by Mary Mackie
‘Why din’t you tell me he’d been here?’ Matty demanded of his wife when he heard what had occurred. ‘Blast, if I’d a known…’
‘What would you have done, Matthew? Got yourself thrown in the lock-up again?’
‘You din’t seem to mind that last time,’ he reminded her bitterly. ‘You called me your champion. En’t I now allowed to stick up for you?’
Lily sighed. ‘I’m too weary to care what anyone says about me. Maybe it’s true – maybe I am a lost soul. A gypsy bastard, bearing the mark of Satan. Cursed from the cradle to the tomb.’
It made him uncomfortable when she used language like that. Sometimes he didn’t understand her at all. ‘Don’t talk that way, Lily.’
‘Why not?’ she asked, and turned the full force of her strange eyes on him. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’
She had begun to wonder if her child, too, would be cursed as she was, born never to know who it really was, born to unhappiness. Except that she would make it believe it belonged to her and Matty. Its name would be Henefer. It would never know the truth. It, he, she… the thought of the child, stirring now inside her, filled her mind. A daughter for her, a son for Richard… which would it be?
* * *
On a bitterly cold night in January, Lily stayed late at the big house, anxious about Bella, who was sick again. The doctor had them move her bed into the schoolroom by the fire, and told them to keep Ching out of the sick room in case his fur was an added irritant to the child’s weak chest.
Lily would gladly have stayed overnight, but lately Matty had been growing ever more resentful of her absences and she was aware that Lady Maud regarded her now-evident pregnancy with distaste. Lady Maud had begun to query how much longer Lily could continue in her role as governess and, indeed, Lily wondered the same. The trek back and forth in winter weather, though scarcely more than a mile, was becoming increasingly difficult.
That evening she set off bundled up against the cold and carrying a lantern to guide her way. Tracks of carts formed two frozen lines along the drive between swathes of snow indented by marks of hooves, fox-pads and tracks of birds. Lily kept to the side, where crisp snow gave her feet some purchase as she hurried along, anxious for the warmth of home, head down against the biting wind. She felt particularly bloated; her chest ached with heartburn – a sign that the child had lots of hair, so Cousin Oriana said – and her back was stiff after long hours of sitting reading to Bella.
She didn’t even see Matty until he was on her, erupting out of the night to grab hold of her and shout, ‘Where have you been ’til this hour?’
Wincing away from the sour stench of brandy on his breath, Lily tore her wrist free. ‘You know where I’ve been, Matthew – at the big house. If you don’t believe me, ask Jess.’
‘Ask Jess. Ask Jess,’ he mimicked. ‘Our Jess’d swear black was white if you axed her to. Don’t lie to me, Lily Henefer. I know where you’ve now been – off with that fancy man of yours. That Haverleigh!’ As she tried to protest he grabbed her arm again, twisting it behind her.
‘Matthew, stop it!’ He’d been angry before, but never quite this angry, or quite this drunk. The violence in him frightened her. ‘Please, stop it!’
‘Why don’t you admit it? Everybody know about you and him. I seen you sneaking off and meetin’ him that first summer. That’s why you were so upset at that ball when he turned up with Miss Clare. But soon’s he crook his little finger, back you go for more, and when he put you up the stick you latch on to poor fool Matty Henefer to hide your sin and shame. I could’ve forgiven what you did afore we was wed, but I ’on’t be made a laughin’-stock by my own wife. I’m off to see Haverleigh. Now. Tonight.’
‘Matthew—’
‘I’m a-goin’!’ In the light of the lantern his face was dark, eyes bulging from his head as he took hold of her and swung her round, shouting at her, ‘I’ll kill him! That’s what I’m a-goin’ to do. I’ll kill him!’
‘You can’t! Matthew, no, you mustn’t. I swear to you, I… I haven’t seen Ashton for over a year.’
‘You’re a liar!’
‘It’s the truth!’ Lily cried, knowing only that she had to stop him somehow. ‘He’s not the one…’
He became utterly still, his eyes demonic, his teeth gritted. His fingers bit into her arms, making her cry out, but squirm as she would he refused to release her. Instead, the pressure increased.
