write, copying Our Beloved’s words in neat lines across the paper. They are just words though, and I do not join them in my mind into sentences. I slide my eyes over to where he is sitting, his head in a cloud of cigar smoke and his nose in a book. I keep glancing at him, searching for a halo or a glow of goodness; looking for a sign that he is God made flesh. Looking for something that will make sense of what he did to me. Beth said he is not God. But that is a truth too terrible for me to contemplate.

  I look at him again, willing myself to see something divine, to see something heavenly, to see anything. But I see nothing except a beast of a man bent over a book with the stain of tobacco on his fingers.

  The clock strikes one. He rises from his chair and yawns. ‘Let me see,’ he says. He gathers my work in his hands and flicks through the pages. ‘You have done well,’ he says. ‘But tomorrow, I am sure you will manage a few pages more. Go now and ready yourself for chapel.’ His eyes flick over my old frock. ‘And perhaps something more suitable for the bride of the Lord.’

  My hand aches from the hours of writing and I am desperately in need of air that isn’t fouled by the stink of tobacco. I slip out of the mansion, thinking I will find somewhere quiet where I can be on my own and calm the storm that is raging inside me. I have only just stepped onto the lawns, when Beth comes running up to me. ‘Alice,’ she hisses. She grabs my arm and pulls me into the gazebo. ‘Have you thought about what I told you?’

  ‘I have thought of nothing else,’ I tell her.

  Her face lights up. ‘Then you will come with me?’ She grabs my hands and squeezes them hard.

  I nod, although my belly is flipping over and over like a butter churn. ‘I … I don’t know where I should go, though,’ I say. ‘I don’t know anything any more.’

  Beth drops my hands and frowns. ‘Yes you do,’ she says. ‘You know the most important thing of all now. You know the truth. You do, don’t you, Alice?’

  ‘I wish I didn’t,’ I whisper.

  She laughs bitterly. ‘Do you want to be like the rest of them? Do you want to be blind and stupid? Do you want to believe that what he did to you on the altar was in the name of God?’

  I shake my head, and the dreadful memory of it all causes my throat to tighten so that for a moment I cannot speak.

  Beth grabs my hands again. ‘It will be all right, Alice,’ she says. ‘I promise. You have a home to go back to. And I will look after you until then.’

  She looks at me intently, her face trembling with determination. Suddenly, I am so full of love for her, that I pull my hands from hers and fling my arms around her neck. ‘Thank you, Beth,’ I breathe. ‘Thank you.’

  She pulls me away quickly and leans her head in close to mine. ‘We will go now, Alice,’ she whispers. ‘While they are all at chapel. We shall walk straight out of those gates and by the time anyone misses us, we will be miles away. We can do this, Alice. You know we can.’

  I nod. She is right. Why should we waste another minute in here? And I know I could not bear him near me ever again.

  ‘Meet me by the gates as soon as the chapel bells start to ring,’ Beth whispers. ‘Fetch whatever you want to bring with you. But be quick. We don’t have much time.’ She strides off across the lawns. Then she stops halfway and turns back to me. ‘I am leaving here, Alice,’ she says. ‘I shan’t change my mind this time. So hurry. Because I won’t wait.’

  I watch her walk away and I turn cold. I am as scared as I have ever been. I don’t know where we go or what we will do, but I am glad that Beth has the courage for us both, because I know I could never do this on my own.

  There is a sharp cough from behind me. I turn quickly and my heart sinks when I see Mrs Holloway standing outside the mansion. She beckons me over. ‘You will be late for chapel if you do not hurry,’ she snaps. ‘You will be changing into a fresh gown, I presume?’

  She follows me back to my chamber, so closely I can feel her breath on the back of my neck and her lavender scent catches in the back of my throat. ‘Thank you,’ I say to her. ‘I will be down in a moment.’ I leave her outside the room and I lean against the closed door and take a deep breath. My legs are shaking, but I know I must move. I will need a spare dress, a warm shawl. I run to the wardrobe and rifle through the contents. Then I see it. A lemon gown made of silk and muslin and lace. I recognise it at once. It is Glory’s. It is the gown she was wearing on the day I arrived. I slam the wardrobe door shut. This was her chamber. This was her bed. These were her clothes.

