The Madness (28 page)

As I pass by the forgotten washing again, I pull a pair of white silk stockings from the line. They’re Noah’s for certain. I push them into me pocket and all the way back to Ratcatcher’s Row I smile to meself as I remember how, on the beach, he’d rolled them off his lily-white legs. I’m halfway down the road when I hear barking in the distance. I picture Noah standing by an open door while his hound takes a last run in the grounds. He’ll be to his bed soon and it comforts me to think of him away from all the others. It’s best to imagine him alone in his room, where I know where he is and that he’s thinking of me.

65

The Journal of Noah de Clevedon

Clevedon. APRIL 11th 1869, Sunday

It has been a day of mixed emotions. What should have been the happiest day of my life has been spoiled by that damn girl. She was outside the church again today, despite my words of yesterday. Granted, she did not approach me or speak to me, but somehow that has made my unease even greater. Arnold was interested to see her in the flesh and I had to convince him that despite her unusual beauty I did nothing to encourage her in any way. He said that despite her deformity he would have found her hard to resist himself. But then he is Arnold.

After we returned to the manor I tried to push the hateful encounter from my mind and I met with Lord Baird in the library and asked him for the honour of his daughter’s hand in marriage. I think I kept my voice steady and I looked him in the eye when I spoke. He paused for a moment and stroked his great white beard. I am sure my own heart stopped at that moment. But then he clasped my hand in both of his and shook it so hard I thought my whole arm should fall off! ‘I am delighted. I am delighted,’ he kept saying. I am sure I detected a tear in his wise old eyes. He is a warm-hearted man and I shall be very lucky indeed to have him as my father-in-law.

I went straight to Cissie then. I took her to the gardens and on to the upper terrace by the orangery. The view from up there is magnificent. As we stood gazing over the roofs of the manor, the village below and at the sea spread like a gossamer blanket in the distance, I fell on one knee and asked the most important question of my life. She had no hesitation in consenting to be my wife, and as I have wanted to do for the longest time, I took her perfect face in my hands and kissed her full on the lips. It was as delicious as I had hoped and I can only imagine the greater joys that will soon follow.

I announced our engagement at dinner this evening and the toasts were loud and long. Later, Mother took me to one side and confessed she was saddened to be losing her boy to another woman and asked that I should not neglect her. Poor Mother. I kissed her dear cheek and told her I should never love any woman as I love her and that she should be glad to be gaining a daughter. I think she was consoled.

It is past one in the morning now and my head is spinning with one too many brandies. We shall be returning to London at the end of April. I hope to God the girl stays away until then.

66

A Piece of Bacon

It’s a slow day. It’s early afternoon and only a handful of bathers have been to hire a machine. I’m minding the hut for Smoaker while he’s off to speak to Doctor Bentley. Ma’s started babbling nonsense. We can’t get a word of sense out of her. Smoaker’s put it off for too long, but I knew he’d have to swallow another doctor’s bill sooner or later.

I’m sitting out on the slipway watching a straggle of children messing about on the water’s edge. The boys have rolled up their britches and are kicking at breaking waves and sending showers of foam over each other. The girls are squealing like eager piglets. They’re running in and out of the water, their bare feet slapping hard on the wet sand. For a moment I’m envious of them. They’re running so free, with not a care in the world. They’re doing what I could never do and always wished I could.

I finger Noah’s stockings, hidden deep in me pocket. They’re cool and smooth and just the touch of them soothes me mood. Every night this last week I’ve been back to the manor. Every night I’ve stood outside the big window and watched Noah. I couldn’t go a day without him now. He’ll come to me soon. I know he will. If I just wait for long enough.

Me eyes wander over to the esplanade and I watch the buttoned-up gentry stroll aimlessly up and down. I see a girl carrying a heavy basket over her arm. She’s wearing a small straw bonnet balanced proudly on the back of her head. She stops at the railings and rests her basket on the floor. She looks down on to the beach and I can see she is watching the children too. There’s something familiar about her. Then she turns her face towards me and straight away I see that it’s Hetty.

Without stopping to think, I close the door to the hut and walk up the slipway to the esplanade. I go straight to her and tap her on the shoulder. She jumps and turns to me with a guilty look on her face, as though she’s been caught being idle. ‘Hetty,’ I say, and the guilty look on her face changes to annoyance.

‘What do you want?’ she asks. She stoops to pick up her basket.

