by James Wilson
On the Monday after my second Easter at the Grange, Albert was called to an isolated farm, where the tenant’s wife had gone prematurely into labour and was bleeding heavily. He asked me to go with him; and I stood in the yard, refusing the farmer’s distracted offers of hospitality, and listening to the strange, trapped-hare shrieks of his wife from the house. When Albert came out, his hands were covered in blood. He washed them at the pump; but the cuffs of his shirt were still speckled with red.
‘What happened?’ I asked, as we started to ride off.
‘She’ll live,’ he said, with an abrupt nod.
‘And the child?’ I said.
‘He’ll live, too,’ he said; and then lapsed into a moody silence, as if having succeeded in saving two human lives had not made him glad, but melancholy.
It was the day of the annual hare-pie scrambling and bottle-kicking contest, and as we neared Hallaton we could hear the roar of voices rising towards us. We stopped at the edge of a wood overlooking the village, dismounted, and stood watching the great mass of bodies swarming through the streets below. After a minute or so, I suddenly became aware that Albert was no longer beside me. I looked round, and saw him about fifty yards away among the trees, standing with his back to me, his hands held in front of him and his legs splayed. It was perfectly obvious what he was doing, and I did not want him to know I had been a witness to it; but before I could look away again, he turned, and I saw, quite clearly, what he should never have allowed me to see. I let out a cry, and felt myself starting to colour furiously. But he appeared totally unconcerned, and went on buttoning up his trousers as easily as if he had been slipping a cigar into his case. I was so shocked, I could not even find the words to reproach him; but as he came towards me, I started to back away, wondering whether or not I should accept the apology I assumed he must be about to offer me. In the event, however, all he did was shrug, and say:
‘Well, what did you expect to see there?’ And then he nodded down at the heaving crowd of men jostling its way up Hare Pie Bank, and said: ‘There’s not a one of them would look any different. Under our clothes we’re all the same. All just beastly animals.’
I was careful to keep a little distance from him on the way back, and we did not exchange another word until we had reached the Grange. But that evening, half-way through dinner, I was suddenly aware that he was looking at me in a strange way. When I turned towards him, he did not drop his gaze, but continued to stare at me, with an air of quizzical reflection, as if he were appraising a horse he was thinking of buying. And in that instant I again heard his drawling voice saying ‘under our clothes we’re all the same’, and knew, somehow, with absolute certainty, the thought that was going through his head. The idea of it made me feel so faint and sick that I had to get up and leave the table.
For some weeks afterwards, whenever he invited me to accompany him again, I found some pretext to refuse. He never pressed me; but there was a kind of sulky irritability in his manner as he shrugged and said, ‘Very well, then, you must please yourself, I suppose,’ that suggested I was being petty, and inflicting a punishment on him that was quite disproportionate to his offence. Soon, I began to catch myself wondering if perhaps he was right. After all, I had very little experience of the world; and – for all I knew – what had happened might be a common enough accident when a man and woman went riding in the country together. And, aside from that one unspoken insult at dinner, he had never acted in an improper way towards me since.
But still I continued to resist, until, one morning, Henrietta came into my room before breakfast, sat down on the bed, and asked me outright why I had stopped going out with him. I could not, of course, tell her the truth, and fumbled an excuse.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘you’d be doing me a great kindness if you started again. He has become more demanding than ever lately, and I begin to fear I shall go mad. You may think it a shocking thing to say, but I can’t help feeling perhaps the Moslems are wiser than we are. Where there are two or three wives in a house, at least one of them can be sure of an uninterrupted night’s sleep. And if things go on as they are, that’s something I shall never have again.’ And she started to cry, and asked me to hold her; and for ten minutes we clung to one another as we had as little girls.
That afternoon, when Albert suggested I should go with him to see a patient in an outlying hamlet, I said: ‘Yes.’
After that, I started accompanying him regularly again; and for a while things were exactly as they had been before. But then, one day, as we were riding through the woods above the village, we heard a shot, and a moment later came upon a wounded rabbit lying by the side of the track. It was twitching and screaming piteously, and I asked Albert to stop and put it out of its pain. He dismounted, and I watched as he knelt down and ran his fingers over its flailing body, murmuring, ‘There, there, easy now.’ And then, without warning, I heard the snap of its neck; and the next moment saw him stand up again, holding the wretched creature by the ears.
‘There,’ he muttered, through clenched teeth, tying it to his saddle, ‘that will make a fine present for my wife, won’t it?’
We rode on, but the mood had changed: he was silent and morose, and I unnerved by the demonstration he had given me of his effortless power over life and death. After another mile or so, as I was following him along a dark, rutted path hemmed in by trees, he stopped again, and waited for me to draw alongside. The instant I did so, he reached out his hand and seized my wrist.
‘Emily,’ he said, in a queer, half-strangled voice.
‘What is it?’
‘I have been so unhappy.’ He was not looking at me, but straight ahead, his head slightly bowed, so that he appeared to be staring between his horse’s ears.
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ I said. And then, thinking that perhaps he was going to reproach me for having neglected him so long, I added: ‘I hope I am not to blame in some way?’
