The Legacy

by Lynda La Plante

  Rawnie grasped Evelyne’s arm and shook her head, said there were to be no police, they had their own ways of taking care of their people. She had to give her thanks, and Evelyne had refused her gifts; was she ashamed to take them? They were not stolen, they had been handed down to Rawnie from her mother … Evelyne accepted a tiny pair of hooped earrings, and as she bent to kiss Rawnie again, the girl shrank away. There seemed nothing more to say and Evelyne prepared to leave. She could hear the men moving, putting a horse between the shafts of the caravan.

  She was aware of Rawnie’s dark eyes staring at her, as if she could see inside her head. Then Rawnie took Evelyne’s hand, her own in comparison were dark-skinned, tiny. The girl’s touch was delicate, as she slowly traced the head line, the life line, her dark eyes seeming even darker as the feather-light touch traced the heart line. Three times she traced the heart line and murmured, ‘Mercury, Apollo, Saturn, Jupiter … venus, venus, venus … the venus.’ She reached over for a lighted candle, brought it closer, and as Evelyne tried to withdraw her hand, her grip tightened. She began to drip the wax slowly into Evelyne’s upturned palm until it was covered in the warm wax. Her black eyes held Evelyne as she began to spread her hand down, pressing hard, palm to palm.

  Freedom looked in at the caravan door, glanced at the two women and closed the door again. Rawnie was distant, her eyes expressionless, dark pools. They held Evelyne’s like a snake and then Rawnie lifted her hand away together with the imprint of Evelyne’s in the wax, like a shell. She held it up against the candle flames and stared at the strange, delicate imprint.

  The sides of the wagon were banged and Jesse’s voice called out that they must be on their way. Evelyne stood up, nearly knocking her head on the ceiling but remembering just in time. Rawnie still held the paper-thin waxen palm to the candle flame. Evelyne was opening the door to go outside when Rawnie spoke, her low, husky voice as hypnotic as her eyes, ‘He will give you two sons, strong, healthy sons, and you will lose him when the sky is full of black … dark birds. They fill the sky. Beware of the big dark birds, my friend …’

  Rawnie was crying soundlessly, tears streaming down her face. She could not read her own destiny, but the faces of the palefaced woman’s two sons mirrored Freedom’s. She might not know it now, but one day he would be the paleface’s rommando: she would have his heart, she already had his soul.

  Evelyne turned back, but Rawnie did not look up. She was melting the wax palm in the candle flame, the tears on her cheeks like wax drops, clear, heavy drops.

  Chapter 9

  THE CARAVANS moved out. As the dukkerin, Rawnie travelled last. Roped to the wagon shafts was their herd of wild ponies. Rawnie stood at the door of her wagon and heard from up front the boy yelping and clicking his tongue to move her horse forward over the field.

  In the distance she could still see Freedom, Jesse and the paleface woman sitting on top of the rag-and-bone cart. She sighed, so be it, she would marry Jesse, the Black Prince, if he would have her. She closed the door and flicked open the knife Jesse had given her, similar to his own. He had carved her name on the shaft. She ran her finger along the blade, then opened her palm and slit the mound beneath her thumb. The blood oozed out, became a fine trickle. Although the wagon rocked and jolted, she was able to stand still as if by magic, unaware of the movement … suddenly she opened her eyes wide and screamed, cursing like a witch, and the blade sang through the air to land poised in the wood of her caravan wall, twanging.

  Sitting on top of the cart, Evelyne clung on for dear life. Jesse led the donkey, pulling on the reins and glowering, muttering to himself. Freedom walked casually alongside, occasionally looking up at her and smiling. Twice she had almost slipped off, but each time he had been there, hand out to help her regain her balance. He had a way, this fighter, of always being there.

  Jesse hit the donkey with a stick and the beast veered to the right, tipping Evelyne over. Freedom made Jesse stop the cart for a moment and got up beside her. Jesse flipped him the rein and walked on, swishing the hedges with his stick. Casually, Freedom slipped an arm loosely around Evelyne’s waist and clicked his tongue for the donkey to move on. She sniffed, there was a musky, sweet smell, and at first she thought it came from the hedgerow, maybe a flower, but as she turned her head she realized it came from Freedom, that he must be using a perfume on his hair, or oil. He caught her looking at him and smiled, showing his perfect white teeth.

