Pit Bank Wench (8 page)

‘Be careful to speak only truth.’ He lowered his hand. ‘What prompted you to speak of a man lying with a woman he has not wed?’

‘I . . . I was angry.’ Mary dropped the pot on to the hob, a flush rising to her cheeks.

Caleb’s eyes glittered with the promise of righteous anger. ‘That can be no cause for uttering filth, there is more to your words than anger. Speak, woman, for I will know. And remember, the Lord will not be mocked with lies.’

‘I speak no lie!’ Mary’s head came up, all the bitterness of her hard-lived years burning in her eyes. ‘A woman has no say against a man. Her life belongs to one or other of them from the moment she is born. She must ask his permission for this and for that, she is not allowed a mind or a voice of her own. But a man need ask no permission of her. Not to take the money she might earn, not to do that which places a child in her body . . .’

‘Enough!’ Caleb raised his hands to his ears, his eyes closing. ‘To speak such evil is to know such evil.’ Opening his eyes again with dramatic slowness he glared at Mary. ‘These thoughts are placed in your mind by Satan, his are the ways of wickedness. You have given yourself to his murmurings. To think such evil is to flout the teaching of the Lord, to go against His commandment . . .’

‘No!’ Her voice was sharp in denial. ‘The teaching of the Lord does not state that a woman exists simply for a man’s use!’

‘
“From Adam did God take a rib and from it fashion a woman whom he gave to Adam
 . . .”’

‘As a helpmeet, not as a chattel! You take His words and twist them until they become not His will but yours.’

‘And you are using words to take my mind from those that fell from your tongue a moment ago. Words that spoke of a man lying with a woman he has not wed. What woman, Mary Price? Who is the woman you spoke of?’

‘There . . . there is no such woman.’

‘Satan holds your tongue.’ He stared at her with a cold, almost calculating stare. ‘Do not give him access to your soul, speak no more lies for they will carry you into everlasting damnation. Is that woman you, Mary Price?’

‘Me!’ Mary’s astounded whisper reached into the room.

‘
“Thou shalt not commit adultery!
”’ Caleb intoned the words, his eyes relaying ‘an almost fanatical relish with the speaking of each one.

‘No. No, a woman must not indulge in fornication.’ Mary continued to stare at the man who had ruled every minute of most of her years. ‘Though a man, it seems, may practise that very thing as often as he wishes. Sowing his wild oats – is that not what it is called? And he may sow them in any girl he fancies for he does not have the reckoning.
“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s goods, neither his ox nor his ass
”.’ She laughed, a short cynical sound. ‘You must know the quotation, Caleb, you throw them about often enough. But it does not apply to a neighbour’s daughter. Man is made in God’s image, all things are subject to him. Especially women!’

‘You are condemned out of your own mouth.’ His hands dropped to his sides. ‘A neighbour’s daughter can only mean yourself. You are a child of iniquity, a tool of the devil who has tempted some man and caused him to fall.’

‘Oh, how predictable!’ Mary avoided Emma’s restraining hand. ‘How very predictable! The man was tempted . . . there can be no blame upon him, it was the fault of the woman. All
her
fault.’

‘Stand away, Emma!’ Brushing the air with one hand as if to push her aside, Caleb glared at his wife. ‘Stand away from her, do not contaminate your hand by touching that which is evil.’

‘Mother isn’t evil!’ The awfulness of what had been said had held Emma speechless, but as her father lifted his hand the fear that he would strike her mother released her tongue. ‘She has done no wrong.’

‘Done no wrong?’ His glittering eyes were fixed on Emma. ‘You call lying with a man who is not her husband doing no wrong?’

‘Mother has lain with no man.’ Emma took her mother’s hand, weaving the fingers into her own.

‘It is not she who is the wrongdoer in this house.’ Her lips trembling, Carrie stepped forward. ‘Her only wrong is in answering you as she has. You do not care to be questioned, do you, Father?’

‘
“Honour thy father and thy mother”
,’ Caleb uttered one of the Biblical quotations that were balm to his soul. ‘Carrie, do not disregard the Lord’s word, do not speak so to me, keep a silent tongue lest you . . .’

‘She did not mean it,’ Emma answered quickly, fearing his anger would turn to Carrie. Things were going to get worse without her sister adding to them.

