The child began to cry and she picked it up and started to feed it. The clock ticked the minutes away. Jane bustled about the kitchen washing up the mugs, sweeping up the hearth, doing a lot of necessary and unnecessary things, and neither of them spoke.
When the door leading from the hall opened and Matthew entered they both looked towards him. He coughed all the way across the room, short, sharp coughs. When he reached Constance’s side she did not raise her head and look at him but went on feeding the child as she said below her breath, ‘He’s engaging a new man, with…with a family. He was Waite, the second footman at the Hall.’
Matthew looked from the top of her head across the table to his mother, and she nodded silently at him.
His coughing became harsher. Sitting down slowly by the side of the table, he said in a low husky tone, ‘Well, he was going to hire a man anyway; but where will he put a family?’
‘In the rooms above the stables.’ It was his mother who spoke.
‘They’re not fit.’
‘The man’s desperate.’
‘There’s no place for a fire or anything else.’
‘They’ll likely cook in the storeroom…’
‘In the boiler with the pig meat!’
Whatever response his mother would have made to this was cut off by the door opening and Donald entering, alone now. He did not walk towards the fire and stand with his back to it as was usual when he had anything special to say, but standing just within the doorway and looking at his mother, he said, ‘You’d better set the dinner for one more, there’ll be a visitor.’
‘The man…and boy?’
‘No; what would I be doing with the man and boy at our table…Miss Brigmore.’
In one swift movement Constance returned the child to the crib and was on her feet.
‘Why?’ The word was so laden with apprehension that he laughed before saying, ‘Because she’s bringing the child across.’
‘Bringing the child here?’
They all moved a step forward, and it brought them into a rough line facing him. His eyes swept over them as he said, ‘Aye, bringing the child here. Where should it be but with its nearest relations; and we are that, aren’t we?’ He was looking directly at Constance. ‘You’re its only relation; apart from meself, that is, because what hasn’t appeared to strike any of you afore apparently,’—he now nodded first at his mother and then at Matthew—‘is that the child is as much me half-sister as you, Matthew, are me half-brother, and so, therefore, I want her under my care.’
Constance’s words seemed to spray from her twitching mouth as she spluttered, ‘What…what do you mean? What are you doing? What’s going to happen to Anna and Mary? There’s the house.’
‘I’ve been into all that.’ His voice was calm. ‘I saw the solicitor at the beginning of the week. Barbara’s share of the property and her income naturally fall to the child, and as the child’s coming here we would have no further use for the cottage. I have ordered it to be put up for sale.’
‘No!’ She moved towards him until she was in touching distance of him. ‘No, you won’t! You won’t do this. You’re a fiend, that’s what you are, a fiend. You’re mad. I won’t allow it; I have some say, some rights.’
He looked down into her face. The hatred in his eyes rising from deep in their black unfathomable depths struck her like a physical force yet it wasn’t so frightening as his voice when he said quietly, ‘You have no rights; you are me wife, what is yours is mine and,’—he paused—‘what is mine is me own.’
Seconds passed and no words came; as was usual he had frozen them within her. It was Matthew, after a fit of coughing, who said, ‘But Anna, she worked for Mallen for years and brought them up.’
Donald took his eyes from Constance and looked at Matthew. He looked at him for a long moment before he said, ‘She was paid for her services.’
‘She was never paid, you know that, she…she’s worked for years…without pay…’ He was coughing again.
‘There are more ways than one of receiving payment. She was a whore.’
His calmness had dropped from him like a cloak; every word was a bark; his face was contorted with passion. ‘And she wasn’t the only one, was she? You’re all whores, every one of you.’ His arm swung before him with such force that had Constance been a few inches nearer it would have felled her to the floor. Then he turned and stamped from the kitchen.
They all stood still for a full minute, then they looked at each other and their eyes said, He’s come into the open, what now?
It was eleven o’clock when Miss Brigmore got off the cart and walked into the farmyard, but she had no child in her arms.