‘No. Yes. Well, no. But you are the one person in the world who could make me happy again.’
I said nothing. My heart was starting to beat faster, and my mouth was dry.
‘You know how, don’t you?’ he said, turning towards me at last. And as soon as I saw his eyes I did know, as surely as I had understood what he was thinking that evening at dinner.
You will think I should have cried: ‘How dare you!’ and lashed him with my crop; but the sense of my own powerlessness before him still seemed to bear down on my shoulders.
‘Please,’ I said, trying to break away from him, ‘let me go.’
But he only tightened his grip, and said: ‘Surely, it’s a natural enough thing, isn’t it?’
‘No!’
‘Of course it is,’ he said firmly, punching the dead rabbit. ‘Look at this poor little brute. How’d you think he came into the world?’
‘But we’re not even … I mean –’
‘Ah, what, you’re thinking of Henrietta, are you? Well, I can promise you: she won’t mind. Far from it: she’ll be eternally grateful to you.’ He leaned closer, so I could smell the cigar smoke on his breath. ‘In fact,’ he said, with an apologetic little smile, like a chastened schoolboy, ‘truth be told, this is actually her idea. Naturally, I’d thought of it myself. But I don’t think I’d ever have dared suggest it, if she hadn’t given me the signal.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘What, you mean she hasn’t said anything to you? About my needs? And how she wishes there were someone else to satisfy them?’
I shook my head; but my eyes must have betrayed me, because he nodded and said:
‘There, well, then.’
‘But even if she did say it,’ I said, rallying, ‘that does not mean it would not be wrong. And unnatural.’
He raised his eyebrow, in a kind of weary amusement, as if I had been a child talking of fairies.
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘It’s quite usual, I assure you. Half the families where there’s an unmarried girl living with her sister have an
arrangement of the sort. Not here, of course, I mean – but in society.’
‘I … I’m sure you must be wrong. What if the girl wants to get married herself?’
He shrugged. ‘Then she does. There’s no difficulty there. Plenty of chaps prefer a woman who knows what she’s about.’
‘Well, I never heard of such a thing.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t have done, would you? Not living with those milk-and-water half-brothers of yours. What would they know about the beau monde, when they get their notion of the world from a two-thousand-year-old book of Jewish gibberish?’ He hesitated a second, then smiled as a thought struck him. ‘Shall I tell you what I’d do, if I had my way? I should confiscate their damned bibles and not return them until they’d all read Mr. Darwin, word for word. My, wouldn’t you hear some pretty squeals and shrieks then? Mama! Some beathly chap’th got my Book of Leviticus. Make him give it back!’
It was such a ridiculous picture that I couldn’t help laughing, despite myself. He took advantage of the moment to lean forward and kiss me. But then, instead of forcing himself on me as I feared he might, he drew away again.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I shan’t press you for an answer now. Think about it.’
And without looking back at me, he rode on.
What should I do? I was at a loss. Both my parents were dead. My brothers were in India. My sister, who ought to have been the first, was the last person I might confide in. I had not a single friend in Hallaton – and, even if I had, I could not have unburdened myself to her without risking the utter destruction of my own family.
The next morning, I stayed in bed, complaining that I felt unwell. But I knew that could only be a temporary expedient, particularly in a doctor’s house; and, sure enough, after forty-eight hours, Henrietta insisted, despite my protests, on sending Albert up to see me. He behaved entirely professionally, made no mention of what had passed between us, and ended by diagnosing over-excitement of the nerves, and prescribing laudanum and a week’s complete rest. Both he and my sister showed me the greatest solicitude; and, as I lay there, listening to the murmur of their voices outside my room as they discussed my condition, united in their concern for me as they might have been for one of their own children, I began to wonder, just as I had before, whether perhaps I had not been brought up to have an excessively narrow view of the world? Might it not be simple prejudice and superstition to assume that love must always be rigidly confined to two poles, and could never open itself to embrace a third?
And then, the instant I caught myself entertaining the idea, I would feel a sudden rush of panic, and an overwhelming urge to flee. But flee where? Was not Hallaton already my last resort?
At length, as the week drew to a close, Henrietta came to see me one evening by herself – taking the unusual precaution of locking the door behind her.
‘How are you, my pet?’ she asked, as she sat down next to me.
‘Much the same, I think,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. We all miss you so very much. Especially Albert, I have to say.’ She took my hand in hers, and began to stroke it. ‘Is there some … awkwardness between you and him?’
I could barely speak; but I just managed to blurt out: ‘Why do you ask that?’
‘Oh, only that you seem rather constrained with him sometimes. And when you’re constrained with him, he’s … He’s very unconstrained with me.’
I summoned up all my courage, and said: ‘Would you rather I weren’t constrained with him, then?’
‘Much rather.’
There was a long silence, which I broke, finally, by saying:
‘I think perhaps it would be better if I went away.’
She put her hands on my shoulders, and, leaning close, murmured in my ear:
‘If you left now, darling, I truly believe it would kill me.’
After she had gone, I began to pray to our mother for guidance; but as I tried to put my predicament into words, I was so overcome by shame for Henrietta and for myself that I had to stop.
