Chapter Sixteen
Wounded
Days and nights continued in a strange
pattern as the house guests came and went. Sophie and I tried to maintain our
learning routine (her spoken English was nearly perfect), but most evenings
there was extra noise and the atmosphere of a party; I didn’t mind this. In
fact, I enjoyed falling asleep knowing that Sophie had learnt all that was
required of her, and more. The atmosphere of the house was often enhanced by
these merry parties. It was only occasionally, during dinner, that I was quick
to retreat.
The following night, Nicola was making more
pointed comments about her dreadful
childhood nannies and how they were all, miserable
women with few prospects, calling them, dowdy
and plain in the nicest possible way. I began to shift uncomfortably in my
seat. I felt her comments were directed at me, even though her brother
interrupted her and contradicted her. Nicola’s opinions were loudly vocalised; enough
was enough.
When I slipped out of the room, I heard
footsteps following behind me.
‘Anne, what’s the matter? You look unhappy.’
Nathanial said.
‘I’m tired. I’m going to bed.’
‘Since I returned with The Eatons you
haven’t been the same.’
Was he trying to make me admit jealousy or
was he just not perceptive enough to care?
‘Really?’ I said, playing cool. ‘Perhaps it’s
since you played that stupid trick pretending to be a fortune teller - as if I
would pour all of my thoughts onto your table.’
In his presence, it felt as if my own
feelings were a mystery, even to me. Turning at the top of the staircase, I
challenged him.
‘These days of merriment have been
frivolous but mostly fun.’
He smiled approvingly.
I didn’t tell him about the previous
afternoon when I had tried unsuccessfully to unbolt the door that led to the
highest floor of Thornton Hall.
Instead, I blurted out, ‘As if the dinner
conversation wasn’t humiliation enough, I have heard screams in the night. Last
night, again, I heard a woman’s laughter. It was not Mrs Poole who was in the
village having dinner with friends.’
‘The house is full of guests, Anne. The rooms
are packed; sometimes there are hangers
on in the music business; I cannot be responsible for every stranger that friends
drag in here. It’s all a bit of a joke, a bit of summer fun. It will all be
over soon,’ he shrugged, ‘and then everyone will return to their normal life. I
doubt the band will last beyond this contract. It’s their final album and the
others didn’t exactly set the world on fire. I’m sorry if they are annoying.
The walls are paper thin in these old places; I’ve been intending to get proper
insulation for years. If it’s a problem, you could move to a cottage on the
estate until my guests leave.’
‘Sure,’ I said, turning from him. ‘In fact,
maybe Sophie should come with me,’ I said sarcastically, adding, ‘since we are
both so unwanted.’
He went to take my arm but I shook it
free. In truth I was less worried about things
that went bump in the night than I was about Nicola Ingram. I wasn’t sure
how long I could cope with a changed household where I would soon be
superfluous. I had no intention of moving to an isolated cottage on the estate,
as he well knew. When we reached my room, I said, ‘Goodnight.’ Turning, I shut
the door.
That night I was again woken from my sleep;
not by Sophie or Mrs Fairfax but by Rochester.
‘What is it?’ I whispered. The look on his
face was intense and troubled.
‘Anne? Wake up, Anne! Didn’t you do some
sort of first aid course?’
‘Yes,
I had to, to work with children,’ I said groggily.
‘I need your help, Anne. Would you help
me? Please come with me, now?’
I grabbed my coat and pulled on my socks;
my feet were freezing. The heating was turned off in the summer evenings but
the house was so large and icy in the night. We went to one of the upstairs sitting
rooms where I was surprised to see Christopher Mason lying on the sofa curled
up in some sort of obvious pain.
‘I’m warning you Christopher, don’t tell
her anything.’
‘And Anne? If he talks, don’t listen to
him.’
I was left hovering by the door. The light
was low as Rochester went to grab a first aid kit from the kitchen two floors below
us. He came running back a few minutes later. I stood mute as he handed it to
me.
‘Can you manage this, Anne? Help him?’
I was already pressing a bundled up t-shirt
onto the gash in Christopher’s stomach.
I put on some gloves while Rochester took
over. I cleaned the wound, just as I’d been shown to and got some hot water
from the bathroom and generally did anything I could, including wrapping a
bandage around Christopher’s stomach. This was only temporary help. The man needed
stitches, badly, and probably a tetanus shot. There were knife wounds and
puncture marks the size of pencil dots across his veins in some sort of pattern
I couldn’t begin to make out.
Typically, once I looked like I had it
under control, Rochester had disappeared.
When he returned, ten minutes later, looking stressed out, Christopher
was doubled up in pain as I applied pressure to the bandage.
It was no use.
‘We need help,’ I said.
‘I know,’ he replied.
Our house guest lay limp, moaning in pain as
Rochester hoisted Christopher Mason over his shoulders and carried him downstairs
via the scullery. Outside, there was a waiting car.
I was left shaking my head. I could not
have imagined what fight had caused Christopher’s wounds or how they had been
inflicted. I sat on a couch in the dark of the drawing room and finally fell
asleep, crumpled under an old coat, still wondering.
‘Anne, Anne, wake up.’ Rochester shook me
awake. It was six in the morning and the sun had barely risen. The house was
quiet. A hush had settled over it like mist.
‘Come with me.’
I
grabbed my coat and hastily pulled it on over my pyjamas.
We walked together outside to the stables
in the cool morning air.
‘I didn’t want to talk in the house. Our
voices might wake everyone up.’
‘How is he?’