Constance met her at the gate and they enfolded each other in a close embrace, and when Constance muttered, ‘Oh! Anna, what can I say?’ Miss Brigmore answered, ‘I didn’t bring her; I’ve…I’ve come to appeal to him. I’ll go on my knees to him, anything as long as he doesn’t take her from me. She’s all I have; there’s no other purpose in my life, nothing to live for.’ Constance said again in an agonised tone, ‘Oh! Anna,’ then added, ‘I’m helpless.’
As they crossed the yard still clinging to each other, Miss Brigmore murmured, ‘I couldn’t believe it when I got his letter; he had given me no indication of it when I last saw him. I thought, well, naturally I thought I would stay in the cottage with Mary and bring up the child. I…I never dreamed for one moment,’—she paused and came to a halt and, turning her face to Constance, said, ‘Yes, I did dream. I have been in terror for months now in case he should do something to force you to persuade Barbara to fall in with his plans and sell the house, because…because, Constance, it is a plan. It is a plan of vengeance. His letter was so cold, so ruthless, it was as if he had been waiting all these years to do this to me. In between the lines I could read that he blames me for everything that has happened.’
Constance could say nothing to this for she knew it was true. He had a hate of Anna that was beyond all reason. He had always disliked her, in the first place because she had not liked him, but the main reason was because she had been close to Uncle Thomas.
‘Is…is he in the house?’
Constance shook her head. ‘No, no, he’s out walking his land. He walks every morning. Legally he doesn’t own a foot of it but no-one would dare to resist his claim to it, he is the farm. He works it, or has done up till now, almost by himself, but now he has engaged a man and his family. You will never guess who that man is.’
‘Who?’
‘Waite, the footman.’
‘Waite! The footman?’
‘Yes.’
‘And he has engaged him?’
‘Yes. Oh, I don’t mind the man being engaged; strangely I remember him as a very kindly man. It’s the reason he did it. He has no compassion for the man or his plight. He has a family and needed a home for them. Tyler’s farm, where he worked, has been sold and the new owner has his own men. Anyway, the men heard that there might be an opening here. It…it was the first I knew of it, or, or Mam either. But then,’—she shook her head—‘he’s determined to expand. He has bought another fifty acres. Most of the dairy produce is sold now. We have an allowance in the house, so much and no more. Oh! Anna, Anna,’—she shook her head—‘life is unbearable. Why did I do this? Why?’
Miss Brigmore now drooped her head as she said, ‘You didn’t do it; you wouldn’t have done it, I forced you. On this at least I accept the guilt. You wouldn’t have married him if I hadn’t pressed you. But any shame you might have had to bear would have been better than your present state.’
‘Oh, you mustn’t blame yourself, Anna; you did what you thought was best for me. There’s one culprit in this business and that is myself. When I look back and see myself distressed at the thought of not being married before I was twenty I think I must have been insane…But come inside, you’re cold, and you look ill.’
They had just entered the kitchen, and Miss Brigmore, after greeting Jane, was turning to Matthew
where he sat crouched over the fire when the sound of hurrying, almost running steps across the cobbled yard froze them all.
Constance, turning to see Donald coming over the threshold, his face red and sweating, knew that he must have run at high speed from the far fields where he would see the carrier pass. The cart was well before its time this morning, the fine weather doubtless having set the pace.
No-one spoke for a moment. Then, the colour in Donald’s face deepening to a purple hue, he demanded of Miss Brigmore, ‘Where is it?’
‘I…I didn’t bring her. I wanted to talk to you.’
‘You can talk till you’re black in the face, and it’ll be useless. What I said in that letter holds; as I’ve told you already I have the law behind me.’
‘I…I know you have.’ The placating sound of her own voice made Miss Brigmore sick at herself, but she continued in it as she said, ‘You…you are quite within your rights to want Constance to bring up the baby, but…but I have come to beg of you to be lenient and to leave her with me. You know I’ll do all in my power to educate her and…’
‘Aye and teach her to lie and cheat and whore.’
