Haggard

by Christopher Nicole

  But they would get over it, and he could make it up to them. There was time enough for that.

  He gave a brief knock on the bedchamber door, opened it, was rewarded with a cry of alarm and annoyance from his wife. 'Alison?'

  The drapes were drawn around the bed. Now Alison's face peeped through. 'You gave me a start, Mr. Haggard.'

  'I've brought the boys to say goodbye. You did remember they were leaving today?'

  'I had no idea it was so early,' Alison grumbled. 'Well, come over here and give me a kiss.'

  Haggard stood beside the bed. jerked back the drapes, gazed in surprise at Emily Brand. Like her sister she was still in a nightgown; her face was flushed and she gave him a nervous smile. Once again he was struck by the resemblance between them.

  'Now you've frightened Emily,' Alison said.

  ‘I'm sure I haven't,' Haggard said. "Don't you suppose you should get up?' ‘I don't see why,' Alison objected. ‘I like lying here, gossiping.' 'I like gossiping,' Emily said.

  The two boys were shifting from foot to foot with embarrassment.

  'Come along, now.' Alison held Charlie's hand, kissed him on the cheek. 'And you.' For Roger was if anything retreating. Now he presented his cheek, to be seized by his stepmother and hugged against her. 'You are going to be a big boy,' she said. 'Like your father. I adore big men. Now have a good journey. Off you go.'

  The children sidled out. Haggard remained standing just inside the door, gazing at the two girls. They made him think less of sisters, gossiping, than of lovers. What a remarkable thought. And an absurd one.

  'Well?' Alison demanded. 'Aren't you going to wave the boys goodbye, Mr. Haggard?'

  'Harrumph.' Colonel Brand strolled up and down the terrace, hands clasped behind his back. 'I feel like the man who has overstayed his welcome.'

  Haggard was seated in one of the comfortable chairs overlooking the deer park. He smoked a cheroot, and frowned at the hills in the distance; already the November mists were gathering. 'Nonsense,' he said absently. I shall be glad to see you go, he thought. I wish to be alone with my wife. Or do I?

  'Yes, well, duty calls, what? There's a new session to be prepared for.'

  'Am I allowed to attend?' Haggard asked.

  'My dear fellow . . .'

  'I am perfectly serious,' Haggard said, ‘I'd not embarrass the Tory Party.'

  'And you can hardly sit with the Whigs, eh, what? Ha ha.' Haggard flicked ash. 'When are you leaving?' 'Well, tomorrow morning. If you'll permit me?' 'My dear Brand, my house is your own. Come and go as you please.'

  'You are a damnedly civil fellow. Haggard.' Brand sat beside him, took out his handkerchief, wiped his brow and neck. 'The fact is, if I have tarried this long, it is because I was waiting for the last of the other guests to leave, so that you and I could have a chat.'

  'What about?'

  'Harrumph. I don't know how to put it.'

  Haggard, who had been thinking about Alison and Emily—he had done little else this past week—frowned. 'Are you in trouble?'

  Trouble, my dear fellow? Good God no, not trouble. The fact is . . . my God, Haggard, I went overboard for this wedding. Trouble.' My God.'

  Haggard nodded. It had been longer in coming than he had supposed would be the case. 'How much?'

  'My dear fellow, I could not possibly . . .'

  'Brand,' Haggard said. 'I would take it most kindly were we always to be absolutely straight with each other. Nor would it please me greatly to have a father-in-law sold up for debt. How much?'

  'Well . . .' Brand got up again. 'This places me in a most terribly humiliating position.'

  'Not at all.' Haggard said. 'I would do as much for my own father. For God's sake tell me how much.'

  'Well . . . ten thousand. There was the trousseau, and some entertainments I was required to undertake in consequence of Alison's betrothal, and there was . . .'

  'You shall have a cheque before you leave.' Haggard said.

  'My dear fellow.' Brand seized both Haggard's hands, squeezed them. 'You really are the very best fellow in the world. I knew it the very moment I laid eyes on you. And hardly done by. Oh, indeed, hardly done by. Believe me, I shall not take these matters lying down, sir. I shall seek to establish you at the very apex of London society. You may rely on that sir. And I have a scheme to increase your wealth. Indeed I do.'

