Cherry Tree Lane (21 page)

By that time the doctor had arrived and Jacob went to the kitchen door to let him in.

Dr Crawford left his horse and gig in Horace’s hands, not seeming at all upset at being invited to enter by the servants’ door.

‘Up here.’ Jacob led the way.

Mattie looked up in relief as the doctor entered. ‘She’s a little better, I think.’

‘This is Dr Crawford,’ Jacob said. ‘My wife.’

‘Morning, Mrs Kemble. Perhaps you’d stay with me and your husband can wait outside.’

The doctor took her place by the bed and examined Miss Newington, who opened her eyes and seemed aware of what he was doing.

‘I agree with Mr Kemble,’ Dr Crawford said, sitting back. ‘You’ve had a minor seizure, Miss Newington. You’ll feel dizzy and disoriented, but you stand a good chance of making a full recovery.’

The patient managed a slight smile, one side of her mouth rising more than the other.

‘Do you want me to send for your family?’

Miss Newington immediately grew agitated. ‘No. No. Not … tell them.’

Mattie leant forward to wipe the saliva that ran from the affected side of her mouth. ‘She doesn’t get on well with her family, Doctor, and if she was known to be helpless, they’d push their way in here and take over. Am I right, Miss Newington?’

The invalid nodded. ‘Don’t … want … them. Want … lawyer.’

‘We know who he is,’ Mattie said soothingly. ‘So I can easily send for him.’

Miss Newington grasped her hand and nodded, keeping hold of the hand.

The doctor looked down at the joined hands. ‘She seems to trust you, Mrs Kemble.’ As the sick woman’s eyes closed, he gestured towards the door.

Mattie bent to say, ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Miss Newington.’ She went with him to the door.

He spoke quietly, still keeping an eye on his patient. ‘Don’t do anything which makes her agitated. She needs to be kept peaceful. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can give her to help her recover. In this situation, the body does its own work.’

She shared her biggest worry. ‘I’ve known people have a second seizure soon after the first one.’

‘Yes. We can’t predict who will do this, though, so just look after her as best you can and pray for her recovery. Do you know how old she is?’

‘Seventy, I think.’

He shook his head as if this wasn’t a good sign.

She went downstairs with him and found the other three in the kitchen. She listened as he explained the situation again, in case she’d missed something, but she hadn’t.

‘She wants her lawyer.’ Mattie glanced at the clock.

‘If I write a quick note now,’ Jacob said, ‘could we trouble you to put it in the post, Doctor?’

He too looked at the clock. ‘Yes, of course. It should just catch the second post.’

‘I’ll show you where the mistress keeps her writing things,’ Lyddie said.

Cook poured the men a cup of tea, muttering to herself at intervals, obviously very upset still.

‘The servants all seem fond of her,’ the doctor said to Jacob as he went outside with the letter safely in his pocket.

‘They are. But they’re afraid of her cousin, Arthur Newington. She definitely won’t want him coming here and taking advantage of her weakness.’

‘She’ll need someone with a bit of sense in their head to stay with her, though. Those two servants mean well, but an old woman and a young girl aren’t going to stand up to anyone, are they? I don’t suppose you and your wife could move in temporarily? I don’t have anyone free to nurse Miss Newington at the moment, I’m afraid. Everyone’s having babies at the moment in Bassett.’

‘Yes, of course. We’ll help in any way we can.’ He didn’t allow himself to sigh about this. Fate didn’t seem on his side where consummating his marriage was concerned, but you couldn’t let people down when they needed you.

Upstairs he found Miss Newington dozing. Mattie, who was again sitting beside her, raised one finger to her lips in warning. However, the noise of his footsteps must have woken the older woman, because her eyes fluttered open and she looked round with fear on her face. She relaxed as soon as she saw him. He could guess what she’d been afraid of.

He waited till her eyes closed again, then beckoned to his wife, wanting to speak to her alone. But as she stood up, Miss Newington reached out for her.

‘Don’t … go.’

‘I just need to talk to Jacob. I’ll only be a minute.’

‘Jacob … stay.’ Her voice was slurred but she persevered, managing to say a few words with great difficulty. ‘Can you … all … stay here, help me?’

Mattie didn’t even wait for Jacob, but said at once, ‘Of course we can. As long as you don’t mind us bringing the children, that is.’

