He suddenly stopped yelling; the sweat was running down his face. She was staring at him, her eyes stretched so wide they seemed to be popping out of their sockets. Then he broke the heavy ominous silence by saying, ‘Marion got out of your clutches. Helen did, too. And Rosie wanted to follow them, to be rid of you, because they knew you for what you were, your father’s daughter. And you are your father’s daughter, aren’t you? Because if any woman has inherited whoring instincts, it’s you. You should have been on the streets, eating men up like you’ve tried to do me. You inveigled me into marrying you. I see that now as plain as the scheme you planned to keep Rosie by your side, because you were afraid to be left alone in this mausoleum of a house you’re obsessed with. Did you ever think of turning it into a whore shop? Or becoming a madam? because let me tell you, that prim exterior of yours must have been ready to burst by the time you hooked me. It’s a wonder you weren’t up in the loft with Needler or Oldham. Now I’m asking myself why young Arthur Winter suddenly gave in his notice. I can recall seeing you with him one day in the harness room. When I pushed open the door it nearly knocked you on your face, and the fellow looked not only embarrassed, but frightened. I thought nothing of it at the time, but I have done since. Well, from now on, let me tell you, you’ll have to look for someone else to ease your bodily cravings, for I wouldn’t touch you again if you were dying at my feet. You smell, you stink. If it wasn’t that my mother was in such a bad state and that you inveigled her on the side – oh yes, on the side; I knew nothing about it, or I would have put a stop to it, to pay in advance for a five-year lease on the annexe – I’d be out of here tomorrow. But from now on I live there and don’t you dare come near it, or God knows what I may be tempted to do to you; at this moment I want to drive my fist into your mean, scheming face.’
He drew in a long breath, then swinging about, he marched into the dressing room. Pulling out one drawer of the tallboy after another, he threw his clothes here and there on the small settee and the armchair. He next went to a wardrobe from which he grabbed at his suits. Then pulling open the door leading into the corridor, he let out another yell: ‘Frances! Janie! Come here!’ It was as if he knew they would still both be at the foot of the stairs. And when, white-faced, they appeared at the door, he said, ‘Take as many of these suits and coats and underwear as you can, and leave them at the communicating door leading into the annexe.’
As each girl, with trembling hands, picked up a number of garments, he pulled two suitcases from the side of the wardrobe and began stuffing the remainder of his shirts and underwear into them.
It was some minutes before the girls returned, and when he saw they were visibly trembling, his voice was quiet now as he said, ‘Will you take these, please, and put them with the others? I’m just going to collect some books from the guest room. I’ll take what I need at present; I can collect the others at any time.’
Neither of them spoke, nor did they make any motion with their heads; and he went past them, into the corridor and along to the end to the guest room where his books were stored on several shelves. They were mostly medical books and the reason why they hadn’t been put in the library downstairs was that most of the shelves there were filled with leather-bound volumes; and he had been quick to discover that Beatrice didn’t like them out of order, that the whole contents of the room were mostly for show, as were a number of first editions behind glass-fronted cabinets. The old colonel, it would appear, had been a collector but not a reader. And so, his own tattered volumes had been relegated to the shelves in the spare room. He now picked a book out here and there until he had his arms full, then went downstairs.
The house was very quiet. It was as if a death had just occurred. And yes, a sort of death had really taken place, for their marriage was certainly over. And, too, she might as well have killed Rosie as do what she did to her. Although it was now a long time since that happening, Rosie still bore that look of rejection, even behind her laughter. Once his things were inside that annexe, he would go to Rosie and lift that look from her face . . .
It was not more than twenty minutes later when, hurrying along the road towards Robbie’s, he saw Rosie approaching. She was smiling as she came up to him and said immediately, ‘You’re back, then. I thought you wouldn’t be home till later. I’m going in to pack a case. I had a letter from Helen today: they’ll be back from London tonight and she wants me to go and stay with her for a while. She’s very worried about Leonard; he seems to be no better.’ She paused, then said, ‘Is something the matter? What is it?’
