The Other Cathy (24 page)

Cathy, at least, was undisturbed by the night’s alarms, that
was one blessing. When Emma had taken the chance to slip upstairs to relieve Nelly, dreading to find Cathy awake and demanding a full explanation, she was sleeping peacefully.

Emma had stood a while gazing down at her, reflecting upon
the dreams that brought such a tender smile to her face.
Heathcliff, of course – or Seth. They seemed to have become
blurred and interchangeable in Cathy’s fanciful mind,

Emma returned downstairs, and as the vigil continued, it
was very quiet in the drawing room; the only sounds were the rustle of Chloe’s taffeta skirt as she paced the floor and Jane’s
erratic breathing, and outside the incessant whisper of falling
rain. And then, from far off, Emma heard the crackle of gun
shots. She guessed it was a pre-arranged signal, but what did
it mean?

Jane’s head jerked up from the cushions. ‘What was that?
I heard a noise.’

‘It was nothing,’ Emma lied. ‘Rest yourself, Aunt Jane.’

Half an hour went by before she heard men’s voices and the
trampling of many feet on the gravel. Emma flew to the front
door and wrenched it open. Matthew and Bernard were com
ing up the portico steps, carrying Uncle Paget between them
on an improvised stretcher, while immediately behind came
Randolph, giving orders in his firm, authoritative voice.

‘Now then, clear the way! Emma, run and light the lamps
in the parlour, we’ll take him in there. Nelly, where are you,
girl? Have you got the blankets and pillows ready? And fetch
dry towels, as many as you can find. The rest of you men,
down to the kitchen, with you – warmest place in the house.
Mrs Hoad will have some hot broth on the go, and anything
else you may want.’

There was a cry of fear from the drawing room and Jane
rushed out, eyes wild and staring.

‘Is he – is my darling —’

‘He’s alive, thank God! But keep away, Jane, there’s a good
lass, while we get him out of his wet clothes and wrapped in
blankets. Then Bernard can examine him properly.’ His glance went to Chloe and Emma. ‘Look after her, will you? We’ll
call you when we’re ready.’

The three women returned to the drawing room and waited
anxiously, Jane demanding every minute to be allowed to see her husband. At last, someone knocked on the door. It was
Matthew.

‘Mrs Eade can go in now,’ he said.

Jane pushed past him, while Chloe followed with more
decorum. Emma, left alone with Matthew, asked how her
uncle was.

‘Pretty bad, I’m afraid,’ he told her. ‘Dr Mottram thinks there is little hope, but he’s likely to linger for some hours yet. We found him in Garsdale Hollow, where he’d fallen from his horse on his way back from visiting his patient. The poor
fellow’s been babbling on about his being given this chance to
wipe the slate clean. He’s half delirious, of course, and it’s hard to follow exactly what he says, but from what I can
gather it’s connected with his little daughter who died. The
cases were very similar, it appears, the same malady, both
little girls about the same age. But this one he saved, while
his own daughter he let die.’

Emma sighed. ‘Poor Uncle Paget! Aunt Jane has always
held it against him, you know. And Annabella’s death was
what started his drinking and soured their marriage.’

‘Was it?’

The odd note in Matthew’s voice made Emma stare.

‘Surely you can’t have failed to notice Uncle Paget’s con
dition on the evening you came here to dinner, and that he
and Aunt Jane were on bad terms?’

‘Oh yes, I noticed!’ Matthew seemed about to say something more, but merely added, ‘Well, I’d better get down to the kitchen and dry myself out by the fire.’

When Emma entered the parlour Jane was crouched before the sofa where her husband had been laid, clasping one of his hands and weeping silently. Chloe and Randolph, standing to
gether on the farther side, watched with grave faces, while
Bernard hovered in the background. Emma noticed that
Paget’s usually ruddy complexion was a sickly grey colour, and
the skin looked hot and dry. He was shifting restlessly and mumbling disconnected phrases which she realised had to do
with little Annabella; in the wanderings of his feverish mind
he was re-enacting the past.

