Winsor, Kathleen (88 page)

Everything
spoiled rapidly in the heat and she had been
negligent about reordering from the
guard; so he found that the butter had turned rancid, the milk was beginning to
sour, and some of the eggs stank when opened. He ladled out a bowl of
soup—Sykes' concoction and by no means so palatable as Amber's had been—and ate
it himself, and then he took the best of what he could find in on a tray to
Amber.

As
he was feeding her, slowly, spoonful by spoonful, Sykes suddenly began to rave
and scream in delirium. Amber grabbed his wrist, her eyes full of terror.

"What's
that!"

"It's
nothing, darling. Someone in the street. Here—that's enough for now. You must
lie down again."

She
did so but her eyes watched him as he went to the nursery door, turned the key
in the lock and taking it out tossed it upon the table.

"There's
someone in there," she said softly. "Someone who's sick."

He
came back and sat beside her again. "It's the nurse— but she can't get
out. You're safe here, darling, and you must go back to sleep again—"

"But
what if she dies, Bruce—how'll you get her out of the house?" The
expression in her eyes showed what she was thinking: of Spong, of dragging her
down the stairs, of the dead-cart.

"Don't
worry about it. Don't even think about it. I'll do it someway. Now you must
sleep, darling—sleep and get well."

For
two or three hours Sykes continued to rave intermittently. She beat on the
door, shrieking at him to let her out, demanding the money he had promised her,
but he made no answer at all. The windows in the nursery overlooked the
courtyard and the back alley and sometime in the middle of the night he heard
her smashing them and screaming wildly. And then he heard a yowl as she leaped
out and went crashing down two stories below. When the dead-cart came by he
opened the window to tell the guard where they would find her.

It
was almost noon the next day before another nurse arrived.

He
was lying flat on his back, half dozing, worn out by the effort of getting up
to bring Amber some food, to change her bandage and bathe her hands and face.
And then, slowly, he opened his eyes and found an old woman standing beside the
bed, watching him with a curious, speculative look. He scowled, wondering why
she had come in so silently, distrustful immediately of her manner and appearance.

She
was old and filthy in her dress, her face was deeply lined and her breath stank
foully. But he noticed that she wore a pair of diamond earrings that looked
real and several rings on her fingers which were also of obvious value. She was
either a thief or a ghoul or both.

"Good-day,
sir. The parish-clerk sent me here. I'm Mrs. Maggot."

"I'm
almost well," said Bruce, staring at her intently, hoping to make her
think that he was stronger than he was. "But my
wife still
needs a great deal of care. I got her one meal this morning, but it's time for
another now. The last nurse left the kitchen in a mess and there's no food, but
you can send the guard for some."

As
he spoke her eyes were going over the furnishings of the room: the
cloth-of-silver covering the bedstead and chairs, the marble-topped tables, the
row of exquisite vases across the mantelpiece.

"Where's
the money?" she asked, not looking at him.

"There
are four shillings on that table. That should buy whatever we need—the guard
always takes a fee for himself."

She
got the coin and tossed it out the window, telling the guard to bring some
food, already prepared, from a cook-shop. Obviously she did not intend to do
anything herself. And later in the day when he asked her to change the bandages
she refused, saying that every nurse she knew who had dressed an ulcer was dead
now but that she intended to die another way.

Bruce
was furious, but he answered her quietly. "Then, if you won't help, you
may as well go."

She
gave him an insolent grin and he was afraid that she had guessed already he was
far less strong than he pretended to be. "No, m'lord. I was sent by the
parish. If I don't stay I won't get my fee."

For
a moment they stared at each other, and then he flung the blanket about himself
and got out of bed. She stood there, watching him closely as he knelt on one
knee beside Amber, measuring his strength, and at last he turned with a flare
of exasperated anger.

"Get
out! Go in the other room!"

She
grinned again but went, and closed the door. He called out to her to leave it
open but she ignored him. Swearing beneath his breath he finished dressing the
wound and then got back into bed to rest. There was no sound at all from the
parlour. It was half-an-hour before he could get up again and then he crossed
the room, opened the door quietly and found her going through the drawer of a
table. There were articles scattered everywhere and she had evidently been
searching methodically through each piece of furniture for secret drawers and
hiding places, which were almost always built in.

"Mrs.
Maggot."

She
looked up and met his stare coolly. "Sir?"

"You'll
find nothing of value hidden away. Whatever you may care to steal is in plain
sight. We have no money in the house beyond a few coins for food."

She
made no reply but, after a moment, turned and went into the dining-room. Bruce
found that he was sweating with rage and nervousness, for he did not doubt the
old woman would murder them both without an instant's hesitation if she learned
that there was almost seventy pounds in the house. He knew that the nurses were
drawn from the lowest social classes: life-long paupers, uncaught criminals,
and—in plague-time—
from women like Sykes who had been forced into it through necessity and
misfortune.

He
did not sleep well that night, aware of her in the parlour, for when she had
found evidences of Sykes' illness she had refused to go into the nursery. And
when he heard her get up, two or three times, and move about he lay tense and
apprehensive. If she decides to kill us, he thought, I'll try to strangle her.
But he clenched and unclenched his fists with despair, for the fingers had but
little of their usual strength.

The
next morning, just before daylight, he fell deeply asleep and when he woke she
was bending over him, her arm thrust beneath the mattress on which he lay. As
his eyes opened she straightened slowly, unalarmed. He could not tell, by her
expression, whether she had discovered the bagful of coins and jewels.

"Just
smoothin' your bed, sir."

