The Silver Touch (37 page)

As the recruits marched away down Bunhill Row, bound for a waiting ship, the small crowd dispersed, many in tears. Only a few had tagged along in the wake of the marching men. Hester, about to turn homewards as the family regrouped, glanced around.

‘Where’s Peter?’

‘I think he went after Sarah Thorne when she ran off,’ Jonathan volunteered.

Hester’s face deepened in distress. ‘Why? By her behaviour she made William’s departure from home still harder for him. It’s highly likely he will be held responsible for the uproar that resulted and punished in one way or another.’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, my poor William. Trouble never leaves him.’

Together the Batemans turned for home. Some distance away Peter, in pursuit of Sarah, thought he had lost her. He had been struck by her distraught face and the blind look in her eyes when she had picked herself up from where she had fallen. He had seen that same look in the eyes of animals ready to die from fright or pain. Dazedly she had stared after the departing recruits almost as if she was no longer able to comprehend what was happening, and then she had turned to push her way back through the gathering of people and leave at a run.

He had called after her, but she went on running, taking a footpath between houses that led to the fields in the opposite direction to her home. When he reached a stile there was no sign of her and he doubled back to a fork that led off through woods. He was afraid that he knew where she was heading and hoped he would be in time. Charging along he began to take off his coat and had it in his hand when he came out near the place where a stream fed a deep pond. She was already on the bridge across which farmers drove their cattle.

‘Sarah!’ he yelled to her. ‘Wait!’

He was too late. She was in her own world, neither seeing nor hearing him. She threw herself down into the water with her arms outstretched as if to embrace the thick weeds that tangled together below the surface and disappeared from his view.

He thundered on to the bridge, kicked off his shoes and plunged in after her. At first he could see nothing although the water was full of a curious green light. Weeds entwined themselves perilously about his wrists and ankles, forcing him to shake himself free. He came up for air and went down again. Then he saw what looked like silver strands mingling with the weeds and knew it was her hair. Seizing a handful, he yanked it high and she floated towards and upwards with him. They broke the surface of the water together. Gasping, he drew her with him to the pond’s bank and hauled her up on to it. She lay white and still and did not appear to be breathing. Knowing from what he had read that half-drowned sailors were put across barrels, he picked her up to thump her face downwards over the fallen trunk of an ancient tree and began to pump the back of her ribs. Water trickled from her mouth and then it came with a gush. He thought she would choke, such retching emitted from her throat, but as it became a rasping for air and she began to cry he knew she was going to survive.

‘It’s all right, Sarah,’ he said reassuringly, kneeling to draw her shivering frame into his arms and hold her to him. ‘You had an accident. No harm done.’

She turned to bury her face against his shoulder. ‘Why didn’t you let me drown? I have nothing to live for.’

‘We’ll talk about that later. Now I’m going to take you home with me.’

He wrapped her in his coat and carried her. She was as limp as if still half-drowned and water continued to drip from her clothes and the gleaming snake of her long hair. Painfully he was reminded of Elizabeth, for she weighed no more in his arms and he had not held another woman since he had last held her.

By taking one of the lanes he had hoped to avoid his burden being seen and to spare Sarah more gossip than she would undoubtedly have to endure from her earlier action that morning. Unfortunately he was sighted at least twice to his knowledge by the time he entered the garden of Number 107 by the stable gate and bore her into the house. His mother and sisters came hastening forward.

‘What happened?’ Even as Hester asked she was guiding him with a touch on the elbow towards the stairs. Then, her guess confirmed, she turned to her daughters. ‘Letticia, fetch some strong, hot tea. Ann, get the maids to bring hot water for the hip-bath at once. We must act quickly or Sarah will have lung fever by morning after a dousing on such a cold day.’ She swung round on her son again. ‘The same goes for you, Peter. As soon as you’ve carried Sarah upstairs you go home and take a hot bath yourself.’

‘The Thornes should be informed without delay.’

‘I’ll see to that. Jonathan is taking a look around the workshop at the moment. He can go.’ Then she corrected herself. ‘No, it will be better to fetch Joss and send him. He’ll be more sympathetic.’

It did not take the three women long to get Sarah bathed and to comb out the pieces of weed that still clung to her beautiful hair after it was dried. Wearing one of Hester’s night-gowns, she was put to bed and Ann stayed with her when Hester and Letticia went downstairs.

‘What a day this has been,’ Letticia remarked wearily.

‘At least we have seen undeniable evidence that Sarah is not pregnant,’ Hester stated practically in heartfelt relief. ‘That was my first thought when I heard she had attempted to take her own life.’ She paused by the window and looked out. ‘I would have expected Mr and Mrs Thorne to be here by now.’

Joss returned alone soon afterwards carrying a packed valise. ‘The Thornes aren’t coming,’ he announced. ‘I’ve brought some of Sarah’s clothes.’

Peter, who had returned to the house, grabbed him by the arm. ‘What do you mean? Why aren’t they here?’

Joss set down the valise. ‘They’ve shut their door on her. Apparently they were out with Sarah this morning when she ran away from them at the sound of the pipes and drums. They witnessed everything that took place and went back home to pack up her belongings. As far as they are concerned she is now on her own and must survive by whatever means are available to her.’

‘Surely they had some change of heart when you told them of the near-tragedy that took place at the pond,’ Hester exclaimed incredulously.

‘If anything, I would say it hardened their attitude still further if that had been possible. In their eyes it added an even greater sin to that already committed.’ He glanced about at them all. ‘Did anyone here have any idea that Will and Sarah have been meeting secretly by night at the mansion for months?’

There was a response of astonishment from all but Hester. It was as if she had lost the ability to be surprised by anything said or done by her third son. When Joss had given her a few more details, she sighed heavily. ‘Then William is wholly responsible for Sarah’s present predicament.’