Could have saved her
...if
only ... Jane knew it ... knew all the time.

His body shuddered and he tried to raise himself on his
elbows, but failed and sank back weakly. His blankly staring eyes travelled the circle of faces surrounding him without a
glimmer of recognition.

Guilt
...all
these years! What I did ... never forgive my
self ... Jane would hate me if she knew the whole truth ... hate and despise me!

‘No, my darling, I don’t hate you,’ cried Jane, throwing
herself upon him, ‘I tried to understand. You never meant it,
I know. It’s dreadful, the way bitterness eats at one’s soul and never gives one a moment’s peace.’

Bernard stepped forward and gently drew her back. ‘He
cannot hear you, Mrs Eade, and you must let him have air, you know.’

For a few moments Jane’s sobs and Paget’s hissing breath filled the room. Then his muttering began again with a new intensity.

Should never have kept silent ... but then, afterwards, too
late! Coward!

‘Poor fellow!’ said Randolph pityingly, and glanced at
Bernard. ‘Can’t you give him something to ease his distress? A sedative, perhaps.’

‘He is not in any pain, rest assured of that.’

‘The pain is in his heart!’ Jane burst out. ‘If only I could
reach through to him, to tell him he is forgiven.’ She was trembling with uncontrollable grief. Flinging back her head,
she spread her arms imploringly to heaven. ‘Please God, help
me! Let me ease the torment he is suffering and has suffered
all this long time. There must be an end to it now.’
    

Randolph went to Jane and helped her to her feet. He held
his sister to him and patted her shoulder. ‘There, there, my
dear, try to remain calm.’ Glancing at Bernard, he said, ‘You
look all in, young man. When did you last eat? At midday, I’ll be bound. Emma, take him down to the kitchen and see
he has something, some broth at least.’

Bernard was hesitant, looking at his patient, and Randolph added, ‘We’ll call you at once if there’s any change.’

‘Very well! But I’ll not be away long.’

Outside in the hall, he whispered to Emma, ‘You had better
know the true situation. There are internal injuries, and he is
also suffering from the effects of exposure. I’m afraid I don’t
expect him to last through until morning.’

‘Yes, Mr Sutcliffe told me.’

He nodded, frowning slightly at Matthew’s name. ‘It was
Sutcliffe and the two fellows he had with him who found your uncle, did he explain? Mr Hardaker organised everything with the greatest efficiency, as one would expect of him. I met the
returning searchers on my way back from the shepherd’s cot
tage, where I discovered that Dr Eade had already seen the
child safely through the crisis.’

‘Yes, thank heaven! At least poor Uncle Paget has the
solace of knowing that he saved the little girl. But he still
seems in deep distress.’

‘Believe me, Emma, he is not really conscious now. Mrs Eade is undergoing far greater distress than he.’

The kitchen was crowded with men, their wet clothes steaming as they stood around the roaring fire in the grate.
Emma allowed herself to glance briefly at Matthew, and their
eyes held in a fleeting moment of intimacy. Bernard was at
once assailed with questions, but he could only shake his head
sadly.

‘Alas, there is no hope for Dr Eade. I fear his constitution
is insufficiently robust to bring him through such an ordeal.’

There was no more broth left but Mrs Hoad cut Bernard a
plate of cold beef, while her husband drew him a glass of beer
from the keg on the dresser. He ate quickly and had almost finished when they heard a commotion of shouting voices in
the hall above, then running footsteps on the kitchen stairs.
The door was flung open by Randolph.

‘Bernard, come quickly! I think Paget’s going.’

Bernard sprang to his feet and Emma followed as he ran up to the hall. Chloe was standing in the parlour doorway,
beckoning anxiously.

‘Jane is with him,’ she whispered. ‘I thought I’d better leave
them alone.’

Inside the room, Jane was crouched over her husband, cry
ing with the most pitiful abandon. Emma gently drew her
aside so that Bernard could make an examination.

In a moment Bernard shook his head, saying, ‘I’m afraid he has already gone. He must have passed away without ever re
gaining consciousness.’