‘Then who? Who?!’
‘Please!’ Instinctively, hoping for help, Lily glanced towards the big house, where light showed from one or two of the windows.
‘Blast!’ Matty swore obscenely and pushed her away from him with such force that she stumbled and fell to her hands and knees on the frozen grass. She dropped the lantern. Its glass smashed and the flame flickered out. The smell of paraffin came strong on the bitter wind as, for the briefest second, the moon showed behind scudding cloud. White flakes drifted out of the sky, tiny pieces of ice that fell on Lily’s clothes, thickening all the time. Within moments, snow was swirling down.
Lily picked herself up, holding her stomach, frightened in case she had harmed the child. She felt sick and dizzy, and so very cold. Already the snow was caking on her cape. ‘Matthew, please… Matthew…’
But Matty had gone.
Was he making for the big house? To do what? Had she inadvertently revealed the truth? Had he guessed about Richard? Oh, God…
Somehow, she stumbled and groped her way home to the lodge, where Cousin Oriana came anxiously to greet her: ‘Lily, my dear. Oh, what’s happened? Is it snowing? Did you see Matthew? He came in looking for you. He was in such a rage… He hasn’t hurt you, has he?’
Lily shook her head. ‘No. No, I’m perfectly all right, Cousin Oriana. Just shaken. And tired.’
Sleepless, wretched, she lay chewing her sheet, staring into the darkness, imagining what must be taking place at the big house. Richard and Matty…
* * *
Waking before dawn, Jess heard the silence and knew the snowfall had been deep. She got up stiffly from the pallet where she had lain, fully dressed and wrapped in a blanket, on the schoolroom floor to be near Bella. The fire was a glowing mound, the lamp burning low beside the bed. The child’s breath came hoarse in her lungs and sweat dewed her brow and upper lip. Sweat! The fever had broken, thank the Lord.
Ching was scratching at the passage door. Jess let him in to the schoolroom, though she caught him and carried him, keeping him well away from Bella as she went to open the window. It was blocked with snow. The casement, opening outward, dislodged a wedge of whiteness and, in the faint light, Jess saw that the roof balcony was full of snow. Snow lay two feet deep on the parapet and on the roofs all around; the whole park was one vast, soft whiteness with blobs to show where the trees were.
Such snow! Jess had never seen anything like it. Suddenly everything was altered, the house isolated, cut off from the outside world. It gave her the strangest feeling of unease. Something awry, something amiss…
Though the cat wasn’t keen on going out, she made sure he did what he had to do before she let him back in and then she took him and put him in Lily’s room while she tidied round and did her early chores.
Soon she was going down to fetch hot water from the boiler in the big range in the kitchen, where two maids were already kneading dough and speculating whether the staff who lived out would be able to get to work.
‘Morning, ladies!’ George the footman came yawning into the kitchen in shirt-sleeves and braces. ‘Oh – morning, Jess. Been snowing, I see. Well, that won’t help the constables find our burgular, will it?’
‘What burgular’s that, then, George?’ one of the maids enquired.
‘The one that broke in last night – through the garden door.’
Tilly laughed. ‘Oh, you and your tales! Pull you the other one.’
‘No, it’s true, sure as I’m standing here gasping for a cup of tea. He broke the glass and unfastened the bolt. Got all the way to the
library. Sir Richard heard him and called us to help put him out, but by the time we got there he’d gone. Fetched a lot of books off their shelves, he had, and rifled the desk – it was a proper mess in there.’
He was subjected to an excited cross-examination. Jess would have liked to stay and listen, but she was anxious about Bella so she took her hot water and returned to the nursery.
She found Sir Richard gazing down at his sleeping daughter, haggard and unshaven, wearing a dressing gown over an open shirt and loose trousers.
‘How is she, Jess?’ he asked anxiously, turning haunted eyes on her.
‘The fever’s now broke, sir,’ she said. ‘That mean the worst is over. We must keep her warm, and build her strength back. Poor little ’un. Every time she get well somethin’ else pull her down.’
‘She wasn’t…’ he began, and licked his lips as if he was nervous. ‘I mean, there wasn’t any disturbance in the night, was there? That you heard? Nothing… unusual?’
