The Other Cathy (20 page)

Upstairs in her room she stood at the window, staring out with unseeing eyes. She was in the grip of such terror as she
had never known before. Last night, out there in the darkness, a man had been viciously struck down, bludgeoned to death. And only hours earlier she had seen Matthew with him, talk
ing and arguing vehemently. Matthew Sutcliffe, who years
ago was convicted of a similar bestial crime against her father. If anyone else had seen them together as she had done, the
conclusion would be inevitable. Matthew would be arrested and charged with murder, condemned in people’s minds be
fore he was ever brought to trial. But she herself would not
tell. She couldn’t! At least she would first hear Matthew’s
own account of what she had witnessed. But how was she to
do so when she was virtually forbidden to communicate with
him? Suddenly Emma knew she was going to disobey her
aunt. She would send a message to Matthew, by Seth, asking
him to meet her. It was easy to make the decision, less easy
to compose the words. She was lost in thought for some time
before finally sitting down at the little rosewood writing table
that had been her mother’s, and penning the note.

I must talk with you, urgently. If you expect me to be
lieve in your innocence, you must be completely frank with
me, telling me everything. If you are not, then I cannot
help you. I shall ride today by Black Scar Rocks. Meet me there at three o’clock. E.H.

She sealed it and went across to the stables, where Seth was
sweeping the yard with a long-handled besom.

‘I’m asking another favour of you,’ she said. ‘I want this
delivered as quickly as possible to Mr Sutcliffe. Since Joseph
has come back to work this morning, it won’t be too difficult for you to get away, will it?’

He took the letter and slipped it inside his jacket. ‘Aye, I’ll see to it, miss. Rely on’t.’

Emma returned indoors telling herself she must try her
best to behave normally, as if there was nothing to cause her
this searing anguish. Unfortunately, Nelly had let slip to
Cathy the news about the pedlar’s death and her cousin
could talk of nothing else. It came as a relief when the door
was thrown open and Randolph looked in.

‘Hallo, uncle. I thought you’d be at the mill. Didn’t you go
back after breakfast?’

His face was grim. ‘I had to come back to fetch something. Never mind about that, though. I want a word with
you, Emma. At once!’

Apprehensively, she followed him to his study where he
turned and glared at her, his eyes like flints beneath his heavy
brows. Then his hand shot out and he stabbed a finger at a
sheet of paper lying on the desk.

‘What the devil is the meaning of this?’

To her horror Emma recognised her own note to Matthew. She remained silent, shrivelled with misery.

‘I asked you a question, girl! Your aunt tells me that only
yesterday she had to warn you against Sutcliffe, yet this morn
ing you blatantly defy her and write to the man. A most im
proper note, too! You’d better explain yourself.’

‘Uncle, there is nothing improper —’

‘Nothing improper in making a secret assignation, and using a servant to convey it? The lad will have to go, of
course. When I challenged him – fortunately I spotted what
you were up to from the window – he had the insolence to
deny it. But finally I forced him to confess, and I further
learned that this was not the first time, either.’

‘Oh, please. Uncle Randolph, you mustn’t dismiss Seth.
He’s not to blame. I asked him to do me a favour, he didn’t intend any harm.’

‘He knew damned well he was doing wrong. No question
about it, he’ll have to go.’

‘
But Seth’s only a young lad,’ Emma protested, then
plunged on beseechingly, ‘Cathy will be heartbroken if he
goes.’

‘Cathy? What is he to Cathy?’

‘You know they were playmates as children, uncle. And
ever since ... well, Cathy’s had a special feeling for Seth.
Having him around the place, just seeing him from a window
sometimes, means a great deal to her. It’s a reminder of
happier days, when she could get out and about herself.’

‘Hmm! Well, I suppose the lad can stay if it matters that
much to her. But this alters nothing I’ve said to you.’ He
moved to rest one hand on the marble mantelshelf and stood
looking at her thoughtfully, his expression a trifle more kindly.
‘My dear Emma, this fellow Sutcliffe is using you, can’t you
see that? To have Hugh Hardaker’s daughter on his side
must be a real triumph for him. You have a kind and sym
pathetic nature, lass, and he has played on that for his own
ends. Why else do you imagine he has fostered this – this ac
quaintanceship between you?’

Emma closed her eyes against the prick of tears, and
lowered her head.

‘I regret my decision to meet Sutcliffe on social terms,’ Randolph admitted, ‘although I never for a moment anticipated this outcome. Having successfully wheedled his way
into our family circle, the wretched man is making up to your Aunt Blanche as well as you.’

‘What – what do you mean?’

‘He’s been seen calling there on several occasions, leaving
the house late in the evening. Not that Blanche has tried to
make any secret of it – why should she? I might as well speak
plainly, Emma, you are old enough to understand these
things. Being widowed isn’t all roses for a woman, and your
aunt would welcome the opportunity of getting wed again.
But she’s forty years old now, and though she has kept her
looks she’s in no position to pick and choose. For all his disadvantages, Sutcliffe would likely suit Blanche very handsomely. In my opinion it’s quite on the cards that they’ll make
a match of it.’

Emma felt dizzy, experiencing a sensation that the solid
oak floor boards were buckling beneath her feet. It was be
yond her power to hide her dismay, and she clutched at the
back of a chair and lowered herself into the seat.

‘There lass, it’s come as a shock to you,’ Randolph said
sympathetically. ‘And no wonder! Still, now that I’ve ex
plained how things stand, you can stop worrying about Sut
cliffe. Banish the fellow from your mind.’

There was a decanter of madeira on the chiffonier and
Randolph splashed some into two glasses, putting one into
Emma’s hand.