  As soon as they entered town Evelyne jumped down, insisting she would be all right. Without a word Jesse hopped up on to the cart and took the reins again, flipped them and whacked the donkey with his stick at the same time. The cart rattled off.

  ‘Rags, bones … bring out yer rags …’

  As Jesse shouted, Freedom turned back to stare at Evelyne. He gave her a small wave and then turned to face ahead.

  Not having the slightest idea where she was, Evelyne kept walking. She had not a penny to her name, and wondered if there might be a post office, then remembered it was Sunday. She sighed, no train ticket home, no handbag, and what did she look like? She was filthy, her skirt was wrinkled, her blouse torn, beautiful suit completely ruined. She walked on until her feet ached, heading towards the centre of town.

  Miss Freda stepped out of her shop, neat as ever and wearing one of her hats. She alwats walked past the Grand Hotel on a Sunday, showing off her creations as a means of advertising.

  ‘Miss Freda, oh, Miss Freda…I’ve found you.’

  She squinted in a shortsighted fashion and looked in the direction of the voice, then her mouth dropped open.

  ‘Oh, oh, what happened to you, child?’

  ‘Could I possibly borrow my bus fare, it’s a threepenny ride from the terminal, only I lost my bag and …’

  To Freda’s horror Evelyne burst into tears. She looked around to see if anyone was watching, ashamed to be seen with the girl, and hustled her towards a shop doorway. Wiping her nose on Miss Freda’s little lace handkerchief, Evelyne promised to come to the shop next day and repay the three pennies. Freda opened her purse and counted out the money, snapped it shut again and said she had to be on her way as she had a very important business meeting and couldn’t stop to talk. From the doorway, Evelyne watched her hurry away down the street.

  By the time Evelyne arrived at Dr Collins’ house her heels were blistered and red raw. Mrs Darwin opened the basement door to her.

  ‘Gawd love me, what have you been doing? Come on in, lovey.’

  She ushered Evelyne into the kitchen where the maid was slumped in a chair by the fire.

  Kicking the maid out of the chair Mrs Darwin settled Evelyne down with a steaming cup of tea. As Evelyne drew breath to launch into an explanation of her appearance, Mrs Darwin began to cry, wiping her nose on her apron.

  ‘I’d have left long ago, but I’ve not had me wages and Master David’s taken everything of value, and what he left that bugger Morgan’s made off with. It’s a shocking state of affairs …’

  Evelyne felt the tea warming her chilled body.

  ‘Is David at home, Mrs Darwin?’

  Mrs Darwin looked at Evelyne, her jaw dropped open.

  ‘We went to a fair last night, there was a terrible to-do afterwards, all the benches fell down and David hurt his leg. Did he come home, or is he in hospital?’

  Mrs Darwin glanced at Muriel then back to Evelyne. ‘He doesn’t live here, not any more.’ She could see the confusion in Evelyne’s face and she bit her lip, concerned. ‘He only stays here occasionally, see, he wants to sell this place but he can’t, not without your permission, and then what with all his debts, well, the place is not what it was. He’s sold off everything that wasn’t nailed down. We’ve not been paid …’

  Evelyne interrupted her, saying she had already said that she would see about the wages as soon as things were settled.

  ‘Where is David living, then?’

  ‘Well, with his wife of course. Then if he’s not there he’s with his friend Freddy Carlto
n, spends a lot of…’

  Mrs Darwin didn’t finish. Evelyne’s body shook and she had to put her teacup down.

  ‘Wife? Is David married?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he’s married all right, not that you’d know by his manner, and he’s got a little boy too … Lady Primrose, he married Her Ladyship - oh, what would it be - three, almost four years ago.’

  Evelyne couldn’t stop herself shaking, her whole body trembled. Mrs Darwin stood up and bent over her. ‘Are you all right, lovey? You’ve gone ever so pale.’

  Unable to speak, Evelyne bit her lip hard, forcing herself not to faint, not to cry out, scream his name. Mrs Darwin held her close, patted her head.

  ‘I can see by your face, lovey, something is terribly wrong. What did he do to you? Oh, dear God, what did he do?’