‘You mean the burglar, sir? Oh – George now mention it when I was below stairs. No, he din’t come up here, if that’s what you mean. That’s a terrible thing, sir. Did he steal anything?’
‘No. No, not that I can see. There was no money or anything…’ He clawed a hand through his hair distractedly. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back later to see how Bella is. I only hope she doesn’t need the doctor. He’ll never get through.’
Bella was doing all right. She started to eat a little, and take interest again; she would recover. So why did Jess still feel vaguely uneasy?
It was several days before the men got round to clearing the drive as far as the lodge, and then they brought back word that Lily was indisposed. It was several days more before Jess decided to ask Sal Gooden to sit with Bella for an hour while she walked down to see how Lily was. And Matty – for some reason she was anxious about Matty.
It was like walking down an ice tunnel, hard-packed snow underfoot and either side great walls of shovelled snow, higher than her head, with the sky blue above and the air so cold it made her head hurt and her breath turn to steam. The tunnel ran all the way to the door of the lodge, where Miss Peartree came beaming to greet Jess.
‘Come in, come in. Well! This is a treat. Two visitors come toiling through the snow. I’ve got the kettle on. Tea won’t be long. You go in.’ She gestured to the parlour, calling, ‘Look who’s here, Mr Rudd.’
Rudd. Jess hesitated, then squared herself and went into the cosy parlour.
Rudd was rising from his chair, but Dash came wagging to greet her and she bent to pet him to avoid having to face his master.
‘How’d you get here through all this snow?’ she asked.
‘It’s patchy,’ Rudd said. ‘Drifted. Some spots in the wood there’s hardly any at all. Any road, I’ve had to get out, to see to my birds. Nobody else to do it. Obi’s hurt his back and the boy’s ailing.’
She did look at him then, asking, ‘En’t Matty been at work?’
‘That’s what brought me here,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen him since yesterday week.’
Dear Lord! Eight days. Now she knew why she’d had a feeling something was wrong.
Miss Peartree came in, smiling and hospitable with a laden tray. As she poured tea, she chatted about Lily – ‘I think she must have caught Bella’s cold. She had a terrible throat two days ago and now she’s streaming, poor child. I told her to stay in bed for a few days. I can manage, though Dolly isn’t here. She was at home with her mother the night the snow came, so I don’t expect her until it clears a bit. Matthew too – as I was saying to Mr Rudd when you arrived, Jess, we haven’t seen Matthew since that night, either. I think…’ she glanced at the door, lowering her voice as she confided, ‘they had a little argument and he went off in a temper, the way he does. Oh, it was nothing. A tiff, no more. Matthew generally heads for the inn when he’s had words with Lily, so I expect that’s where he is – snowbound in Martham Staithe.’
Jess shared a look with Rudd. Aloud, they agreed that Miss Peartree was probably quite right – Matty would turn up soon. But he didn’t entirely believe it, any more than she did.
She took a cup of tea up to Lily, but Lily was feeling sorry for herself, full of cold and didn’t want to talk. She, too, said that Matty must be trapped in Martham, but her eyes said otherwise – she was worried.
Leaving the lodge together, Jess and Rudd, with the dog trotting ahead, went out into the ice tunnel and paused by a side branch running into clearer territory under trees.
‘I’ll try and get through to Martham,’ he said.
‘What about your birds?’
‘They’ll fend for themselves if they have to.’
Jess wanted to protest, but she understood he was offering to do it for her sake, to set her mind at rest. And if truth were told she was wholly anxious for Matty. He’d been gone eight days. In that time, had he been at Martham, he could surely have got back if he’d tried.
So she said, simply, ‘Thank you, Reuben. But… take you care. We don’t want to be sendin’ out search parties for you, too.’
A smile flickered in his eyes, quirking a corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll let thee know, soon as there’s news,’ he promised, and set off into the wood with Dash at his heels.
