The Shrouded Walls (19 page)

“I’ll show you,” said Axel. “Your sister’s had a long, exhausting day and should have been in bed an hour ago.”

“No, please—”

“But I insist! I’m sorry the room is not particularly pleasing, but owing to these people staying here overnight all the best guest rooms are already in use. My dear,” he added to me, “I suggest you ring for your maid and retire at once.”

I did not dare protest. On realizing that it was going to be impossible for me to see Alexander alone that night, I made up my mind to wait until the morning; Axel could not keep us both under constant surveillance for an indefinite period of time.

Having resigned myself to this, I did not even wait to summon Marie-Claire but hurried to bed as fast as I could so that I could pretend to be sound asleep when Axel returned; I had just closed my eyes when the door of the room opened and he came into the room.

“We’ll discuss this further in the morning,” he said, ignoring my efforts to appear asleep. “I think it’s sufficient to say now that I’m extremely displeased and intend to send Alexander straight back to school to complete his term—if the authorities at Harrow have not already ordered his expulsion for absenting himself without leave.”

“But he told us he had permission!” I half-sat up, then lay back again. “He told the housemaster I was ill...”

“I have no intention of involving myself in his lies. He leaves Haraldsdyke tomorrow and I shall pay his travel expenses back to Harrow where he must stay for the remainder of the term.”

“He won’t go!”

“I think he will, my dear. It’s I who hold the purse-strings. If he wants to complete his studies at Harrow and then go up to Oxford he will do exactly as I say.”

“But I so want to see him—” My voice broke; I was much too tired and upset to keep back my tears.

“And so you will,” he said, “at Christmas when he comes here for the holidays.”

“There’s nothing more to be said. Now please go to sleep and rest yourself without prolonging the conversation further.”

At least he made no further mention of the potion.

I tried to stay awake so that I might slip out and warn Alexander and talk to him alone, but presently I realized that Axel was waiting till I slept before sleeping himself and I gave up fighting my weariness. Sleep, absolute and dreamless, overcame me and when I awoke the clock hands pointed to eight o’clock and the rain was dashing itself against the pane.

I was alone.

Seizing the opportunity to see Alexander, I did not even pause to dress but merely snatched my wrap as I ran out of the room. Within seconds I was breathlessly opening the door of the smallest guest room which I knew had been assigned to him.

“Alexander,” I said. “Alexander!”

He was apparently deeply asleep, sprawled on his stomach on the bed, the right side of his face pressing against the pillow, one arm drooping towards the floor. Beside him was an empty cup of tea. Axel remembered, I thought, surprised and gratified. He remembered Alexander likes tea in the early morning.

“Alexander!” I said, shaking him. “Wake up!”

But he did not. I shook him in disbelief but he only breathed noisily and remained as inert as before. My disbelief sharpened into horror and the horror into panic.

“Alexander!” I cried. “Alexander, Alexander—”

But he would not wake. My arm knocked the tea cup and when I put out a hand to steady it, I found the china was still warm. Someone had brought Alexander a cup of tea as an early morning token of refreshment—and Alexander had awakened and taken the drink.

But now I was unable to wake him.

I was terrified.

I ran sobbing from the room and stumbled back to my apartments in a haze of shock. Finally, in my bedroom once more I pulled myself together with an enormous effort and quickly dressed as best as I could on my own. There was no time to dress my hair. I twisted it up into a knot at the back of my head so as not to appear too disreputable, and then covered my head with a shawl before slipping out of the house by the back stairs to the stables.

But Ned wasn’t there. I saw one of the stable-lads.

“Find Mr. Edwin,” I ordered him at once. “He may be in the kitchens. Tell him I want to see him.”

The boy mumbled a startled “Yes m’m” and scuttled out of sight.

Five long minutes later the back door opened and Ned crossed the yard to the stables. He moved easily with an unhurried gait, oblivious to the squalling rain and the blustery wind of the November morning.

“Good day to you,” he said lightly as he came into the stables, and then he saw my expression and his manner changed. “What’s the matter?”

“My brother arrived last night,” I said unsteadily. “Something’s happened to him. He won’t wake up and his breathing is odd. Please take me to Rye to fetch a doctor, please—straightaway!”

His eyes were wide and dark. “Have you told anyone?”