Jonathan, leaning a shoulder against a door jamb, mildly entertained by the whole situation, addressed his mother. ‘Don’t put all the blame on Will. It takes two to play that sort of game.’

‘I’m not allotting blame,’ she replied sharply, ‘only responsibility. Since William is not present to shoulder it, I’ll do it in his place. Sarah shall have a home with me.’

She refused to listen to their protests and warnings. Ann, who had come downstairs to fetch fresh tea, spoke out heatedly. ‘You can’t have that girl here! Whatever anyone says, if it hadn’t been for her William would never have fallen prey to that recruiting officer.’

Hester faced her. ‘I’ll not have Sarah turned out on the streets for you or anyone else. Show some mercy and be thankful never to have found yourself in similar straits!’

Ann’s eyes fell away from her mother’s penetrating gaze. It told her that Hester must have had an inkling, never before mentioned even as indirectly as in the past minute, that she had run after Matthew and that he had deserted her. ‘It’s your decision, Mother,’ she said tonelessly, jerking up her chin. She had Dick now and Matthew did not matter any more. If her marriage was not exactly what once she had wished for, it was safe and comfortable and her husband cared for her. She did not ask for more. The talk switched away from her as Letticia, less easily silenced, took up the same cudgels about Sarah’s permanent presence in the house.

Upstairs Sarah had stumbled from the bed, irrationally afraid of being on her own in an unfamiliar room, and she had reached the landing in time to hear most of what had been said downstairs. She raised a trembling fist and banged it down on the baluster. Someone was screaming her thoughts out and she realized vaguely it was herself.

‘None of you need worry! I don’t want to stay! Nobody shall ever be troubled by me again!’

Peter moved first. He found Sarah lying prone on the landing beating her head and her hands on the floor and sobbing hysterically. When he attempted to lift her up she resisted him, clinging to the balustrade, her sobs turning to screams. Hester came close behind him, having instructed Ann to bring a bowl of cold water which she applied liberally to the struggling girl’s face. This had the desired effect and in a few minutes Sarah allowed herself to be helped to her feet, although still sobbing.

‘I can’t go on without William and yet he will forget me across the ocean. Today there was a difference in him already.’ Her voice shook as if again hysteria was about to rise in her. ‘I don’t want to be alone!’

It took some time before they finally quietened the girl with assurances that she would never be alone but would be a welcome member of the household.

That night Hester admitted to herself that her daughters were probably right and she had considerable doubts about Sarah being an easy addition to her home. Doubts that proved only too correct. Sarah was persistently difficult and contrary, no longer subdued away from the tyranny of her former guardians, who had sold up and vanished, nobody knowing where. She appreciated nothing that was done for her and had eerie moods when she stared into space, never seeming to hear anything that was said to her. There were nights when she cried for William in such desperation that Peter had to be fetched from his home to soothe her down. It was only with him that she regained a certain equilibrium and the better side of her nature showed through. Hester would have liked to be cheered by this sign of improvement but there was a hint of obsession in Sarah’s attachment to him, all the more sinister since she had not yet lost that which she held for William.

James had warned Hester it would be many months before she could hope to hear from William and she was still far from expecting news when a letter came for her. Peter, recognizing William’s handwriting, called Sarah to listen while he read it aloud for his mother, both having agreed that she should be allowed to share in whatever he may have written. The girl sat on the edge of a chair, pale and trembling with eagerness as he broke the seal, her hands restless as birds.

My dear Mother
[Peter read in his firm voice]
: Owing to a piece of good fortune I am able to send you this brief letter to tell you I am safely arrived in the American colonies. Conditions are tolerable after a most distressing voyage. This evening I was sent with a message to a military office on the other side of the town and happened to fall in with a kindly woman, the wife of the master of a fast merchant vessel, which will be sailing on the morning tide. She has offered to take a letter from me, which she will see is delivered to you when they reach London. It is agreeable to have two local lads with me, the brothers Hounsom from Stoops Farm, and I should be obliged on their behalf if you would let their parents know they are well. Their talk is mostly of crops and next year’s harvest, which makes them wretchedly homesick, but I have put my old life from me. I miss you all more than I can say and try not to dwell on how long it may be before I see you again. Meanwhile I endeavour to make the best of my unfortunate state. Many of the colonists are not pleased by our arrival, but at least there are some pretty girls willing to be friendly with the redcoats and I shall not be lonely here. My sincere regards to you and all the family. Your devoted son, William.

Sarah leaped to her feet with a piercing scream, throwing her head and body about as if demented, her face distorted. ‘No word for me! Nothing! I no longer exist!’

Hester sprang forward, but Sarah knocked her aside and tore out of the room to race for the stairs. Peter dropped the letter and dashed after her. Without pausing on the landing she took the second flight, her footsteps pounding. Whirling a hand around the newel post on the topmost landing where the maids slept, she rushed through the door to the attic staircase and slammed it after her, knowing he was in pursuit. He reached it but the key was turned. He wasted no breath, simply drawing back and smashing his foot against the lock. The door swung open to the last narrow flight. He found her at the attic window sobbing hysterically and throwing herself at the window-handle, which was stiff from long winter closing.

‘No, Sarah! No!’ He dragged her away from it as she struggled wildly.

‘I will kill myself! I will!’

He pulled her head against him with his broad hand and stilled her arms with his own. ‘No! That’s not the way to get through this. I should know. It’s how I felt when I lost Elizabeth, but I would have failed her if I had taken that path.’

‘You’re stronger. That letter ended my last hope! William will never come back to me. I can’t go on! I don’t want to live without him.’

He stroked her hair gently and held her until her hysteria passed and she drooped listlessly against him. ‘Help me,’ she implored desolately.

‘I’ll help you.’