Haggard (56 page)

'Well, come inside, come inside. Nugent, some wine. Ned will see to your things.' Haggard ushered them to the door. 'Tis not often we have a famous personage at Derleth.'

"I should like to see Alice,' Johnnie said.

'Aye, you should. I'll take you up. You'll excuse us, my lord.'

Byron nodded. They had reached the top of the grand staircase, and Roger gestured him into the drawing room, where Nugent was already pouring wine.

'And are you also at Cambridge?'

'No longer, more's the pity,' Byron said. They were happy days. No, no. You have no idea, my dear Haggard, what the life of a literary giant is like. I have scarce a moment to call my own. And the ladies . . .' He paused to see what effect his words were having on his host, and sighed. 'Well, I seized the opportunity to visit Johnnie, don't you know. We were at school together.'

'Some wine.' Haggard sat down, stretched out his legs.

'And so I was at Trinity when the news arrived about your sister. You'll appreciate how sorry I am to hear it.'

'It is good of you to say so.'

'But she'll be well again, eh?'

'We hope so.'

Byron regarded him for a moment, sipped some wine, walked across to the great windows looking out at the deer park. 'A choice spot, Derleth. You'll not have been to Newstead?'

'No.'

'It needs work. And money. More money than I can discover.' He gave a brief laugh. 'What would you? I spend years cultivating the Haggard heir, only to discover he is not the heir after all. There is a turn up.'

It was difficult to decide whether he was bantering or being unhappily frank.

'Johnnie will never want,' Roger said.

'Oh, indeed not. I should hope so, at the least. Ah . . .' He faced the doors as Haggard and Johnnie came in. The boy was pale, is she . . .'

'She is as she has been for the past two days, my lord,' Haggard said. 'We keep her under sedation. But I am encouraged. Encouraged, sir. She almost seemed to recognise Johnnie here.

Almost. There is some prospect of a recovery. You'll wish to change for supper, my lord.' He rang the bell.

‘I
would, Mr. Haggard. Are you coming up, Johnnie, lad?'

'Well, I . . .' Colour flooded back into Johnnie Haggard's cheeks, and he glanced from his father to his brother.

'Stay for five minutes,' Roger said,
‘I
would like to get better acquainted.'

'Quaint,' Byron agreed. 'Dashed quaint.'

This is my housekeeper, Mary Prince, my lord,' Haggard said. 'She'll show you to your room.' He looked at Roger, raised his eyebrows,
‘I
shall be in the study for a while,' he said, and left the room. Nugent poured two fresh glasses, bowed, and also left.

Johnni
e brought Roger's glass over, ‘I’l
l drink to Alice's recovery. But also to your homecoming. You must be very happy.'

'And you?'

'Equally so?' He gave a guilty smile, and a secretive one, Roger thought. 'I never supposed I was cut out to be squire.'

'No doubt there are squires and squires.' Roger sat down, the glass dangled between two of his fingers, watched the liquid sparkle and threaten to slide over the edge. 'Alice has told me a deal about you,' he lied.

'Alice?' Johnnie flushed, sat opposite. 'She
will
be all right?'

'Father thinks so. And Emma thinks he is right.'

Johnnie's head came up, his flush deepening. But Roger would not spare him.

'Does Father know what happened?'

'No. Of course not. He thinks I fell from my horse, that day. But you don't understand . . .'

'I think I do,' Roger said. 'I've spent a long time in the Army. With the best will in the world, some men just cannot face an enemy.'

'No.' Johnnie got up. 'You
don
't
understand. You weren't there . . .'

'And they cannot be criticised for that,' Roger said. 'They're unlucky if it happens in battle because then they are put against a wall and shot. But it is something to be sympathised with. I am trying to understand, you see.'

'But you can't.' Johnnie wailed, and checked himself. 'You haven't talked with Father?'

'About that? Obviously not, or I wouldn't have asked you if he knew.'

'Ah.' Johnnie gave a sigh.

'What is unforgivable,' Roger said, 'is your refusal ever to visit Meg again.'

'I
...
I couldn't. The shame of it. The way she looked at me . . .'

'Aye,' Roger agreed. 'But you
will
visit her again, Johnnie. I will come with you.'

Johnnie Haggard's shoulders slumped. 'You don't understand,' he said again. 'I behaved badly. I know that. I confessed it to Alice. And she knew
1
had too. But she knew how to have me make it up. She said she'd find the men who were responsible. If it took her the rest of her life, she'd find who were responsible, and then I could avenge Meg. I could avenge myself. You'll see. When she finds out . . .'

'When she finds out?' Roger shouted in sudden anger. 'Do you not suppose that is what has driven her from her mind? The burden of finding those men? The burden of concealing your cowardice? The burden of knowing what happened to her own sister? You are as guilty as anyone of her illness. And to what end? Do you really suppose, that if Alice were to enter this room now, leading one of those rapists by the hand, you would be able to avenge Meg? Do you really suppose you have the stomach for it, you snivelling little coward?'

Johnnie Haggard stared at his brother for a moment, then he turned and left the room.

He ran up the stairs, brushed a maidservant aside. 'Master Johnnie,' she said.

'Oh, leave me alone,' he snapped. He wanted to weep. He knew he was about to weep. He had no doubt that Roger was right, that it was the weight of everything that had happened which had driven Alice insane. But he was even more concerned with his own position. Roger knew! How could he live, with that hanging over him, for the rest of his life? Whenever he chose, Roger could tell Father . . . Johnnie just could not consider that. And knowing that secret, what of the other? Byron should not have come. Oh God, Byron should not have come, not to Derleth, not into Father's lair.

