The Secret Woman (9 page)

Ellen was struck dumb, but I could see the speculation in her eyes. Had she got her legacy? Would it satisfy Mr. Orfey? Mrs. Morton seemed almost relieved. Life in the Queen's House had not been what Mrs. Buckle would call a bed of roses. Mrs. Buckle was too simple to hide her excitement. To be connected with a house in which sudden death had occurred had raised her prestige enormously.

It was exhausting—the questions, the police, the inquest.

What would have happened to me then but for Chantel? I often wondered. She was like my guardian angel; she was with me constantly, assuring me that all would be well. Of course Aunt Charlotte had taken the pills herself. It was just what she would do.

“She never would take her own life,” I cried. “Never. It would have been quite against her principles.”

“You don't know what pain can do to people…pain that goes on and on and can only grow worse. I've seen it happen. At first she did not want the opium pills at all and then she took them and was constantly asking for more.”

Oh yes, Chantel saved me. I shall never forget how valiantly she did battle for me at the inquest. She looked lovely, yet so discreet in her black nurse's cloak and her green eyes and reddish hair so strikingly attractive. She had more than beauty; she had that power to win confidence and I could see that she carried everyone in the court along with her, as she had in the Queen's House. She gave her evidence clearly and composedly. It was true that Aunt Charlotte had been unable to walk across the room in ordinary circumstances. But she had seen her achieve the seemingly impossible and not only Aunt Charlotte but another patient she remembered had done the same. She would explain. A piece of furniture had been put into Miss Brett's room; it was a piece which her niece wanted her to buy and although Miss Brett was so crippled and suffered such pain she kept an alert eye on the business. She had actually left her bed to examine the small cabinet. Nurse Loman had been astonished because she had believed her patient could not walk. But in certain circumstances patients such as Miss Brett could summon up special powers. She believed Dr. Elgin would confirm this and in any case she had found Miss Brett beside the cabinet. It was true she had had to be almost carried back to bed but she had walked to the piece of furniture unaided. Nurse Loman believed that this was what had happened during that night. The pain was intense; the dose she had already taken had given her only a short sleep; so she had decided to take more. Close to the chest on the top of which the opium pills were kept Nurse Loman had found a button from Miss Brett's bed jacket, and she knew that button had not been missing when she had given Miss Brett her pill and said good night.

The bed jacket had been produced; the button examined; water had been spilled on the table close to Aunt Charlotte's bed.

The verdict was that Aunt Charlotte suffered great pain and had taken her own life while the balance of her mind was disturbed.

But the matter did not rest there. The will was read. The business and the Queen's House were for me; there was two hundred pounds for Mrs. Morton and—this was a surprise—two hundred for Chantel; one hundred for Ellen and fifty for Mrs. Buckle.

Chantel wrote in her journal: “What a surprise! Although I knew she was a little fond of me. She must have added the codicil that day when the two important-looking gentlemen came to see her. I suppose they were lawyers. But fancy her including
me
. Money is always comforting though. But I do wish it hadn't happened as it did. Poor poor Anna! She's really very vulnerable. As for the others—particularly Ellen—they can't quite hide their jubilation.”

Change had certainly come to the Queen's House. Mrs. Morton wanted to leave at once and she did. Ellen said Mr. Orfey had no objection to her staying until I found someone else to suit. Chantel asked if she could stay on for a while although there would be no need for her services.

“Please stay,” I begged, and she did.

***

We used to sit in the Queen's room—Chantel's favorite room—and talk about the future. Sometimes she would lie on the Queen's bed, very gingerly, always aware of its age and the need to preserve it, and say that she felt like the Queen. She tried to be lighthearted, but I found that difficult. I knew that people were talking. I had inherited so much, they said. And Mrs. Buckle had often talked about the trouble that always seemed to be brewing between myself and my aunt, although everything did run more smoothly since Nurse Loman came.

Chantel helped me sort things out. I soon learned that what I had inherited was mostly debts. What had happened to Aunt Charlotte? In the last two or three years she had lost her judgment. No wonder she would not let me look at the books. I was horrified at the price she had paid for those Chinese pieces. There were other pieces too. Beautiful in themselves, but more suitable for museums than for private buyers. She had borrowed from the bank at a high rate of interest. I quickly realized that the business was on the edge of bankruptcy.