‘Bring them.’

‘And we’ve written to Mr Longley. The doctor’s taken the letter to post. Your lawyer will be here tomorrow morning, I’m sure. If anything needs doing, he’ll see to it. You’ll be in a better state to talk to him then.’

‘Good.’

Again her eyes closed and Jacob exchanged pitying glances with Mattie. To see a brisk old woman brought to this helpless state was very sad.

When he went down, Jacob heard Lyddie talking to the postman, telling him what had happened. He cursed under his breath that he hadn’t thought to tell her to keep quiet about it. There would be no stopping Kenneth now. He was the main carrier of news and gossip in the village and beyond.

He went to join them. ‘Can you do me a favour, Kenneth?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Miss Newington has asked me and my wife to stay and—’

‘So it is true!’ Kenneth said triumphantly. ‘You hev got married again.’

‘Er … yes.’

‘Who is she?’

‘No one you know. She’s from Swindon. You’ll meet her in the next day or two, I’m sure. Now, what I wanted to ask was if you’d tell young Ben Summerhaye to come and stay here for the next few days, and young Peter too.’

‘I can do that. Are you still afeared Mr Arthur will come back?’

‘Yes. You won’t forget, will you?’

‘Not me. And we’ll all keep our eyes open. Don’t want them rough types causing trouble in our village, do we?’

Kenneth cycled off, whistling tunelessly, seeming impervious to the bumpy surface of the lane.

Jacob turned to the maids. ‘I think you’d better lock the doors and windows again, Lyddie.’

‘In the daytime?’

‘Better safe than sorry. We don’t want Mr Arthur walking in unannounced, do we? And tell Horace to move into the main house tonight. He can leave the lads to keep watch outside.’

‘You think them rascals will be comin’ back, don’t you, Mr Kemble?’ Lyddie said, her voice shaking a little.

He did but he didn’t want to make her panic. ‘I think it’s best to be prepared, just in case. But Mattie and I’ll be staying, the children too, so after you’ve locked up, perhaps you can find us some bedrooms.’

Her anxious expression lightened. ‘Oh, that’s good! I’ll feel a lot safer with you here, in charge, like. So will Cook, I know. But just in case, I’ll go to bed with that poker beside me again. Miss Newington druv ’em off with a poker that first time. Brave, she was.’ She dabbed her eyes. ‘Good mistress, she is, too.’

He patted her shoulder. ‘Yes. I know.’

The letter Jacob had written just caught the lunchtime collection and arrived at Frank Longley’s rooms in Swindon by the second post instead of the next day. It was taken straight through to him, since it was the only one delivered. He exclaimed in shock when he saw what Jacob had written, then sat thinking hard, not liking the sounds of this. What if Miss Newington died?

She’d made a will, but only as a temporary measure. If she died now, the estate would go to a most unsuitable person.

He looked at the clock and decided to go out to see his client straight away. There was no time to be lost. If she was at all lucid, she must make a new will.

Then he scribbled a note to let his wife know why he’d be late and told his clerk to see it was delivered. As he set off for the railway station, he prayed Miss Newington would still be alive. Matters couldn’t be left like this.

Ben strolled up to the big house, whistling and feeling pleased to be earning money merely for staying up there at night. Nothing had happened so far, but if it did, he’d be ready.

His dad said he was a fool and shouldn’t mess with the gentry, especially nasty types like Mr Arthur, but Ben reckoned the gentry had had their day and ordinary folk were what counted now. Decent folk, who didn’t get rich and leave others to want. His dad hated him expressing such views but Ben wasn’t going to tug his forelock to anyone.

Which was why he wasn’t working in Swindon. If you went into the Railway Works, they thought they owned you body and soul. He’d always found a way to earn enough to manage on, and he’d kept his freedom so far. And that meant freedom from girls, too. They’d come a-chasing him, but he wasn’t getting married till he was a lot older and had made something of himself.

When Ben got to the big house, Jacob explained what had happened to poor Miss Newington and asked him if he could make up a roster for the young fellows who’d be staying at the house turn and turn about.

‘Yes, I can do that, Jacob. I’m good at organising things and I know who I like to have on my side in a fight.’

‘Right. I’ll leave it to you. But keep my son out of it, eh? We’re all staying here for the time being and Luke will be bursting to join in.’