‘She did not mean it, neither did your mother?’ Caleb’s eyes took on a meaner glint. ‘Then why speak as she has, why speak of lying with a man if she has no knowledge of such? Your mother is a fallen woman, she will pay the price of that.’ His glance swung slowly to Emma. ‘I will have no fornicator under my roof . . . she will leave this house!’

‘We are all leaving,’ Mary said at last. ‘You are no longer a tenant of this house, Caleb. When I leave then so do you.’

Full of righteous indignation he had temporarily forgotten that fact. Now with his wife’s reminder he cast around for words, but for once his store of Biblical quotations failed him.

‘Yes . . . yes.’ He stumbled over the words. ‘We all have to leave, but you will not travel with us. From this day on I have no wife and my daughters have no mother.’

‘Then you will have no family at all,’ Emma said at her mother’s strangled gasp. ‘If Mother does not go with you then neither do I. And neither will Carrie.’

‘What?’ Caleb moved a step forward, his heavy clogs making no sound on the rug his wife and daughters had pegged from clippings cut from worn out clothes. ‘You will do as I say, Emma, you and your sister, and I say you will turn your back upon that . . . that follower of Satan. Step away from her, do not soil your hand . . .’

‘As the Sadducee and the Pharisee stepped away?’ Emma smiled scornfully. ‘I see you take my meaning, Father. You are like them. You quote the Scriptures to suit your own ends, but when it comes to charity you are no Good Samaritan.’

‘I will not tolerate evil.’

‘Nor would you have to, not with Carrie, nor with Mother.’ Emma slid an arm about her mother’s shoulders as Mary cried out. ‘It has to be said so it is as well I say it now. You see, Father, it is as I told you. Mother has not lain with a man . . . I have.’

Eyes hard as stone, lips working soundlessly, Caleb slumped forward, his hands palm down on the table, head hanging low between his shoulders.

‘It is the truth, Father,’ Emma went on quietly. ‘Mother is not guilty of that.’

‘You!’ he whispered. ‘I would not have thought that of you.’

‘There was no willingness on my part. I was attacked by . . . by someone while coming home.’

‘Attacked?’ Caleb glanced at her though he did not straighten up. ‘By whom?’

‘I . . . I don’t know.’ Emma felt the pang of guilt that accompanied the lie. ‘It was dark, I could not see his face.’

‘Then where?’ Caleb’s eyes glanced with passionate anger. ‘Where did this . . . attack . . . take place?’

‘In the coppice that borders the Hall.’ Emma saw despair flood her mother’s face but there was no going back. Her mother must not suffer for what had been done to her.

‘Did the man speak?’

What did another lie matter? Telling the truth now would not alter her father’s thinking. Emma shook her head.

‘Did you scream . . . run away?’

‘I tried but he rode me down.’

‘Rode?’ Caleb straightened up in the same slow deliberate manner in which he had raised his eyelids. ‘The man was on horseback and riding in the coppice of Felton Hall?’

Emma realised her mistake. She had spoken without thinking and Caleb had pounced on her words like a diving hawk.

‘There are none ride in these parts except the Feltons, and no visitor to that house would leave by that path, no rider or carriage. Now I see the reason for my being finished at the Topaz. I heard talk of the younger Felton paying you some attention but I dismissed it as tittle – tattle. It seems I was wrong. He has paid you a great deal of attention and now he is feared of being found out. That is why I have been given my tin. Get them all out of Doe Bank, that way none will know of his doings!’

‘It wasn’t Paul . . .’

‘Not Paul you say?’ Caleb caught the lapel of his jacket. The role of inquisitor he enjoyed even more than preaching. ‘But you told me you could not identify this man who is supposed to have attacked you? You did not see his face, it was in shadow. You did not hear his voice for he did not speak. How then do you know it was
not
Paul Felton?’

‘It wasn’t Paul.’ Emma’s nerves were stretched tight as bow strings. ‘He would not attack me.’

Caleb’s thin mouth seemed to turn in on itself, lips folding away to nothing. ‘Why not? Could it be because he did not have to? He did not need to take by force that which was willingly given . . . given and enjoyed.’

‘No . . . no, that isn’t true!’

Ignoring Emma’s cry, Caleb turned on his wife, seeing her faded eyes widen with fear. ‘Did you know of this?’

Fingers twitching at the apron that covered her black skirts, Mary nodded.

‘How long?’ It rapped the silence like a cane.

