Burnt Norton (14 page)

The house seemed a barren, dismal place. Dorothy, for all of her antagonism, enlivened the house with her energy, and Ann warmed it with her kindness. He went to the bookcase to retrieve his diary. Finding it moved yet again, he smiled sadly. Dorothy had always found the temptation impossible to resist.

He craved a drink, but alcohol had ruined him. He resolved to put it behind him for good.

Elizabeth remained at Norton. She had put her trust in her father, and in return, he would dedicate his life to her. In the small silent room he vowed to God that he would never hurt her, that he would always protect her. He would no longer use John’s death as an excuse for his behaviour.

For the next hour he wrote in his diary. He examined his obsession for Molly, and he didn’t exonerate his actions.

The drink was a cancer, destroying any rational thought. This devil from without became the devil within.

Just before putting down his pen he wrote a final line.
If I ever have the chance to earn the forgiveness of Molly Johnson, I will earn it a thousandfold.

Closing the door to his study, he went to find Elizabeth. He would tell her about Molly and accept her judgement. He would also prove that he could change, and any suffering that he had caused was in the past. Then they could look to a brighter future.

‘Lord, what’s this? If it ain’t my Molly! But what are these tears?’ Her mother sat on her bed and scooped the girl into her arms.

‘Oh Ma,’ Molly cried, enclosed in her embrace at last.

‘It’s a bad do, girl, a bad do. I knew trouble would come, but I prayed and I hoped.’

‘Forgive me, Ma. I’ve brought shame on your house.’ She buried her face in the ample chest.

‘You’ve done no such thing; it’s the rich buggers, Lord forgive my foul tongue. They think they have a right over us simple folk. But you mark my words, my love, what goes around comes around.’

‘What about Da? He wanted me to do well, to improve myself. He’ll kill me.’

‘He might like to, love, but he’ll have to kill me first. I’ll deal with him. He should have listened to me, the silly old fool. He was taken with it all, flattered. There’s a divide, and you can’t cross it.’

‘I never wanted to.’

It was only a small lie.

‘Molly Agnes Johnson, get down here this minute!’

When she heard her father’s voice coming up the stairs she sighed. She stood in front of him, emptiness washing over her as she waited for the onslaught. ‘Do you know the humiliation you have brought us, the disgrace to our good name? You have dishonoured this house and all who live here. Couldn’t keep your legs shut, eh?’

‘Father, it wasn’t like that! He took advantage of me.’

‘If you are saying he raped you, there’s no rape without encouragement.’

She looked at her father dispassionately. She had once idolized this huge man. Now she realized her childhood hero had feet of clay.

It wasn’t the return of the prodigal son, but amongst the misery there was a degree of pleasure. Will came home from school, taller, stronger. He rushed up the stairs towards her.

‘You’re back! Oh, Molly, I’ve missed you. Ma thought I’d had it last year, coughed my lungs out, but it didn’t finish me. I had to see you.’

She hugged him, put her arms around him. ‘I’ve missed you too, Will, so much.’

‘Tell me, what was it like? Were they nice to you?’

‘They were,’ she answered. ‘Lady Keyt and Miss Elizabeth were generous and warm-hearted, and Thomas—’ She stopped, her personal thoughts too painful to express.

‘Then why are you home?’

‘It’s hard to explain, but Sir William was not kind, and he hurt me.’

‘I’ll kill him, then.’

They laughed.

‘You’re too big to share the bed with me now; it will have to be one of the girls.’

‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ he protested. ‘You’ll not send me to another room.’

Molly tied sacking between the beds, but she might as well not have, for that night with the curtain tied back and their faces together, they talked and laughed and cried a little, and Molly’s wounds started to heal.

‘I’m going to be a lawyer, an educated man. We can move up, you know – not into their class, but we can make a new one of our own.’

‘You will be my lawyer if I can afford you. When you are famous you can look after your big sister.’

‘For you, Miss Johnson, I’ll waive my fee.’

Molly pulled the poem from beneath her pillow. She gave it to her brother.

‘Please could you read this to me?’

‘What is it?’

‘Just something I found, but I would like to know what it says.’