Miss Brigmore put her hand to her throat and her body swayed slightly before she said, ‘You do me a terrible injustice.’
‘I do you no injustice; they took their pattern from you. Well, now you’ve come without her so there’s nothing for it but for me to go back and fetch her.’
‘You’ll not, you’ll not do this, I’ll never let you.’
He moved slowly about until he was facing Constance and asked, quietly now, ‘How are you going to stop me? You haven’t a leg to stand on and you know it, so what I say to you now is, get yourself ready because you’ll be carrying your niece back with you.’
‘I won’t! I shan’t, and I’ll fight you. Do you hear? I’ll fight you.’
Still gazing at her, his lip curled in scorn as he said, ‘Don’t be stupid.’
He had turned from her and had put his foot over the step before his mother’s voice stopped him. ‘Don’t do this, Donald,’ she said.
He glared at her, his eyes narrowing; and then, his voice low, he said, ‘I’ll advise you to keep out of it.’
‘I’ve kept out of it long enough. When you’re talking about legal rights you forget that Matthew was my husband’s only son.’
Donald didn’t speak for some seconds, and then he said, slowly, ‘I forget nothing. To all intents and purposes I am Michael Radlet’s eldest son; it’s only hearsay that this,’—he tugged at the white tuft of hair to the left side of his brow—‘makes me a Mallen, and it would be hard to prove it in law. There are a number round about with white streaks; it wouldn’t be possible they are all the result of frolics in the wood.’ Their eyes held for some seconds before he finished, ‘You’re wasting your breath if you think you’re going to achieve anything by that. Now,’—he cast his glance over them all—‘as far as I’m concerned the talkin’s finished. In ten minutes’ time I’ll have the brake in the yard, an’ you,’—he nodded towards Constance—‘be ready.’
The kitchen was weighed in a silence like that which follows an announcement of the plague. The three women stood where they were, and Matthew sat where he was, all immobile, until the child in the cradle gurgled; then Matthew turned his head and looked towards it. He kept his eyes on it for some minutes before pulling himself up from the chair, and the almost imperceivable motion of his head he made towards Constance told her that he wanted to speak to her.
As if awakening from a dream she looked first at Miss Brigmore, then at Jane, then back to Miss Brigmore again before, bowing her head deeply on to her chest, she went out of the kitchen and into the hall.
Matthew was waiting for her just outside the door. He put out his hand and drew her to the far end of the hall and into a clothes closet that was near the front door, and there in the dimness he held her face as he said softly, ‘Listen now; listen, dear. You…you are not to go over there. You must make on you have taken bad, you must faint or something, and I’ll…I’ll go with…’ He pressed his hand tightly over his mouth as he began to cough, and Constance whispered desperately, ‘But…but you couldn’t stand the journey, Matthew; it’ll be dark before you get back, and the cold will set in and…’
‘Don’t, don’t worry about that, just listen to me. Listen to me, dear. Pay attention, don’t cry. Now listen. I want you to go into the front room and lie on the couch; just say you feel bad…’
‘But…but he won’t believe me. And he’ll never take you…And why…why do you want to go with him?’
‘It doesn’t matter why, only do what I ask.’
She shook her head slowly. ‘He won’t take you, he’ll bring her himself.’
‘He can’t, there’s only a chain to the back of the brake and a basket could slip through.’
‘Oh, Matthew, don’t be silly, you know him, he’ll think of some way. He’ll tie it on. But why, why? What are you going to do if you go?’
