The Rose of Sebastopol (52 page)

He shook his head and studied my face with such intense concentration that I began to shiver. “My God, do you really have to ask? Have you never realized that there was only one person in the world whom she loved with her whole heart? My poor Mariella, how simple your life would have been without the inconvenience of Rosa. I presume you’d be Mrs. Thewell by now, fussing over the sugar-tongs.”

“Is that all you think I’m capable of?”

The hardness broke in his eyes and he gave a brief, rueful smile. “Anyway, in the end Thewell did leave the camp. We hoped he’d gone back to the hospital but he came here instead. Rosa was beside herself with guilt. It was all her fault, she said. She’d misled Henry and broken your heart in the process. We argued fiercely. She said she had to follow him and make him come back. I said that if she went to the cave, she’d give his sick mind more proof that she loved him. But I was called away one night and by the time I came back it was too late, she’d gone.”

“And then?”

“He was a soul in torment, Mariella, out of control.”

“But he wouldn’t have hurt her.”

“Who knows?”

“No. No. I won’t believe it.”

“Mariella. Rosa never came back.”

“No. She’s not dead. There have been too many hints of her. She was seen at the Tchernaya...There were Russians who seemed to know my face...”

“It will be easier once we know.”

I listened to his uneven footfall as he left me and climbed the path above the cave. Then I tried to imagine Henry driven to such an extreme by love; hammering on the rough wood of Rosa’s hut, his lone voice howling for her in the sleeping camp, so unlike that composed surgeon who had raised his arms and imposed silence on a crowded operating theater or the gentleman who had kissed my mouth with such precision. I remembered how we had stood at the window together and watched the rabbits while he proposed and how after he’d gone I’d sat alone in the unchanged morning room. And for one outrageous moment I envied him: to have felt so much; to have existed in the grip of such a passion.

And Rosa? I could well imagine her headlong flight from the camp, her determination to set things straight. But what had been her feelings when she arrived here and found him crouched over the fire—the incredulity in his eye when he saw her through the flames, the flash of hope?

The cave was very quiet and the stale air laden with heat. From the valley below came the screech of crows and then a low rumble of cannon fire. The horses chomped at their hay and eyed me without interest. I crept to the mouth of the cave where a light breeze stirred as if the valley had drawn breath but could hold it no longer, a seed-head twirled onto the hem of my skirt and yellow clouds were pillowed on the hills opposite.

Why had I doubted her? I saw her swinging out above the ravine at Stukeley, pounding along the path to the Fairbrothers’ cottage, and kneeling beside the dying boy. In one of his last, scribbled notes to her Henry had written:
I am terrified by your utter faithfulness.
He had known what he was up against, all right. How cramped she must have felt by his obsession, how trapped and tormented by guilt.

Rosa, where are you now?

No answer.

When I listened for her voice in my head, it was gone.

All this time, on the journey to the cave, I had been expecting a sign, something significant, the shade of Rosa, perhaps. After all, she had drawn me thus far, shimmering through the hospitals, leaving her name on a dozen tongues, haunting my memory with her insatiable need to show me even the most hidden part of her life. And now? Silence. When I tried to imagine her in this apology for a secret place, I couldn’t see her here at all. Instead, I was faced at last with her complete absence.

DERBYSHIRE, 1844

 

 

 

F
rom the very start of my seventh lesson
I was so nervous that my heart beat too fast and my armpits were damp. I would ask him this time, I would. I had it all planned. I had even practiced my speech. He was so loving and patient that he couldn’t possibly refuse. It wasn’t much of a favor, after all, just a matter of doing what was obviously right. And afterwards I imagined that everything at Stukeley would be perfect, Rosa would be amazed by what I’d achieved, and when I went back to London she would have a happy life without me because she and her stepfather would be friends.

When Sir Matthew opened the library door he ushered me in with a playful bow, closed it softly, and held back my chair. Then, as usual, he tested me on what I’d already learnt. If my answer was right he patted my arm, when it was wrong he groaned and sank his head in his hand, which normally made me giggle, though on this occasion my laughter was forced.

As I wrote down the next answer I broke my nib. Whereas Father would have been annoyed, Sir Matthew only smiled. “Not to worry, Mariella, there are plenty more where that came from. And it gives me a chance to use my favorite present.” He produced a box containing a dozen or so steel nibs, invited me to choose one, fitted it, cleaned his fingers with my pen-wiper, dipped the pen in the ink, and handed it to me. We both watched the shiny blue trail left by my meticulous copperplate.

“Look how often I have used my pen-wiper. It seems a shame, on the one hand, to make it inky, on the other every stain reminds me of the thoughtful little head that dreamt up such a wonderful present.”

When should I ask him? Now, when our heads were bent together over the page, or later, when I sat in the armchair for him to arrange another drawer of specimens on my lap and hold back my hair? Or perhaps that wouldn’t happen today. Perhaps if I didn’t hurry up the clock would strike and it would be time to leave.

He leant back. “My Mariella is not showing much aptitude today. Is something troubling you, my dear?” His eyes were so kind I wanted to cry. “Come here. Come.” His grip was very firm as he pulled me to my feet and led me to the far side of the library, where the specimen drawers and cupboards were. I had learnt to give his fingers a shy squeeze, which was always returned and seemed to please him, so I kept my hand in his and allowed a tear to fall from my cheek onto my lips.

He stooped down, gazed into my face, then held my head against his tobacco-steeped waistcoat and said softly: “What is this? I can’t have my lovely little girl weeping. Ah, now, let’s sit you up here and have a look at you.” He picked me up and sat me on top of a set of drawers so that my eyes were level with his and my knees were pressed to his chest. Then he held both my hands and stroked my knuckles with his thumbs. “Now, what is it?”