  The thought of it fills me with horror.

  The chapel bells start to ring. My heart jumps. Beth will be hiding now, by the gates, waiting for me. I look out of the chamber window and I see the women of the Parlour and all the others, trotting like sheep across the lawns and along the pathways to meet their shepherd. Then I see him. My heart quickens and I grip on to the windowsill as I watch him walk up the pathway to the chapel. It is as though I am seeing him for the first time. Only now he makes my bones shudder. There is something about the way the clouds seem to darken as he moves towards his flock that suddenly makes me turn from the window and look frantically around the room for the carpet bag. My gold locket is still inside it, hidden in the folds of my mourning gown. And I can’t leave here without it.

  It is now or never. I can’t begin to imagine where I will go or what I will do. I only know I have to get away.

  I have to meet Beth.

  I see the carpet bag lying at the foot of the bed, but before I can get to it, the chamber door opens.

  ‘You are not ready.’ Mrs Holloway’s accusing voice hits me hard in the stomach.

  ‘I … I won’t be much longer,’ I stammer. ‘I will be down in a moment.’

  ‘Then I shall wait for you, if you don’t mind,’ she says.

  Panic floods through me. ‘There’s no need,’ I say. I rush back to the wardrobe and pull out the first gown my hand touches. It is Glory’s lemon gown. But I don’t care, I just have to get rid of Mrs Holloway. I look at her pointedly. ‘I should like to get dressed in private, please.’

  ‘Very well,’ she huffs, ‘but hurry.’ And to my relief, she leaves the room.

  I dress quickly, trying to forget I am wearing a dead woman’s gown, then I run to the carpet bag and rummage inside until my hand brushes against my gold locket. Wait for me, Beth, I chant under my breath. Please, wait for me. But before I can wrap my fist around the locket, the chamber door opens again and as I smell the first dangerous whiff of Mrs Holloway’s lavender, my heart plummets.

  With Mrs Holloway following close on my heels, it takes all of my strength to walk back into the chapel. It takes all of my willpower not to look at the altar as I walk past it to stand by his side. I look out at all the faces. They are shining with adoration and they are singing with joy. Every one of them believes in him. Every one of them has chosen to follow him. I don’t understand any more. Not now, when the very air that he breathes sickens me to the stomach.

  Then, as if he knows I am fighting with demons, he reaches out to take my hand. My skin crawls as the damp of his flesh sticks to mine. Then I notice the empty chair at the back of the chapel and I know at once that Beth has gone without me.

  ‘Sing!’ he commands me. ‘Sing, little lamb!’

  But I can’t. My throat has closed up so tight that I am afraid if I open my mouth the only sound that will come out will be a loud and terrible scream.

  Forty-eight

  Eli persuaded Ernest Wraith to come with him, and to bring a couple of strong men from the mill. ‘But you must promise me your discretion,’ Eli had said. ‘Your absolu
te discretion.’

  They arrived in Spaxton in time to take lunch at the Lamb Inn. ‘So you have decided, I see,’ said the landlord gruffly, as he placed jars of ale in front of them. ‘Best of luck to you then, I say.’

  After they had eaten their fill of the landlord’s finest beef pie, Eli took the men for a walk around the walls of the Abode. ‘You see,’ he said to them, ‘the only way in is through these two gates, or over the walls. But the landlord has informed me that Prince’s carriage has not left its home for a couple of days now. So if we are lucky, we should catch the gates opening at some point tomorrow. We shall post ourselves in the lane from dawn, and as soon as the gates open, we shall rush in.’

  As they walked back to the inn, the chapel bells began to ring out, and Eli thought of Alice. Poor Alice, a prisoner behind those great walls. If only there were some way of letting her know he was there, of letting her know that her ordeal was almost over. He was struck by a sharp thrill. This is what life should be about, he thought. Adventures. Not following a dry old man like Wraith around a dusty mill all day, or placating a demanding mother. Eli felt like a hero and before he could stop himself, he rushed to the gates and began to shout, ‘Alice! Alice! I’m here, Alice!’ His only answer was a snarling and a scrabbling of great claws as the bloodhounds jumped at the gates.