Before he answered her question, he said, ‘Leonard? What about Leonard?’
‘Well, you know he’s been ill. That’s why they went to Switzerland. For his consumption. But . . . but what is it? Why are you looking like that? Has something happened in town?’
He took her arm, pulled her round gently and walked her back towards Robbie’s, saying, ‘Yes, something happened in London and . . . and it concerns you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. That’s what I said.’
‘But how? Why?’
‘Wait until we get inside. I think Robbie would like to hear this, too.’
She remained silent but her step quickened to keep pace with his. And then, without knocking, he was opening the kitchen door and pushing Rosie in before him to meet the surprised gaze of Robbie and his mother.
It was Annie who repeated Rosie’s words now as she looked at John, saying, ‘Is there something the matter? What is it? Has something happened?’
‘Yes, Annie, you could say something’s happened. Let’s all sit down.’
Robbie pulled a chair out for Rosie, then sat next to her; but he didn’t ask any questions, he just kept his eyes on John. And John now leaned across the table and gripped Rosie’s hand as he said, ‘You can take that look off your face from now on and out of your heart as well: Teddy never rejected you.’
‘What?’ It was a small sound, almost a whimper.
‘You heard what I said. Your dear Teddy never rejected you. The simple truth is that he was warned off by your dear sister to prevent him from being saddled with a wife who would eventually go mad as did your great-aunt, who apparently danced about naked.’
Rosie now drew her hand from his and put it up to her throat and whispered, ‘She wouldn’t! She wouldn’t! Not that!’
‘She did, and in detail.’
From then on, John described how he had met Edward Golding and what had transpired.
When he had finished there was utter silence at the table. Even Annie made no comment. Then Rosie asked quietly, ‘Where is he now?’
‘In London, but he returns to America tomorrow.’ He paused before he added, ‘He has a wife and a young baby now.’
John watched Rosie’s eyes widen, then her gaze drop to the table to where her hands were joined, and her voice sounded steady as she said, ‘Well, that doesn’t matter any more.’ And suddenly lifting one hand, she put it on top of Robbie’s, where it was gripping the edge of the table; he grasped it, but said not a word, leaving the expression on his face as he gazed at her to declare his thoughts. Then he turned and glanced at his mother, but the words she muttered were unintelligible.
Then the three of them were startled as Rosie bounced to her feet, saying, ‘In a way, she’s done me a good turn, but I’ll never forgive her for what I’ve been through. No! I’ll never forgive her. She’s wicked! Wicked! She always was. I knew she was. That’s why I wanted to get away. There was always something in her. If anyone has inherited Aunt Ally’s traits, it’s her.’ She was nodding at John now as he said, ‘Yes. Yes, you may be right there. In fact, I think you are right.’
Then she gave a shake of her head as if she were just recognising a fact and said, ‘But you are married to her, John.’
‘Yes, I am married to her, dear. But you leave me to manage that.
I’m going to live in the annexe with Mother until I can find a suitable place, although, as you know, she inveigled her into signing a lease for five years. Payment in advance, of course. In every way, she’s a scheming devil.’
Rosie now turned to Annie, saying, ‘I was about to go and pack my case, as you know, to go to Helen’s. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll bring the rest of my things here, because I’ll not live in that house again with her. I’ll . . . I’ll stay with Helen for a time and . . .’
‘Oh, lass, why d’you need to ask? This is your real home, always has been. Go on and get your cases; Robbie’ll go along with you.’
‘No. No.’ Rosie turned now and looked at Robbie. ‘I’ll go on my own.’
For answer, Robbie went to the back of the door, took down his coat and his cap, and for the first time he spoke, saying, ‘I’ll not go in. I have no desire ever to enter that house, but I’ll be there to carry your things.’