“I’m too frightened. I must go and get a doctor—please, don’t ask any more questions.”

“Dr. Salter lives at Winchelsea.”

“I don’t want the family doctor. Is there a doctor at Rye?”

“There’s Dr. Farrell
...
I’m not sure where he lives. Up past St. Mary’s, I think ... let me saddle a horse.” And he moved past me swiftly to the stalls.

I leaned back against the wall in relief.

“Someone may well see us,” he said when he had finished. “We’ll have to ride out down the drive and hope for the best. Will you be able to ride behind me? I’d advise you to ride astride, unless you really object. It’ll be safer in case I have to put the horse to the gallop.”

“Very well.”

He scrambled into the saddle and then almost lifted me up beside him. He was very strong.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

We set off. No one appeared to see us. As we went out on to the Marsh road the rain seemed to lessen and the sky seemed lighter in the west. By the time we reached the towering town walls of Rye it had stopped raining and the sun was shining palely on the wet cobbled streets and the dripping eaves of the alleys.

“Listen,” said Ned. “I’m not certain where this doctor lives. Let me leave you in the parlor of the George Inn while I go looking for him. I think he lives in the street opposite St. Mary’s church, but I’m not sure.”

“Very well.”

He took me to the George, left the horse with an ostler and ushered me into a room off the parlor. No one was there. We were alone.

“I have money if you need it,” I said and gave it to him.

He took the coins and then closed his hand on mine so that I looked up startled.

“There are other ways of repayment than by coin,” he said.

I looked at him, not understanding, my whole mind absorbed with my anxiety, and his face was blurred to me so that I did not even notice the expression in his eyes.

“I’d look after you if you left George,” I heard him say. “I’d find work and earn to keep you. I always fancied myself in George’s shoes, ever since he brought you home and I saw how young and pretty you were.” And suddenly he had pressed strong arms around my waist and was stooping to kiss my mouth and chin and neck. I tried to draw back but his hand took advantage of my movement and slipped from my waist to my breast with an adroitness
born
of practice.

I twisted with a sharp cry but found myself powerless in the grip of the arm which lingered at my waist. He laughed, his teeth white, his black eyes bright with excitement, and suddenly his greed and his skill and his clever tongue reminded me of his mother Esther and I hated him.

“Bastard!” I spat at him, childish in my helpless fury.

He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “The pot calls the kettle black!” he exclaimed, and drew me all the closer so that he could force his wet mouth on mine and make his hamfisted fingers familiar in places where they did not belong.

I froze in revulsion.

The next thing I knew was the draft of an open door, a gasp rasping in Ned’s throat as his muscles jerked in shock, the sudden removal of all offense. I opened my eyes.

Axel was on the threshold. His face was white and dead and without expression, but the opaque quality was gone from his eyes and so was all hint of their withdrawn look which I knew so well. His eyes blazed. His hands were tight white fists at his sides. He was breathing very rapidly.

“So I was not quite in time,” he said.

Ned was backing away against the wall. “George, she asked me to take her to Rye to find a doctor—”

“Get out.”

“—her brother’s ill—”

“Get out before I kill you.”

Ned moved unsteadily towards the door without another word. I could see Axel trying to restrain himself from hitting him and the effort was so immense that the sweat stood out on his forehead. And then as Ned tried to shuffle past him, Axel seemed to find self-control impossible. I saw him seize Ned by the shoulders, shake him and then hit him twice with the palm of his hand before slinging him out into the corridor.

The door closed.

We were alone. I suddenly found I was trembling so violently that I had to sit down.

All he said was: “I told you not to come to Rye with Ned.”

And when I did not reply he said: “I think you’re too young to have any idea of the power you have to rouse a man’s deeper feelings. I suppose you have no idea that Ned wanted you from the moment he set eyes on you. You were too young, your eyes were blind. Your eyes are probably even blind now as you look at me. You’re far too young, you’re incapable of understanding.”

I
dimly realized he was trying to excuse my behavior. I managed to stammer: “I only thought of Alexander ... I knew Ned would take me to Rye—”

“Alexander,” he said, “is not in danger. One of the stable-lads has gone to Winchelsea for Dr. Salter.”

“I wanted another doctor—”

“Dr. Salter is perfectly reputable.”

“But Alexander—”

“Alexander,” said Axel, “appears to have taken a non-fatal dose of laudanum. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then I suggest we leave without delay.”