Sometimes I would wake in the night and think I heard Aunt Charlotte's mocking laughter. And then one night I woke with a horrible thought in my mind. I remembered the night when I had found myself standing in my room; and I visualized myself going down in my sleep to Aunt Charlotte's room and taking six of these opium pills, dissolving them in water and putting them at her bedside. She often drank water during the night. There was some spilt on the bedside table. Suppose…

***

“What's the matter?” demanded Chantel. “You look as though you haven't slept a wink.”

“I'm terribly afraid,” I said, and she insisted on my telling her.

“You didn't write in your journal about that dream you had some time ago.”

“No, I thought it was too trivial.”

“Nothing's too trivial. And we promised to tell all.” She was mildly reproachful.

“Is it important?”

“Yes,” she said, “everything is important. That's what I've learned in my profession. But never mind that now. Anna, you must get this suspicion out of your mind.”

“I can't. I think I'm suspected. People have changed toward me. I've noticed it about the town.”

“Gossips. They must have something to talk about. I found the button from her bed jacket, didn't I?”

“Did you, Chantel?”

“Did I? What do you mean?”

“I wondered whether you were trying to save me.”

“Listen,” she said, “I'm sure it happened the way it did.”

“Did you really see her get out of bed to look at the cabinet?”

“I don't think we should talk about it. People can do these things. I tell you I've seen it. And quite clearly it's what she did.”

“Chantel,” I said, “I believe you've saved me from something…very unpleasant. Perhaps it might have been proved… Suppose I walked in my sleep…”

“What nonsense. You don't walk in your sleep. You were half awake when you got out of bed. You were upset about her. I expect she had been particularly beastly that day. Listen to me, Anna. You've got to put the whole thing out of your mind. You've got to concentrate on pulling the business together. You've got to forget the past. It's the only way to go on.”

“Oh Chantel, the best thing that has happened to me has been your coming here.”

“I've enjoyed the job,” she said. “You'll be all right. You'd have stood up to them all if it had come to the court. I know you would. But you have to stop working yourself up about the whole thing. It's over. Finished. You've got to start living now. Something wonderful might be happening in a few weeks' time.”

“To me?”

“That's the wrong attitude. Wonderful things can happen to us all. That's how I've lived my life. When I've had the most horrid cases I've said to myself: It won't last. Soon it'll be over.”

“What should I do without you?” I asked.

“You don't have to…yet.”

She was right when she said that nothing remained static. She came to me one day and told me that Dr. Elgin had a post for her.

“You'll never guess where. Castle Crediton.”

I felt stunned. First she was going to leave me and secondly she was going to the Castle.

“It's good news,” she said. “I have to work for my living and just think we shan't be far apart. I'll be able to see you…frequently.”

“Castle Crediton,” I repeated. “Is someone ill there? Lady Crediton?”

“No, the old lady's as strong as a horse. It's Mrs. Stretton I'm going to nurse. The Captain's wife.”

“Oh,” I said faintly.

“Yes, she's delicate. Our climate I expect. Some lung infection. It wouldn't surprise me if she is going into a decline. There's a child, too. I couldn't resist the job when Dr. Elgin suggested it.”

“When do you…start?”

“Next week.” She leaned over and taking my hand pressed it firmly. “I'll be near at hand. We'll see each other often. And don't forget there are our journals. Have you written in yours recently?”

“I couldn't, Chantel.”

“You must start at once. I'll tell you all about Castle Crediton and the strange life of its inhabitants and you must tell me everything that happens here.”

“Oh Chantel,” I cried, “what should I do without you?”

“To repeat oneself is a sign of encroaching age, I've been told,” she said with a smile. “But I must say I found such repetition endearing. Don't be morbid, Anna. You're not alone. I'm your
friend
.”

I said: “Everything has changed so abruptly. I have to make plans. The business is rocky, Chantel. I shall have to see so many people—Aunt Charlotte's lawyer and the bank manager, among others.”

“It'll keep you busy. Write it all in your journal. I'll do the same. We'll make a pact, we'll tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And we'll both have the comfort of knowing we are not alone. We can live our own lives and that of the other.” Her green eyes were enormous. “You must admit, Anna, that that is a very exciting state of affairs.”

“We must never lose sight of each other,” I said.

She nodded. “And we'll exchange journals so that even when we can't see each other as often as we'd like to, we shall know everything that is happening.”

“I shall know everything that is happening to you in Castle Crediton.”

“Everything,” she declared solemnly. “Anna, have you ever felt you would like to be a fly on the wall to hear and see everything and no one be aware of you there?”

“Who hasn't?”

“Well, that's how it is going to be. You're the fly on my wall.” She laughed. How she lightened my spirits! And how I was going to miss her!

