Mary Reilly (22 page)

The afternoon light was thin and feeble, so it seemed to give out before it reached the floor, leaving much of the big room in darkness. The boxes and packing straw that stood about gave off a strong smell of damp and decay. I crossed to the stairs, thinking I should have to bring a lamp in as well, and slipped the key into the shiny new lock. When I opened it I found the cabinet darker still, for the curtains was drawn, so I went to open them at once. There was a thick, dry smell of dust, not of damp as in the theatre, and when I touched the curtains I knew at once that they would have to come down, for as I moved them aside the air
was filled with dust. The windows here was not so blackened as those in the theatre, though they was by no means clean, and the light came streaming in, so I thought, best start with this so I can see to do the rest. When I looked back at the room it seemed a wonder that a few months of being closed up had caused so much dust, for I always think it is shoes that bring it in, but there was balls of dust in the corners and under the furniture. If I get the curtains and carpets out this evening, I thought, and work all day tomorrow, I could have it done by evening. I saw that the press had a drawer missing, so my guess was right. Master had for some reason sent for it, then brought it back with him. I heard footsteps in the court and looked out to see two gentlemen walking by and talking to each other very earnestly, though I could not hear what they said. I found a straight chair in the corner, which I drew up to the windows. When I climbed upon it I could just reach the tops of the curtains, so I began taking them down while the dust rose in a cloud about me and went straight up my nose. It made me dizzy, also my eyes began to water and all at once I had the feeling someone was watching me. When I turned round I saw it was my own reflection in the cheval glass, looking back at me with a frightened expression, so I felt I had been foolish and went back to my work feeling chided.

I got the curtains down, the carpets hung up in the yard and the windows washed before it was dark. Then I brought in a lamp, cleared a space near the stairs
and begun to put in the coal, as I thought there was no point in cleaning by lamplight. As I was carrying the last scuttle across the yard I heard the kitchen door open and Master came out. He had put his coat on and walked up to me at once. The scuttle was heavy, I was weary and black from my work, so I only said, “Good evening, sir,” and kept my eyes down while he fell into step beside me. When we had got inside, I put down the scuttle and rubbed my hands on my apron. Master was looking about the theatre, which seemed huge and full of shadows darting about in the lamplight. “So,” Master said, seeming to talk to himself, for he did not look at me, “the final act will be played out in this poor theatre.” Then he sighed and turned his attention to me.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” I said.

But Master ignored my question. “How does your work progress?” he asked.

“Well enough, sir,” I said. “I will be done by tomorrow eve.”

Then Master said nothing but stood looking down at me, so I felt embarrassed, for I knew my face was smeared with black and my hair was straying from my cap. I put my hand up to push it back but still Master did not stop looking at me and I thought he had something in mind to say but did not say it. At last I could not bear the silence longer so I spoke. “I’m not fit to be seen, sir,” I said.

Then Master put out his hand and touched my
cheek. His fingers went at once to the scar near my ear and then to the other on my throat. “I was thinking how dear your face is to me, Mary,” he said. “And how sad it would make me if I were never to see it more.”

I could scarce believe my ears to hear Master speak so, nor could I reply for a moment, only I shook my head to say no, that could not be. While his hand moved back to my cheek, he looked up at the cabinet door and his eyes seemed to fill with a sadness deeper still. Then he drew his hand away. “I’m afraid, Mary,” he said. “I’m afraid of what comes next.”

“How can I help you, sir?” I said.

For a moment he looked as if he was thinking over some plan, but then his eyes seemed to go hard and he said, “No one can help me.” He turned away and walked to the door, while I stood in such a state of confusion and fear, trying to understand what he might mean, I thought my head would burst, only I saw he was leaving and I could not bear it. Without knowing I was about to speak I called to him, but I used the name I always give him in my thoughts, though I have never spoke it to him before. “Master,” I cried out.

He stopped and turned to me while the word hung in the air between us, and he smiled a little as he thought upon it. “Yes, Mary,” he said.

“I will not leave you,” I said.