  If Eli had not run from the barking and the snarling like some frightened deer, if he had just waited a few minutes more, he would have seen the smaller of the two gates open very slowly. He would have seen a pretty, freckle-faced girl creep out onto the lane, and he could have entered the Abode without any trouble at all. But by the time Beth had closed the gate behind her, Eli was back at the bar of the Lamb Inn, drinking a small brandy to calm his nerves.

  Forty-Nine

  Later that night he comes to my bed. ‘My bride,’ he slurs as he climbs in beside me. I smell the drink on his breath and the stale reek of his sweat. God shouldn’t smell like that. I lie there stiffly, waiting for the touches that I know will come. My insides shrivel. He puts his hand on me. He runs it over my breasts and belly. I bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming. But then his hand stills. It lies there, heavy on my thigh. His breathing deepens and I dare to hope he has fallen asleep.

  Then he is snoring and grunting and he fills the bed with the stench of his wind. I lie there all night, not daring to move. I would rather a sleepless night than have him wake.

  When the first pale light of morning seeps into the room, I slide quietly from the bed. He has kicked off the blankets and I see he is naked. I look down at him, at his face squashed into the pillow and at the white roll of his belly slumped over the soft worm of his manhood. I want to laugh out loud. Beth was right. Of course he is not God.

  He is just a pitiful man.

  Fifty

  It is wet and gloomy today. I watch from the window of my chamber as the wind whips sheets of rain across the lawns and over the wall to the lane outside. I finish my tea but I leave the buttered toast on its plate. Because even though I am empty, I have no appetite.

  I think of Beth and I hope she has found somewhere safe to be. I wish with all my being that I had been able to go with her. But I know that is one wish that will never come true. She is long gone. But all the same, I wish good things for her. I wish for her to find happiness.

  I make a wish for myself too. It is a foolish wish really, because I know it is too late for me. With Mrs Holloway breathing down my neck at every turn, there is no chance of escape. There is no miracle left that will free me from this place. I have made my bed. But I keep wishing for freedom nonetheless, because there is still a tiny part of me that believes I can make it happen.

  Our Beloved is to travel to Bristol today and to my relief he is taking Ruth with him and not me. They will be gone for two days at least. He has left me a pile of sermon notes to write up for him. ‘You are more use to me here, than out on the road,’ he said.

  I wonder if this will be my life now, hours and hours spent writing down words that I don’t believe, or even understand. I have nothing left now and I don’t want to feel this empty forever. So maybe if I write for long enough, I think, for a year or even two, maybe the words will seep into my brain and organise themselves into some meaning. Then maybe one day I will believe again and I will have something to live for.

  I watch as the carriage rolls towards the gates. Poor Agatha and Ruth. Even their oilskins will not keep them dry in this weather. The gates are opened and the horses nose into the lane.

  Then something strange happens. The horses stop, half in and half out of the gates. For a moment I think he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants me with him after all. My heart twists into a tight knot. But then I see four figures running into the grounds. I press my face to the window. The figures are men and I see that two of them have thick sticks in their hands. They are waving them at the bloodhounds to try and keep them at bay. The women have all emerged from the cottages now and they are running towards the men. I hear their angry shouts.

  One of the men breaks loose and he is sprinting towards the mansion. He is shouting too. I lift the catch on the window and push it open. Rain spatters on my face, but I hear him clearly now.

  My heart stops.

  ‘Alice! Alice! Alice!’ I step back from the window, not quite believing what I have seen. Is it really Eli down there? Eli calling my name? Has he come to free me? Has my wish come true?

