by Mary Mackie
The preacher’s soft, thunderous voice went on, slicing deep. ‘It’s not too late to repent, Jess. Repent the lies told, and the pain inflicted.’ He turned to his fascinated audience, emphasising his words with gestures. ‘The sorry fact is, friends, that after her poor mother died Jess Henefer lost all sense of decency. Maybe an evil spirit got into her. In all charity, I’d like to believe that. Fact is, when I tried to bring her back to the straight and narrow, she turned her wiles on me. Laid temptation in my way. Like Eve. Like the serpent in the Garden.’
‘No,’ Rudd said softly.
‘Oh yes, Mr Rudd.’ The preacher’s face was all sincerity and sorrow. ‘I’m obliged to say it plain – she tried to tempt me into fornication.’
‘Oh, my Lord!’ Mrs Pratt flung a hand to her mouth and at the same time tried to cover the ears of her youngest.
‘And when I refused,’ Merrywest went on, ‘she threatened to tell a whole swill of lies about me. En’t that, Jess?’
She couldn’t speak. She felt as if she were strangling. She refused to deny his damnable lies and give him more ammunition against her. She only stared at him with hate in her heart. Where was his conscience?
Rudd had let her go, looking at her as if she were a stranger. She could see he was remembering the sins she had half confessed to him. It wasn’t this, she wanted to cry. Not this! But it was too late. The preacher’s poison had already started its work.
‘I couldn’t hardly believe it myself,’ Merrywest said with a sorrowful shake of his head. ‘She look so young and innocent, don’t she? Like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But they’re the worst, Mr Rudd. Girls who look like angels but have deceiving devils in their soul. Nor en’t that the worst of it. When I warned her she was riskin’ her immortal soul with her sinfulness, the devil in her then tried to kill me.’
Mrs Pratt shrieked and put her fist to her mouth.
‘But yes!’ Merrywest turned his fire-dark gaze on the woman. ‘She struck out at me. Tried to have me crushed and drowned, time the fire burned down the great warehouse on the docks. Last December.’
December… Jess saw the significance of that hit Rudd as he recalled finding her in the wood, in December. Oh yes, she was drowning. The quicksand was up to her neck and gaining.
‘You surely heard about that fire, Mr Rudd,’ Merrywest said.
Rudd’s horrified eyes said, yes, he had heard about it. So had the Pratts. They were nodding, murmuring. All of them were looking at Jess as if she were unclean.
‘She came at me in the crowd. Pushed me in the dock.’ Merrywest shook his head, his black eyes piercing, remorseless. ‘Thought she’d killed me. Didn’t you, Jess? Then she ran for her life. But you see…’ His voice rose as he lifted a hand, accusing and condemning her, ‘That’s written in the Word of the Lord: Be sure your sins shall find ye out. For the Lord knoweth the secrets of all hearts. I’ll not bring charges, but the Lord surely will. You’ll answer to Him at the Day of Judgement. Why wait? Do it now, girl, and free your soul of the burden. Repent!’ He lunged at her, catching her arm. His fingers dug into her flesh, his gaze ripping at her soul. Mesmerising her, as he had before, with that voice, with threats of hellfire and damnation unless she obeyed him. ‘Come with us to the chapel. Confess your sin. Come and tell your crimes aloud. It’s the only way.’
‘Jess…’ Rudd was staring at her, wanting some sign of denial from her, puzzled by her silence. ‘Jess…’
But it was too late. She’d always known this would happen some day. Hadn’t the gypsy warned her? How could she fight fate with such an enemy against her? Merrywest had the gift of words. He was the preacher, the swayer of crowds. In his mouth the vilest lies sounded like truth.
‘No, never!’ With a mighty effort she wrenched free. ‘I don’t repent. I en’t sorry I did it. I still wish you dead, Nathanael Merrywest. And when I get to hell I’ll wait for you – if you en’t there before me!’
As she turned and fled, Merrywest’s voice boomed after her, ‘We shall pray for you, Jess. We shall pray that you see the light.’
This time, Rudd didn’t even call after her. This time, it was final.
