Alone Beneath The Heaven Page 11

  Many miles away, if Sarah had but known it, one of the objects of her restless thoughts was also enduring a sleepless night.

  Rebecca lay very still in her marital bed, listening to Willie’s deep breathing punctuated by the odd raucous snore. She had learnt to lie still over the last months since Willie’s mother had died, knowing there was less chance of her husband waking then, and demanding his ‘rights’ yet again.

  His rights. She clenched her hands into fists at her side, but the tensing of her body aggravated the bruises on the tops of her arms and legs and her torso, and she forced herself to breathe deeply and relax again.

  Was there another woman in the whole of Sunderland who had been taken in like she had? Rebecca asked herself bitterly. She doubted it, that she did. Oh, she had been a fool, such a blind, stupid fool. But Willie had been so affable when they were courting. Not refined, no, even Willie’s undoubted ability at acting a part hadn’t been able to rise to that, but he had been polite, civil.

  She had heard rumours he had something of a reputation for uncouthness, but he had never been like that with her . . . then, and she had taken that as a sign that he cared about her, respected her.

  Had his mam known what he was like? She didn’t want to believe that. She had liked Willie’s mam in a way, and she’d thought the old woman had liked her. Surely, if Mrs Dalton had known, she would have warned her? But the old lady had wanted grandchildren. In fact her mother-in-law’s desire for grandchildren had been bordering on the obsessive.

  Rebecca tensed as the fat bulk at her side snorted and stirred. It hadn’t been love or desire or any of those things that had prompted Willie to start courting her, she knew that now. He had seen a girlfriend as a way of placating his mam, and Rebecca had been malleable enough for his purposes. Oh, why hadn’t she seen it then? But she had wondered at times, she had to admit that. Occasionally she had caught a glimpse of something suspect in the dutiful son and ardent suitor, but she had closed her mind to it. She had so wanted to believe he loved her. And the security of a ring on her finger and her own home? Yes, that too. She answered the accusing voice of honesty silently.

  She had had the fear she was too plain to get anyone else; that had been at the heart of her going out with Willie in the first place. So when he’d asked her to marry him, she’d nearly bitten his hand off, so quickly had she said yes. But she was paying for her pride, and her cowardice, now.

  It was ironic when you thought about it - her mother-in-law had demanded a grandchild but hadn’t lived to see her become pregnant, and that same child had trapped her more effectively than anything else could have done. She had believed he’d stop the other stuff when he knew about the bairn, but it had been a vain hope.

  As though in confirmation of the thought, the tempo of her husband’s breathing changed, and when, in the next moment, a large meaty hand clamped itself tightly over her left breast, Rebecca couldn’t stifle a moan of fear.

  ‘Waiting for it then?’ Willie’s voice was thick, he had sensed her terror and it was like an aphrodisiac, and Rebecca was already crying before he had even begun.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Landsakes . . . And all this was going on when I was snoring my head off? My husband, God rest his soul, always used to say I’d sleep through my own funeral.’

  The remark was typical of Hilda and brought the glimmer of a smile to Sarah’s face despite the direness of the morning. She hadn’t slept at all, and had risen well before five in order to have a word with Hilda before the day began.

  ‘Mind you, I suppose at the bottom of me I’m not surprised, Sarah. I always thought Sir Geoffrey was capable of violence if he didn’t get his own way, he could be a nasty little child, although to go as far as forcing the girl . . . ?’

  ‘It was rape, Hilda. Nothing more and nothing less.’ Sarah’s voice was flat, and she gazed into the elderly cook’s quizzical eyes as she said, ‘And he would have attacked me if I hadn’t stopped him with my knee. One of the boys at Hatfield taught me that little trick.’

  ‘I don’t know, the things that go on in this household.’ Hilda drew in her lips and rummaged her cheeks before saying, ‘There’s never a dull moment, I can tell you. When the mistress was younger the house fair hummed with all her goings-on, but this is different . . . nasty. You know what I mean?’