'But Master Johnnie,' the girl was hurrying after him.
¹
Tis Miss Alice.'

‘
Eh?' He checked, looked down at her. 'She is asking for you, Master Johnnie.' Johnnie frowned. 'She's asleep.'

'No, Master Johnnie. She woke up, and when I went to give her the laudanum, she asked me to wait until after I'd seen you. Tis a whipping I'll get, Master Johnnie, if the Master finds out.'

Then why . .

She licked her lips. 'Miss Alice said you'd see me right. Master Johnnie.'

Johnnie gazed at her for a moment. Alice, asking to see him? Alice, who was out of her mind? He chewed his lip in indecision, then nodded.
‘I’ll
see you right. We'd best return there before you are missed.'

She scurried in front of him, up the next flight of stairs, and along the corridor, opened the door. Johnnie closed it behind himself, stood by the bed. Alice's eyes were open.

'Alice? But .'. .'

'I had to pretend,' she whispered. 'Don't you see, I had to pretend. Father wants me to be mad. That way I can't cause any trouble.'

He sat beside her. 'But . . . your head?'

'It hurts. But not so much as before. When I saw you this afternoon I near gave myself away. Listen . . .' Her fingers wrapped themselves about his wrist,
‘I
have found the men.'

'Eh?'

‘I
know who they are. They are Father's gamekeepers. Peter Wring and his people.'

'Peter Wring? By God . . .'

‘
Ssssh, and listen. They don't matter. They were only doing what they were told. It is Father sent them.' 'Father? That's impossible. Why . . .'

'Why is it impossib
le?' Alice's voice was suddenly
fierce. 'Do you suppose he would ever let a Haggard marry a Bold?'

'But
...
I was there. I might have been beaten up. I might have been killed.'

'But you weren't,' she said.

Johnnie gazed at her, his brain tumbling. They had tied him up instead of hitting him on the head. And when he had tried to escape, his wrists had been undone. So he had run away. They had known he would run away. My God, all of these years, with Peter Wring knowing he was a coward. He felt sick.

'You'll avenge Meg,' Alice said. 'You'll avenge me. You'll avenge yourself.'

'Against Father. Oh, I . . .'

The nails were cutting into his flesh. 'You must,' she said. 'You must. Or
...
or I'll tell him you ran away.'

'No,' Johnnie said. 'No, you mustn't do that. Alice . . .'

'Then kill him,' she said. 'He's not worth keeping alive. He's a bully and a tyrant and a vicious monster.'

‘I
. . .' Johnnie licked his lips. 'I could take him to court.'

'For God's sake.' Alice's fingers relaxed, and she lay back.
'You'll
take John Haggard to court? Who do you suppose is the magistrate around here? He is. Oh, you are even more of a coward than I supposed. I
will
tell him. I may as well.'

'No.' Once again Johnnie licked his lips. 'No. I'll . . .'

'You'll kill him,' Alice said. 'Execute him. He deserves execution, for all of his crimes. For murdering Charlie. Because he did. For murdering Annie Kent. Because he did. For shooting Rufus. For throwing Mama out. For turning Meg into a cabbage. He deserves to die, Johnnie. Kill him. Kill him.'

'Talavera,' Byron said. 'My word, were you there, Captain? I was in Spain then too.'

'Were you?' Roger inquired.

There's a coincidence,' Haggard agreed.

'Well, I was in Seville and then in Cadiz, on my travels, don't you know. A charming place, Spain.'

'Except where the French happen to be,' Roger said.

'Faults on every side,' Byron pointed out.

Roger laid down his knife and fork. 'Do you support Bonaparte, my lord?'

'Would you not agree he is the greatest man of his age?'

Haggard snapped his fingers, and Nugent hurried forward with more wine. The meal had been difficult from the beginning, with Johnnie just staring at his plate, Roger obviously in an aggressive mood, and Byron eager to accept any verbal challenge. 'You are not eating, my lord. Is the meat not to your taste?'

The meat is perfection itself, Mr. Haggard. Alas, I have an inclination to grow fat at the slightest opportunity. Why, would you believe it,
1
once tipped the scales at two hundred and forty pounds? When I was at Cambridge, Johnnie.
Would
you believe it?

'No,' Johnnie Haggard said.

'You certainly show no evidence of it now,' Haggard agreed. 'And you'll not find my beef fattening, my lord. Tis one of my own cattle. Anyway, here on Derleth there is sufficient to do to keep a figure trim. Tomorrow I'll show you over the mine and the factory.'

The factory?' Byron inquired.

'A cotton mill.'

'Ah. I had no idea you indulged in such misguided ideas.' 'Misguided ideas?' Haggard drank some wine. The young man was his guest.

'In my own county of Nottinghamshire the people burn such enormities.'

'By God,' Haggard commented. 'And you support such criminals?'

‘I
, sir? I would hardly support crime. But equally I would hardly support this money-grasping Tory administration under which we have suffered for too long. Why, they go from bad to worse. Suspending Habeas Corpus, and now this new law prescribing the death penalty for frame breaking, why, 'tis barbarous. And giving such powers to the local Justices. Why, sir, that is equivalent to placing the entire Midlands under martial law. I spoke against it in the Lords. Caused quite a stir, so I am told. But what would you? The Commons passed the bill just the same. It lowers England to the level of Russia.'