  'Have you?' Haggard inquired, somewhat drily.

  'You've heard of Hargreaves?'

  'Vaguely.'

  'He has invented a machine which spins cotton far faster and more effectively than any human being. Do you know cotton spinning?'

  'No.'

  'Well, let me tell you that where it takes ten spinners to produce enough yarn for one weaver. Hargreaves' machine does all of that work and more. Now to be sure, power was a problem, but Watt has solved that, eh? Water, there's the answer. And you have the Derleth River just going to waste through those hills. Now do you know what the wives of your tenants, and all the women in these parts, do with their spare time?'

  'I shudder to think.'

  They spin cotton cloth,' Brand cried, slapping Haggard on the knee. ' Tis a lucrative business. Now, Haggard, suppose you were to build a factory, here in Derleth, fill it with Hargreaves' machines, and start a cotton spinning business of your own?'

  'Where'd I find the labour?'

  'Your housewives, don't you see? They'd not be able to compete with you, in price or quantity. You'd put them out of business, so they'd have to work for you. What do you think of that?'

  ‘I have a factory already, Brand. In Barbados. And that is sufficient of a headache, believe me. Besides, this pin money the women earn keeps them happy. Tis best to let them get on with it.'

  Brand sighed. 'Oh well, it was but an idea. And a good one, I'll swear. At least I'd recommend you consider it. In the meanwhile, I must leave you in the care of my two lovely daughters, who I know will see to your every want. My dear, dear . . .'

  Haggard freed his hands. 'Is Emily not accompanying you back to London?'

  'Why, no,' Brand said. 'She thought it best to stay on and keep Alison company for a while.' He frowned at Haggard's expression. 'Well, you know, you are so busy, and the girl is in a strange part of the country . . .'

  Emily, spending every morning in Alison's bed, gossiping. At least during the past fortnight Alison had been in the best of humour, had almost welcomed him to her bed of an evening. But suddenly . . . two sisters who had always appeared like twins. Who dressed alike and spoke alike and smiled alike and ate alike ""5 . . and loved alike? My God, he thought, what a conception. An utterly absurd idea, ‘I think Emily should return with you, Brand,' he said. 'After all, you need looking after as much as I. And Alison will have to get used to being alone here at some time. Besides, there is Alice to keep her company. Alice is going to be equally lonely with her brothers gone.'

  'Ah,' Brand said. They seemed so happy with the idea . . .'

  Haggard pointed. The two girls could be seen strolling out of the orchard, huge straw hats almost brushing each other, hands intertwined.

  'What a charming picture they make,' Brand said.

  'Indeed,' Haggard agreed. 'But we shall explain the situation to them now.' He stood up. 'Alison. Emily.'

  Their heads turned, and they changed their direction to approach the terrace.

  'Your father has just been telling me that regrettably he must return to London tomorrow,' Haggard said. 'I shall be sorry to see you go, Emily.'

  'Me? Oh, but . . .' She looked at her sister, mouth open.

  'Emily isn't going, Mr. Haggard,' Alison said. 'She is staying on for a while.'

  Haggard shook his head. 'She is going with her father.'

  Alison's brows slowly drew together. 'But I wish her to stay.'

  'And I wish her to go,' Haggard said, very quietly.

  'Now, Alison,' Brand said, ‘I am sure . . .'

  'Oh, be quiet, Papa,' Alison snapped. 'Why do you wish her to go, Mr. Haggard? Emil
y and I have never been separated. Even for a moment.'

  'But you knew you were going to be separated, my darling,' Haggard explained. 'When you married me. Emily has her own life to live, and she has her father, your father, to care for. You'd not have your father pining away in loneliness in London, now would you?'

  Pink spots were gathering in Alison's cheeks. 'And what of me? What of my loneliness, confined in this great dreary house in this empty valley?'

  'Alison,' Brand began.

  'You have me,' Haggard pointed out. 'And a great many duties to undertake, in which I am sure Mistress Wring would be happy to instruct you.'

  instruct me?' Alison cried, and suddenly she was crying, great tears rolling down her cheeks. 'I want Emily to stay. I won't let her go. I won't, I won't.'

  'Alison,' Brand said. Emily was shifting from foot to foot and chewing her lip, but she too was on the verge of tears.

