The Other Cathy (33 page)

It had been disconcerting for Emma to learn from the Hardakers’ lawyer that all Randolph’s worldly goods had been
bequeathed to her. In his will he had not disclosed their true relationship, but had left his property to be divided equally
between his daughter Cathy and his niece Emma, with the
proviso that should Cathy predecease him, then everything
was to go to Emma. This meant the house, Randolph’s in
vestments, and his majority holding in the Brackle Valley
Mill. But Emma wanted none of it, and had gone running in
panic to Matthew to tell him so.

‘
I couldn’t touch a single penny,’ she insisted. ‘To me it’s
tainted money. What shall I do, Matthew?’

He smiled at her, understanding how she felt. ‘Give it away then, my dearest, I have plenty for us both. Who shall be the lucky recipient?’

She stared at him, bewildered by the direction her own
thoughts were taking.

‘Would you – would you think I had lost my reason if I suggested giving it to Aunt Chloe and Aunt Jane?’

His eyes crinkled in the way she loved to see, because at
such moments the sadness and bitterness which still lurked
there sometimes was completely wiped away. Matthew was learning to laugh again, a lesson Emma felt she herself still had
to learn.

‘I presume,’ he suggested teasingly, ‘you feel you owe so
much to those two aunts of yours?’

‘I wouldn’t want to see Aunt Chloe turned out of her home.
And Aunt Jane will be in want of a home now that Bernard
is taking over the practice. They could live together at Brackle
garth Hall. As for the mill, a manager will have to be ap
pointed to run it. If Blanche’s Cedric ever wants to enter the
firm, it will be something for them all to sort out between
them. Thank heaven it is not a matter I shall ever be called
upon to decide.’

Emma told the two sisters separately of her decision. First
Chloe, at breakfast the next day, while the autumn rain
slashed against the window panes. Chloe heard her out in silence, and when at last she spoke it was in a very subdued
voice.

‘What can I say? I – I do not deserve such magnanimity.’

Emma shook her head. ‘I cannot hold you responsible for
Uncle Ran – for your brother’s actions, Aunt Chloe. You are
in no way to blame for all that has happened.’

‘Oh, but I am, child, may God forgive me! Not for what
Randolph did – I knew nothing of that – I never had the
smallest suspicion. But there is something else for which I
was gravely at fault. I must confess to you now, Emma, I can
not bear the burden of it any longer. It was I who persuaded
Hugh to register the Condensing Engine patent in his name.
He would never have done so, but for me.’

‘
Aunt Chloe! But why? What possible reason could
you have had?’

The muscles of Chloe’s face were working. A single tear squeezed out and trickled down her cheek.

‘Because I hated Arnold Sutcliffe! This was a way to get
even with him, after he was dead.’

Emma stared at her aunt, incredulous. ‘You carried your hatred all those years, just because he married another girl?’

‘So Jane’s been talking to you!’ she snapped, with a flash
of the acidity that was habitual to her.

Chloe closed her eyes and instantly the stabbing images were there to torture her again. The two startled faces, the
naked limbs entwined on the hay in the old cruck barn; then
her eyelids fluttered open, and her brief defiance crumbled as
she gazed beseechingly at Emma.

‘Will you believe me when I say that although I always hated Arnold Sutcliffe and felt that for the cruel way he had scorned me, his son’s transportation was a just and proper
retribution, I never for one moment doubted that Matthew Sutcliffe had killed Hugh. If I had not sincerely believed him
to be guilty of this crime, I would have spoken out.’ Her
fingernails clawed at the white damask tablecloth. ‘And now
you will want to change your mind, Emma, and instead cast
me from this house – as is your right, since Randolph named
you his sole beneficiary.’

For an instant, contemplating the long sequence of misery
and suffering that Chloe had set in train by denying Arnold
Sutcliffe the rightful credit for his invention, Emma won
dered if she would be acting with wanton generosity. But no,
the obligations of kinship were strong enough to survive even this astounding confession.

Jane too had a confession to make, it emerged later that
morning when Emma called at High Banks. While she was
still divesting herself of her wet cloak, Jane took a leather
pouch from a drawer of the omnium.

‘Here, child, this is your property.’

Emma recognised the pouch at once. ‘So it was you who
broke open my mother’s deed box, Aunt Jane!’

‘Yes, it was I! And I am truly sorry for it. But you see,
Emma, when I heard Chloe mention that you were planning to
go through your parents’ papers hoping to find a clue about
your father’s death – about Hugh’s death, I was terrified. God
forgive me, but I had believed all those years that your Uncle Paget was responsible. He and Hugh had quarrelled bitterly –
did you know that – about the need for safety precautions at
the mill. The morning after Hugh was killed Paget behaved so
oddly! And after that he began drinking.’ She touched her
eyes with her black crape handkerchief. ‘Poor unhappy man, if only I had known! In agreeing to protect Randolph, my
husband ruined his professional career and brought tragedy
to both our lives when poor darling little Annabella died.
Loyalty to my brother should not have gone so far.’

It was a version of the truth that, from kindness, Emma had allowed her aunt to believe. Nothing was to be gained from telling Jane the whole story and explaining precisely why Randolph had been able to enforce Paget Eade’s cooperation. Apart from Matthew, Emma had told no one that Paget was a bigamist. Similarly, she had not revealed the entire truth con
cerning the reason for the brothers’ quarrel that night at the mill, which had culminated in Hugh’s death. It had been
necessary, in order to clear Matthew’s name, for Emma to disclose a great deal of what she had learned from Randolph
Hardaker’s own lips, but she and Matthew had agreed that
this final revelation should be withheld. Emma shrank from letting it become public knowledge that she was Randolph’s daughter.