* * *
Back in the nursery, Jess set to with grim energy, determined to polish every piece of furniture. What kind of sermons were being preached at the chapel tonight? She’d heard Merrywest at work before, damning some poor sinner from the pulpit while pretending to exhort him to repent for the sake of his immortal soul. But what hurt her most was that Reuben had believed the lies.
‘Whatever are you up to, Jess?’ Nanny asked, coming in from enjoying a nightcap with Mrs Roberts. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Not as you’d notice,’ said Jess, her softest cloth circling a round table; she could almost see her face in its glossy surface.
‘Had words with Rudd, have you?’ Nanny said with a knowing grin. ‘Ah well, it’ll pass over. I’m going to bed. Don’t work too long.’
It was nearly midnight before Jess calmed down enough to go to bed.
She hadn’t expected to sleep, but she found herself trapped in a nightmare maze. Memories that she’d hoped one day to share with Reuben Rudd came screaming. She woke from them, and heard Bella call, and went rushing out to find the child teetering on the parapet, the wind tearing at her nightdress and hair. Jess lunged for her, and herself toppled over, and fell – only to wake, shivering thankfully, in a bright morning that drew her out into the familiar yard – Salt’s Yard – where sheets billowed in the sunlight and she heard her father calling her. She ran to him, and saw him – flesh dripping off him, clothes in sea-bleached tatters, fronds of seaweed dangling from his mouth, crabs crawling in his eye sockets; then shock jerked her awake again, to find herself lying in a pool of sticky blood and Mother cold and still beside her…
Finally, she did wake up, in her room in the attics at Hewinghall. Sweat drenched her and the night wrapped its coolness about her as she sat up, listening, sure she’d heard something. The wind had risen; it was banging a shutter somewhere. Shuddering, both with cold and with the horror of her memories, she lay wakeful until the blessed dawn came.
Having lit the fire and washed the hearth, she swept and dusted the schoolroom, shaking the rugs out on the leads as usual. There was already a touch of autumn in the trees, a golden tinge to the light, with rain-clouds gathering from the west. It only increased her melancholy.
She took the ashes downstairs and returned with two ewers of hot water, taking one in to Nanny as usual, holding her breath against the stink of the room. ‘’Mornin’, Nanny.’ Even in warm weather Nanny wouldn’t keep her windows open at night – she said bats might get in – though she did allow them open during the day. With relief Jess drew the curtain and unfastened the latch, throwing the window wide and taking a good breath of the fresh, rain-damp air. The early sun had gone as clouds closed in. The room was grey with shadows.
As was her habit, Jess went to pour hot water into the bowl on the night-stand, saying again, ‘Good mornin’, Nanny.’
Nanny hadn’t stirred.
It was only as Jess went to shake her that she realised how quiet the old woman was, no sound of snoring or open-mouth breathing. The mound under the covers lay unmoving. Gingerly, Jess drew back the sheet. The nightcap was askew, down over one eye. The other eye was closed.
‘Nanny?’ But Jess knew as she spoke that she wouldn’t be heard.
* * *
‘Better keep Miss Bella out of the way this morning,’ Mrs Roberts advised Jess. ‘Go in the morning room.’
Since a steady, seeping rain had set in, Jess was happy not to venture out of doors, but she felt overawed by the hugeness of the morning room, with all those solemnfaced people staring down from their fancy frames. She hadn’t been in there since the day of her interview. She kept Bella amused by helping her with a jigsaw and by drawing. Bella scribbled a big black blob of a figure with stick arms and fingers. ‘Look – that’s Nanny. Who’ve you done?’
Jess ha
d been drawing a slender figure in a frilled dress.
‘It’s Lily Clare!’ Bella cried. ‘Is she going to a party? Yes! My party. Next Saturday. Belladay. I’m to have a real ballgown. Papa said so. When are they coming, Jess? Is it afternoon yet?’
The Fynchams were due home on the afternoon train.
Jess and Bella both lunched in the servants’ hall, a treat which delighted the child. She was the focus of attention and had them all amused with her remarks and sayings, ending up standing on her chair reciting for them in pure Norfolk: ‘Do you know what’s in my pocket.…?’