***

Ellen, married to Mr. Orfey, came back to say that he had no objection to her coming in in the mornings to give a hand; Mrs. Buckle continued to come in to dust and polish, but she left at four o'clock, and from then on I was alone in the Queen's House.

It was when the shadows fell that I would find myself brooding on Aunt Charlotte's death.

I would wake up suddenly from a dream in which I walked down to her room and took the pills from the bottle, to hear myself crying out: “No. No. I did not do it.” Then I would lie still listening to the clocks and it would seem as though they soothed me. It must have happened as Chantel said. There was no other explanation.

I should not brood on the past. Goodness knows the future was stark enough. How was I going to pay Aunt Charlotte's debts? Many of the pieces which I believed were hers had not been paid for. She had spent far too much of her capital on the Chinese collection; during the last years the business had not been paying its way. Alarming as this was it gave credence to Chantel's theory. Obsessed by ever-increasing pain, always impatient of inactivity, seeing her debts rising and eventual bankruptcy, she had forced herself—and I knew the extent of her will power—to get out of bed and seek oblivion.

I should have to make some decision. I could not allow things to drift. Indeed I should not be allowed to do so. I formed all sorts of plans. To advertise for a partner with money? To sell out and see what remained? Enforced sales often meant cut prices. If I realized enough to pay my debts I should be lucky. There would be nothing left but the house. I could sell that perhaps. That was the answer.

So my mind raced on during the sleepless nights, and in the mornings, when I looked at my face in the mirror, I would murmur to myself: “Old Miss Brett.”

Chantel came and left her journal for me while she took mine away. She would return with it the next day.

That night I took it up to bed with me and the thought of reading it brought me out of my melancholy. My life was drab, and even frightening, but Chantel, as before, was my savior. To look in on what was happening at Castle Crediton would give me the respite I needed. Besides, I would always be particularly interested in anything that happened in Redvers Stretton's home.

I felt my spirits lighten a little as I lay back on my pillows and brought the oil lamp—which I had carried up from downstairs—nearer to my bed and started to read Chantel's journal.

April 28th, 1887.
Today I came to Castle Crediton. I couldn't help feeling rather pleased with myself. I had a new patient and I should not be too far from Anna. We should see each other frequently. I was going to make sure of that. The Castle I knew was not a real one. “Fake,” Miss Brett had called it, but that meant little to me. It had all the appearance of a castle and I liked driving under the great archway with the gate house overhead. But I never cared for antiquity. I'll ask Anna about it all sometime, if I ever think of it. The stone walls of the castle looked as if they had been there for centuries. I wondered what had been done to give them that appearance. Another thing to ask Anna—if I ever think of it. As for myself I couldn't help thinking how pleasant it must be to own such a place—fake or not. There is an air of opulence about it; and I feel sure that this castle will no doubt be more comfortable to live in than the genuine article. I alighted from the station fly which I had engaged to bring me and my belongings from the Queen's House. I was in a sort of courtyard and there was an iron studded door with a bell beside it, rather like the one at the Queen's House. I pulled this bell and a manservant appeared.

“I'm Nurse Loman,” I said.

“Her ladyship is expecting you,” he answered. He was very dignified, the perfect butler. I had an idea that everything would be perfect in Castle Crediton—outwardly at least. I went into the hall which I was sure was the one Anna had once mentioned to me. Yes, there were the tapestries she had talked of, and which she had been examining when she had first met her Captain.

“If you will wait for a moment, Nurse Loman, I will inform her ladyship of your arrival.”

I nodded and looked about me, impressed by it all. I thought I was going to like living in a castle. In a very short time the servant reappeared and took me up the stairs to her “ladyship.” There she was seated in her high-backed chair, a tartar, I thought, if ever I saw one and I was glad that
she
was not to be my patient. I knew from experience that she would be the very worst possible, but she was in perfect health and would scorn illness, thinking, I was sure that it was due to some mental weakness. I can't help comparing myself with Anna. She would have made an assessment of the treasures of the house, and while their obvious worth did not escape me, I included them in my summing up of “grand” and concerned myself with the people. Nursing gives one a very clear insight into people; when they are sick and to a certain extent at one's mercy, they betray themselves in a hundred ways. One becomes perceptive, and the study of human beings always seemed more interesting to me than that of inanimate objects. Yet I am inclined to be frivolous—at least when I compare myself with serious Anna.