‘Sip a little of that, lass, it’ll make you feel better.’ He
drank, savouring the wine, before continuing in a voice that
was not quite steady, ‘I’ve something else to say to you, on a
different matter. It’s about Cathy. I fear she is going downhill
fast. But the other day I was talking to a cloth merchant from
London, and he was full of praise of these clinics in Bavaria
where they treat the consumption. Seemingly, they can
achieve a great deal. I thought it would be worth trying ...
anything
that might prolong the poor child’s life would be
worth trying.’

Through the tall window Emma could see a line of men
emerging from the mill, humping on their shoulders a long length of newly-woven cloth, wet and heavy from the scouring tub. Weighed down with their burden, they commenced
their curious shuffling progress towards the hillside field where
the tenter frames were set up in parallel rows for the next stage, the drying and stretching. It was a commonplace sight
to Emma, yet she stared at the ‘Chinese wedding’ procession
as if seeing it for the first time.

‘I’ve mentioned this sanatorium idea to your Uncle Paget,’
Randolph was saying, ‘and he’s inclined to the same opinion
as me.’

Emma, trying desperately to channel her bruised thoughts,
felt pity for her uncle, Cathy’s father. She replied sensibly,
‘What does Bernard think? He’s Cathy’s doctor.’

‘Well, naturally, I shall have to discuss it with Bernard.
But he’ll agree with Paget.’

* * *

Dr Mottram, however, did not agree with his senior partner.
On the contrary, he was utterly opposed to the idea.

‘If I thought it would achieve the smallest gain, Mr Hardaker, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it,’ he said. ‘But the disease is too far advanced, alas; your daughter’s lungs are
riddled with cavities. Even if all further erosion could be
arrested, I fear it is already too late to save her life.’

Paget Eade was oddly diffident. ‘But might it not keep the
dear girl with us for a little longer? Under the ideal condi
tions of a sanatorium, her chances would surely be a little im
proved?’

Bernard shook his head regretfully. ‘In my judgment it
would do more harm than good to move her from her home
and family. Even when I suggested to Cathy, some time ago
now, that a few weeks by the sea would be beneficial, she grew
agitated.’

There was further discussion, but Bernard remained ob
durate. In the end, he proposed a compromise, offering to
escort his young patient to York to consult a prominent physician who specialised in the field. If Sir Charles Grierson expressed the opinion that a stay in a sanatorium would benefit
Cathy, Bernard would give his wholehearted support to the
plan. The arrangements were hurriedly made and in three days Emma accompanied Cathy and Bernard in a reserved
first-class compartment, bound for York. Cathy had been told
that Sir Charles was to be consulted about a possible new
treatment. The question of being sent away from home was
not mentioned to her.

Preparing for the journey, Emma had done her best to keep
up Cathy’s spirits, while the whole time her personal worry
had haunted her, not allowing her a moment’s respite. How
long would it be, she wondered despondently, before she
could see Matthew and hear his explanation of the meeting
with Johnny Gone-tomorrow? She willed him to tell her he
had nothing to do with the crime, that there was a simple
reason for the meeting ... but Emma could not think of any.
And if Matthew did protest his innocence, could she believe
him?

Although York was scarcely forty miles as the crow would
fly, it was a tedious journey necessitating a change at Leeds
and by the time they reached the ancient city the afternoon
was well advanced and Cathy was tired out. A hired carriage
took them at once to their hotel in Petergate, in the shadows
of the gothic-towered minster and accessible to the doctor’s
consulting rooms in Parliament Street. The rooms reserved
for them included a spacious bedchamber for the two girls, a
smaller one for Bernard, and a sitting room. While Cathy rested, Emma ordered supper to be served at six o’clock in
their rooms, and in due course Cathy toyed with some rabbit
stewed in milk, then Emma helped her to undress and she
retired thankfully to bed. Bernard and Emma sat talking
next door,
within call.

‘If by some unexpected chance Sir Charles recommends a
stay in a sanatorium,’ said Bernard, ‘then you’ll be away with
Cathy for many months. I should miss you, Emma, though
naturally I would accept the situation gladly, for Cathy’s sake.’

Emma felt it better to make no comment, but unfortunately Bernard took her silence as encouragement.

‘
We have to face the fact – you’ve faced it already, I be
lieve – that Cathy cannot cling to life for very much longer.
When that sad time comes, and you are free—’ he paused significantly, then went on, ‘I am only a junior partner in the
practice and my income is relatively small, but I believe my
expectations are sound. Would you ... can I hope that you
will wait for me?’

Much distressed, Emma said, ‘Please – do not speak of
that.’

‘It seems heartless, I know, at such a moment. But it goes
without saying that each and every one of us will do all that
is possible for Cathy. We cannot close our eyes to the inevit
able, however, and I would never forgive myself if I found I
had lost you through not intimating soon enough what is in
my mind.’

‘Please don’t! It isn’t that I’m not fond of you, Bernard –
I have the highest regard for you. But – but I could never con
template —’

‘I ask your pardon,’ he said contritely. ‘I had no right to
broach the matter now, at such an anxious time.’

‘Now or any other time, it would make no difference. You
see, mere fondness – fondness and high regard – these are
not enough. Not for me.’

Bernard sat in silence, his fingers plucking nervously at the
fringed chenille cloth which draped the circular table.

‘Living as I do with Dr and Mrs Eade,’ he began slowly,
‘I often hear things mentioned between them. They some
times forget I am not a member of your family. Just lately,
I have been greatly troubled to hear your name linked with
that of Matthew Sutcliffe.’