‘We heard there was a lady wanted a job done,’ began the first. ‘Betty Hardwick's cousin put us on to her.’
‘She met us in the lane leading to Fairfield Common. She came from the house with the white gable ends.’
‘Mrs Curtis, that was her name.’
‘Fifty pounds she offered us!’ One of the men was sobbing now. ‘She said there'd be no one hurt. The fire would be spotted, and put out straight away. Sh–she said — ’
‘Her name again.’ Ellis wrenched his captive's shoulder. ‘Her name, damn you!’
‘Mrs Curtis.’ The man winced. ‘Mrs Curtis, your honour. That's God's own truth.’
‘Is it?’ His face ashen, Ellis looked ready to pass out. ‘The house with white gables,’ he muttered. ‘You're sure she came from there?’
‘Yes, your honour. Certain.’
‘What did she look like?’
‘She had d–dark hair.’ Terror made the man choke on his words. ‘B–big eyes. She was a handsome lady.’
‘She was veiled,’ put in his friend.
‘But we could see she was very pretty.’
‘Young, too.’
‘She wore a blue velvet cloak.’
‘A smart blue cloak, with black braid. A black straw bonnet.’
Standing near at hand, Alex heard all this. As Ellis turned to him, he flinched. ‘I know nothing,’ he whispered. ‘As God's my witness, I know nothing at all.’
‘Don't you?’ Ellis's eyes blazed. ‘You're quite sure of that?’
‘Ellis, I swear before God — ’
‘I'm going to see Lalage.’ Accepting the cloak now offered by a tenant, Ellis reluctantly let Rebecca go. He glared at the two strangers. ‘If you have lied to me,’ he muttered, ‘I shall have you beaten. You'll be flogged until your backs are broken.’
He turned to Alex. ‘As for you — look after Rebecca. Guard her with your life, until I get back.’
‘Ellis, please!’ Distraught, Alex caught at his friend's sleeve. ‘Don't go while you're so angry. Just — ’
‘I shan't be long.’ Ellis fastened the cloak. ‘Simmons, find me some boots.’
‘But, Ellis!’
‘Take Rebecca to the Dower House.’ His voice clipped but calm, Ellis met Alex's anxious eyes. ‘But first, listen to me. If Becky comes to harm — if her labour begins, if her child comes too soon — I'll make you sorry.’
Seeing his brother–in–law was far too enraged to be rational, Alex shrugged. Taking Rebecca's arm, he led her away. Chattering and jostling, a group of tenants and servants accompanied them to the Dower House, a hundred yards down the drive.
* * * *
Left unprotected, the two criminals provided the rowdier elements of the mob with some excellent sport. But then, seeing the men grow increasingly bloody, James Tarrant intervened. ‘I don't suppose his honour wants them killed,’ he said. Wading through the press, he hoiked the smaller man to his feet. ‘Put ‘em in the lock–up. That's what I say.’
‘I reckon we should deal with ‘em now.’ A rather less pacific villager, whose cudgel had done good service and was now liberally splattered with blood and stuck about with human hair, shook his fist. ‘I'm telling you, James Tarrant. I reckon — ’
‘Listen, George Siddons. All of you, listen to me. They've yet to be tried. They're entitled to the process of law, same as every man here.’ James Tarrant turned to a couple of labourers, who frequently worked for him. ‘What do you think, Peter Dummett? Timothy Fowler, what say you?’
‘Put ‘em in the lock–up.’ Sagely, Peter nodded. ‘Aye, that'd be best.’
‘So it would.’ Another villager agreed. ‘His honour might want to question ‘em again, like.’
‘They oughter ‘ave a trial,’ added a different voice.
‘It's every man's right.’
‘That's so.’
‘Put ‘em in Nick Drayton's cellar.’
‘Aye, that'd be the best thing.’
So in the end, justice and reason prevailed. Now so bloodied and beaten that they could barely move or stand, the strangers were hustled to the village. There they were thrown into a cellar, to await the pleasure of the squire.
* * * *
Clad like a highway ruffian in his grimy shirt and blackened breeches, a pair of ancient hessian boots on his feet and a tenant's greasy cloak thrown about his shoulders, Ellis walked into his sister's elegant dining room just as she was starting her breakfast.
He sat down — or rather collapsed — on a little gilded chair. ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘Lalage, first you must tell me why.’