  ‘I think it would be a good idea if Alison and I had a word together,' Haggard decided.

  'Of course, my dear fellow. Of course. Come along, Emily. You'll want to pack your things.' He seized his younger daughter by the arm and hurried her off.

  'What are you going to do?' Alison demanded. 'Flog me like your children?'

  if I did it would be entirely because you are acting like a child. Did you suppose your sister was going to move in with us permanently?'

  Alison sat down. 'Of course I didn't. But . . . it is lonely here. There is no one to talk to. You are so busy. You never come near me.'

  'When I do you seem to resent it. You never wish to talk.'

  ‘I do,' she shouted, getting up. 'But not about this . . . this dreary old estate. I don't want to talk about coal, and gamekeepers, and cattle. I'm a woman. I need to be loved. I love being loved.'

  Haggard frowned at her. Loved being loved? When every time he lay with her she seemed to be undergoing an experience like a visit to the dentist?

  She discovered his expression, flushed, and sat down again. ‘I’m sorry. I didn't mean to shout. I . . .' She bit her lip. ‘I can't help how I feel. I should have thought you'd love me the more for it.'

  The question is, do you love me, Alison?' 'Of course I do. I married you.'

  'Would you say you loved me as much as you loved Emily?'

  'Why . . .' Her flush deepened. 'What a remarkable question to ask. She's my sister.'

  Haggard caught her wrist. 'And not your lover?'

  Alison stared at him, gave a little gasp, tried to free her wrist. 'Let me go.'

  'You ... let me go.' She gave an ineffectual tug. 'I shall scream.' 'Go ahead.'

  Her lips pulled back from her teeth, her tiny nostrils flared. 'Are you jealous of her?' she hissed.

  'I'd like to discover just what I married.'

  'Ha,' she said. 'I've given you everything a woman can. To a man.'

  His grip tightened, and she winced. Tears sprang to her eyes. 'You're hurting me.'

  'Be fortunate I don't break it,' Haggard said, is Emily your lover?'

  'You . . .' Another tug. 'Let me go.' Tell me.'

  'We . . . we've been alone. Always. Ever since Mother died. That was ten years ago. There's only been Emily and me.' Tell me.'

  Her head came up. 'What do you want to know, Haggard?' she snarled, her lip curling. 'Where she puts her finger?'

  Haggard threw her hand away from him. She rubbed it for some seconds, while her colour slowly faded.

  'What are you going to do?' she asked.

  'Get up,' Haggard said.

  She hesitated, then slowly rose.

  'Now go upstairs,' he said.

  'Brrr.' Alison Haggard gave an exaggerated shiver. This place is cold. Cold, cold, cold. Pretty, can't there be more wood on the fire?'

  'Coal, madam. We use coal,' Pretty said, and signalled a footman to empty one of the hobs into the grate.

  'Our own coal.' Haggard sat at the opposite end of the dining table, with Alice in the centre and to the left, facing the fire, and looking from one to the other of her parents.

  He wondered why he wasted the effort to speak. For the past month, indeed, he wondered why he did anything at all.

  But he loved Alison. There was the amazing consideration. Or perhaps not so amazing. She remained the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He did not love her; he loved her body, her face, her hair, her lips. Even her disdainful eyes and her flaring nostrils were things to be loved. He hated her, but he loved her body.

  A fact of which she was well aware.

  'Coal,' she sneered, drinking wine. 'What an occupation for a gentleman. Have those invitations gone out?'

  Haggard nodded. For she was determined to entertain. He wondered how many replies they would get.

  'Boring people,' Alison commented. 'I shall be bored out of my mind here. We must pay a visit to town, Mr. Haggard. Of course we must. You must take your seat in the House.'

  'In good time,' Haggard said. He had made up his mind not to return to Parliament until Pitt begged him to. Nor did he have any desire to experience either the pity or the pretended concern of Brand and his friends. They considered to be blackballed from White's the greatest catastrophe that could happen to a man. Well, he didn't give a damn for their silly clubs. He had never belonged to a club in his life. But now he had an additional reason for remaining in Derleth. He had no intention of taking Alison back to within reach of her sister. But to tell her that would be to provoke a scene. Better to leave it, he thought, and wait on events.