  Sarah didn’t answer beyond nodding her head slowly. Yes, it was nasty, it was very nasty, and it had all the potential to get still nastier, because she could see Peggy and herself out on their ears before the day was through. She bowed her head deeply, sagging back against the wide, flat footboard of Hilda’s bed as the apprehension she had been fighting all night reared its head again.

  She didn’t want to go back to Sunderland with her tail between her legs - there were some at Hatfield who had resented her appointment with the Robertses, and still more with Lady Harris, and who would crow their heads off with delight if she did - but . . . She paused for a moment in her thoughts, then straightened her back, raising her head to glance at Hilda propped against her pillows and resplendent in a thick Victorian-style nightdress and severe hairnet. If she had her time over again she would do and say exactly the same.

  Hilda looked back at her in the silence that had fallen on them, and her voice was tentative now when she said, ‘Is she going to report him? To the authorities? It’ll kill the mistress.’

  ‘Hilda.’

  ‘Oh, I know, I know - it’s awful for the girl, don’t get me wrong, Sarah, but . . .’ Hilda moved her toothless gums some more before she continued, ‘I can’t help feeling sorry for Lady Harris in all this. I mean for one of your own to do something like that, and the mistress has always been scathing about men abusing their power and all that type of thing. For your own son . . .’ Hilda shook her head, and then said, ‘It’ll hit her hard.’

  ‘Well, all I can say is that she was blaming everyone else but him last night.’ Sarah could hear her voice and it sounded ordinary, but she wasn’t feeling like that inside. Inside she was angry; angry and nervous and full of something she couldn’t put a name to, but which made her want to find Sir Geoffrey Harris and beat him to a pulp. She didn’t like how she was feeling but it was there, and she couldn’t do anything about it. If she lived to be a hundred she would never forget the sight of him on top of Peggy, or the sound of it either. It was enough to put the little maid off men for life.

  ‘It’d be the shock that made the mistress react like that.’

  ‘What about Peggy’s shock? And mine, if it comes to that?’

  Hilda didn’t reply immediately, her eyes narrowing and her gaze sweeping Sarah’s strained face before she said, her voice soft now, ‘It must have been awful, Sarah.’

  ‘Yes, it was.’ Sarah took a gulp of air and it was some seconds before she said, ‘He was like an animal.’

  ‘They’re not all like that, thank the Lord. My Arthur was a gentle soul, and there’s plenty like him in the world. Now then, I’ll get myself dressed and we’ll see what’s what with Peggy. I’m going to have to do without her help in the kitchen today, I’ll be bound.’

  It was just after six o’clock when Sarah knocked on Peggy’s bedroom door and, after standing for a few moments on the landing where Hilda stared at her uneasily, Sarah opened it and entered the room. The young maid was fast asleep, lying curled under the faded quilted eiderdown in what looked like the foetal position, the impression of childishness heightened by the fact that her thumb was in her mouth. Whether it was that, or the blue-mauve bruise already beginning to stain one cheekbone, Sarah didn’t know, but Hilda’s attitude seemed to undergo a lightning change as she looked at the pathetic little figure in the bed.

  ‘He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this, the lecherous old so-and-so.’ The elderly cook continued to stare at the sleeping girl as she spoke, before they turned together and made for the door. Once on the landing, Hilda poked her head towards Sarah as she asked, her voice still soft but trembling slightly, ‘What
will you do?’

  ‘Do?’ It was the same question she had asked herself all night, but now she said it as if it had just occurred to her. ‘That depends on Peggy of course, but if she wants to take it further I’m with her every inch of the way.’ Her chin rose slightly as she added, ‘Lady Harris or no Lady Harris.’

  ‘You’re very like her, you know. I think that’s what makes me feel I’ve known you for a long time instead of just a few weeks.’

  Coming from Hilda it was the highest of compliments, and Sarah recognized it as such, the knowledge softening her voice as she said, ‘We’ve got on well, haven’t we?’

  ‘Don’t say it as though it’s all over.’

  ‘No.’ Sarah half turned from her, and now her voice was without expression as she said, ‘Perhaps Lady Harris will surprise me.’