‘Why what?’ Lalage had heard all about the fire. She had spent the past half hour both comforting and threatening a terrified Betty. Now, blandly, she smiled. ‘Well, Ellis? I thought you were still in London,’ she said.
‘I came home yesterday.’ Ellis felt sick. ‘Lalage, they say you — ’
‘Coffee?’ Lalage's smile was charming. ‘You look as if you need some. Dear Ellis, your boots! What on earth have you been doing?’
‘Stop it!’ Staring at Lalage, Ellis saw the triumph in her eyes. Her delight was obvious. Her guilt was plain. ‘You know perfectly well what's happened!’ he cried. ‘You know why I'm here!’
‘Do I?’ Shrugging, Lalage sipped coffee. ‘You know, I'm not absolutely sure I follow — ’
‘Damn you!’ Jumping to his feet, Ellis dashed the cup from her hand. Scalding coffee soaked the tablecloth, and dripped on to the rug beneath. He pulled Lalage from her seat. Grasping her by the shoulders, he made her look at him. ‘I got back yesterday night,’ he muttered. ‘Alex and I had — ’
‘Alex was with you?’ For the first time, Lalage's face registered concern. ‘Ellis, is he — ’
‘He's unhurt. He roused the household, in fact.’
‘I see.’ Forgetting she wasn't supposed to know what had happened, Lalage stared into her brother's eyes. ‘He saved you?’ she whispered. ‘You, and everyone else?’
‘Yes. But if he hadn't been awake, I doubt if anyone would have escaped. Woodsmoke kills in minutes. Well, of course you know that.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes!’ Ellis shook her. ‘Why?’ he repeated. ‘God in heaven — you'll tell me if I have to thrash it out of you!’
‘How did you get out?’
‘Over the roof.’ Ellis grimaced. ‘Did you think of that? When you decided to burn me alive, had you forgotten that as children we often climbed out of our bedroom windows? We spent hours playing in the gullies. Hiding amid the chimney stacks.’
‘I remember. Of course I do.’ Lalage squirmed. ‘But Rebecca didn't know anything of that.’
‘No, indeed.’ Ellis's grip tightened. ‘Rebecca would have roasted, unaware of the means of escape so readily to hand. Was that what you intended? Oh, Lalage! How could you sink so low?’
‘You dare to ask me that?’ Now Ellis's grip relaxed, just a little. So, Lalage escaped from his grasp. ‘Fool,’ she muttered, rubbing her upper arms and grimacing in pain. ‘Stupid, ridiculous fool. He asks me how, and why. The blockhead. The mooncalf. The clod!’
‘What?’
‘You disgraced us all!’ Her dark eyes blazing, Lalage glared. ‘You ask how I could sink so low! Well, you sank lower than I did! Far lower. Yes, indeed!’
‘What on earth — ’
‘You married a peasant's bastard!’ Lalage's eyes flashed fire. ‘You courted and married a dirty little drab!’
‘Lally!’
‘Now she's with child,’ spat Lalage. ‘Whose, I wonder? The land agent's? The cowman's? No matter. You're her husband, so she'll drop her brat at your expense regardless. In the meantime, she parades around your estate like a washerwoman who's won the national lottery. Sticking out her belly like a trophy, for all to gaze upon!’
Lalage drew breath. ‘I hate you!’ she cried. ‘I've hated you from the day you took up with her. I despise you more than I despise the common, stinking, low–bred slut herself!’
Ellis gaped at her. Bone–white beneath the dirt, his face was a picture of such incredulity, such horror, that for a few moments Lalage was afraid for his sanity. For her own safety, too. She thought he might attack her. Even kill her. But then, rallying, she tossed her curls. ‘Is she injured?’ she asked, hopefully. ‘Is the creature hurt?’
‘No. Not as far as I can tell.’ Still ashen, Ellis stared like a hypnotic. ‘She's with your husband just now,’ he went on, tonelessly. ‘At the Dower House.’
‘Oh. I see.’
Ellis shook himself. ‘But if she dies,’ he went on, ‘if she suffers, if she loses the baby, Alex will pay.’
‘Why should Alex pay?’
‘For his part in this, of course.’
‘He had no part!’
‘You expect me to believe that?’ Ellis shook his head. ‘Well — it doesn't matter what I believe. If things turn out badly for Rebecca, Alex will suffer too.’
‘How?’
‘I shall make the matter public.’ Ellis narrowed his eyes. ‘I shall have the pair of you arraigned, and brought to trial. I'll see you hanged for what you've done!’