“I’m very unhappy because of something I’ve seen.”

“Aha, and what is that?” He kissed my cheeks, first one then the other, and laid his forehead against mine so that our noses touched and I smelt his cigar breath. “Tell me.” I let my head fall forward so that we were even closer, like when Rosa and I lay face to face in bed.

“In the valley...”

Part of me was very comfortable that he stroked my back and pulled me towards him so that my knees went either side of him, under his arms. It was like when Henry used to pick me up and twirl me round in the garden, or when Father carried me to bed. But Sir Matthew’s body was different, his smell was wrong, and I didn’t know him quite well enough to be this near. I must speak, quickly. “Please, I just wondered...There’s a family by the river. One of the children is very ill. Their name is Fairbrother. I think if they had a different home...”

With one hand he held my head against his chest, with the other he fondled the back of my neck. “Fairbrother?”

“I don’t expect you quite realize that the little boy is dying. I don’t think you can know about it or I feel sure you’d do something.”

“You are a funny little girl. I thought you were told not to go near the Fairbrothers.”

“Oh, everyone knows about them.”

“Everyone?”

“Mother is always very interested in helping the poor in London,” I said hastily.

“Is she indeed?” To my relief, he wasn’t annoyed at all. In fact he seemed to love me all the more, because he kissed the backs of my hands and gently hooked my hair behind my ears. “You see, the trouble is, Mariella, life is not as easy as you think. I have to make a hundred difficult decisions every day and each one pleases some people and hurts others. What if I moved one family? What about the many others who live in the same valley? I would be ruined if I had to build new houses for all those people. And if I lost all my money, then I couldn’t pay anyone and none of the workers would have a job, so their children would go hungry and what a lot of misery that would cause.”

“But the river is so dirty.”

For the first time I saw a flicker of impatience in his eye. “Well, never mind, let’s forget about the dirty old river. Which drawer shall we look in today?” He put his hands on my waist as if to lift me down. His thumbs came uncomfortably high, just under my chest, but I put my arms round his neck, thinking that I mustn’t let this opportunity go, I’d never find the courage again. “But if there was clean water at least,” I said. “Then all the families could benefit.”

He rubbed his thumbs up and down my ribs. “You have been thinking about it carefully, haven’t you?”

“Father could help. Father knows all about pipes and drains.”

“Does he indeed? Well, if I ever need any advice I’ll ask him.”

“So please. Will you do something?” I pleaded.

“Mariella, that’s enough now. One of the reasons I like this library is that I don’t need to think about my work here. So no more talk about cottages.”

I sighed, then played my final card: I pushed his hands away and slid backwards as if I didn’t want any more to do with him. He was silent a moment, but when he spoke his voice was completely different. “Oh, so the little girl is peevish that she can’t have her own way.”

“It’s not that. But I can’t be happy knowing Petey Fairbrother is so ill. It doesn’t seem right.”

“That’s the way it is, Mariella, I’m afraid. You’ll have to learn to live with the knowledge that not everyone can be happy all the time.”

“But you could make us happy. Just by making sure they had clean water. If you were to have a channel dug from the woods...”

“What do you mean,
us
?”

“Me, and the Fairbrothers, and...”

“Where does all this talk of channeling clean water come from?” All the warmth had drained from his eyes and I suddenly saw him much more clearly in his smart frock coat and cravat as Sir Matthew Stukeley, who sat at the end of the dinner table cutting his food into small, regular pieces and not talking to anyone. “Ah, now I understand. This is Rosa, isn’t it? You and she worked it out together. Is that it?”

“No. No.”

“She told you what to say to me. I suppose that’s why you keep coming here, to do Rosa’s dirty little jobs for her.”

“No, it’s not like that.” I started to cry properly, because nobody had ever talked to me so coldly in my life.

“Did she take you down to those cottages again? Did she? But I ordered you not to go near them.”

I was weeping helplessly, battered by his terrible rage. “Sir Matthew. I promise you Rosa doesn’t know I’m here, she knows nothing about it, she told me not to tell you about going to the Fairbrothers but I don’t think you can understand how much she wants to help...”

He stalked off to a row of shelves and took a great interest in the back of one of the books. “No. Not now. That’s an end to it. Off you go. I’m in no mood for this.”

I slid off the chest of drawers and stood weeping in the middle of the library. Then I crept closer and tried to entwine my fingers in his but he twitched away. “The truth is, Mariella, I don’t believe you. I expect you’ve told her all about our lessons. My God, it would be typical of Rosa to try and use you for her own ends. I’m going to have to punish her.”

“No, no, Rosa doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Why did you disobey me? You knew you shouldn’t go to the cottages. That instruction was quite clear to both of you.”

“We were only trying to help. Please, don’t be cross. Please. I only want you to be friends. I want to make things right so that she will see what a kind man you are.”

“Stop this crying. I don’t blame you. But Rosa should know better. I’ve told her before. She will not keep in her place. When I first met her I thought she had the face of an angel. Instead I find that she is disobedient and wayward, and that makes me regret marrying the mother. Do you understand—she is spoiling everything? No, she must be punished. I’ve a good mind to beat her.” He looked at me speculatively. “Yes. I have a whip I used to keep for Max. Perhaps I should use it on Rosa.”

“No. No please don’t. Please, don’t punish her, punish me.”

He marched across to one of the cupboards, took a key from his pocket, and removed a varnished stick with a loop of leather at one end, which he smacked across his palm and ankle, as if to try it out. I followed the lick of leather and cringed.