Lady Crediton was what I call a battle-ax. She looked at me and did not entirely approve of my appearance although I was doing my best to look demure.
Her
appearance was entirely forbidding—or it would have been to anyone less experienced than I was. I thought to myself: Well, Dr. Elgin has recommended me and I'm here and they want a nurse, so at least they'll have to give me a chance to prove my worth. (And I was going to prove it for I found Castle Crediton much to my taste.) The place had appealed to me as soon as I heard of it, and when I learned that there was the possibility of working there, I was elated. Besides, I don't want to be too far from Anna.

“So, Nurse Loman, you have joined our household.” She spoke precisely in a rather gruff masculine voice. I could understand the husband seeking consolation elsewhere. She was clearly a very worthy person, almost always right and taking care that those about her realized it. Creditable, but very uncomfortable to live with.

“Yes, Lady Crediton. Dr. Elgin has given me particulars of my patient.”

Her ladyship's mouth was a little grim, from which I gathered the patient is no favorite of hers. Or does she despise all patients because they haven't earned her obvious ruddy health?

“I am glad that he has given you some indication of how we are placed here. Captain and Mrs. Stretton have their own apartments here. The Captain is not in residence at the time, but Mrs. Stretton and her son, with their servants occupy the east wing. But although this is so, Nurse Loman, I myself am…shall we say the Chatelaine of the Castle, and as such what happens in all parts of it is my concern.”

I bowed my head.

“If you have any complaints, any difficulties, anything you wish to be explained—apart from ordinary domestic matters, of course—I must ask you to see me.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Your patient is in a way a foreigner; her ways may not always be like ours. You may find certain difficulties. I shall expect you to report anything unusual to me.”

It was becoming rather mysterious and I must have looked puzzled for she said: “Dr. Elgin tells me that you are extremely efficient.”

“That was kind of him.”

“You have been nursing at the Queen's House and were involved in that unfortunate occurrence. I met Miss Brett once when I allowed her to have an escritoire for which I had no use. She gave me the impression that she was a very precise and efficient woman.”

“She was,” I said.

“It seems very odd, that affair.”

“She changed a great deal when she became crippled; she suffered much pain.”

Lady Crediton nodded. “It was most unfortunate, Nurse Loman, and I will tell you frankly that I did consider whether I should be wise to employ someone who had been involved in such an unsavory affair.”

She was one of those women who would call her own outspokenness frankness and that of other people rudeness. I knew the type. Rich old women very often who had had too much of their own way for too long.

I decided to be affronted. I rose and said: “I have no wish to discountenance you, Lady Crediton. If you feel that having nursed Miss Brett you would rather I did not nurse your…your patient, I would not wish to remain.”

“You're hasty,” she said. “Not a good quality for a nurse.”

“I must beg to contradict you. I spoke with no haste. However much I considered your remarks I should still say that if you would prefer me to go I should prefer to do so.”

“If I had not preferred that you stay I should not have asked you to come here in the first place.”

I bowed my head again. First round to me, I thought.

“I merely want to tell you that I deplore the unpleasantness of what happened to Miss Brett and it is impossible to be involved in such unpleasantness without being connected with it.”

“If one is involved one must necessarily be connected, Lady Crediton.”

Oh yes, I was scoring fast; but I sensed I was only doing so because she was trying to tell me something and did not know how to. She need not have worried. I understood. She did not like “the patient”; there was something strange about “the patient.” Something wild perhaps which might involve her in some “unpleasantness.” This was growing interesting.

I went on boldly: “One of the qualifications of a person in my position is discretion. I do not think Dr. Elgin would have recommended me to this case if he had not believed I possessed that quality.”

“You may find Mrs. Stretton a little…hysterical. Dr. Elgin will have told you what is wrong with her.”

“He mentioned some lung complaint with asthma.”

She nodded. And I realized that she accepted me. I thought she liked someone to stand up to her and I had done exactly that. I had her approval as the patient's nurse.

“I daresay,” she said, “that you would wish to see your patient.”

I said I thought that would be desirable.

“Your bags…”

“Were brought into the hall.”

“They will be taken to your room. Ring the bell please, Nurse Loman.”

I did so and we waited in silence for the call to be answered.

“Baines,” she said when it was, “pray take Nurse Loman to Mrs. Stretton. Unless you would prefer to go first to your room, Nurse?”

“I think I should like to see my patient first,” I said.

She inclined her head and we went out; I could feel her eyes following me.

We went through a maze of corridors and up little flights of circular stairs—stone some of them and worn in the middle—fake I thought. Stone doesn't wear away in the space of fifty years. But I found it fascinating. A house pretending to be what it was not. That made it very human to my mind.

Then we went into the Stretton apartments, high up in one of the towers, I guessed.