Lalage blanched. She hadn't bargained for this. As her schemes and plans had led her down the primrose path to insanity, she had convinced herself that it was Ellis who must see the error of his ways. It was Ellis who would confess his sins, and repent.
As for Lalage herself — she was the one Ellis loved best. Of course she was! That fat blonde doxy was his harlot, the object of his lust, it was true. But she was nothing more. Surely?
Lalage looked into her brother's eyes. ‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked.
‘What?’ Ellis stared at her. ‘I don't know,’ he muttered. ‘But I don't want to see you any more.’
‘Never again?’
‘Never.’
Lalage shuddered. Reaching out to him, she touched his hand. ‘I'm sorry,’ she said, meekly. ‘Ellis, I'm so sorry. I must have been mad. I — ’
‘Don't touch me!’ As if she were a scorpion about to sting his flesh, Ellis dashed her away. ‘You're not sorry,’ he said. ‘You're annoyed, of course. You failed to kill the woman I love. Who loves me — ’
‘Ellis, I love you!’ Clutching at her heart, Lalage collapsed on the carpet. Sprawled in a heap, she caught at her brother's ankle. ‘I love you!’ she wailed. ‘Ellis, you're my life! My soul! No one could love you as I do!’
‘Shut up.’ Ellis tried to shake her off. ‘Let me go.’
‘I can't.’
‘Release me, Lalage. If you don't, I'll kick you.’
‘Do that. Kick me all you please, beat me black and blue.’ Lalage began to sob. ‘Beat me to death, if you wish.’
‘I just might.’ Ellis lost all sense of reality now. ‘For God's sake,’ he cried. ‘Let me go! Lalage, are you mad?’
‘Yes.’ Lalage stared up at him. Her bosom heaved, and tears sparkled like jewels in her beautiful eyes. ‘It's all your fault,’ she wept. ‘You made me like this. When you married that fat slut, you — ’
She got no further. Ellis's precarious self–control snapped. He pulled Lalage to her feet. He shook her like a doll, jarring every bone in her body. His hands found their way around her neck. He was choking her. The pressure on her windpipe grew.
Her head spun. Blackness was before her eyes. Soon, she thought, soon it will all be over, and I shall be at peace. Now, she felt his grasp relax a little. ‘Go on,’ she urged, gasping. ‘Don't stop now!’
Her eyes were glazed. She was fainting. Losing consciousness. But then Ellis chanced to look into those blank, black eyes, and the red anger which had fired his attack lifted like a sea mist. He slackened his grip still further.
‘Go on, Ellis.’ Crazily, Lalage grinned at him. ‘Kill me. If I have to die — I'm happy — to be strangled — by you.’
At last, Ellis understood. If he killed her, she would win. Dying, she would break Rebecca's heart, because she would kill him too. As he climbed the scaffold, her ghost would mock him. Her soul would be waiting, to drag his down to hell.
She had destroyed his home. She had probably killed his child. If she took his life too, her victory would be complete. So he pushed her away from him, letting her fall heavily on the coffee–stained carpet. He strode out of the house.
Chapter 19
Accustomed to being in charge and expecting to be obeyed, Rebecca took command. Summoning Ellis's farm bailiff, she told him to get a group of labourers together, then set them to drag what they could out of the smoking ruins of the house. When he'd done that, he should report to her at the Dower House.
In the servants’ dining room there, Alex and his sister began a late breakfast. Warmly wrapped in dressing gowns, with caps on their heads and slippers on their feet, they nibbled toast and drank comforting hot chocolate.
‘I always knew you hated me.’ Too wound up to rest and far too upset to eat the substantial meal the cook had now provided, Rebecca warmed her hands around her cup of chocolate. Then, toying with a piece of bread, she tried to read her brother's expression. ‘All the same,’ she went on, ‘I'd never have thought Ellis's own sister could have done — what she did.’
‘Neither would I.’ Alex looked on the verge of tears. His hands trembled and his cup shook, making the chocolate slop over. ‘Rebecca, please believe me. I had no idea. Not the slightest inkling! I knew she was upset, but I never imagined she could be as — as downright wicked as this.’
Two fat tears welled up in his light blue eyes. First one, then the other, trickled lazily down his pale cheeks. He dashed them away. ‘Rebecca? Do you believe me?’