‘Listen to me, dearest, please. Now you and I know that I’ve had much longer time than was due to me. I might go in the night, I might go in the mornin’, but one thing’s certain, I won’t get through this winter. It was a miracle I got through the last. Now listen, listen. Look at me. We haven’t much time.’ He stared at her in silence for a moment, then whispered, ‘Aw, Constance, I love you. Aw, how I love you. It’s this that has kept me alive, but now I’m suffering the torments of hell ’cos I know I’ll be leaving you here alone to suffer him. ’Cos Mother’s no match for him, no more than I am meself. He’s turned into a devil, and to think that I once loved him, and he me. I know I wronged him but…but…Oh! my love, my love, I would wrong him again for you.’ He touched her face with his fingers and his voice was scarcely audible as he said, ‘I’ve never kissed you but that once.’
Slowly his face moved towards her and his lips touched her brow and her eyelids, then traced her cheek, but before they reached her mouth a fit of coughing seized him and he turned his head away and held a piece of white linen to his lips, then screwed it up tightly before he looked at her again.
The tears were raining down her face and when she went to speak he put his finger on her lips and muttered, ‘No questions, nothing, no more; as he said, the time for talking’s past. Come on, my dear; just do what I ask, go and lie down on the sofa.’
‘No, Matthew, no.’
‘Please, please, do this for me, make me happy, Constance, make me happy. Let me think there’s been some meaning in me being alive…’
‘Oh, Matthew, Matthew, what are you going…?’
He had opened the door and drawn her into the hall again, and now pressing her towards the sitting room he said quickly, ‘Don’t speak to him when he comes in, not a word, be prostrate.’ He bent quickly forward and kissed her on the mouth, then whispered, ‘Goodbye, my love.’ He opened the door and pressed her inside, then closed it quickly as she went to protest. The next minute he was in the kitchen and, with a briskness in his voice that his mother hadn’t heard for years, he said, ‘Constance has fainted, she’s lying down in the sitting room.’ Then, putting his two hands out one towards Miss Brigmore and the other towards his mother as they made to move towards the far door, he said, ‘Leave her alone, please…Leave her alone. I’m…I’m going over with Donald.’
‘You? You’re not!’
‘I am. It’s a nice day and the drive will do me good.’
As he stared into his mother’s eyes, she put her hand to her mouth and whispered, ‘What, what have you in mind, boy? what are you…?’
‘Nothing, nothing, Mother; I’m just going over in Constance’s place to bring the baby back.’ He turned now and looked at Miss Brigmore. She was staring at him, her eyes wide and questioning, and he smiled weakly at her and nodded reassuringly before saying, ‘Don’t worry.’
‘No! Matthew, no!’ Jane pulled him round to her. ‘There’s nothin’ you can do, nothin’. What chance have you against him, or ever had for that
matter? Things have got to take their course.’
‘Be quiet.’
The door opened and Donald entered. He stood for a moment looking at them, and then he said, ‘Where is she?’
It was Jane who answered. ‘She’s had a turn, she’s lying down.’
‘Huh!’ His laugh was pitying. ‘She’s had a turn, she’s lying down is she?’ He stalked across the room and they heard him going up the stairs, taking them two at a time; then his steps running down again and the sitting-room door opening. In a few minutes he was back in the kitchen. Walking slowly to the middle of the room he looked from one to the other and said, ‘Well, whatever you’ve planned it won’t work. I’ll bring it back if I’ve got to nail the basket to the cart or lay her in a bundle under my feet.’
‘There won’t be any need for that, I’ll come along with you.’ Matthew’s voice was quiet, tired-sounding; it was like someone saying: ‘Anything for peace.’
Donald turned his head sharply and looked at him. He looked at him for a full minute before he smiled grimly and said, ‘Well, that mightn’t be a bad idea after all. We could stay overnight and I’ll load the brake up with the bits and pieces I want to bring across.’ He turned his gaze on Miss Brigmore, and she closed her eyes against the look in his; then swinging round he went outside. Jane now ran into the hall and returned with a heavy coat, scarf, and cap, and as she helped Matthew into them she kept whispering, ‘What is it? Tell me, what is it? what are you up to?’
The Mallen Streak Page 26