‘How  …  how is Noah?’ I ask.

Hetty raises her eyebrows. ‘Not again! Don’t you ever give up?’ She snorts loudly.

‘It was him that brought me to the manor that time, you know. The time you saw me in the kitchen with him. He’s brought me there other times too.’

Hetty smiles widely. ‘You’re a right case, you are,’ she says. ‘Belong in Bristol Asylum, I reckon.’ She adjusts her basket on her arm and begins to walk away from me.

‘Why don’t you believe me?’ I call after her. ‘It’s true. Me and Noah are going to be together. You wait and see!’

She stops and turns. ‘Oh, really?’ She fixes me with spiteful eyes. ‘Then how come Master Noah has just got engaged. To Lady Cissie Baird. To be married in the summer, they are.’ She grins at me like a cat with a fat mouse in its jaws, and then turns on her heel.

It’s like I’ve been hit in the face with a rock. I hold tight to the railings. ‘You’re a liar!’ I shout after her. ‘You’re a liar!’

She laughs. It’s a merry tinkling sound. ‘Master Noah de Clevedon and a dipper’s daughter!’ she calls back in a sing-song voice. ‘Whatever will you come up with next?’

The rest of the day passes in a blur of sea and sand, wet and dry, noise and quiet. I dip a woman who’s hoping the sea will cure the affliction that has her skin falling off her in thick yellow flakes. I dip a young girl whose mother tells me is suffering from terrible hysteria. And I dip an old crone who stinks of sweet rotting meat and who wants to live out the rest of the year to annoy her son. The whole time me belly is churning with a mess of anger and hatred and terror and envy. I don’t want to believe Hetty’s words. But why would she say them if they weren’t true?

Back at Ratcatcher’s Row, I boil up some supper, but me mind’s not on it and the potatoes are as hard as pebbles. Smoaker pushes his bowl away in disgust. ‘Your ma’s not good, Marnie,’ he says to me. ‘The doctor can’t do no more for her. Says we’re to keep her comfy with the shutters closed and feed her as much broth as she’ll take. Oh, and I had to pay out for more powders too. But I don’t know why if they ain’t doing her no good.’

I nod at him and gather the pots for rinsing. I can’t think about Ma just now. It’s only Noah on me mind. I need to know if what Hetty said is true. I need to know so much that once Smoaker’s retired to his bed, I don’t even poke me nose around Ma’s door before I’m off out the cottage and on me way up to the manor.

I’m breathless and hot by the time I get to the manor gates. It’s not quite dark yet, so I keep away from the driveway and walk close to the manor walls till I’ve passed the Grand door. I go to the first window and peer inside. No candles have been lit. It’s shadowy and dim and empty of people. The next window is the same, although I can see a long table set with white plates and glasses and piles of fruit and flowers. The next window I peer into is lit and a fire is burning in an ornate marble fireplace. There’s a large oak desk and cushioned chairs and Sir John de Clevedon is sitting in one with a book open on his lap. But there’s no Noah. I’m worried now I won’t find him. Sweat is trickling down me back and me hands are clammy. There’s a clattering from the stables and a young boy comes out carrying a bundle of straw in his arms. I duck down under the window and press meself against the wall. But he’s so intent on his task that he doesn’t think to look me way, and after he’s thrown the straw into the back of a cart he goes back inside the stables. I wipe me hands on me frock and brush the damp hair from me face before I push meself back up on me feet. There’s one more window on this side of the manor and I hurry to it, being careful not to tap me stick too loud on the stone pavings.

There’s a glow coming from this window. A pool of light is dripping on to the ledge, so I know already the candles have been lit. I balance meself carefully and slowly lift me face to peer through the bottom pane of glass. There are books everywhere, on shelves on every wall. I’ve never seen so many. There’s red ones, green ones, gold and black ones. There’s fat ones, thin ones, short ones and tall ones. Seems there’s as many sorts of books in the world as there are sorts of people. But it’s not them I’ve come to look at.

I peer deeper into the room and at last me heart is rewarded. There’s Noah sitting on the arm of a dark green velvet chair. He’s leaning forward and his hair is flopping over the side of his face. Prince is sitting at his feet with his muzzle resting in Noah’s lap. But it’s who is
sitting
in the chair that makes me belly tighten. It’s the dark-haired girl again. Her face is tilted up towards Noah’s and she’s biting the pink of her bottom lip with a little row of pearly teeth. Lady Cissie Baird. I hate the name already and I’ve only heard it the once today. She laughs at something Noah says and he cups her chin in his hand. I want to close me eyes now. I don’t want to see any more. Already I’m breathing fast and there’s an anger bubbling away inside me that’s bigger and hotter than I’ve ever known before. But I keep watching. I can’t tear me eyes away.