  Mrs Darwin blew her nose on her apron and, shaking her fat head, slumped into her chair.

  ‘We’ve had a terrible time with him, he killed his father, you know. Oh, it was shocking the way he carried on when he came home. See, he didn’t know who he was - sometimes he would be gone for days on end and we’d have to send the police out looking for him. Her Ladyship had a shocking time of it, it’s memory loss, they say, but it’s terrible to see. He don’t know who he is, where he is, and he never recognized his father. Broke his heart, it did, killed him as sure as I’m sitting here, shocking, terrible, shocking time.’

  Evelyne’s heart was hammering inside her chest and Mrs Darwin’s voice droning on made it worse. She put her hands over her ears.

  ‘Stop it, stop it.’

  ‘But it’s the truth, if it wasn’t for Lord Carlton he’d be in a mental home, isn’t that right, Muriel?’

  Evelyne stood up and clenched her fists.

  ‘But he knew me, he recognized me. You saw the way he ran to me. He knew who I was … he called my name, he did, he called me … he called my name!’

  She sobbed, and Mrs Darwin rocked her in her arms.

  ‘No, lovey, I went to fetch him, tell him you was here; you see, they say perhaps something from his past’ll make him remember, sparking something off, like. I told him, I told him who you were … but he didn’t recognize you - he didn’t know you.’

  Evelyne felt again the sweet kisses, his gentle kisses on her neck, her face, her lips … she wouldn’t believe it. She shook her head fiercely, and Mrs Darwin sighed.

  ‘Did he have his way with you?’

  Evelyne turned away.

  ‘Oh, lovey, I wish it was different, but what can I say, he used this place like a whorehouse, always bringing terrible women back here, some of them so filthy I’d have to burn the sheet afterwards. He don’t know what he’s doing … and him what used to have two baths a day.’

  Evelyne downed her tea and carefully placed the rose-patterned cup back on its saucer. Always able to fight her emotions, she was suddenly icy calm, controlled, ‘I’ll need to see him, see about signing over my part of the house. We’ll have to sell it to give you both your wages … Do you - do you have a telephone number where I could call him?’

  Mrs Darwin nodded and led Evelyne to the hall. ‘There’ll be his own home, Lady Primrose’s, it’s her family house they live in. They had a shocking war, she lost her brother and her father, you know…’

  Evelyne snapped, her voice hard. ‘What is the telephone number?’

  Mrs Darwin dialled the operator and waited for an answer. The waiting was painful. David was not at home, and a servant suggested they try Lord Carlton’s home. Mrs Darwin called the operator again …

  ‘Do you remember Lord Carlton, he was in the army with Master David? He married Lady Warner’s daughter, poor bugger, Lord love us, what a lump … an’ ‘im such a nice looker and titled as well. Still, he’s sitting in clover, lot of money and the factory’s going strong. Major Warner, his Lordship, never came back neither. Some say he was killed in action, but there’s those who say he stayed away, out of Lady Sybil’s reach … hello? Hello? Here you are, lovey, you’re through to the house.’

  In the marble hallway, the butler held out the telephone to Freddy. ‘It’s Mr Collins’ housekeeper, sir.’

  Freddy sighed and took the receiver. ‘Hello? Speaking … who is this? Mrs Darwin? Oh, yes, yes of course, I remember. Well, I’m afraid David’s still rather poorly … Yes, he’s here, resting. I don’t really think that would be very convenient.’

  Evelyne gripped the telephone tightly.

  ‘Would you please tell Mr Collins that Miss Evelyne Jones will be calling to see him. Thank you.’

  Evelyne put the ear-piece back so hard Mrs Darwin thought she’d snapped the hook off.

  ‘Now I would like to take a bath, then I’ll go straight to the Warners’.’

  Mrs Darwin nodded, even said, ‘Yes, ma’am’. Suddenly Evelyne frightened the life out of her.

  Heather opened the drawing room doors. Freddy was standing staring at the telephone, his thoughts miles away.

  ‘Who was that, dearest? Mummy said she thought she heard the phone ring.’

  She stood staring like an owl, waiting, and Freddy sighed.

  ‘Just someone for David, nothing.’

  ‘Primmy’s due at any moment. She called earlier to say she would be driving up from London.’

