Saraband for Two Sisters (41 page)

He was concerned and Angelet murmured that it was nothing.

As the meal progressed he talked a great deal about what was going on. A new Parliament had met, and although many of its members had sat with that which had assembled in the previous April and was now known as the Short Parliament, there were some new members. ‘They are determined,’ said Richard, ‘to end all grievances and pull them up by the roots. This bodes ill for men like Wentworth, the Earl of Strafford, and Archbishop Laud.’

As usual he talked to me of these matters, and afterwards he said he had work to do and retired to the library.

I went to my room. Angelet was already in the Blue Room. I was excited and she was in fear. I believe that she nourished this aversion to an abnormal proportion. She admired her husband beyond all men; she was proud to be his wife; she would have been completely happy in her marriage if these nightly duties were not part of the contract.

Of course it would seem unnatural if she did not spend the night with him, for he had been away so long and would expect it.

‘What’s the matter, Angelet?’ I asked, knowing full well, and she answered: ‘I don’t know. I feel the toothache coming on.’ She looked at me appealingly, reminding me of the days of her childhood when she had been afraid of going to some part of the Priory in the dark and would make up all sorts of excuses not to go.

She does not want him, I thought. She is afraid of him. That which I long for, she fears. I had been the resourceful one in our childhood, and I felt that she was asking me now—as she often had in the past—to find a way out for her.

My heart started to beat fast as I said: ‘You must have some of the Cherry cure.’

‘It makes me so sleepy.’

‘That is what you need.’

‘Richard has only just come home.’

‘He will understand.’

Her expression lightened and she looked at me adoringly. I was once more the sister on whom she could rely.

‘I’ll give you a dose,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll tuck you in and then I’ll go down to the library to tell him. You’ll be all right tomorrow. He realizes that.’

‘Oh, Bersaba, do you think …’

My hands trembled a little as I poured out the dose.

I helped her to bed and sat with her until she slept, which was soon. She looked so happy and relaxed in sleep that my conscience was eased.

I will go to tell him, I promised myself, I will confess what I have done and tomorrow I will make plans to go home. I will explain to him that she is afraid and that she needs time to grow accustomed to what is now distasteful to her. I knew that he would understand if I could tell him.

I went to the library. He was not there.

I would find him in the bedchamber. Perhaps he had already gone to Angelet’s room to look for her, perhaps he would try to rouse her from her drugged sleep. I had promised her I would explain. So must I, but more than she realized; and then tomorrow I would make plans to leave for Cornwall, and hope that in time they would find happiness together.

I went to the bedchamber and knocked on the door. It was swiftly opened. He took my hand and drew me in.

‘Angelet,’ he said, and there was a note in his voice which I had never heard before when he said her name.

The temptation swept over me. I could impersonate her perfectly. Perhaps once more … and then I would explain. My resolutions had crumbled, but I did protest as he embraced me, realizing even as I did so that that would make me even more like Angelet.’

I cried: ‘I have to speak to you, Richard.’

‘Later,’ he murmured. ‘There will be plenty of time to talk. I have been thinking of you, longing for you …’

There was that in his voice, in the touch of his hands, which moved me deeply. More than anything I wanted to please him, to comfort him, to make him happy. If Angelet had suffered from her frigidity, so must he. My love for him overwhelmed me. Why not … just for tonight. Then I would go away. And so it was.

He gave no sign that he knew I was not my sister.

I was awakened by strange noises. I started up, horror dawning on me. I was in the four-poster bed and Richard was beside me.

I could not describe the noise, but I knew that someone was in the room. I heard a crash as though a stool were being thrown, and there was wild demonical laughter, followed by snarling noises such as a wild animal might make.

Richard had thrown back the curtains and was out of bed.

I followed.

He had lighted a candle and I cried out in fear, for something horrible was in the room. In those first seconds I had not thought it human; it was like something conjured up in a nightmare. But it
was
human. It was a child, with wild tousled hair and arms so long that they almost reached the ground. The body was bent forward and the creature shuffled. Its lips were loose, its eyes wild—mad, murderous eyes.

