Emily (17 page)

His mother looked worried. ‘But what is it? Is it addictive? I don’t like the idea –’.

‘I have his assurance that it is perfectly safe.’ He got up from the sofa. ‘If you will excuse me, Mother. I must get changed out of these clothes. Then I’m off to my club to see what’s been going on in my absence.’

He arrived back home after midnight and strode softly up the stairs. He hesitated for a moment on the landing, then continued up to the next floor. He turned the knob on Emily’s door. It turned and he smirked and entered. ‘Emily,’ he whispered, ‘what a good girl. Are you pleased to see me back?’

The light by the bed was turned low and a hand reached out to turn it up and show Mrs Anderson sitting on the bed fully dressed. ‘Emily isn’t using
this room any more, sir.’ She stared at him with hatred in her eyes. ‘You’ve ruined her, just as you ruined Jenny. You should be ashamed, sir.’

He strode across towards her and grabbing her by the collar hauled her off the bed. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that, you old hag, or you’ll be sorry.’ He wrenched at the neckline of her dress, tearing it. ‘I could give you a taste of the same if I fancied to.’ He sneered. ‘It would be the first time, wouldn’t it? The first time you had a man’s hand on you?’

‘Sir,’ she gasped, ‘Mr Hugo! Have some respect. I am a single elderly woman.’

He pushed her roughly back on to the bed. ‘Then you hold your tongue or it’ll be the worse for you.’ He turned to go. ‘And tell Emily I will be waiting for her.’

‘Emily is pregnant,’ she blurted out. ‘You must leave her alone.’

He raised his eyebrows and laughed. ‘Pregnant! And I suppose she’s saying the bastard is mine?’

Mrs Anderson said nothing, just swallowed nervously and clutched her hands together.

‘Give her a shilling and dismiss her,’ he said curtly. ‘It has nothing to do with me.’

Emily spent the night in Mrs Anderson’s room, but she didn’t sleep. She had been racked with pain in her back and she had achingly paced the floor, worrying over what Mr Hugo would say to Mrs Anderson when he discovered that they had exchanged rooms, for Emily had heard him creeping up the stairs towards her room.

Mrs Anderson tapped gently on the door at five o’clock, whispering to let her in. Her face looked grey and her eyes were heavy as if she hadn’t slept either.

‘He says I’ve to dismiss you. I’ll have to speak to ’mistress.’ She seemed frightened and confused.

Emily held her arms across her stomach. She felt sick. ‘What am I to do, Mrs Anderson? I feel ill. Where can I go?’

The housekeeper shook her head. ‘I can’t help you. He’s threatened me. I’ll lose my position if I do any more and where would I get work at my age?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Emily started to cry, as once more the pain stabbed in her back and she drew in a deep breath. ‘I don’t want you to get into trouble on my account.’

Mrs Anderson’s eyes narrowed. ‘Have you started? Is ’babby coming?’

Emily’s mouth grew round in dismay. ‘I don’t know. I’ve been awake all night.’

‘Come upstairs.’ Mrs Anderson gathered Emily’s clothes together. ‘Go back to your room. It might be a false alarm, but we can’t take ’risk. You can’t give birth here.’

She bundled Emily upstairs as quickly and quietly as possible. ‘Stay here. I’ll say you’re poorly. Keep ’door locked and try not to make a noise.’

Emily lay back on her bed, but she was restless and the pain in her back gradually grew worse and moved round to the front, pulling and dragging at her. She sat up and stared at the window as sunlight started to filter through as the morning mist disappeared. ‘I’m in labour,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to give birth and there’s no-one here to help me. What do I do? I might die!’ She knew of no-one who had experienced childbirth. Granny Edwards had never spoken of it and Emily’s only knowledge was observation and whispered conversation with her former school friends.

After a while the pain eased and she tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack and listened. She could hear voices down below. One was Hugo’s and she thought the other was Mrs Purnell’s. Then she heard the front door closing and the sound of a carriage pulling away.

Mrs Anderson scurried upstairs with a slice of bread and a pot of tea. Emily was glad of a hot drink, but couldn’t eat. ‘I think ’babby’s coming, Mrs Anderson. I feel so strange.’

‘God help us!’ Mrs Anderson was distraught. ‘I don’t know what to do! I’ve never seen a babby born afore.’