‘You’ve pieced it together. Did you really find it, or is it something special?’

Molly remembered the night she had torn it in half.

‘Get on with it, don’t be so nosy.’ They laughed again and he read it to her, his voice clear and tutored.

When he finished he handed it back to her.

‘What does it mean?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, her tears falling. ‘I think it means that I was once loved, but it’s all too late now.’

‘Then, he’s an idiot. I will always love you, no matter what.’

As the weeks turned into months, a routine was established at the Charter House. Molly did the household chores, mended as before, minded the girls and helped her mother. Sometimes, as she sat in the window gazing into the yard below, she would think of Norton, of the wide-open spaces, and the flowers, she would remember the silks and the satins and the opportunities missed. The first time she was ordered below she went reluctantly.

‘I’m short-staffed,’ her father had chided her, ‘so don’t go thinking anything else.’

What should I think? she wondered wretchedly as she crossed the room. She could feel eyes staring into her back. Customers’ knowing eyes.

‘So?’ Dan Leggat’s arm shot out and stopped her in her tracks. ‘You’re back then. Missed your chance, didn’t you?’ He was sitting in one of the high-sided pews. He made to grab her, but Molly stepped sideways. His thick tongue lolled from his mouth and dribble slipped from his lips. Dan Leggat was more odious than before. Molly turned and fled, but not before she had seen his obscene gesture.

Upstairs in her room she wept into her pillow. She was condemned whichever way she turned. Her mother tried to comfort her but as far as Molly was concerned her life was over.

The coach clattered over the cobbled streets of Old Town and into College Lane. Opposite the church of the Holy Trinity, the under-coachman from Norton carefully negotiated a turn through narrow gates and into a driveway. Dorothy stared from the window. Stratford had been bustling; people enjoying the Christmas festivities.
It was so unfair
. By the time they drew up in the courtyard of a large medieval house she had made up her mind to be utterly miserable. A footman ran from the side entrance to collect the luggage. She watched him dispassionately as he unstrapped the trunks, then following her mother she stepped down and walked towards the front door. Weeds sprang though the gravel, and bare roses, blue with disease, clung limply to the walls.

‘This is the Great Hall,’ Lady Keyt said, climbing the steps cautiously, ‘and this,’ she said, pointing to the green slabs beneath her feet in an effort to amuse her daughter, ‘is moss.’ She stopped at the top step and took Dorothy’s hand. ‘Don’t be sad, Dotty, it’s been a horrible time, but we will make this work, I promise.’

She looked at the wing facing the river. The four gables housed the library, the Great Hall, and the winter sitting room. When she had come to The College shortly after her marriage, the estate had flourished. It had been filled with servants who maintained it with devotion, and a constant stream of friends who had come to visit the young and happy couple. Now the friends had gone, the house and gardens looked unkempt, and the dejected child at her side was to be her main source of company. She tried to shake off her feelings of self-pity and chatted to her daughter as if unaware of her silence. ‘Look at the fine specimen trees planted by your Clopton ancestors. And the river, do you see how close it is? We have a boat; it used to leak, but I shall have it restored.’ With only the occasional frown from Dorothy, she gave up trying to be positive and sighed. ‘I’m sorry, I know it’s Christmas, but it’s miserable for me too. The College was our first home together. Your father and I were happy here; your sister was born here.’ She shook her head. ‘Now I will have to find something worthy to take up my time.’

The solution to her problem presented itself shortly after Christmas. As prayer was her only consolation she spent much of the religious holiday in church, praying for the soul of her departed son, for her sick daughter and for her foolish husband. After many hours on her knees, an idea came to her with divine clarity. She would open a school. The College had been built for the habitation of priests; they, in turn, had taught and assisted the community. The house could serve a similar purpose once more.

‘I shall give some of the illiterate children of our parish the chance to read. Will you help me, Dorothy?’ she said as they sat down to lunch in the dining room. Dorothy looked up – she could see the excitement in her mother’s face and for the first time in days she smiled.

‘Of course I will, Mama.’