  And to Sarah’s eternal amazement, Lady Harris did just that, when, on the old lady’s arrival downstairs before breakfast, she asked to speak to Sarah privately in the morning room. There was no roaring log fire in the grate that morning; it was normally Peggy’s first job on rising to clean out the old ashes in both the morning room and drawing room and to light fresh fires, and this must have struck Lady Harris because her first words were, ‘There are some luxuries we take entirely for granted; the warmth and cheer of a fire for example. I used to tell myself, when I was young and idealistic, that I would never take such things as a matter of course, but age makes one forget. Still, this is not a morning for warmth and cheer, is it, Sarah?’

  Sarah didn’t know what answer to make, or even if one was required of her, and so she said nothing, her gaze steady on the indomitable old lady standing in front of her.

  ‘Shall we sit down?’ Lady Harris waved her hand at the two chairs set before the empty fireplace, and after a moment Sarah sat, still without speaking.

  In any other circumstances, any other, she would have gone out of her way to try and make things easy for her employer, even if the end result was going to be her dismissal, but today her mind was saying, ‘Yes? Go on, then - say what you have to say. Tell me why Peggy and I will be the scapegoats, and why your son will get off scot free.’ Because he would. She had taken a cup of tea up to Peggy a few minutes earlier, in order to see how she was and ask what she intended to do about the assault, and also to advise her to stay in bed that morning and that she would make arrangements for the doctor to call.

  But Peggy had been fully dressed and packing her suitcase when Sarah had entered her room with the tea, and the young girl had been adamant about her intentions. ‘I’m going home to me mum, miss.’

  ‘But aren’t you going to do anything about last night?’ Sarah had stared at her aghast. ‘Peggy, you can’t just let him get away with it.’

  ‘With what?’ Peggy’s chin moved up and down. ‘He’ll say I wanted to, that it was just a bit of fun, won’t he? And he’s Sir Geoffrey Harris, and who am I? Who is going to believe me? And . . . and I couldn’t bear to have to tell anyone anyway, miss.’

  ‘They will believe you, Peggy, listen to me. I was there, I know, and I’ll tell them. It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘It was. It was, miss, in a way.’ Peggy gave a little gasping sound, so desolate it caught at Sarah’s heartstrings. ‘You tried to tell me, and Cook, but I wouldn’t listen. I thought - I thought he liked me, as a person, you know? Not, not just in that way. I didn’t think he’d make me . . .’ Her voice trailed off and she shut her eyes tightly before opening them very wide. ‘It was horrible. Horrible.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘And if I told anyone, made a fuss, me dad’d kill me anyway.’

  ‘Peggy, it’s not making a fuss, for goodness’ sake. He raped you and he ought to be brought to account for it. And your father would want that, don’t you see? He wouldn’t want the man who had hurt you to get away with it.’

  ‘You don’t know me dad, miss.’ Peggy shook her head slowly. ‘The only thing that matters to him is being respectable. ’ The last word seemed to stick in her throat and she almost spat it out. ‘All me life I’ve heard him going on at one or other of us. There’s ten of us altogether and half of me brothers and sisters aren’t talking to him because he’s upset them in some way, and when our Mary had to get married last year . . .’ She shook her head again. ‘He went mad, barmy, miss. It nearly drove me poor mum up the wall. And it wasn’t as if anyone knew, that was the thing. She was engaged anyway, and they just brought the wedding forward a month or two, but to hear him speak it was the end of the world. I couldn’t tell him, miss, I just couldn’t.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to tell your mother?’

  ‘Oh I shall tell me mum, she’ll understand.’

  ‘But won’t she feel obliged to inform your father?’

  The withering glance Peggy bestowed on her suddenly made Sarah feel years younger than the little maid.

  ‘No, miss, she won’t tell me dad. Least said, soonest mended, eh?’

  ‘Oh, Peggy.’ As Sarah’s hand went out to touch Peggy’s face, the young girl shut her eyes again, biting on her lip before she said, ‘Don’t, don’t, miss. I - I can’t stand it. I know you mean well but I’ve got to keep meself together this morning, and I can’t do it if you’re nice to me.’

  ‘But what will you do? I mean when you get home? What about work and so on?’