I followed him mutely to the courtyard where he had left his horse. “But how—” I stammered, but he would not let me finish.

“I don’t propose to discuss the matter here,” he said curtly. “We can discuss it later.”

But even when we arrived back at Haraldsdyke he still refused to discuss the matter.

“I’m taking you to your room,” he said to me, “and you will stay there for the rest of the day. I am becoming tired of watching you to make sure you do nothing foolish, and your behavior has been so far from exemplary that I don’t think you can say I’m not justified in insisting you remain in your room today.”

“But Alexander—”

“Alexander will get better without any help from you. He can stay on a few more days here and then you can talk to him as much as you like, but you may not talk to him today.”

“But—” I began and then Vere came to meet us and I had to stop.

“
My wife has been very upset by her brother’s illness,
”
said Axel abruptly to Vere. “She wants only to rest all day. Please ask Alice to make arrangements with the servants not to disturb her—she’ll be sleeping in our room and I shall move into Rodric’s old room so that she may have the maximum amount of peace and rest without interruption.”

I was too embarrassed by this open reference to the fact that we were to have separate rooms, to take notice of Vere’s reply.

Upstairs I moved towards the corridor which led to our rooms, but he put his hand on my arm and guided me instead down another corridor.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said quietly. “You shall stay in Rodric’s room. I’ll bring you anything you may need.”

I looked at him in amazement. “But why can’t I stay in our rooms?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” was all he said. “I’m sorry.”

“But—”

“Please!” he said, and I saw he was becoming angry. “You’ve flouted my wishes so often recently that I must insist that you don’t attempt to disobey me now.” He opened the door of Rodric’s room and gestured that
I should enter. “I’ll come and see you every few hours to see you have everything you need,” he said abruptly. “Meanwhile I advise you to lie down and rest. And if anyone comes to the door, don’t on any account answer them. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Axel.”

“Very well, then. I’ll return to you in about an hour’s time.” And closing the door without further delay I heard him turn the key in the lock before walking away swiftly down the echoing corridor.

The mist rolled over the Marsh and smothered the house with soft smooth fingers. The silence seemed to intensify as the hours passed, and it seemed at last to me as I waited in Rodric’s room and watched the dusk fall that the silence was so absolute that it was almost audible. Axel had come twice to the room to see if there was anything I had needed, but he had not stayed long and by the time the dusk began to blur with the mist it was a long time since I had last seen him. I stood up restlessly and went over to the window to stare out into the mist, my fingers touching the carving on Rodric’s huge desk, and I thought of Mary again, remembering how she had admired Rodric and how we had spoken of him in this room.

The hours crawled by until I could no longer estimate what time it was. The increasing boredom of the enforced confinement made me irritated, and I was just wondering in a fever of impatience how late it was when I heard footsteps outside in the corridor and Axel came in with a tray of food.

“How are you?” he asked peremptorily, and added: “I’m sorry I was so long delayed in bringing you some food. I intended to bring it earlier.”

“It doesn’t matter—I haven’t felt hungry.” I wanted to ask a multitude of questions, but I guessed instinctively that he would refuse to answer them. “Axel—”

“Yes?” He paused on his way out of the room, his fingers on the door handle.

“When may I leave this room?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, “but not before then.”

“And Alexander—”

“He’s still drowsy and is resting in his room. He’ll be well enough tomorrow. You needn’t worry about him.”

The door closed; his footsteps receded. I sat down on the edge of the bed again without touching the food and drink on the tray, and tried to be patient and resigned, but I found the inactivity hard to endure and after a while began to rearrange the contents of the desk drawers in an agony of restlessness.

I heard the footsteps much later, when I was contemplating undressing and trying to sleep. The floorboard creaked above me and made me look up. Presently it creaked again. After listening intently I thought I could distinguish the muffled tread of footsteps as if someone was pacing up and down the room above my head.

But there was nothing above this room except the attics and no one slept there any more.

I took the candle and went to the door but the lock was firm and there was no breaking it. I looked around in despair, and then for the third time searched the drawers of the desk, but there was no duplicate key conveniently waiting to be discovered. My glance fell on the knife which lay on my dinner tray. Seizing it I went back to the door, inserted the blade between the door and the frame and scraped at the lock.