Kirkland Revels (19 page)

He instructed his man to pull up beside me.

” You’ve tired yourself,” he accused me.

” Indeed I have not. And I am nearly home.”

“Please get in,” he said.

“I’m going to give you a lift back.”

I obeyed, protesting that I was not ,in the least tired. In fact, he looked much more tired than I, and in my somewhat forthright manner I told him so.

” I’ve been up to Worstwhistle,” he said. ” That always tires me.”

Worstwhistle! The mention of that place saddened me. I thought of those people with their poor clouded minds, shut away from the world.

How good he was to give his services to such a place!

” You are very good to go there,” I told him.

” My motives are selfish, Mrs. Rockwell,” he answered.

“These people interest me. Besides they need me. It is a pleasant thing to be needed.”

” That is so, but it is good of you all the same. I have’ ll7 heard from others how you comfort them, not only with youi medical skill but with your kindness.”

“Hal” He laughed suddenly and his white teeth flashed in his brown face. ” I have a great deal to be thankful for. I’ll tell you a secret about myself. Forty years ago I was an orphan … a penniless orphan.

Now it is a sad thing in this world to be an orphan, but to be a penniless orphan, my dear Mrs. Rockwell, that is indeed a tragedy.

“

” I can well believe it.”

” I might have been a beggar … standing by the road shivering with cold, driven to frustration by hunger, but life was good to me after all. As I grew up it became the dream of my life to heal the sick. I had no hope of attaining my ambition. But I caught the notice of a rich man and he was good to me. He educated me, he helped me to realise my ambition. But for that rich man, what should I have been?

Whenever I see a beggar by the roadside, or a criminal in his prison, I say to myself: There but for the grace of that rich man go I. Then I give myself to my patients. Do you understand me? “

” I do not know …” I began.

” And now you think a little less of me because I am not quite a gentleman, eh?”

I turned on him fiercely. ” I think you are a very great gentleman,” I said.

We had reached the Revels and he murmured: “Then will you do me a favour?”

” If it is in my power.”

” Take great care of yourself … even greater care.”

I was taking tea with Hagar Redvers, and she was talking-as she loved to—of her childhood and how she had ruled the nursery at the Revels, when suddenly that overcrowded room seemed to close in on me and I could no longer breathe. Something happened to me, and I was not quite sure what it was.

The next thing I remembered was that I was lying on the horsehair couch and smelling salts were being thrust beneath my nose.

” What … happened?” I asked.

“It’s all right, my dear.” That was Hagar’s authoritative voice. “

You fainted.”

“Fainted! I … But…”

“Don’t disturb yourself. I think it is a fairly common’ ll8 occurrence at this stage. Now lie still. I have seat for Jessie Dankwait. I have the utmost confidence in her.”

I tried to rise, but those strong old hands sparkling with garnets and diamonds held me down.

” I think, my dear, you walked too far. This journey is becoming too much for you. You must be driven here next time.”

She was sitting in the chair beside the sofa. She was saying:

” I remember how I fainted when my son was on the way. It is such a horrible feeling, is it not. But it is surprising how, as the time progresses, one becomes accustomed to all the little inconveniences.

Do you feel like some refreshment, my dear? I did wonder if a little brandy might be useful. But I think we should wait for Jessie Dankwait. “

It could not have been much more than fifteen minutes later when Jessie Dankwait came into the room. I judged her to be in her middle forties; her face was rosy, her expression pleasant; her black bonnet, trimmed with jet beads which danced in rather a jolly fashion as she moved, was tied under her chin with black ribbons; on her gaberdine cloak jet also glistened. Beneath the cloak she wore a black dress and a very clean white starched apron.

I quickly discovered that she was the midwife who lived on the Kelly Grange estate, and as Hagar ruled over that estate like a queen over her kingdom, the midwife behaved as though she were a subject. I subsequently discovered that if any of the mothers were unable to pay her, Hagar paid for them. Jessie also acted as nurse, for she had received a certain amount of training in all branches of nursing.

She prodded me and questioned me and spoke knowledgeably about my condition. She came to the conclusion that everything was as it should be and that what I had experienced was natural enough considering the time of my pregnancy.

She thought that a cup of hot sweet tea was what I needed; and there was nothing to fear.

When she had left, Hagar ordered that a pot of tea should be made, and while I was drinking a cup of it, she said: ” You could not do better than engage Jessie when your time comes. I know of none so good in the neighbourhood; that is why I employ her. She has more sucessful cases than any other midwife I have ever known. If I had been able to employ her for my daughter-in-law she would have been here today.”

I said I thought it was an excellent idea, for I had been wondering what arrangements I should make. ‘ll9 “Then that’s settled,” said Hagar.

“I shall tell Jessie to hold herself in readiness. It would be an excellent idea if you kept her at the Revels for a week or so beforehand. That is always wise.”

It appeared that my affairs were being taken out of my hands, but I did not care. The change in my body seemed to be changing my character. I experienced a certain lassitude as I lay on that horsehair sofa listening to Hagar making plans for my future.

Jessie had not left the house, and when Hagar sent for her, before I left, to tell her that I had decided to use her services, she was delighted.

” Jessie will call on you regularly at the Revels,” declared Hagar.

“And you must take her advice. Now someone shall drive you back. And when you get there you should rest.”

Simon was not at home, so one of the grooms drove me back. Ruth came out in some surprise when she saw how I had returned, and I hastily told her what had happened.