Rosie stared at him; then turning to John, she said quietly, ‘It’s you I’m sorry for now; I . . . I feel free. It’s . . . it’s as if I’d lived all my life under that feeling of rejection and not knowing why, only that rejection makes you a lesser being to yourself. But . . . but you, you are tied to her.’
‘Don’t worry about that. But get yourself away and finish the business, and then start your new life.’ John looked from one to the other.
It was Robbie who answered him: ‘Yes, John, we’ll start a new life, and not before time. But there’s still years ahead of us and we’ll make up for it,’ and he took hold of Rosie’s arm, saying, ‘She knows how I feel . . . at long last.’
When they had gone, Annie put out her hand and took hold of one of John’s and, shaking it, said, ‘I can say in all honesty, John, this is the happiest day of my life. My lad has come into his own at last, and if anybody has worked and waited for it, ’tis he.’
At the front door of the house, Robbie said quietly, ‘Try to keep calm. The least said is soonest mended, and this could be the last time you need ever see her,’ and Rosie answered him with a small nod of her head, then went inside.
Frances was coming down the stairs and Rosie waited until she reached the bottom before she asked, ‘Where is Miss Beatrice?’
Frances’s voice had a slight stammer to it as she said, ‘Sh . . . she’s in her st . . . study, miss, and she’s in a bit of a tear.’
‘Will you come and help me pack?’
‘Pack?’
‘Yes, Frances; I’m leaving home’ – she looked about her – ‘this house for good.’
‘Oh, miss; not you an’ all, not you an’ all.’
‘It’s got to be, Frances. Will you?’
‘Oh, yes, miss. Yes, miss,’ and she turned and followed Rosie up the stairs, where, as had happened only a short time before, drawers were pulled open and clothes rammed into cases. And when at last three cases were full, Frances picked up two of them and Rosie the third, and with loose garments hanging over her free arm, without a backward glance she left the room that had been her own since she was ten years old.
Frances had placed the cases at the foot of the tall fellow from next door; then she was stepping back into the hall to take the other case and loose garments from Rosie when, from along the passage, her mistress appeared.
Beatrice’s hair was dishevelled and there was a wild look about her. The spring she made across the hall towards Rosie bore out her appearance, for she yelled, ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’
She pushed Frances to one side and glared at the man standing outside the door, the cases at his feet, before banging the door closed. Then her back against it, she cried, ‘What d’you think you’re up to?’
‘You can see what I’m up to: I’m leaving.’
‘Oh, but you’re not. Oh, but you’re not. I’ve gone through too much for you to . . .’
‘Shut up! What you have done is tried to ruin my life with your lying and your schemes. You’re evil. You always have been.’
At this Beatrice turned and yelled at Frances, ‘Get away! Get away!’ And the girl actually ran now, down the hall and through the door leading to the kitchen.
But she didn’t close it, and she could hear her mistress yelling, ‘That husband, or supposed husband of mine, is a liar: he’s told you half-truth. What I did, I did for you, because . . .’
‘You didn’t do it for me. You did it because you couldn’t bear to be left alone in this beastly house. You weren’t married then and there was no hope of anyone ever taking you. And I wondered why John had stepped in. But now I know it was through pity for you. Anyway, I have no pity for you at this moment, but in a way, I should thank you for what you did. I have been haunted by the thought of rejection, but now I know where my true feelings lie. I know that I’ve always loved Robbie MacIntosh, and what’s more, I’m going to marry him and’ – she was almost screaming now – ‘live next door! Do you hear?’
A scream which outdid Rosie’s came from Beatrice as she sprang again on her sister, almost knocking her off her balance as she yelled, ‘Never! Never! I’ll see you dead first. Married to that coarse, ignorant . . .’
‘Leave go of me!’
‘I won’t! You’re not going. I’ll see you dead first.’