They stared at each other. ‘Neither have I,’ Emily whispered. ‘Only kittens and lambs. But it’s a natural thing, Mrs Anderson, so I’ll just have to get on with it. What did Mrs Purnell say?’

‘I haven’t told her.’ Mrs Anderson shook her head. ‘They’ve all gone out visiting. I thought I’d leave it till later. I didn’t want to ruin her day.’

Emily sweated and groaned all day and Mrs Anderson came up at intervals, bringing her hot and cold drinks and an armful of old sheets which she asked her to put over the bed linen. ‘Dolly’s from a big family, shall I ask her what to do?’ she asked, as Emily panted over the iron bedrail.

‘No. Don’t tell anybody. It’s best that they don’t know, then they can’t get into trouble.’

Mrs Anderson took her drawstring purse from under her apron. ‘Mr Hugo said I had to give you a shilling and dismiss you,’ she said slowly, ‘but you have some wages to come.’ She tipped out some coins onto the table. ‘’Mistress might give you something, but on ’other hand she might not. She doesn’t like this kind of thing.’

Emily gave a short sharp sound, somewhere between a laugh and a cry. ‘I’m not very happy about it either,’ she groaned. ‘It’s not something I planned. Not yet anyway.’

Mrs Anderson was getting more and more nervous. ‘I’ll have to go down. ’Family will be back soon and I don’t know how long I can keep you up here without them in ’kitchen getting suspicious.’

Emily wiped the sweat from her brow. ‘You go, Mrs Anderson. I’ll be all right.’

But the housekeeper was no sooner gone than she was once more riven with pains, which came faster and faster. She paced the floor, she crouched, she knelt, trying to find some relief until at last she could no longer hold back her cries, and as she opened her mouth to scream, she gave birth and the cry faded. The infant slid from her body to lie still and lifeless between her thighs.

She was barely conscious of what happened next, only that it was a boy and there was something wrong. He was so tiny and his colour didn’t look healthy. As if in a trance, she cut the cord which bound them together and picking him up, she wiped his mouth and nose and eyes of mucus with her fingers, and gently patted his back. There was no response so she carefully opened his small mouth and softly blew her own breath into him. She felt his chest for the sound of a heartbeat, but there was nothing. She had often in her childhood held a baby bird and felt the flutter of a tiny beating heart, but there was only stillness within this child’s body. She leaned towards the drawer by her bed and taking a clean white shift from it she wrapped it around him and held him close.

‘A shilling for your life,’ she murmured as she gently rocked him, ‘a life which didn’t even begin.’

It grew darker as she lay with the child in her arms, but she didn’t bother to light the lamp. She felt no pain now, only sorrow in her heart for this child which had come from her body. The child
which she hadn’t wanted but which she knew she would have come to love, even though the begetting of him had been so abhorrent to her.

She sat for a long time rocking the infant, her mind blank, not thinking of what the future might hold, until she heard the slam of the front door and she knew that the Purnells had returned. They would go to their rooms and change from their travelling attire into their supper dress. She would be missed, but she guessed that Mrs Anderson would make an excuse for her and send Dolly up to help Mrs Purnell to change, whilst the new maid Alice would assist Miss Deborah.

‘Then they’ll go downstairs,’ she mused, ‘and won’t come up again until bedtime.’ She looked down at the infant and touched his tiny cold hands. ‘I shall have to leave you’, she murmured, ‘because I don’t know where I’m going. I only know that I can’t stay here.’

She placed the child on the bed and lit the lamp, then washed herself and tidied the room, taking the soiled sheets from the bed and heaping them in a corner where Mrs Anderson would attend to them. She took her own few possessions from the drawer and wrapped them in a bundle, then listened once more at the door. She heard Hugo’s coarse laugh and a band of hatred tightened around her chest. Deborah’s thin voice called out and the authoritative voice of her maid answered her. Their footsteps sounded on the stairs, followed by the pad of Mrs Purnell’s feet as they all went down for supper.

There was no-one about as she slipped down the
stairs to Hugo’s room. A lamp was turned low and a fire was burning brightly in the hearth and already the bedcover had been turned back for him. She moved one of the pillows and carefully placed the child on it, still wrapped in her shift. ‘Sleep well, poor baby,’ she whispered and bent to kiss his forehead. Then she made the sign of a cross on his brow. ‘Heaven bless and keep you.’