“You’d better go straight up and rest,” she said.

“Ill have dinner sent up to you.”

So I went up and Mary-Jane came to me to make me comfortable; and I let her chatter on about her sister Etty, who some months back had fainted in just the same way.

I looked forward to a leisurely evening, reading in bed.

Mary-Jane brought up my dinner, and when I had eaten it she came back to tell me that Dr. Smith wanted to see me. She decorously buttoned my bed-jacket up to my neck and went out to say that I was ready for the doctor.

He came into my room with Ruth, and they sat near the bed while he asked questions about my faint.

“I understand it’s nothing to worry about,” I said.

“Apparently it’s the normal occurrence at this stage. The midwife told me.”

” Who?” asked the doctor.

“Jessie Dankwait. Mrs. Redvers has the utmost faith in her. I have engaged her for the great occasion and she will be coming to see me from time to time.”

The doctor did not speak for a while. Then he said:

” This woman has a very good reputation in the neighbourhood.” He leaned towards the bed smiling at me. ” But I shall satisfy myself as to whether she is practised enough to take care of you,” he added.

They did not stay long and after they had gone I lay back 120 luxuriously. It was a. pleasant feeling to know that all ms being taken care of.

It was two weeks later, when my peaceful existence was shattered, and the horror and doubts began.

The day had been a glorious one. Although we were in mid-September, the summer was still with us and only the early twilight brought home the fact that the year was so advanced.

I had passed the day pleasantly. I had been along to the church with Ruth, Luke and Damaris to take flowers to decorate it for the harvest festival; they had not allowed me to do any of the decorating, but had made me sit in one of the pews watching them at work.

I had sat back, rather drowsily content, listening to the hollow sound of their voices as they talked together. Damaris, arranging gold, red and mauve chrysanthemums on the altar, had looked like a figure from the Old Testament, her grace and beauty never more apparent. Luke was helping her—he was never far from her side—and there was Ruth with bunches of grapes and vegetable marrows which she was placing artistically on the sills below the stained-glass windows.

It was an atmosphere of absolute peace—the last I was to know for a long time.

We had tea at the vicarage and walked leisurely home afterwards. When night came I had no premonition that change was near.

I went to bed early as was now my custom. The moon was nearly full and since I would have the curtains drawn back, it flooded my room with soft light, competing with the candles.

I tried afterwards to recall that evening in detail, but I did not know at that stage that I should have taken particular note of it; so looking back it semed like many other evenings.

Of one thing I was certain—that I did not draw the curtains on either side of my bed, because I had always insisted that the curtains should not be drawn. I had told Mary Jane of this and she bore me out afterwards.

I blew out my candles and got into bed. I lay for some time looking at the windows; in an hour or so I knew that the lop-sided moon would be looking straight in at me. It had awakened me last night when it had shone its light full on my face.

I slept. And . suddenly I was awake and in great fear, though for some seconds I did not know why. I was aware 121 of a cold draught. I was lying on my back and my room was full of moonlight. But that was not all that was in my room. Someone was there . someone was standing at the foot of my bed watching me.

I think I called out, but I am not sure; I started up and then I felt as though all my limbs were frozen and for several seconds I was as one tamed to stone. If ever I had known fear in my life I knew it then.

It was because of what I saw at the foot of my bed . something which moved yet was not of this world.

It was a figure in a black cloak and cowl a monk; over the face was a mask such as those worn by torturers in the chambers of the Inquisition; there were slits in the mask for the eyes to look through, but it was not possible to see those eyes though I believed they watched me intently.

I had never before seen a ghost. I did not believe in ghosts. My practical Yorkshire soul rebelled against such fantasies. I had always said I should have to see to believe. Now I was seeing.

The figure moved as I looked. Then it was gone.

It could be no apparition, for I was not the sort of person to see apparitions. Someone had been in my room. I tamed to follow the figure but I could see nothing but a dark wall before my eyes. So dazed was I, so shocked, that it was a second or so before I realised that the curtain on one side of my bed had been drawn so that the door and that part of the room which led to it were shut off from my view.

Still numb with shock and terror I could not move until suddenly I thought I heard the sound of a door quietly closing. That brought me back to reality. Someone had come into my room and gone out by the door; ghosts, I had always heard, had no need to concern themselves with the opening and shutting of doors.

I stumbled out of bed, falling into the curtain which I hastily pushed aside. I hurried to the door, calling: “Who was that? Who was that?”

There was no sign of anyone in the corridor. I ran to the top of the stairs. The moonlight, falling through the windows there, threw shadows all about me. I felt suddenly alone with evil and I was terrified.

I began to shout: Come quickly. There is someone in the house. “

I heard a door open and shut; then Ruth’s voice:

” Catherine, is that you?”

” Yes, yes … come quickly….”

It seemed a long time before she appeared; then she came down the stairs wrapping a long robe about her, holding a small lamp in her hand.

“What happened?” she cried.

” There was something in my room. It came and stood at the bottom of my bed.”

” You have had a nightmare.”

” I was awake, I tell you. I was awake. I woke up and saw it. It must have wakened me.”

” My dear Catherine, you’re shivering. You should get back to bed. In your state …”

” It came into my room. It may come again.”

” My dear, it was only a bad dream.”

I felt frustrated and angry with her. It was the beginning of frustration, and what could be more exasperating than the inability to convince people that you have seen something with your eyes and not with your imagination?