‘No, that’s not true!’ Jane protested hysterically. ‘He did
come round just at the last. He did! He said, “Forgive me,
Jane, and I shall die happy.” And I told him I willingly for
gave him for everything.’

Bernard looked astonished. He glanced at Randolph. ‘What
happened exactly, Mr Hardaker, after I left the room?’

‘There was no sign of him coming round while I was with him,’ said Randolph, ‘Jane had worked herself up into such a
state, poor lass, that I told Chloe to take her out of the room
for a bit to get hold of herself. But within a few minutes I
heard a rattling in Paget’s throat and he looked really bad. I
could see it was near the end, so I called my sisters back quickly and came down to fetch you. Poor Paget! But I’m glad he rallied enough at the end to put things right with
Jane.’

Chloe, wringing her hands and looking very pale, seemed
at a complete loss, but Randolph was Jane’s comforter. As he led his younger sister from the room, he talked to her gently, speaking of Paget with kindness and sympathy.

It was Emma who put Jane to bed in one of the spare rooms, which had been hastily aired for her; and a few minutes later Bernard came in with a sleeping draught to
settle her for the night.

* * *

In the master bedroom at High Banks Emma stood with her
two aunts, Jane and Chloe, a little back from the window,
watching as the solemn funeral
cortege
set out. The hearse
was drawn by four black-plumed geldings, six mutes bearing
crape-swathed wands in melancholy attendance. In the lead
ing carriage were Randolph Hardaker and Bernard Mottram,
the latter given an honoured place not only as Paget’s partner
but also, Jane had insisted, almost his adopted son. Following behind were four more carriages, each bearing four mourners;
in the third was Matthew, invited as the man who had found Paget on that tragic night. And lastly, in the trap a discreet
distance to the rear, the two men-servants, Hoad, who had
known Jane since her childhood, and the Eades’ groom,
Sugden.

They returned to High Banks for the funeral meats and
were gathered in Jane’s drawing room sipping a solemn glass
of sherry, when Emma found Matthew by her side. It was her first opportunity for several days to speak to him. The look in
his eyes was an unmistakable message of love, but his words
were appropriate to the grave occasion as he enquired solicitously how her aunt had been faring since her husband’s death.

‘She’s been dreadfully upset,’ Emma told him. ‘Weeping all
the time and getting worse rather than better. It doesn’t seem to have helped that Uncle Paget recovered to speak a few words to her, just before the end.’

‘He spoke to Mrs Eade?’

‘Yes, to ask her forgiveness.’

‘I wonder what he meant by that,’ said Matthew reflectively.

‘He was referring to their daughter. What else?’

Matthew glanced over his shoulder to assure himself they were not being overheard. Even so, he lowered his voice.

‘This mightn’t be the most appropriate moment, Emma, but I don’t know when we shall next have a chance to talk. The
other evening I learned something about Dr Eade that set me
thinking. You recall telling me that you believed it was grief over their
daughter’s death which started off his drinking?’

‘So it was! Everyone knows that.’

Matthew shook his head. ‘No, the drinking started earlier than the daughter’s death. It was because he was intoxicated
at the time she became ill that he misdiagnosed her
condition and allowed her to die.’

‘No, that can’t be true!’ Emma protested.

‘I assure you it is! I had it first-hand from the Eades’ groom who has been with them for many years. He was one of my
team in the search, and naturally we fell to talking about Dr
Eade, but I’m sure he didn’t realise the significance of what he was telling me.’

‘Significance? What do you mean?’

Matthew dropped his voice still lower so that she had to
listen carefully to hear him above the hubbub in the room.

‘When a man who has a reputation for being steady and
reliable – almost abstemious, in fact – suddenly takes to heavy
drinking, it can only be attributed to some deeply disturbing event in his life. In your Uncle Paget’s case, it was natural for people to assume that his dependence on alcohol began when he failed to save his daughter. But the facts are otherwise. By discreet questioning of Sugden I established the date fairly
exactly – and it coincided with the time when your father was killed.’