‘He’s too young, but he’s got a good heart. I’ll keep my eye on him.’

‘School should be out soon. When the bell goes, can you find him and Sarah and tell them where we are?’

‘I’ll do better than that. I’ll walk up with them.’ Strange thing to do if you expected trouble, take your children into the heart of it, Ben thought, but then Jacob had no one else to leave them with.

He set off again, happy enough to walk round in the afternoon sunshine and earn money for doing it. And happy to organise things, too. He enjoyed that sort of thing.

* * *

When Mrs Henty saw the postman, she stopped to give him a letter to post for her, which would save her a walk.

Kenneth leant closer. ‘Hev you heard the news, Mrs Henty? Miss Newington’s been took bad …’

After her shock had died down, Jane began to feel annoyed that the Kembles should be the ones to be helping out at the big house, when obviously it was her duty as the curate’s wife to perform this service and make sure those two servants didn’t take advantage of the confusion to slack off.

She went home to share the news with her husband and he was as shocked as she was about poor Miss Newington. She sent him on his way to his monthly meeting with the clergyman whose curate he was, and after fidgeting around the house for a while, decided to go up to the big house to see for herself what was happening.

She puffed her way up the hill and hesitated, wondering whether to go round to the kitchen, then shook her head. She might be a mere curate’s wife but she was a lady born and bred, and had a right to enter by the front door. When no one answered, she knocked again, harder this time, annoyed at being kept waiting.

As she was raising her hand to the knocker for the third time she heard footsteps and the door was opened by Jacob Kemble.

‘Miss Newington’s not well, I’m afraid, Mrs Henty. She can’t have visitors.’

‘I know she’s not well. The postman told me about it. I’ve come to help.’

‘She’s got enough help, but I’ll tell her you called.’

When he tried to close the door in her face, she stuck her foot in it, because whether it was a ladylike thing to do or not, it was a tactic sometimes necessary when visiting the poor, who were an ungrateful bunch on the whole.

As he was still barring her way, she snapped, ‘Let me in this minute!’

‘Look, it’s very kind of you, but—’

She took him by surprise, shoving him out of the way, and since she knew he’d not dare lay hands on her, made her way towards the stairs.

‘Come back!’ he roared, forgetting to keep his voice down. He ran after her and pushed in front of her.

‘Get out of my way this minute, Kemble! How dare you try to stop me seeing Miss Newington!’

Since Mrs Henty was famous for being able to make herself overheard above a whole church hall full of people talking, her voice easily penetrated into the sick room. Mattie recognised it at once and frowned, remembering the woman’s visit to the cottage and how rude she’d been. Unfortunately, the noise had woken her companion.

She bent over the bed. ‘It’s Mrs Henty. Do you want to see her?’

Miss Newington shook her head, mouthing the word ‘No’.

‘I’ll get rid of her, then.’

Mattie managed to get the bedroom door closed before the unwelcome visitor reached it. When she looked at the curate’s wife, she was reminded for a moment of Bart Fuller – the woman had the same angry red hue to her face as he got when annoyed, the same staring eyes, and even the plumpness of face reminded Mattie a little of her stepfather’s double chins.

Suddenly the years of bullying boiled up inside her. She was free now of the need to put up with this sort of treatment. Drawing herself up to her full five foot two inches, she folded her arms and waited.

‘Open that door!’ the foghorn voice ordered.

‘I told Miss Newington you were here and she said she didn’t want to see you.’

‘Of course she wants to see me. I’m here to help nurse her.’

Mattie shuddered at the thought of being nursed by this loud-voiced bully. She looked at Jacob. ‘Why did you let her come up?’

‘She pushed past me before I knew it. I could hardly manhandle her.’

‘Well, she’ll not push past me.’ Mattie stared at the older woman. ‘And I’m quite prepared to manhandle her if I have to, to protect Miss Newington.’

‘Let me through at once!’

Mrs Henty reached out to push her aside, but it was Jacob who grabbed her hand and pulled her away. ‘You’ll not touch my wife.’

‘How dare you lay a hand on me!’

‘I’m obeying the mistress of this house and keeping you out of her bedroom. I think you’d better leave now. You’re causing a disturbance and she needs peace and quiet.’