‘Cherry!’ called Richard, but Cherry was already at the door. Behind him was Mrs Cherry.

Richard had caught the creature and was holding it while its long arms lashed out in protest and it started to wail like an animal.

Mrs Cherry murmured: ‘Mercy on us. I’ll get John.’

The creature had broken free and had run to a stool. He picked it up but Richard was there before it could crash through the mirror.

The struggle went on, but it was all that both Richard and Cherry could do to hold those thrashing arms.

A man came in. I knew he was Strawberry John because Angelet had mentioned him once and he was immediately recognizable by the scar on his face.

‘Now come, my boy,’ said John. ‘Now come, my friend. John’s here.’

The arms stopped thrashing and John seized them suddenly from behind, pinioning the writhing body.

‘Now it doesn’t hurt if you’re still. You know that. Only if you struggle. Now you come with John. Now … now easy does it. That’s better.’

The writhing had ceased and the man with the scar gently but firmly led the creature away.

Mrs Cherry stood trembling in the doorway. ‘I can’t think how, sir. The bolt had been drawn. Cherry always draws it …’

‘Never mind now, Mrs Cherry,’ said Richard.

I had remained hidden in the shadows, but now the violence was over I was aware of the predicament in which I found myself. I was discovered, exposed. I kept telling myself that this was a nightmare from which I would awaken at any moment, but I knew very well it was real.

As the sounds of scuffling died away Richard shut the door and leaned against it.

I shook out my hair to hide the scars on my brow and involuntarily I covered the one on my cheek with my hand.

‘That … creature is my son,’ he said. ‘You will have to know now.’

I did not answer. I was afraid to speak because even now I was not sure whether he thought I was Angelet.

I felt there was no need for him to explain. I understood so much. This son was an idiot, a monster; he was shut in the castle with strong man Strawberry John to look after him. The Cherrys knew the secret. He was kept in the castle and the door in the kitchen was the way into that sinister place. I had unbolted the door and it had remained so, which gave this boy-monster, whatever he was, the opportunity to come into the house.

I had set the stage for my own betrayal—which I suppose is what happens to wrong-doers.

I had to think quickly. Could I really deceive him? Could I go on pretending to be Angelet? There were only the scars to betray me.

I said: ‘I understand, Richard. I understand it all.’

He came to me, then gently he lifted the hair from my forehead and kissed my scars. A great joy swept over me. There was no longer need for deception. He knew.

‘Did you think I didn’t know?’ he said. ‘Oh Bersaba, why did you do it?’

‘Because I am wicked, I suppose.’

‘Never that,’ he said. ‘Afterwards I went away. I said it must not happen again and then I came back longing for you to come to me.’

‘I thought you would hate me if you knew.’

‘I could never do anything but love you, and I shall always remember that you did this for me. Don’t you see, I shall love you for ever.’

I put my head against him and I felt suddenly weak, wanting to be taken care of.

He kissed my hair. Why had I thought he was a cold and passionless man? I knew that his love for me was as deep and overwhelming as mine for him.

‘As soon as you came into this house,’ he said stroking my hair, ‘it was clear to me that I needed you. Every minute with you is an excitement, an adventure. Why did you not come to London in place of …’

He was a man of strict conventions, a man with a sense of righteousness, and he could not bring himself to say Angelet’s name,

‘You married my sister,’ I said. ‘You must have loved her.’

‘I saw something in her. I thought she was young, fresh, healthy. I thought we might have healthy children. I know it was the shadow of you. You are so alike. Often I have watched you riding out in the gardens and I have not known which was which. It is when you talk, when we are together in love, that there is no similarity whatsoever. There is so much to say to you, I don’t know where to begin.’

He led me to the bed and we sat down on it with his arm about me while the candle flickering on the dressing-table threw an eerie light about the room.

‘First my tragedy. Let me tell you about the boy. He is eleven years old … my son … my only son. His birth killed his mother.’