Well, it took their minds off the shock of Nanny’s passing, as Mrs Roberts remarked. The village carpenter had brought a coffin and the midnight woman had seen to the laying out. Nanny was resting now, in her deal box, on trestles set amid the greenery and stuffed animals in Little Africa. Since she had no relatives that anyone knew of, the rest must be for Sir Richard to decide.
‘I’ve sent her bedding to be burned,’ Mrs Roberts said. ‘I know she didn’t like having her things disturbed but I didn’t realise it had got quite so bad. You should have told me, Jess. That room will need a good scrubbing before the next occupant comes.’
Did she mean Lily? ‘D’you know who that’ll be, Mrs Roberts?’
‘There’s been talk of a governess being appointed, but that’s up to Lady Fyncham. Whoever it is, I imagine it may be some time before she comes, so in the meantime you’ll have to cope.’
‘Lord – look at the time!’ The coachman, Abbot, leapt out of his chair, draining a last drop of beer from a pewter mug. ‘I’ll be late. Train gets in at half past.’
His departure broke the party up, reminding everyone that they had duties to attend to now the squire was coming home.
It seemed deathly quiet in the attics as Jess put Bella into a clean dress. Bella wanted to know where Nanny was, so Jess told her the old woman was sick and had had to go away for a while.
‘When is she coming back?’ Bella asked.
‘Well… that depend how soon she get better.’ Jess had decided to prepare the child bit by bit for the fact that Nanny was never coming back.
She hurried Bella downstairs to wait in the porch, while the household lined up in order of precedence to greet the squire and his lady. Fortunately, the rain had all but stopped. The carriage bowled up the drive, in through the gate that guarded the front court, and halted in a flurry of damp gravel. The footman leapt down to open the door and pull down the step for her ladyship to alight in a fluster of silver-green flounces with feathers swaying in her hat.
‘Mama,’ Bella breathed to herself, clutching tightly to Jess’s hand, then: ‘Oh, Papa! Papa!’ and she launched herself at the tall figure who ducked out of the carriage and, laughing, swept her up in his arms.
Lady Maud looked on with a tight smile, saying, ‘Well, Bella,’ before scanning the welcoming party. ‘Where’s Nanny Fyncham? Not sick again?’
A silence fell, spreading to include the entire party. Mrs Roberts, speaking for Lady Maud’s ears alone, told the sad news.
‘Dead?’ The lady of the manor had a shrill voice that carried for yards. ‘When? Good heavens… Richard, did you hear that? Nanny—’
‘I heard,’ he said, and bent to set Bella on her feet, telling her to run and stay with Jess.
Bella’s copper hair flopped against her back as she came running to grasp Jess’s hand and lean against her skirts, looking up at her with wide, worried eyes. Smiling, speaking reassuring words, Jess stroked the child’s head, but that didn’t prevent her from hearing Lady Maud say:
‘She’ll just have to come at once, that’s all. I won’t have our daughter left solely in the care of a common nurserymaid, especially when I shall have a houseful of guests to worry about. You must send to the rectory and have Miss Clare come. At once!’
* * *
With Gyp lying on the rug beside her, Lily sat at the pianoforte in the drawing room of the rectory, playing and singing love songs. ‘The Heart’s Secret Song’ was her favourite, pitched just right for her mellifluous contralto. The bad times were over. From now on everything was going to be sunlight and sweetness for Lily Victoria Clare.
She was aware that someone had called at the front door and that Eliza had gone to the study to speak to Papa, but since it didn’t concern her she ignored it. Tomorrow, she thought, she would see Ashton again. Tomorrow – a Tuesday, when Papa liked to have the house to himself and Cousin Oriana went about her neighbourly calls. For once, Lily and Ash could spend the whole afternoon together.
‘’Scuse me, miss,’ Eliza said from the doorway, interrupting a particularly pretty phrase of the song. ‘Your father now want to see you.’
Sighing heavily, Lily turned to look at her. ‘You have no appreciation of music, do you, Eliza?’
‘Got better things to do with my time,’ Eliza said, her face like stone as she turned her back and left the room, without the least attempt to pay respects.
Really, that girl was getting above herself! Lily thought as she swirled her skirts straight and made for the study.