“Good,” he replied. Then he went out into the cold, dark yard and without looking back at me, crossed it and let himself into the house at the kitchen door.

T
oday is grey, wet, so cold it seems to go through to the bones. After breakfast the first thing I did was to get a fire in Master’s cabinet, for I thought if I did not my hands would freeze up on me and I would not be able to work. These last weeks, as it grows colder, I’ve had a numbness in my fingers what worries me. I did the windows first, so what miserable daylight there is could come into the room. Then I set to work on the floors. I worked all morning and by noon I had made a difference and the room begun to look as if someone cared for it. At lunch Mr. Poole said Master was not feeling at all well and planned to spend the day in his room or in the library, for he wanted some books packed up and brought out to the cabinet. Again he told Mr. Bradshaw Master was not at home to any callers.

We all looked at one another having the same thought. Master is going back to his work. Cook would have no dinner parties to get up, Annie no big pots to scrub, Mr. Poole no gentlemen to talk about, Mr. Bradshaw no evening clothes to lay out and I would not have to wait at table or run out on errands because all hands was filled. Instead we will go back to our old way and our work will be to keep Master in good health, for he does not care for himself.

In the afternoon I got the curtains, which I brushed last night, back up and the carpets down. I could not stop thinking of what Master said to me yesterday and
my feelings was a jumble, for I know not what Master means, or what he is afraid of, and seeing him so disturbed makes me sad, yet his kind words to me, especially his saying that I am dear to him and the memory of his cool hand against my face, these make my heart race and I feel, I cannot deny it, so happy for it, it is almost like a pain.

I saved the brass for last and though it was all clean enough it had been a long time since any polish had been put on. It gave me a great pleasure to polish the laughing babies on the fender and when I was done it was such a difference to stand before the grate it made me laugh, for their faces is that gay they seem like two children romping in the sun, all golden from it.

By evening I was done and I began hauling all my cleaning things down to the theatre. Then I went back up to the cabinet to look at my work.

It was still like two rooms, one the comfortable sitting room of a gentleman, the other, where the long table stood on the bare floor, the workplace of a man of science. There was not too many bottles and strange tubes upon the table, but what I found there I had washed up so they was sparkling, but the light they gave off was not pleasing. I wished I had a big vase of roses, such as we put in the dining room in the summer, to set in the middle of that table, which of course I could not get this time of year and no doubt I would not even have the nerve to do it, though Master would say nothing, only move them away.

As I was going out Mr. Bradshaw come into the
theatre carrying a box of books Master wanted from the library. He said Master was in a strange way in his view, wanting everything changed up and the cabinet fitted out as if he was moving house. “He has gone about this livelong day carrying that drawer of his,” he said, “as if he thought someone would take it from him, and when Mr. Utterson come to the door he run up the stairs saying he was not at home, as if he thought we might say he was, when he’d given orders this morning that he was not.”

“It must be he plans to take up some work as will not bear interruption,” I said.

“You may say so,” Mr. Bradshaw said, then we parted and he went to the cabinet and I to the yard.

After dinner I went up to the library to see to Master’s fire. I found him sitting in his chair, gazing into a book and what Mr. Bradshaw said is true, he had the drawer from his cabinet on the floor next his chair. He asked if I was finished my work and I said, yes, it was done.

“Good, then,” he said. “Tell Poole I will be working tonight. He needn’t wait up for me.”

That was all our conversation. When I had finished my work I went out. A little while later, as we all sat in the kitchen, though Mr. Poole was in his parlour, we heard Master go down the back stairs and out across the yard.

L
ast night I woke up late and knew at once the sound I heard was Master’s footsteps as he come in at the kitchen and went up the stairs. So, I thought, we are back to our old ways where I lie awake and listen while Master walks the night. He did not go up to his room but went along the hall to the library. Then for a time it was quiet and I thought I would drift back to sleep, but I could not stop straining for a sound. The house was so still I could hear Annie’s breathing, though she hardly does breathe when she is asleep, nor does she move, so sometimes I touch her hand to make sure she is still warm. Then it seemed I heard another sound, like a low hum, seeming very far off, and I lifted my head from the pillow to try and take it in, but I could not place it. Still it went on, without any break. At last I sat up in the bed, for I seemed to know what it was but could not name it. “What is it?” I said, but softly, not to wake Annie.