I love you, Reuben Rudd, Jess thought fiercely as she watched him go. Oh, if only…
* * *
Matty was not in Martham Staithe. No one there had seen him since before the snowstorm. With the snow so deep the postal services were suspended; it was ages before Lily could write and ask Fanny Fysher if she’d seen Matty. His friends said he’d been restless lately, talking about wanting to go back to Lynn, back to the sea. Maybe he’d decided to leave.
Maybe he had, but if so he’d gone empty-handed, without any of his clothes or other possessions.
Worried about her brother, Jess questioned Lily closely, but Lily couldn’t imagine where he’d gone, either. She was distressed, her face puffy, her body ungainly, tears coming easily.
‘We quarrelled, Jess. We’re always quarrelling. I haven’t liked to say too much about it – I mean, he is your brother, but… Well, he will keep going to the inn and getting drunk, and then losing his temper. I’m not used to that kind of behaviour. When I married Matthew, I… I didn’t expect it to be like this. I thought… well, I thought he was kind, and understanding. I didn’t think he’d ever be angry with me. But he is angry. More and more. He regrets his bargain. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d gone off back to Lynn. Washed his hands of me. Oh, Jess… you don’t think anything bad has happened, do you?’
More snow fell, enough to cause the men constant work keeping the paths clear. Slowly, connections were made with the nearby villages and, at the beginning of March, Mr Witt the carter got through from Hunstanton.
During those weeks, Jess kept Bella company. Lily was getting near her time, not so able to walk up from the lodge every day.
‘I wish I could be at the big house with you,’ she said one day when Jess called to see her. ‘I feel safe there. What shall I do if the baby comes and I’m all alone with Cousin Oriana? Oh, Jess… you will be with me, won’t you? Say you’ll come and help me.’
Matty’s absence was a continuing sorrow for Jess. Where had he gone that night in the snow? Had he gone off to Huns’ton and taken the train to Lynn? Had he run away to sea, maybe Lowestoft or Yarmouth? Fanny hadn’t replied to Lily’s letter yet, but Fanny wasn’t much more of a writer than Jess was; she’d have to get young Sam to do it for her – he was the scholar of the family. Oh… Jess didn’t know what to think. She only knew she had a horrible, empty feeling about Matty. It wasn’t like him to have gone away without a word, without taking any of his belongings. She wished she could know what had happened that night.
She blamed herself for letting Lily use her brother, but when she said as much to Rudd he shook his head and told her Matty was a grown man: he’d known what he was doing.
‘And try not to blame Miss Li
ly, either,’ he advised. ‘She’s been badly hurt, tha knows. She’s not strong like you. You once told me you had a feeling she needed thee. Well, happen you were right, lass. She needs thee more than ever now. You won’t desert her, will you?’
No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. The bond that had sprung between her and Lily when first they met was still there. Slightly battered, maybe, but it remained a strong force in Jess’s life and would be so, she felt, as long as she lived.
* * *
Alone with her thoughts, awaiting the birth of her child, Lily spent hours at her window. She was unable to do anything – not read, not sew, not even write in her journal beyond a few sketchy thoughts. Where was Matty? What had happened to him?
Richard seemed to have no time for her. He seemed to be avoiding her, afraid that their liaison might be discovered.
‘Yes, Henefer was here,’ he had said during one of their few, brief meetings. ‘He was here, then he left – and no one any the wiser, thank God. That’s all I know of it, except that he was drunk and in no fit state to do anything sensible. I don’t know where he is.’
Sometimes Lily caught herself wondering with horror if he had killed Matty. And if he had, to her shame she knew her main concern would be for Richard.
* * *
It was a Friday in mid-March when Dolly Upton came running to the big house to fetch Jess. Longman sent one of the boys to go for the doctor, while permission was sought from Lady Maud for Jess to absent herself. Lady Maud grudged it, but she consented and Jess and Dolly returned to the lodge where Lily was in the grip of both contractions and terror.
Jess sat by her, cooling her brow and trying to calm her, but Lily was prey to wild fears. ‘What if it’s deformed? What if it’s marked with the devil’s mark? What if it dies… Oh, Jess, Jess! I’m so afraid. I wish Matthew was here.’
‘Aye, me too,’ Jess said softly, freshening the cloth in some lavender water before replacing it on Lily’s forehead.