  ‘Yes, yes I know, I’ll go and tell him.’

  Heather watched her husband climb the stairs. She sighed. David really played such an important part in their lives. If they weren’t chasing around Cardiff looking for him, Freddy was staying at David’s house or he at theirs. They had virtually made over to him one of their best front bedrooms, he stayed so often. Not that Heather ever said anything against it; far from it. It was not in her nature ever to disagree with anything Freddy wanted to do.

  Just as she was about to close the door, the children’s nanny appeared, dragging their twin daughters along. The little girls were very like their mother, even down to the buck teeth. They were both crying because Clarence had kicked one of them. Clarence was David’s little boy and, like his father, he spent more time at Freddy and Heather’s home than his own.

  ‘Tell Clarence, Nanny, that if he doesn’t behave I shall tell his mother, she will be here at any moment.’

  The nanny hauled the howling children up the stairs. Trailing behind was the little golden-haired boy, his silky hair just like David’s. Clarence began to shout that he wanted his mother, and was pulled away up to the nursery.

  ‘David? You awake, old man? Just had a call from that gel Evelyne whatsit.’

  David lay in the large double bed with its frills and canopy, his injured leg propped up on pillows. ‘Oh, Christ, that one from last night, I thought we’d got rid of her … I say, want a game of cards? Double or quits?’

  Freddy sighed. There David sat, looking as angelic as ever, bathed, his hair shining, almost sparkling, his complexion fresh.

  ‘Just that it could be a trifle embarrassing, Primmy called and she’s on her way here. Don’t think it’s a frightfully good idea for them to meet, do you? You were making a bit of a meal of her, you know … David?’

  Unconcerned, David shuffled his pack of cards. ‘Can’t you get rid of her for me? You know how I hate to upset Primmy … what on earth does she want, did she say?’

  Freddy scratched his head and shrugged, muttered that it was something to do with the house, David’s old home.

  ‘You think you could sneak her up the back way so no one will know? See what she wants?’

  Freddy nodded. He always did what David wanted, always had. Deep down he knew why. He would do anything to be near Lady Primrose, even if it meant taking care of her husband.

  Evelyne stood at the iron gates and peered through them, up the gravel drive to the big white manor house. Without the twinkling fairy lights the drive seemed longer, and the house had lost its fairy-tale aspect. The sweeping lawns were devoid of peacocks, but the flowerbeds and the hedges were as immaculate as ever.

  Freddy met her in the drive, as if he had been looking
out for here. He seemed ill at ease, nervous of her, and cleared his throat, ‘Would you come this way, just follow me.’

  They followed a path leading away from the front of the manor, around to the back of the house that had been part of his dreams for so many years, and in by the servants’ entrance.

  Heather flicked the velvet curtains back into place. She was spying, she knew it. David was obviously up to his old tricks again. The girl looked positively wretched.

  She went back to reviewing the firm’s accounts. She now ran the family business, Freddy paying not the slightest attention to it, although he dipped into their joint account freely. Heather never rebuked him, never questioned what he did with all the ‘spending money’. She was frightened that he might tell her the truth. What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

  Lady Sybil sat by the fire wrapped in a thick woollen rug. She appeared weighed down by her treasured array of beads.

  ‘Who was that outside? I heard the gravel crunch.’

  ‘No one, Mother, just the gardener.’

  The clock chimed three.

  Evelyne could hear the chimes as she and Freddy climbed the back stairs. He had said not a word, simply gesturing to her to follow him. As they crossed the landing towards David’s bedroom, Clarence ran from the nursery, being chased by Nanny.

  ‘Watch it, Clarence, don’t fall over and hurt yourself,’ she warned.

  The little boy ran on, disappearing from view with the nanny calling after him. Freddy tapped on the bedroom door and opened it. ‘Here’s your visitor, old chap, don’t make it too long.’

  Freddy turned to Evelyne. ‘I hope you’ll keep quiet about the boxing match should anyone ask you, you know there was a frightful rumpus afterwards. Police were called in to keep the rabble quiet, and David and I think it best you don’t mention our presence there to anyone, all right?’

  Evelyne nodded her head, and Freddy went into the bedroom. He laughed at something David must have said, then opened the door wide for Evelyne to enter.