‘Papa…’ He wasn’t at his desk. He was standing in front of the firescreen, holding a letter in his hand. ‘Papa, I really must ask you to speak to Eliza. Every time she addresses me—’
‘Sit down, Lily Victoria.’
‘But you must listen, Papa!’
‘I said – sit down!’
Lily drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her nostrils as she lowered herself on to the edge of one of the leather chairs beside the fireplace. It was always the same – he would never hear a word against Eliza. Oh, but what did it matter? Nothing mattered now she had Ashton’s love. Conjuring up a picture of her lover, Lily relaxed and put on an obedient, attentive face as she looked up. ‘What is it, Papa?’
‘I’m afraid there’s some bad news from Hewinghall. Nanny Fyncham was found dead in bed this morning. Her heart…’
‘No! Oh… how very sad. Poor Nanny. She was a sweet old thing, too. Bella will miss her. But… she was quite old, was she not?’
‘Her age is irrelevant. But her death does affect us. Lily Victoria… I had intended to speak to you about this very soon, but circumstances now compel me… The fact is, my dear, that the Fynchams have been looking for a suitable governess for their daughter. When I mentioned your name to Sir Richard, he agreed that you would be eminently suitable – much better than a stranger. I hope you’re suitably flattered by the immense trust he places in your ability.’
Lily stared up at him, colour draining from her face. This could not be happening! Not now, when she’d been so happy, so sure that everything was coming right.
‘We had intended for you to go in a few weeks’ time,’ he said, ‘but Nanny’s death has forced Sir Richard to request that you should go at once. Now. Today. I’ve sent Eliza to pack a few of your things, so you’d better go and give her proper instructions. Just take what you need for a day or two and we’ll send the rest later.’
‘Papa…’ she managed faintly.
‘I don’t intend to argue about it, Lily Victoria. The arrangement is made. You will go. I myself will, in any case, be leaving soon. I’ve accepted a post at York Minster.’
What? He was leaving Hewing? Why had no one told her? Hardly able to think, she said, ‘What will Cousin Oriana do?’
‘She’s hoping to secure a place as companion to an old friend. In Weston-super-Mare, I believe.’
‘But… she’s said nothing to me!’
‘Because nothing is settled as yet. Besides, I asked her not to mention any of this. After your outburst earlier this year, I thought it kinder to allow you to enjoy the summer without further unpleasantness. I was considering your interests, my dear.’
Oh, what a hypocrite he was! Lily thought. He simply hadn’t wanted to tell her until it was most convenient to him.
‘After all,’ he went on, ‘you made it very clear that you had no wish to be with me. I was therefore obliged to
conclude that you prefer to remain here, among your friends and familiar places. Or would you rather try to find a place elsewhere? We could advertise your services in—’
Appalled, Lily shot to her feet and stood trembling, her hands clenched by her sides, her thoughts like darting fish. Advertise? Never! Oh… this was all a bad joke. It could not be true.
Anyway – the thought steadied her – she couldn’t leave Hewinghall. She needed to be here to see Ashton. And if she went away her real father might not find her. Of course she must stay.
‘I see,’ she managed. ‘I see. Then… very well, Papa.’
She saw his surprise as she turned away, but she felt too numb to do other than obey him.
In the shadows of the hallway she stood for a moment, taking a long breath, her eyes so tightly closed that coloured stars and flickers of lightning showed in the blackness behind her lids. Yes, of course it was a joke. A temporary hiatus, that was all. It might even be fun, being with Bella and Jess – just for a while. Just until her real father came to take her with him, to where she belonged. Oh, it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. A governess? Oh, no. Not Lily Victoria Clare.
When she reached her room she found Eliza there, carefully placing clothes in a valise. That, too, was unreal. Ignoring the maid, Lily went to the window and stood staring out. The clouds were breaking, pools of sunlight moving across the shadowed stubble field, briefly gilding the church tower. A covey of partridge pecked among the stubble. Waiting for the guns to strike them dead, Lily thought.
No, it wasn’t happening.
‘Shall I put in your best, or just the darker things?’ Eliza asked. ‘Pity you hen’t got something grey.’