  ‘Oh I’ll find something. There’s always work to be had if you’re not too fussy, and I can’t be fussy now, can I?’

  The words had a double meaning, and Sarah now scrutinized Peggy’s white face with some anxiety. ‘Of course you can be fussy, Peggy. Look, drink this tea while it’s hot. I’ve got to go downstairs for a minute or two but I’ll be back shortly, and we’ll talk some more. Promise me you won’t leave until I come back?’ she added quietly.

  ‘No, I won’t leave, miss.’ Peggy sat down very suddenly on the bed as she said, ‘I’m feeling a bit funny to tell you the truth.’

  ‘Drink the tea and I’ll bring you some breakfast when I come back. You need some food inside you.’

  ‘Oh no, miss, you’ll get into trouble. Lady Harris won’t like it.’

  Sarah looked at the small wan figure in front of her, who seemed much younger than her fifteen years at that moment, and could have cried, and her voice reflected the fruit of this feeling as she said, ‘I really don’t care what Lady Harris does and doesn’t like, Peggy. You are my only priority this morning. Now, I won’t be long, and in the meantime’ - she paused, drawing back the bedclothes - ‘you take off your shoes and get back into bed for a while. It’s enough to freeze you in here.’

  ‘Miss?’ Peggy’s voice stopped her at the door and Sarah turned, her hand on the doorknob as she said, ‘Yes? What is it?’

  ‘I . . . I meant it, about you getting into trouble. Oh, I don’t mean about breakfast, but the . . . the other thing. There’s no need for you to lose your job as well as me, and Lady Harris won’t like it if you go against her. What’s done is done and nothing—’ She gulped and paused before continuing, ‘Nothing can alter things now. I’ll get by, miss.’

  ‘Yes, I know you will.’ Sarah smiled at her reassuringly, even as her mind grappled with the fact that the little maid reminded her very much of Rebecca this morning although she didn’t understand why. ‘But for now you snuggle down and drink your tea. I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘I reacted badly last night, Sarah.’ Lady Harris’s steady voice brought Sarah back from the conversation with Peggy, and as Sarah raised startled eyes to the old face, she added, ‘Oh yes, my dear, I’m quite aware of it. How is the child this morning? I assume you’ve been to see her?’

  Sarah paused for a moment before she answered, ‘Yes, I’ve been to see her, Lady Harris. She is in the state one would expect after being attacked so viciously.’

  ‘You don’t mince words, Sarah.’

  There was nothing to say to this, but Sarah was thankful Lady Harris couldn’t see the pounding of her heart.

  Geraldine Harris waited fo
r a moment before she said, her voice soft, ‘You are angry and distressed on Peggy’s behalf, and rightly so, but I need to make one thing perfectly clear. I am not your enemy, neither am I Peggy’s, and I wish you to convey that to her when you ask her to come and see me. But first I would like you to tell me how she views the situation. Does she wish to go home, and is she intending to take the matter to the authorities?’

  Sarah stared at her employer as she tried to gauge what was behind her words, and then she quietly related her conversation with Peggy, finishing with, ‘Are you going to dismiss her?’

  She had no right to ask, but Lady Harris didn’t imply she found the question impertinent by voice or expression when she said, ‘No, Sarah, I am not. Perhaps you would be so good as to go and fetch her, and I would like you to stay while I speak with the girl if you don’t mind. I’m sure Peggy will find your presence comforting.’

  Comforting? What did that mean? Sarah’s mistrust must have shown in her face, because Lady Harris smiled slightly, relaxing back into the chair where she had been sitting stiffly upright, as she said, ‘My grandmama, a singularly noteworthy woman who gave her life to doing good works and being an obedient and prodigious wife, always said that my face would get me into a great deal of trouble. She was quite right.’ The bright brown eyes were sharp but not unkind. ‘I am afraid I was a trial to Grandmama. I had a mind of my own even then you see, besides which she didn’t really care for children, unless they were the seen-and-not-heard variety, which I, sadly, was not. But even when I held my tongue I could not please her. She would say that my face talked for itself.’ The birdlike eyes twinkled at Sarah. ‘As yours does.’