Noah bends his head closer to the girl’s uplifted face. He puts his hand on the back of her head now and before I can even blink, he’s kissing her on the mouth. There’s a scream pushing its way out of me throat. I want to yell and shout and tell him to stop. I bite me arm instead, hard enough to taste blood, and the pain is nothing to the pain that’s tearing at me insides.

It’s true then. It’s true what Hetty said. Noah is engaged to be married.

I don’t remember getting back to the cottage, though I must have fallen at some point because the hem of me frock is all muddied. Me head’s so full of black thoughts that I think they might start pouring out me mouth and ears, all thick and sticky as tar. I don’t understand why he’d do this to me. If he loves me why would he hurt me so much? He must love me, I think. I remember how it felt on the beach that night. He showed me his love then and it was real and powerful and true. Me head’s on fire with anger. How dare he do this to me? Haven’t I waited for him all these long months? Haven’t I stayed true to
him
? I’m boiling inside. I’m boiling so fast and hard I think I might burst. I want to hurt him now. I want to hurt him as much as he’s hurt me. I want Noah to feel the dreadfulness of this much pain. That much he deserves.

It’s dark now and I’m going to need a candle. There’s one still burning on the mantelpiece in the cottage, so I carry it with me to the pantry and fetch a piece of bacon left over from supper. I wrap the bacon in a cloth and put it safe in me pocket. That was easy. The next part is the hardest. I light Smoaker’s lantern and take it with me next door to the rat-catcher’s cottage. I check there’s no candles still burning in the windows. I’m glad to see it’s all in darkness. I open the gate as quietly as I can, making sure not to let it bang back on itself, and I make me way round to the rat-catcher’s backyard. There’s a small hut at the back of his yard where I know he keeps his poisons. ‘Me pa’s got buckets full of arsenic!’ Ambrose used to boast to me. I’m glad that at last Ambrose has been good for something.

It smells strange inside the hut, like old oil and wet fur. But at least I know there’ll be no rats. I lift me lamp up high and shine it on the boxes and tins that line the shelves. I’m not sure where I’ll find it or even what it looks like. But I needn’t have worried. Me light has caught the red painted letters on an old wooden box stored right near the door. A R S N I K. I lift the lid of the box and see that it’s full of tiny grains of white powder. I’m not sure how much I’ll need, but I’m sure I shouldn’t touch it. There’s an old spoon on the shelf above the box, so I pick it up and after I’ve taken the bacon out of me pocket and undone the cloth, I sprinkle two large spoonfuls of the powder over the meat. Then I add another one just for good measure. I close the lid of the box and wrap the bacon back up carefully, taking care not to spill any of the powder. Then the bacon goes back safe in me pocket.

For the second time today I’m back at the manor. I’m hiding in the bushes at the back, just waiting and listening. Even this far out of the village I can still hear the sea whispering in the distance. The moon is bright tonight and the lawns of the manor look as rich and soft as velvet. I wait for what seems an age. Me legs grow stiff from standing so long and I wriggle me toes in me boots impatiently. Then at last I hear sounds; a door opening and voices murmuring.

‘Go on, boy!’ I hear Noah shout. Me heart lurches at the sound of his voice. There’s a short bark and a whine. The voices by the door are low again and I take the bacon from me pocket to be ready. I hear Prince snuffling near to the right of me and I whistle short and sharp. He barks loudly and comes running to the bushes. Before he reaches me, I throw the bacon out on to the lawn and as I knew he would, he rushes to it and snaps it up in his jaws. He chews fast on the meat, one end of it hanging out the side of his mouth. While he’s busy eating, I creep out of the bushes and hurry as best I can back towards the manor gates. Before I’ve gone halfway, the hound starts barking again and I know he’s going to come after me. But so be it. He’s eaten the meat now. I hear him bounding towards me and I ready meself for his paws on me back. But then Noah’s shouting, ‘Prince! Here, boy! Come on. What have you found? A rabbit?’ At the sound of his master’s voice, Prince yelps excitedly and turns tail back to the manor.