‘I think I understand it all. I’ve pieced it together. You keep him in the castle and that is why you want no one to go near it.’

He nodded. ‘It became obvious that there was something very wrong with him in the first year of his life. Mrs Cherry nursed him. She insisted and she was good. I owe a great deal to the Cherrys, Jesson and his daughters. They were all here then. They know the secret and they have helped me to keep it. The other servants are old soldiers, and old soldiers don’t talk if they think it would be unwise to do so. There is a strong man—Strawberry John, he is called, because of a birthmark. He is a man who is thought to be a little strange. He is unusual, extraordinary and of great strength, as you have seen tonight. He looks after the boy and has kept him in the castle since he was three years old and began to get violent. No one can control him like Strawberry John. But Mrs Cherry and Cherry are good with him. The boy’s strength is growing. He has the arms of a gorilla and could kill with them.’

‘Can you keep him there for ever?’

‘Such people do not live very long, I have heard. I have investigated and learned something of such cases. They usually die in their mid-twenties or thirties. They have the strength of two men, I have been told, and only half their life span.’

‘It is a long way to go.’

‘We have managed so far. It was thought that he died. Oh, Bersaba, there has been such subterfuge.’

‘And you are a man who hates subterfuge,’ I said with meaning.

‘I opened the castle, built the wall round it, and he has been there since. A child was buried bearing his name. There have been occasions when he has broken out but they are rare.’

‘And this must remain a secret.’

‘This is my son, Bersaba. I am responsible for him. I want to give him the best life I can and I want children … normal children … who will grow up in this house and live here through the generations. I fear what effect it would have on … Angelet … or anyone if they knew. She would be afraid that the children we might have could be similarly tainted. Clearly he has inherited madness from someone.’

‘His mother …’

‘She was a gentle girl of good family. There was no madness in her family. I know you will understand. Don’t you always understand me? I did not want Angelet to know. If she were to have a child her fears could harm it and herself. You understand that, Bersaba.’

He held me against him. ‘What must we do, Bersaba?’ he asked.

‘What can we do?’

‘We can only part and that means that I shall live sadly all the days that are left to me.’

‘You have your profession,’ I said, ‘and it seems that in the next years you will be occupied with that. And I must go away.’

He turned to me and held me close to him. ‘The moment I was beside you I knew, Bersaba.’

‘And gave no sign.’

‘I dared not.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘because you are a righteous man. You were like Adam. The woman tempted me. Oh, don’t protest. She did. You see, I am not good, Richard. You must realize that. Angelet is like my mother—gentle, kindly, eager to do right. I am not gentle, I’m kind only when I love, and I am anxious to do the right only if it gives me pleasure and you see I will willingly do the wrong for that same reason.’

‘I never met anyone like you.’

‘You should pray that you never do again.’

‘It would be an impossibility, and having known you, I have learned this. If you could have been my wife I would have asked nothing more of life.’

I touched his hair with my fingers. ‘What now, Richard?’ I did not wait for him to answer. ‘I must go away. It is what I came to tell you tonight … and then I gave way to the temptation to be with you once more …’

‘Oh God, Bersaba, what are we going to do?’

‘There is only one thing to be done. I must go away.’

‘No.’ He spoke quietly. ‘I can’t let you go.’

‘We have to think of Angelet,’ I went on.

He nodded.

‘You must try to understand her. Be patient with her. In time perhaps …’

‘She will never be you.’

‘But you married
her,
Richard.’

‘Why did you not come in the first place?’

‘It’s no use railing against fate, is it? This has happened to us. We must accept it. She admires you. She loves you. She can’t be blamed for her nature any more than we can for ours.’

‘Having known you, I could not live without you.’

‘You can and you will. For that is how it must be.’

He looked at me desperately. ‘We might … think of some way.’

I shook my head. ‘I am not a good woman, Richard, as you have discovered, but this is my sister … my twin sister. This must be the end. I must make some excuse to go.’

‘You will break her heart and mine.’