I got up and opened our door so that I might make it out and indeed it did come in more clear but still I could not place it. I walked out to our landing and stood listening, then it come right up the stairs to me and I said, “It is voices.”

But, I thought, that cannot be, for I heard only Master come in and there is no one else up, or else I would have heard them, though it is true that Mr. Poole can move along as soundless as a ghost; still, I thought,
I would have heard something, for this house has many creaks, especially on the stairs.

At last I could not bear it but thought I must know. Also it seemed that Master had been in the library some time, the fire was surely gone and the room cold, which was a reason to go down and look in. I could not go in my shift so I put my wool skirt on top and my grey blouse which was hung on the chair. I wrapped my hair up, sticking in a few pins to hold it back, then, taking up the candle, I went out into the hall. I did not bother with boots or stockings, for they take so long to put on, so I looked odd indeed, but I thought perhaps I would only go down to the hall and listen for a moment to set my mind at rest, so no one might see me after all.

When I got down the stairs I stopped again on the landing and listened. The light poured out into the hall, for the library door was open and now I understood what it was I heard. Master was reading out loud. I could not make out what he was saying but his voice was even and strong, forming the words and sentences with care. I went along and as soon as I crossed into the light Master saw me, for he was standing near the mantel and holding the book up before him, which I thought was surely an uncomfortable way to read.

“Mary,” he said, “I did not hear you come along the hall.”

“I’m sorry, sir, if I alarmed you,” I said. “I heard voices and thought you might want a fire, as it is such a cold night.” And without willing it I shuddered, for there was a draft at the door.

“It is indeed,” Master said. “But I’ll do without a fire. In fact I came in because my cabinet is so warm it made me drowsy.”

This struck me as very odd, for I thought, it is not like Master to leave a warm room for a cold one and, as it was the middle of the night, if he felt drowsy why not go to his bed. I said nothing but stood staring at Master, feeling sleepy myself, and he held his book open, giving me a look I thought was like an apology, though I could not think what for. At last I said, “May I bring you something, sir? A pot of tea? Or something to eat?”

“No,” Master said. “No, nothing, Mary.” He rubbed one eye with the knuckles of his free hand. He looked weary to the bones, there was circles beneath his eyes and it seemed he was bent over a little, as if he could hardly hold himself up. “I’ll only try to stay awake a little longer,” he said. Then, as I watched him, a strange expression come to his face, as if he’d a sudden pain, so sharp he clenched his hands and in doing so, dropped the book. He did not try to pick it up but clutched the mantel. His face went white, his brow came out in a sweat and he let out a groan that went through me, so I bolted across the room to get to him, for it seemed in the next moment he would fall down. Indeed when I was near he clutched my arm and leaned his weight upon me, but did not speak, for I saw he could not. He put his other hand on my shoulder and his fingers dug in so hard it hurt, but I said nothing, for we was facing one another and his eyes was fastened on mine, full of pain and fear, but still with the look of
apology, so I thought, he is ashamed for me to see him like this, but I held him up and held his gaze as steady as I could. Then it seemed a long time but mayhap it was only a moment, while the pain let up and he loosed his grip on me. He was too weak to stand, so I took a step and shifted his weight to my other shoulder, so that I could help him down into his chair. He fell forward, holding his head in his hands and taking in slow breaths, so I thought whatever it is has passed, but I did not move for fear he might faint dead away. He put his hands out before him and looked into his palms, still seeming dazed, and said, “I did it.”

I said, “Sir?” for I did not understand him. I was standing so close in front of him he had to look up to see my face. “Ah, Mary,” he said. “Thank you. I’m all right now.” Then he looked back down and after a moment when I did not speak or move, he said, “Why, Mary. You’ve come down without your boots.”