"I'll
take care of that myself."

"You
said yesterday, sir, that I might go. If you'll give me fifty pound now, I
will."

He
looked at her shrewdly, aware that she had made the offer to find out whether
or not he would admit to having that much money in the house. "I told you,
Maggot—I have only a few shillings here."

"How
now, sir? Only a few shillin's—a lord, and livin' in lodgings like this?"

"We
put our money with a goldsmith. Is there any food left from yesterday?"

"No,
sir. The guard stole most of it. We'll have to send again."

Throughout
the day, whenever he got out of bed, he could feel her watching him, even
though most of the time she was not in the room. She knows there's money here,
he thought, and tonight she'll try to get it. But if there had been not a
farthing in cash the furnishings alone were worth what would be a fortune to
her—even if she sold them to a broker-of-the-dead.

He
spent the day thinking and planning, aware that if he was to save either of
their lives he must be ready for her, no matter what she might try to do. And
while he lay there the dead-carts came by three times; there were now too many
deaths to bury the bodies at night.

He
considered every possibility.

If
he asked the guard for help she would overhear him, and he had no reason to
think the guard could be trusted. There seemed no choice; he must try to handle
the situation himself. She would not be likely, he thought, to use a knife, for
that would leave tell-tale wounds. Strangulation with a length of cord or rope
should be easy with both of them as weak as they were and she would try to kill
him first, for Amber could make no more resistance than a kitten. But having
thought that far he found himself confronted by problems that, in his state of
weakness, seemed insoluble. If he closed the door and
waited behind
it she would know he was there, and he could not outwit her. If he locked it
she could force her way in, and in any open battle he was no match for her, for
though his strength might be greater he was unable to move about quickly and
would soon be exhausted.

At
last he decided to make a bundle of blankets in the bed and wait there next to
it, concealed behind the window hangings. If she came near he could strike her
over the head with a heavy pewter candlestick. But the plan was spoiled, for
she refused to close the door. When he asked her to do so, just as it was
growing dark, she obeyed, but a few minutes later he heard it opening, very
slowly. It remained ajar just an inch or so for more than an hour, and then he
called out to her again.

"Maggot!
Close the door—all the way."

She
did not answer but closed it. The room grew darker as twilight settled into
night. For half-an-hour he waited and then, slowly, cautiously, he got out of
bed, keeping a watch on the door as he began to move about, making the bundle
of bedding. It was almost done when he heard a creaking sound— and saw the door
begin to swing open.

Exasperated
and thoroughly worried he snapped out her name. "Mrs. Maggot!" She
made no reply but he could feel her there, watching, for though no candles had
been lighted there was a moon and it shone at his back. He could not see her,
but she could see him. He got back into the bed and lay down, sweating with
nervous rage to think that after surviving the plague itself they might both die
now at the hands of a filthy greedy old woman.

But,
by Jesus, we won't! I won't let her kill us! He felt a responsibility for
Amber's life more violent and determined even than his own will to live.

The
hours went past.

Several
times he heard the dead-cart, and the passing-bell tolled at least twenty
separate times. Against his will he listened for the tone and counted the
number of times they were struck —twelve women, eight men, had died in the
parish so far tonight. He had a horror of falling asleep—for drowsiness swept
over him in waves—and forced himself to recite silently every poem he had ever
memorized, every song he had ever sung. He made a mental list of the books he
had read, the women he had made love to, the towns he had visited. It kept him awake.

Then
at last she entered the room.

He
saw the door swing slowly open and after a moment he heard the creaking of a
floor board. The moon was gone now and there was absolute darkness. His heart
began to beat heavily and all his being was abnormally alert, his eyes
straining into the black that surrounded him, his ears listening until he felt
sure that he could hear the coursing of his own blood.

She
approached slowly. Each time he heard a board creak there followed what seemed
an interminable period of absolute silence, until he could no longer tell from
where the sound had
come. The suspense was an agony but he forced himself to lie motionless,
breathing deeply and naturally. His nerves were raw and trembling and he had a
violent impulse to leap up and try to grab her. He dared not, though, for she
might get away and then they would be left helpless. He had a desperate fear
that his strength would not last under such tension. It seemed to be draining
away, and the muscles of his legs and arms ached painfully.

And
then, almost unexpectedly, he caught the smell of her breath and knew that she
was there, beside him. His eyes were wide open, but he could see nothing. For
an instant he hesitated. Then, with a swiftness and strength that caught him
off guard, she dropped a noose down over his head and jerked it tight. His arm
shot out and seized hold of her, brought her sprawling across him and in that
moment he thrust his fingers into the noose, tore it from about his own head
and forced it down over hers. He pulled on it with both his hands and all the
strength he had. She clawed and struggled furiously, gagging, while he yanked
at it again and again, and when at last after many minutes he knew that she was
dead he let her slide to the floor and fell back upon the bed himself, almost
unconscious. Amber was still asleep.

When
he dragged Mrs. Maggot down the stairs to leave her for the dead-cart he gave
the guard five guineas not to make a report to the parish-clerk; he wanted no
more nurses in the house. For now he was well enough to take care of Amber
himself, though it might be difficult for several more days.

The
next morning he found that Mrs. Maggot had left the kitchen in even worse
condition than Sykes. It stank with the spoilage of rotten fruit and
vegetables, the meat was a mass of weaving worms, and the bread was covered
with green mould. There was nothing there which was edible and since he was not
yet able to clean up the mess or cook anything himself, he sent the guard to a
tavern for a prepared meal.