  'Oh, bah.' Alison turned to Alice. 'Have you heard, Charlie has gone to sea?'

  There was no end to her cruelty. Tears immediately sprang to the girl's eyes.

  'Oh, stuff and nonsense,' Alison declared, it will make a man of him. Indeed it will. Little crybaby. They'll tan his backside for him. They'll have him climbing to the masthead in January, with icicles hanging from his fingers. You won't know him when he comes back.'

  'Stop it,' Alice screamed. 'Stop it. You're horrid. I hate you. I . . .'

  'Mr. Haggard,' Alison said. 'Are you going to permit this child to speak to me like that? She should be whipped.'

  'You'd best go to bed, Alice,' Haggard said. 'Charlie will be all right. I promise you that.'

  Alice sniffed up the last of her sobs, pushed back her chair, left the room without a word.

  'Your indulgence does you no credit and the girl no good at all,' Alison pointed out. 'If you do not wish to flog her, you should let me. Her rudeness is beyond belief. I have never heard of a child allowed to leave the room without saying good-night.'

  'I would not let you touch Alice with a ten foot pole,' Haggard said.

  Alison glared at him for some seconds, her eyes pin points of angry amber. Then she pushed back her own chair and got up. 'No doubt I also should be sent to bed. I will say good-night, Mr. Haggard.'

  She swept across the floor, and one of the footmen hastily opened the door for her. But before she got there she checked, and frowned. One hand went up to her forehead, and she swayed.

  Haggard leapt to his feet, but the footmen were there before him. They caught Alison as she fell, gently deposited her in the nearest chair.

  'In the name of God.' Haggard stared at his wife, the suddenly pale cheeks, the gasps of breath. 'Fetch Mistress Wring, quickly.' He fanned her with his napkin, held a glass of wine to her lips. 'The floor moved,' she muttered. 'I swear it.' 'You all but fainted,' he said.

  She pushed the wine away. 'Ugh. The smell nauseates me. Ugh.'

  'Mr. Haggard?' Mistress Wring stood in the doorway. The mistress is ill,' Haggard said.

  'No,' Alison said. 'I'm not ill.' She attempted to push herself up, sat down again, and suddenly vomited, over the front of her gown. 'Ugh. Oh, God. Ugh.'

  'Wring,' Haggard shouted in alarm.

  Patience Wring smiled. 'Not ill, Mr. Haggard.' She came across the room. 'If madam will permit me, I will help you to your room.' She raised her head. 'Tis but the morning sickness, Mr. Haggard. You are to be a father.'


  There was a moment's silence in the room.

  'A father,' Haggard said. 'Well great God above. There's a happy event.'

  Alison raised her head; vomit still trailed from the comer of her mouth. 'Happy?' she asked. 'Happy?' she screamed, ‘I don't want to be pregnant. I don't want to have a child. Oh, Christ in Heaven, I don't want to have a child.'

  Haggard smiled at her. ' Tis the business of a wife, my darling. Patience, you'll assist Mistress Haggard to her bed.'

  Because there of course was the answer to all of his problems. All of Alison's problems too, even if she refused to recognise them. Pregnancy was a wife's natural state, and he was eager for children, children who would love him and respect him, not those who would hate him and fear him.

  While for him, as that slender body became distorted, and as her face fattened as well, it was possible to regard her with more detachment. She remained an utterly beautiful girl, but he saw less of the beauty and more of the girl. There was the main cause of their trouble. She was still only approaching nineteen. Had he been of the same age he would have been more willing to wean her away from her obsessions, from her unnatural love for her sister. But he was approaching forty, and not inclined towards patience and understanding. Yet am I understanding now, he thought with some pleasure. Once she is a mother, and again a mother, and again, and once she is past twenty and growing into a woman, why then she will be all I desire. He remembered how Emma had matured from a suspicious little girl into a loving, and loveable woman.

  If only there was someone in whom he could confide, discuss his fears and his hopes. He had never known loneliness before. It occurred to him that he had been lonely, as a young man, after Susan's death. That indeed loneliness had accounted for a great deal of his misanthropy. How perceptive Adelaide Bolton had been, after all. But he had not recognised it then, with the shallowness of youth. And once Emma had appeared on the scene he had had no time to be lonely.