That night, I woke to find a figure standing by my bed. It was too dark for me to see the face; but the strong odour of wine and tobacco told me who it was. He was wearing a dressing-gown; but the next moment slipped it off, allowing me to see the dim glow of his skin in the moonlight. He started towards me, then stopped again when he saw that I was awake.
‘She’s been to see you, hasn’t she?’ he whispered.
I did not reply. And suddenly he was kissing me. I tried to push him away, but he was too strong for me. When he lifted his mouth from mine for a moment I started to cry out; but he clamped his hand over my lips, and said:
‘Sssh! Rouse the servants, and we’re all ruined.’
I knew it was true. And, feeling the full depth of my own impotence and loneliness, I submitted.
I do not remember how many more times I yielded myself to him after that. But I do know that, even then, I somehow contrived to persuade myself that what took place when he came to me was not what normally occurs between a man and a wife, but a sort of lesser adjunct to it, which could not have the same consequences. So it was a double devastation when, in October 1879, I realized that the regular monthly visitation that every young woman learns to expect had missed its time.
Day after day I waited for it, taking every opportunity to go up to my room to see if the first signs had appeared, praying fervently that God would take pity on me, and promising that – if He would only spare me this once – I should never sin again. But He did not take pity on me; and at the end of a week, unable to bear it any longer, I went to Albert, and confessed my anxiety to him. He examined me, then told me to get dressed again, and stood looking out of the window.
‘Well?’ I said.
‘Too soon to tell,’ he said. But his face had turned the colour of fish-skin.
That evening, we played cards not in the drawing-room, but in his study, where he plied me with wine. It seemed much stronger than usual; so that when the time came for bed I could barely get up by myself, let alone climb the stairs. He insisted that I should take a bath, which was so hot that I almost fainted, and had to be lifted out again by two of the maids. In the morning, he asked me if I had noticed anything unusual in the water; and when I answered ‘No’ seemed dreadfully disappointed.
I soon deduced what he had been trying to provoke, and allowed myself to be subjected several more times to the same treatment, but always without success. Finally, I said to him:
‘It won’t be long before my condition starts to become obvious, will it? What are we going to do?’
‘Well, what do you suggest?’ he snapped, as if it were entirely my own concern, and I were imposing on him unjustly by asking him to share the burden with me.
I felt mad with anger; but by an effort of will I managed to contain it, and said: ‘Perhaps you could say I was ill again, gravely ill, this time, and would see no one but you and Henrietta. And then, when the child came, you could deliver it –’
‘Henrietta!’ he said. ‘You haven’t mentioned this to her, have you?’
‘No, of course, not.’
‘Well, for God’s sake, don’t!’
‘I won’t, if there is a way to avoid it. But surely, if she encouraged our – whatever you may call it – she could not be entirely surprised at the result?’
‘You might think so,’ he said. ‘But women are not rational creatures.’ He reached for a cigar, and his hand was shaking as he lit it. ‘You must leave this to me. I shall think of something, I promise you.’
I had little enough reason to believe his promises by this point; but I could see the fear in his face, and trusted that to succeed where appealing to his honour had plainly failed. And it did. Within two days he came to me with a scheme: we would go to Normandy, where he had grown up until the age of ten, and take a house in Avranches. There he would engage servants, who would care for me until the baby was born. Afterwards, he would make provision for the child in France, and I
might come back to England without a stain on my character.
I did not care for the idea, even then; but with certain and utter disgrace the only alternative, I reluctantly agreed to it. In November 1879, Albert and I left the Grange separately and travelled to London. We spent two nights as man and wife at the International Hotel while he made the necessary arrangements, and then took the boat train to Folkestone.
I cannot begin to convey to you the horror of the next seven months, as, little by little, I was robbed of everything – love; dignity; self-respect; and even the most rudimentary amenities of civilized existence – that separates our lives from the brutes’. The house in Avranches turned out to be a delusion; there were houses to be had, sure enough, but no landlord (or so, at least, Albert said) willing to risk scandalizing the English colony settled there – all colonels, and spinsters, and younger sons of baronets, as sensible of rank and respectability as if they had been in Cheltenham – by letting one of them to two people in such obviously embarrassed circumstances. Instead, Albert asked his old nurse, Adèle Lamarthe, to take me in. She was married now, and living on a tiny farm a few miles outside the town, where there was barely enough space for her own family, let alone a guest. While Albert was still with me, they put me in their own bed, and made much of me; but as soon as he left to return to England I was relegated to a makeshift room next to the cattle-shed, full of the stink of ordure, and the sound of beasts lowing and fidgeting beyond the flimsy partition; and, as winter turned to spring, and spring to summer, an ever-increasing population of flies. My schoolgirl French was quite unequal to communicating my needs to a pair of uneducated peasants, or of penetrating the thick Norman accent in which they replied. Everything was all unspeakably sordid; and the more my existence descended to the level of their own cows, the more my gaolers treated me like one of them, bringing me food two or three times a day, and taking away my filth, but otherwise leaving me entirely alone in my misery.