‘I don't know.’ Rebecca shrugged. ‘Should I?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Alex met her eyes. ‘May we talk?’
So, over a somewhat dishevelled breakfast, Rebecca Darrow and Alex Lowell began their first and last private conversation.
Alex explained himself, or tried to. Disclaiming all knowledge whatsoever of his wife's schemes, he insisted he was in no way involved in anything Lalage had planned. He loved Ellis dearly. He would never have hurt his best friend. As he spoke, he wept.
Watching him, Rebecca was inclined to believe everything he said. Weak and pathetic as he was, she didn't think Alex Lowell even capable of planning, let alone committing such a crime. Fop he might be. Criminal he almost certainly was not.
‘I believe you,’ she said. She covered his soft, white hand with her own. ‘Please, Alex. Don't cry.’
He sniffed. Eventually, he managed to control his tears. But then he began to babble again, explaining about Lalage. He spoke of her disappointments, her trials, her worries. Of her distress, that she should be childless. Of her lack of cash, which made her miserable. ‘Lally always wanted money,’ he explained. ‘Money. Power. That's why she married me, you understand — she thought that as my wife she'd have both. But now, of course, she has neither.
‘When Ellis took out that mortgage on my family's old home, it upset her dreadfully. She thought he meant to live there, you see. I didn't care what became of the wretched place. But Lally did.’
‘He meant to give it back to you!’ Covering her face, Rebecca felt tears behind her own eyes. ‘You pair of fools, how could you think Ellis would want to live there? Or anywhere, but at the Hall?’
‘He meant to give it back?’ Sceptically, Alex frowned. ‘Oh, Rebecca. I don't think — ’
‘He did!’ Rebecca glared. ‘Ellis loved you both,’ she muttered, so bitterly that Alex winced. ‘He meant to see you back in your former home. Living in the style you used to do. He meant to mend your fortunes, to see you both happy. His generosity almost cost him his life.’ She sighed. ‘Mine, too.’
‘Yes.’ Embarassed, Alex stared at the floor. ‘Fortunately, however, things didn't turn out that way.’
‘Has she always disliked me?’ Genuinely curious, Rebecca frowned in puzzled enquiry. ‘I don't understand. What have I done? How have I hurt her?’
‘She was prejudiced before sh
e even met you.’ Alex sniffed. ‘For one thing, there was the matter of the legacy. You don't know about that, do you? The thing is, just before my father died, he asked me — ’
‘To provide for his daughter.’ Rebecca grimaced. ‘I've known about that all along.’
‘You have?’ Amazed, Alex stared at her. ‘Rebecca, tell me. How — ’
‘Ellis told me all about it. Before we were married. He asked me to forgo any claim on you, never to mention it in fact. He thought it would embarrass you to feel I was an unpaid creditor. So to speak.’ Mirthlessly, Rebecca laughed. ‘Poor Ellis. He needn't have been so scrupulous, after all.’
‘What else did he say?’ asked Alex. ‘Did he tell you what sort of sum was involved?’
‘No.’ Rebecca sighed. ‘He said it was several thousand pounds, but he'd never known exactly how much. There's no written legacy, is there? No formal bequest?’
‘No.’
‘Then, had I been disposed to defy my husband, and determined to secure my inheritance, do you think it would have been worth my while to try? To fatten a lawyer, in an attempt to prove title on such a vague intention?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Anyway, Alex, I don't want anything from a Lowell.’
‘No.’ Alex bit his lip. ‘I don't suppose you do.’
Getting up, he walked over to the window. He stared at the wisps of smoke, which still spiralled above even the tallest trees. ‘Ellis will always suspect I had a hand in it,’ he muttered. ‘He'll never believe I — ’
‘Well, you did save yourself. You left the house and never thought of us.’ Rebecca joined him at the window. She watched with him as the evidence of the fire blew away on the breeze. ‘You could have made your way upstairs, and woken us.’
‘The place was full of smoke. I couldn't breathe. I did shout.’ Alex shrugged. ‘I accept you probably didn't hear me.’
‘No, but — ’
‘Don't let's quarrel.’ Alex took her hand. ‘I panicked. I admit it. I left it to Ellis to save you. But we mustn't fall out now. We're relations. Henry Lowell was your father, as well as mine.’
‘You think I therefore owe you something?’ Rebecca's eyes narrowed. ‘Your father hurt my mother very cruelly. You yourself haven't behaved honourably by me.’
A Green Bay Tree Page 21