Over the next few weeks Dorothy helped her set up a classroom within the house and, with Sir William’s consent, forty desks and chairs were made at Norton. When they arrived at Stratford in the estate cart, a feeling of renewal brightened the house. Every morning the children came, and from ten o’clock until two, Lady Keyt with the help of her daughter taught the rudiments of writing and arithmetic.

Dorothy added another class to the curriculum: geography. She brought down her nursery globe, and with Miss Byrne’s voice echoing in her ears, she took the children on a voyage of discovery.

With the inconstancy of youth, she forgot her sorrows. Thomas, the future baronet, was in great demand socially, and as his popularity in the local community increased, so did his visits to The College. In the evenings, they went to balls and social gatherings, concerts and dancing classes. Elizabeth came for her weekly visits as she had promised, brought by Lorenzo.

Life, Dorothy thought, was getting better.

‘The coachman is here,’ Molly’s mother called. ‘Good luck, God bless. I won’t see you off, my duck, it’s too painful. But you remember, hold that pretty head up and make them treat you right, promise me?’

‘I promise, Ma. I’ll do my best.’

Molly was returning to Norton; her father had summoned her only the week before. She had been cleaning the grate in the best bedroom when she heard his angry voice.

‘Molly, get here this minute! In the parlour, now!’

She stood up, stretched her aching back, and wiped her reddened hands. ‘What is it, Father?’

He shook a letter in front of her face, a thick envelope marked with the Keyt crest.

‘You’ve been back at the Charter House for months now, yet I still worry every time the post comes. Will I always be punished for my daughter’s behaviour?’

His hands ripped at the envelope. Molly waited for the rage, but a grin spread over his face.

‘Good Lord in his mercy. He wants you back. Go, Molly. Go this instant, clean yourself up and pack your belongings.’

‘I can’t go back.’

‘Don’t look at me like that. You’re nothing but trouble.’

‘Don’t you love me any more? Once upon a time I was your special girl,’ she asked sadly.

‘You ruined that when you spread your legs, so do as I bid or it’s the workhouse for you.’ Molly’s shoulders sank; she was still one of his bloody pigs, sent off to slaughter.

‘Ma, help me! I won’t go back.’

‘Darling Molly, you have to go. There’s naught for you here. No local man worth his salt will take you now. News travels fast.’

‘Please, Ma.’ She threw her arms around her neck. ‘Don’t make me go, not this time.’

‘Look now, you have a big heart. Think of it this way: that poor young cripple needs you; she wants you back. Your father told me that it’s her wish, not only his. I am afraid we do what our betters tell us. Do you want to be emptying slops for the rest of your days?’ She picked up her daughter’s chin, and looked deep into the tawny eyes. ‘I’m sorry, child, but your sweet beauty is also your downfall. Go, my lovely girl, and make a good life for yourself.’

Her sisters tugged at her cotton dress, pulling her back to the present. ‘Molly, can we work in the big house when we grow up?’

Will stared at her with a face full of hurt and confusion.

‘But why, Molly, when you hate him?’

‘I have no option. Da says I’m no use to anybody, and Mother says that something good may come of it, though I can’t think what.’

‘What about me? I’ll miss you so much.’

‘I know, love, but I’ll learn to write, I really will, and then I can send you letters. In the meantime, make sure you work hard, for you’re going to be a lawyer and a fine gentleman.’

They clung together once more, and though she ached inside she knew that there are some who had choices and some who did not.

Molly tucked her feet beneath her on the velvet cushions and drew back the curtains. The mud had given way to the freshness of early summer. The sky outside was a crisp blue, and the trees were the brightest green. With the world bursting with God’s beauty, it was hard to feel miserable for long.

After a stop in Clifford Chambers the carriage drove through the gates of Norton, the horses trotting briskly along the newly finished driveway. The fencing was repaired, the crops were sown, and in the walk-round, fat lambs jumped in the air, all feet off the ground together. Molly’s spirits rose.

They pulled into the courtyard and Lorenzo jumped down.

‘So I bring your bag to the door.’ He almost smiled, and she thanked him, and less than a year after being sent home she walked towards the servants’ entrance once more.

‘Miss Johnson, you have arrived. Would you please follow me?’

It was a new butler, polite and courteous. He led her to the drawing room, where Sir William waited for her.