She placed the shilling which she had taken from the few Mrs Anderson had given her and placed it on the pillow beside him, then rising up she glanced around the room and gave a sudden gasp. Above the fireplace and directly opposite the bed, where Hugo would see it as he lay between his sheets, was the portrait of the naked woman which he had forced Emily to look at, saying that it resembled her.

The portrait had been removed from his wife’s room since their return from Italy and only Hugo could have moved it, for Emily knew that no-one else had had instructions to do so. As she stared at the portrait she felt a real fear. His desire for her then was unsated, his covetous appetite not yet satisfied. She trembled at the realization that his lechery still reached out towards her. She wanted to scream and shout in her own defence, but she could only remain silent. No-one would believe her. She was a fallen servant girl and he a gentleman. A babe lay dead, her own life altered beyond belief, and she wanted revenge.

She picked up the poker which lay in the hearth and plunged it into the coals as if she was plunging it into Hugo Purnell’s heart. It sizzled and she
turned it until the tip was red hot. She withdrew it and, holding it high, sank the burning end into the picture. The canvas curled and smoked, leaving a black circle. She gave a wild smile and her eyes gleamed. She lifted the poker and struck, again and again, striking the canvas and the gilt frame until it splintered and the image of the naked woman hung in shreds.

She backed away, awestruck at the damage she had done, and hastily threw the poker down, where it slowly burned a small hole in the carpet. Her heart beat with a violent intensity and she glanced fearfully around the room as if to see if anyone was watching. She put her hands to her mouth to stop herself crying out. What had she done? What would they say? They would know she was the one who had caused the damage. She gave a sudden laugh. They would also know whose child it was lying in Hugo’s bed.

Quietly she opened the door and looked out into the corridor. There was no-one there. She crept back to her own room, trembling with fear and anger, her hands shaking as she gathered up her bundle. There were sounds of voices coming from the dining room and the smell of food drifted up from the kitchen as she crept downstairs, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day. She crossed the hall and unlatched the door and heard Dolly’s voice as she came up the kitchen stairs. She closed the door quietly behind her, went down the steps and into the dimly lit street.

The wind blew cold. A north-easterly wind which she remembered Sam used to say came from the
steppes of Russia, though he had no idea what or where those steppes were. She pulled her cloak about her, gathering up its warmth and felt weak, physically and mentally. Take hold of yourself, Emily, she chastised herself. You’re young. Your body is strong and healthy, it can withstand pain. She scurried on, not knowing quite where to go but heading towards the High Street, where she knew there would be plenty of people about and where she could hide if anyone should come looking for her.

She drew abreast of the King’s Head Inn and stopped. There was warmth and the sound of people singing and the smell of food coming from its interior. It was an ancient inn built of brick and timber with overhanging mullioned windows and she stood in the doorway and looked in. She had never been in an inn before and she hesitated about doing so now, but she leant against the door jamb, feeling faint and dizzy.

‘Well, is tha going in or coming out, my lovely lass?’ a voice behind her called out and as she turned to answer, the sudden movement brought a curtain of blackness which engulfed her and she pitched forward in a crumpled heap on to the inn floor.

‘Mrs Purnell, please! You must take your medication.’

‘I will not and you can’t make me.’ Deborah stared obstinately at the maid, who was holding the bottle and spoon.

‘I’ll tell Mr Hugo,’ Alice menaced. ‘He’ll make you take it. Like he did last time.’

A flicker of fear shadowed Deborah’s face. She hated being held down. Last time it was the doctor and Hugo who had held her, whilst a nurse pinched her nose and poured the fluid down her throat. But she didn’t think Hugo would do it when they were in his mother’s house. Mrs Purnell, Deborah had discovered, didn’t like a fuss over anything.

‘Come along,’ Alice wheedled, ‘be a good girl.’

‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that!’ Deborah shrieked. ‘Just remember your place.’

‘Beg pardon, ma’am.’ The cynical look of disdain was lost on Deborah as her maid bobbed her knee in apology. The familiarity which Mr Hugo had shown towards Alice had assured the servant that she could do and say, within reason,
anything she wanted in this household.

She approached Deborah again with the bottle tipped and the spoon at the ready. ‘You don’t want Mr Hugo to get cross, do you, ma’am?’ She smiled as if at a child. ‘Come along now.’