“Mrs. Stretton will be resting,” said the manservant hesitantly.

I said, “Take me to her.”

He knocked at a door; a muffled sulky voice said: “Who's there?”

“It's Nurse Loman who's come, madam,” said the servant.

There was no answer so he opened the door and I went in. In my profession we take the initiative. I said to him: “That's all right. Leave me with my patient.”

There were Venetian blinds at the windows and the slats had been set to let in the minimum of light. She was lying on the bed, thick dark hair hanging loose, in a purple robe with scarlet trimming. She looked like a tropical bird.

“Mrs. Stretton?” I said.

“You are the nurse,” she said, speaking slowly. I thought: What nationality? I hazarded some sort of half caste. Perhaps Polynesian, Creole.

“Yes, come to look after you. How dark it is in here. We'll have a little light.” I went to the nearest window and drew up the blind.

She put a hand over her eyes.

“That's better,” I said firmly. I sat down by the bed. “I want to talk to you.”

She looked at me rather sullenly. A sultry beauty she must have been when she was well.

“Dr. Elgin has suggested that you need a nurse.”

“That's no good,” she said.

“Dr. Elgin thinks so, and we shall see, shan't we?”

We took measure of each other. The high flush in the cheeks, the unnatural brightness of the eyes, bore out what Dr. Elgin had told me of her. She was consumptive and the attacks of asthma must be alarming when they occurred. But I was interested in her more as a person than a sick woman because she was the wife of Anna's Captain and I wondered why he had married her and how it had all come about. I should discover in due course, I had no doubt.

“It's too cold here,” she said. “I hate the cold.”

“You need fresh air. And we must watch your diet. Dr. Elgin visits you frequently, I suppose.”

“Twice a week,” she said.

She closed her eyes; quiet, sullen, and yet smoldering. I was aware that she could be far from quiet.

“Dr. Elgin is working out a diet chart for you. We shall have to see about getting you well,” I said in my bright nurse's voice.

She turned her face away.

“Well,” I went on, “now that we've met I'll go to my room. I daresay it is close to yours.”

“It's the next to it.”

“Ah, good. I can find my way there then without bothering anyone.”

I went out of the room and into the next one. I knew it was mine because my bags were there. The shape of it indicated that it was part of the tower. I went to the window which was really a door—of the french window type—opening onto a balcony or rather a parapet. Anachronism, I thought. I must ask Anna. What a view from the parapet—the deep gorge and the river below and on the other side the houses of Langmouth.

I unpacked my bags and as I did so the door was cautiously opened and a small face peered round at me. It was a boy of about seven. He said: “Hello. You're a nurse.”

“That's right,” I replied. “How do you know?”

“They said so.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm Edward.”

“How do you do, Edward.” I put out my hand and he shook it gravely.

“Nurses come for ill people,” he told me.

“And make them well,” I added.

His enormous dark eyes regarded me as though I were some goddess.

“You're clever,” he said.

“Very,” I admitted.

“Can you do twice one are two?”

“Twice two are four. Twice three are six,” I told him.

He laughed. “And a, b, c?”

I went through the alphabet with great speed. I had impressed him.

“Are those your clothes?” I told him they were. “Have you medicines for making people die?”

I was taken aback. “Like the furniture lady,” he added.

He was sharp; I could see that. I said quickly: “Only for making people well.”

“But…” he began; then he was alert.

“Master Edward,” called a voice.

He looked at me and hunched his shoulders; he put his fingers to his lips.

“Master Edward.”

We were both silent, but he had left my door open and his governess came in. She was tall, angular, and wore a most unbecoming gray blouse with a brown skirt—hideous combination; her hair was gray too, so was her skin.

“Oh,” she said, “you're the new nurse. I hope Edward has not been annoying you.”

“Entertaining me rather.”

“He is really far too precocious.”

She had rabbity teeth and rabbity eyes. We took an instant dislike to each other.

“Come along, Edward,” she said. “You must not disturb your Mamma.”

“His Mamma is my patient, I believe,” I said.

She nodded.

“I shall soon learn my way around,” I added.

“You've just come from the Queen's House.” Her eyes were alert. Young Edward looked from one to the other of us.

“My last case was there.”

“H'm.” She looked at the child, and I thought: How gossip spread! And thought of Anna and the horrible things which had been said about her. They were even inclined to regard me with some sort of suspicion; how much more so they would have regarded Anna!

She sighed. She dared not talk in front of the child. I wished he was not there so that I could discover more, but I had plenty of time.