‘It was . . .’

‘Not you . . . neither of you!’ Caleb’s hand shot up. ‘The question was asked of your mother, the answer will be given by her.’

‘Mother isn’t well.’

Brows drawing together Caleb’s eyes alone moved, slithering sideways until they held Emma in their sight. ‘I said, your mother will answer. You will not speak until I say.’

‘But . . .’

‘Silence!’ The hand he had raised in the air shot out, his fingers curling before striking Emma a blow across the mouth.

‘Stop!’ The blow galvanising her into action, Mary was on her feet, her own body shielding Emma as she stumbled backward.

‘Leave her be, Caleb.’ Her voice quite steady now, Mary faced her husband. ‘Raise your hand to her no more for if you do, I swear I will kill you.’

‘You would be wise to listen, Father. Should Mother lack the courage, I do not. Put so much as one finger on Emma and you will feel this in your heart.’ Carrie stepped forward, a large kitchen knife gripped in her hand. But it was the hatred in her eyes that stopped Emma’s heart.

‘Carrie, don’t! Don’t make things worse.’ Blood pouring from her split lip, Emma tried to take the knife but Carrie pushed her away.

‘It would have come to this anyway,’ she whispered, eyes fixed on Caleb. ‘It would have come to this very soon. You know why, don’t you, Father?’

Caleb’s hand dropped and his face became suddenly closed, his eyes becoming wary. ‘Do not break your word. Vows made before the Lord must be kept.’

‘Don’t bother quoting the Lord to me!’ Carrie hissed. ‘And don’t think to hide behind heaven’s shield any longer. It is finished, Father, over. You will never again force yourself on me . . .’

Standing beside Emma, Mary Price gasped, all the colour draining from her thin face. ‘Caleb, no! Tell me, Caleb . . . what Carrie has said. It . . . it’s not true?’

The light of the oil lamp glinting on its blade, Carrie raised the knife higher, holding it like a dagger. ‘Tell her, Father!’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Tell her. You can say it. You can tell that lie as you have told so many others. As you told me it was God’s will a daughter should do as a father asked, that it was her duty to heaven she should please him. Duty . . .’

She laughed softly and in it Emma heard all the pain and misery of a frightened child. What was it placed so much hate in her sister’s eyes, so much loathing in her voice?

‘
“Brother will betray brother, and the father his child
”.’ Carrie laughed again, the sound bubbling harshly from between set lips. ‘You see, Father, I too can quote the Scriptures. I know them as well as you do. I learned them while waiting for you in Chapel, learned them in the room you took me to after the congregration had left. I listened and I did as I was told because I believed what you said, but the words you spoke did not come from God, did they Father? They were your words, spoken to hide the evil you did . . .’

‘Carrie . . . Carrie, child! There was no wrong . . .’

‘No wrong?’ Her voice rising, Carrie slashed at the hand that reached out to her. ‘
“Thou shalt not commit adultery”.
You told my mother that, but what of yourself, Father? What of your own adultery? Isn’t that what it is . . . or is there some other term for lying with your own child?’

‘Carrie.’ His wounded hand dripping blood on to the pegged rug, Caleb’s eyes swung wildly from one horror-stricken face to the other. ‘She . . . she doesn’t know what she is saying. Mary – Mary, my dear, the girl is ill, sick in the mind.’

‘Not me.’ Carrie stepped clear as Emma tried to hold her. ‘I’m not the one who’s sick, you are. Caleb Price, the preacher man! Spouting the Bible while he rapes his own daughter. Quoting the word of God while he walks with the Devil.’

‘That is an evil thing to say, girl.’ Caleb drew himself up, eyes piercing, brows downdrawn, his good hand still holding his lapel in his most formidable sermonising attitude. ‘Remember the teaching of your Sunday school.
“The man who curses his father or his mother must suffer death!”
’

In the lamplight Carrie’s face was sickly pale, only her eyes as they stared at Caleb held any life.

‘So be it, Father,’ she whispered. ‘I curse you. May you be given no peace in this life nor find rest in the next. May the God you preach reject you, may you suffer the torture of the hell you damned me to!’

Bringing the knife streaking downward, Carrie plunged it into her own breast.

Chapter Six

‘Carrie . . . Carrie, my baby, my little girl.’

Mary’s stunned whisper was drowned by Emma’s scream as she ran to her sister lying slumped on the floor.