  I dare to look again, but all I can see is a confusion of bodies. The women have surrounded him. They are pushing and pulling him, back towards the gates. ‘Eli!’ I call out of the window, ‘Eli! I’m coming!’ I look frantically around the chamber, trying to remember where the carpet bag is. There. Under the chair at the foot of the bed. I pull it open and scrabble inside until my hand closes on the gold locket. With shaking hands I clip it around my neck, then I slam open the chamber door and fly along the corridor and down the stairs.

  ‘Leave my brother alone!’ I shout as I run out to the lawns. ‘Leave him be!’

  ‘Out … Out … Out … ’ they are all chanting. ‘Out … Out … Out.’

  I push my way through, not caring who I scratch or bruise. The rain is running down my face and into my mouth. ‘Eli,’ I gasp. ‘Eli.’ I finally reach him and I grab hold of his hand.

  ‘Oh my god, Alice,’ he cries. ‘What have you got yourself into?’

  ‘STOP! STOP THIS NOW!’

  A powerful voice sails over all of our heads and suddenly the skirmish stops and quietness descends. We turn to the voice and there is Our Beloved, standing on the steps of the carriage with the bloodhounds prowling around his feet.

  Eli pulls me towards the gates. The other men are already standing out in the lane, panting fast and adjusting their dishevelled jackets.

  ‘WAIT!’ Our Beloved holds out his hand to me. ‘Who is this, Alice?’ he asks.

  ‘Don’t answer him,’ Eli hisses. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

  ‘Where are you going, Alice? You don’t want to leave us, do you?’

  I look at Our Beloved as Eli drags me out into the lane. I watch as his lips form the words that are coming out of his mouth. I push Eli away. I want to do this on my own.

  ‘Alice!’ Eli shouts. ‘Don’t. Don’t go back!’

  ‘Alice,’ says Our Beloved, as I walk towards him. ‘You know you belong here. Come back inside now, so we can shut the gates.’

  ‘No, Alice,’ yells Eli.

  ‘Come,’ says Our Beloved. ‘Come, my spirit bride. We are all here for you.’

  I look back to Eli. ‘Come home, Alice,’ he says, sounding suddenly exhausted. ‘I have missed you so much.’

  I turn again towards Our Beloved, and all I can see is the ugliness of him. There is no shining God, no saviour, no divine being. He is just a man. A mortal man named Henry Prince.

  Mrs Holloway walks to his side. Her eyes are spitting flames at me. I step back into the grounds of the Abode while Eli shouts warnings from behind me. I walk straight to
Mrs Holloway and I slap her hard, right across her face. Her buttonhole mouth splits wide open. ‘You know what that is for,’ I say. Then I run back to Eli and grab his hand again.

  ‘Come on!’ I yell. ‘Take me home!’ Then we are both running, as fast as we can, down the lane towards the carriage that is pulled up outside the Lamb Inn.

  Fifty-one

  The air inside the carriage is heavy with the sound of panting as Eli and I try to catch our breath. I am surprised to see Mr Wraith sitting across from us, but I notice at once that he cannot bear to look at me. He sits as far away from me as the cramped interior will allow. But I don’t care. I am exhilarated. I cannot sit still.

  The miracle happened. It happened for me. My wishes meant something after all. I am not lost any more. I wriggle around on my seat so much, anyone would think I had fallen in a clump of nettles.

  ‘How did you find me?’ I ask, as soon as I can speak again.

  Eli clears his throat. ‘It was Sarah,’ he says. ‘She saw you being driven through the gates of that place. I didn’t want to believe her at first, only I thought I had seen you too, in Bath, in the company of that … that Henry Prince. Did he kidnap you, Alice? Is that what happened?’

  I don’t know what to tell him. What will he think of me if I tell him the truth? If I tell him that I chose to go there? The bubbles of happiness that have been fizzing around inside me begin to burst.

  Mr Wraith takes a handkerchief from his top pocket and blows his nose loudly. Eli glances at him and then, as if he has sensed my discomfort, he puts his arm gently around my shoulders. ‘It’s all right,’ he says. ‘You can tell me all about it when we get home. You can tell me how they came to kidnap you. You will be perfectly safe back at Lions House. And when we get there you can tell me everything … But perhaps we had better spare Mama the details.’