When Rosie’s doubled fist came up between Beatrice’s hands, which were gripping her sister’s shoulders, and landed on her mouth, she was released instantly. But Beatrice did not fall back, she just staggered a little and put her hand quickly up to her face. And when she looked at her hand and saw the blood, she gave a gasp of astonishment. Then it was with frenzied rage that she again attacked Rosie, and it would seem that she was intent on tearing the hair from her head when the front door was thrust open, as also was the kitchen door, and Frances and Janie Bluett rushed into the hall, there to join Robbie as he was endeavouring to pull Rosie away from Beatrice’s frenzied, clawing hands.
‘Mistress! Mistress! Stop it! Stop it!’ The girls were holding on to Beatrice now. Blood was running from her mouth and over her chin onto their hands as they continued to hold her back for, still consumed with rage, the sight of Robbie MacIntosh was infuriating her further, and she screamed at the top of her voice, ‘Get out! Get out, you! Out of my house!’
But he, one arm around Rosie’s quivering body, her case in the other, her coat over his shoulder paused and, casting a withering glance at Beatrice, cried back at her, ‘Yes, I’ll get out, and your sister with me for good and all. And I’ll say this to you, woman: if there’s anyone inherited insane traits in your family, it’s yourself!’
This statement, one would have expected, would have torn Beatrice from the servants’ hold; instead, it had the opposite effect, for they felt their mistress going limp under their hands, and then her body beginning to shake as if with ague.
Tom Needler had appeared on the drive and Robbie called to him, ‘Would you mind hauling the rest of her luggage down, Tom?’ And Tom, his eyes wide, hurried forward, saying, ‘Yes, laddie. Yes. Don’t worry about it; I’ll bring the lot to the gate.’
Rosie’s face was bleeding from two nail scratches down the side of her right cheek. Her body, too, was shaking, but this was due to her shuddering crying.
When they reached the gate, Robbie called back to Tom, ‘Just leave them there, Tom. I’ll come back for them.’
‘From what I saw of her,’ Tom Needler called, ‘she won’t be on the look-out to see what I’m up to for some little time. So leave the lot and I’ll get them along to your place.’
Rosie was awake, but she hadn’t yet opened her eyes. She knew that she was lying in Robbie’s bed and her mind was perfectly clear as to what had transpired last night. She could recall that she had been unable to stop crying. Mrs Annie had held her and Robbie had held her, but still she couldn’t stop. Then John had arrived and he had seen to the scratches on her f
ace. He had said soothing words to her about her future, and of how happy she was going to be. But still she had been unable to stop crying. Then he had made her drink something and she must have gone to sleep. But now, when she felt a hand lift hers from the counterpane, she opened her eyes and looked at Robbie. He was bending towards her, and he smiled softly as he said, ‘You’ve had a good sleep. D’you feel better now?’
She did not answer for some time. She didn’t know whether she felt better or not. Her face was paining; and she put up her other hand to it, asking quietly, ‘Is it much?’
‘It’s enough,’ he answered in his blunt way. ‘But John says it isn’t very deep, which is a good thing. It will soon heal.’
She found it painful to turn her head to the side in order to see him the better; and then quietly she said, ‘It’s over.’
‘Yes, love, it’s over.’
She watched him lower his head for a moment, then look at her again and say, ‘I heard it all from outside. Was it true what you said?’
There was no coyness about the answer, just a plain, ‘Yes, Robbie, it was true.’
‘And not as a brother, or a . . . ?’
‘No, not as a brother, or anything else. But as it should have been years ago, if I’d . . . if I’d had any sense.’
He lifted her hand and brought it to his chest.
‘How long have you felt this way . . . about me, I mean?’
‘Oh, for some time. But I . . . I don’t think I could ever have told you, because I was still carrying that dreadful feeling of rejection.’
‘Oh, my dear. You must have known you would have found no rejection in me, because I’ve loved you all your life. When you were a child I loved you. Then I loved you as a young girl, and that was a painful time, because I knew how you viewed me. But not so painful as when you became a young woman and were about to marry.’
The Obsession Page 17