Leaving the matter of Jane’s confession, Emma went on to explain why she had come.

‘But you cannot do this, child!’ her aunt protested in astonishment. ‘Randolph’s intention was for
you
to have his property and wealth.’

‘And that’s precisely why I cannot keep it. Don’t you see?’

Beneath her black mourning cap Jane’s smooth round face was puckered in a frown. ‘Does Matthew approve of your in
tention? It would be some recompense for what you and he
have suffered at Randolph’s hands.’

‘Then let it be recompense to you, Aunt Jane. He made you suffer, too.’

And so a legal agreement had been drawn up, and was
signed by all three participants only yesterday.

Emma turned her gaze from Black Scar Rocks and shook
the reins, urging her mare forward. With a sudden pang, she said, ‘Oh, Kirstie dear, this is the last time we shall ever ride
together. But never mind, you’ll be happy with Bernard, and
I know you’ll serve him well. I wish I could take you with me
to Australia, but that’s not possible.’

Australia! Her initial reaction, when Matthew had first
broached his plan, was sheer disbelief.

‘But surely it must be the last place on earth you’d want to live, Matthew, after all you suffered there.’

‘The Australia of convicts is disappearing, Emma, and
something new and vital is emerging. Let us be part of it. If
you remember, I had a profession before it was so rudely
interrupted. I know about building railways, and Australia is crying out for them.’

‘Then we go to Australia.’

‘Do not agree, my love, merely because I say so. It must be
what you want, too.’

She shook her head at his male obtuseness. ‘Be assured it
is precisely what I want.’

Emma could see Matthew now, a little distance off, coming
from the direction of Oakroyd House. She had not realised
she had dallied so long, lost in thought. Now they would arrive together at Ursly’s cottage to say their farewells to the
old woman. She turned Kirstie towards him. Matthew leaned
from his saddle to kiss her and they lingered a moment, hands
clasped.

From Ursly’s cottage a wisp of smoke rose into the crisp, chill air. It was Seth’s day off and he stood waiting for them
in the doorway. As they dismounted and hitched their horses
to the old tenter frames, Emma noticed that the boy’s dark
gypsy eyes were glistening with tears.

‘What is it, Seth?’ she asked, hurrying forward in sudden
anxiety.

He made a helpless little gesture, motioning them to enter. In the dimness Emma saw Ursly seated in her ladder-back
chair beside the fire. For the first time Emma could remem
ber, her restless fingers were still.

‘Ursly, are you ill?’ Emma dropped to her knees, taking one
of the blue-veined hands in hers. But it was cold to her touch. Shocked, she glanced up at Matthew.

‘I – I think she is —’

‘Aye, Gran’mer is dead, Miss Emma!’ The lad’s voice
shook with grief. ‘An hour gone, or more. For me, she did it, and she shouldn’ have. She telled me agin when I got here
this morning that I were to go off with thee an’ Mr Sutcliffe
tomorrow an’ not wait for her to die, an’ I said I never would leave her. Never! Then she said happen I would, any road,
an’ she telled me to go an’ spread fresh bracken in t’shippon for the goat’s bedding. When I come back inside, she were
gone – just like tha sees her now.’

Emma remained where she was on her knees. A mistiness had
risen before her eyes, but her other senses seemed acutely
tuned. She could have sworn she heard Ursly’s voice, hardly more than a sigh, yet clear as the chime of a distant bell.

‘Seth can go wi’ thee now! Tak’ good care o’ t’lad ... for
my little Cathy’s sake.’

The veil of mist dispersed and Emma stared into Ursly’s
face, shrivelled and lined and incredibly old – almost as old,
she thought, as the timeless moor itself.

‘Emma, are you all right?’ asked Matthew, and she nodded
quickly.

‘Just for a moment, I thought —’ But how could she begin
to explain?

Getting to her feet, she became briskly practical about the things that had to be done.

Emma could not remain indoors while she waited for Mat
thew to fetch her. Dressed ready for the journey, her luggage dispatched in advance, she paced the shrubbery walk alone.
They had delayed their departure from the West Riding in
order to see Ursly laid to rest in a grave beside Cathy’s. There was little else to be done. The old woman’s few humble pos
sessions were soon disposed of; her goat, her cat, and her
jackdaw found good homes.

When the carriage arrived, Seth was sitting up beside the
driver looking proud in a new suit. Matthew descended and
took Emma’s small travelling bag from her.

‘All ready, my darling?’ he asked.

‘Quite ready! I have said my goodbyes, so let us go at
once.’

He handed her into the carriage and took his place beside
her. At the parlour window a net curtain twitched aside and
she saw Chloe and Jane giving them a final wave. She lifted her gloved hand, and Matthew raised his hat.

As they took the valley road on the way to the railway station, Emma gazed up at the great gritstone ridge that dominated the moor, the Abraham Stone hidden now by a
wisp of sun-glided cloud. In these last moments her thoughts
turned again to Cathy. Death had finally exorcised the phan
tom of
her
Heathcliff. For young Seth there would be no
torment of hell to endure, no fevered haunting from the grave
by Cathy’s ghost, just tender memories of a sweet, dying girl
who had innocently loved him. And if Cathy’s spirit did
sometimes wander the silent moor, then unlike the anguish
of that other Cathy, her thoughts would surely be untroubled, untormented, contentedly at peace.

Emma felt Matthew’s fingers grip hers and turned to smile
at him; but she didn’t speak, choked by the thickness of tears
in her throat. Above the creaking of the carriage wheels she could hear a soft wind breathing down from the moorland heights. It might have been the singing of a happy child.

Copyright © 1978 by Nancy Buckingham

Originally published by Eyre Methuen

Electronically published in 2015 by Belgrave House

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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