‘He’ll live.’
‘Who… who did that to him?’
Rochester took my arm as if he wanted to
tell me something but was weighing up the cost of speaking aloud. He shook his
head as he spoke.
‘I
can’t tell you.’
I turned to leave but his voice stopped
me.
‘When I was your age I made a mistake. Its
consequences have marked me for life.
But recently…’ He leant towards me as we spoke, ‘I have met someone who
might understand, who might want to… be with me if only I could tell them the
truth; with her I feel I could reform myself and learn to live again.’
He was clearly describing his feelings for
Nicola Ingram.
‘Anne?’
‘Nathanial?’
‘Do you think love justifies telling a lie?’
‘I think you are talking in riddles. But if
I’m to treat your words as if they are meant in all seriousness, I would say
that love should not need a lie but that sometimes the truth is less kind.’
He slumped up against a stone wall,
centuries old.
‘What do you mean, Anne?’
‘When we lie, if we do so to save a person we
love from hurt, that’s understandable. When you wore a riding jacket that
didn’t suit you as well as your velvet one, I didn’t tell you because you were
already saddled up and ready to ride out when you asked my opinion.’
He paused.
‘Ah,’ then he laughed. Nathanial reached
over and took my hand. ‘Just your presence here makes the day better. I do not
know what I shall do without you.’
‘Am I leaving?’
‘I fear that you will… someday.’
So, he was already planning for the time
when I would leave, when he would ask me to go because Sophie was going to
school and Nicola would be her stepmother. Poor child, I thought, but there
seemed no point in vocalising my feelings. The man had clearly made up his mind
to go through with the marriage that all of the household staff whispered about
behind closed doors. Nicola Ingram was the sort of woman who was only nice to
children and underlings when others (particularly the man she’d set her sights
on) noticed.
Of course, in front of Nathanial, she was
all smiles. Like most men in love, he couldn’t see through her and he would
resent me for pointing out her faults, so I stayed silent on the matter of the
beautiful Nicola Ingram.
I wondered how he could think so little of
my feelings, how he could imagine I had none. He had trusted me with last
night’s secrets and told me about Nicola so easily, as if I was now more than
an employee but less than a girlfriend; a friend, of sorts, was how he had
begun to treat me.
I did not want to think about Nicola Ingram
and turned away. There was still a secret in this house that intrigued me. I wondered
why, after all these months of friendship (if indeed we were friends), he did
not trust me enough to share it.
‘I still don’t understand about last night.’
I ventured. ‘Were you and Christopher fighting over a woman?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Does he… does he like Nicola too?’
Nathanial laughed. I changed tack.
‘Did you… it looked like someone stabbed
him with a pen or worse.’
‘I
cannot explain further, Anne. I must entrust you only with my silence. I value your opinion Anne. I need to know if
I’m justified in not telling the woman I love everything about me.’
‘You mean, about this, about whatever has
occurred here tonight with Christopher?’
‘Sort
of…’
I shrugged, annoyed that he would never
offer me a straight answer but always asked my opinions as if they should be
freely supplied. I had nothing to lose any more so I told him exactly what I
thought.
‘I think true love should overcome all
obstacles. Just because the woman in question doesn’t have as big a fortune as
you, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s a total gold digger… I guess, well, she
is attractive, beautiful even, that’s if you go for trashy blondes. Her father
is also a lord or whatever and I mean, clearly, you are an appealing alliance.
Both families will be thrilled.’
Nate’s face went blank.
‘Anne? Who do you think I’m talking about?’
I looked him square in the eyes.
‘Nicola Ingram.’
‘I’m not talking about her. I’m asking you
what you would do to secure your own
happiness? What lengths would you go to for true love?’
He reached over and wound his scarf around
my shoulders as I began to shiver. He leant into me, closely; I wanted to touch
him but I held back; I didn’t want to be bought with riddles, rhymes and lies.
‘I would do anything within the limits of
my own conscience.’
‘Yet I cannot risk telling you everything,’
he looked away.
‘Nor I you,’ I whispered, half turning from
him.
‘You
are an unusual person, Anne. You see things from an unconventional angle.’
‘Well, I’ve had an unconventional life, so
far.’
‘Do you ever want a conventional one? Are
you too young to think about marriage and children?’
‘Of course, unless I met the right person.’
‘I think in the end, most of us want the
normal things: love, security, protection. Am I right, Anne? Is that what you
want from life?’
‘At the moment, I’m planning to go to
university,’ I laughed. ‘But it is true that for someone who studied hard at
school, I have no great desire to continue studying. I might get a job instead
or as well. I want to see more of the world after I leave here.’
‘Yes, of course. I suppose what I’m asking
is, if it took a lie to get to a greater good, would you be prepared to be
involved in something like that?
‘I’ve
often thought that people who never tell lies have never had to; but sometimes
I wonder if anything good can come from bad. If there is something you haven’t
told the woman you wish to be your wife, then maybe you should tell her.’
‘Even
if telling her means she’ll probably leave me?’
‘You
must be the judge of that, Nate.’
‘You called me Nate,’ he smiled. ‘I liked
it.’
I
turned from him, shivering, fed up with his
egotistical flirting and the constant talking about this other woman as if I
was just a teenage girl with no feelings of my own. I moved towards the house.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I don’t think this conversation is going
anywhere. I’m cold, I’m going inside; Sophie has her riding lesson and I need
to get her clothes ready.’
I walked down the driveway, my head reeling
with questions. His words were loaded, like a gun.
