The Anatomy Of Ghosts

20

On Tuesday morning, Elinor sent Susan to rinse collars and cuffs in the wash-house, which was in the little service yard. It was always damp and gloomy because it was overshadowed by the high blank wall of Yarmouth Hall on one side and the back of the Master’s Lodge on another. Later that morning, Elinor passed through the yard herself on the way to the necessary house. The door to the wash-house was ajar, and she heard Susan laugh softly.

Elinor paused. She was about to go in to see Susan when a man said something. Her maid wasn’t alone. Suddenly Susan cried out, and the sound was like a dog’s yelp when someone treads on its paw. The cry was hastily smothered. Elinor took a step towards the door and then stopped again as she became aware of a rhythmic movement inside the wash-house. It rapidly gathered momentum.

She could now see a little way inside. Two people were lying on the brick floor. She could see only part of their legs and their shoes – Susan’s shoes and stockings, a man’s square-toed shoes, part of his breeches and a flash of white muscular thighs pumping up and down.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Susan. ‘Ah! Yes!’

Susan was lying there with Ben. What they were doing was foul. It was immoral. By rights Elinor should sweep in there and instantly dismiss them both. Instead she felt herself flushing, and her breathing accelerating.

Ben grunted urgently.

‘Hush!’ Susan whispered.

Elinor went back in the house, slamming the door behind her. The words formed in her mind: My servants are copulating in the wash-house, snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. She was trembling. How dared they? And to do it in broad daylight, where anyone might stumble across them. Such brazen behaviour beggared belief.

She found Dr Carbury was sitting in an armchair drawn up to the window of the little dining parlour at the Master’s Lodge. His mouth was open, his feet were up on a footstool and a book was open on his lap. He was so very still that for an instant Elinor thought he was dead. He sat up and looked around wildly before his eyes fell on her. He looked old and unwell.

‘My dear sir,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing – nothing in the world. I was merely dozing a little, that’s all. What do you want?’

She had intended to complain to him about the lewd behaviour of their servants. But she could not trouble him when he was in this state. Then she was distracted by footsteps in the hall behind her.

‘Is that Mr Holdsworth?’ Dr Carbury asked. ‘Pray ask him to step in here.’

Holdsworth was already coming towards them. What if it had been Holdsworth with Susan in the wash-house? Snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. The very notion was absurd and fantastical but she felt a sensation strangely like jealousy.

Jealousy?

But if it had been herself with Holdsworth? Snuffling and grunting like pigs in our sty. She turned aside, shocked by the wanton immorality of her own imaginings. She made as if to straighten a salver on the sideboard.

‘I have not been idle, Mr Holdsworth,’ Carbury was saying. ‘I think I have found somewhere where you may stay with Mr Oldershaw, at least for a few days. The college has a small estate out beyond Histon, on the edge of Whitebeach Fen. It is no more than a farm and a watermill with a cottage attached to it. The mill is empty at present – we’re between tenants.’

‘Are there neighbours, sir?’ Holdsworth asked.

‘Only the farmer, a man called Smedley. He’s a taciturn fellow, and will not trouble you if you choose to stay there. But I shall write to him today, and tell him to send a servant over to make the cottage ready in case.’

‘But what will you tell him?’ Elinor said, turning back to face the men. She was tolerably sure that nothing about her would betray the unpleasant fancies that had just passed through her mind.

Carbury replied to Holdsworth as if he had asked the question. ‘I shall say that a small reading party may come over for a few days, and must not be disturbed on any account. The last tenant died, and his furniture is still there – his family have not collected it yet so they can hardly complain if we use it. I will speak to Mulgrave too.’

Elinor stared at Mr Holdsworth’s hand, which had touched hers through the gate. She thought of Ben and Susan in the wash-house. Dear God, she was even envious of them. Snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. What must it be like to feel like that?

There was a knock at the hall door.

‘Where are the servants?’ Carbury demanded when no one came. ‘Never here when one wants them. You must speak to them.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Elinor said. ‘Susan’s in the wash-house. Perhaps Ben’s in the garden. I’ll see who it is.’

She opened the door. She recognized the man waiting outside. It was one of the grooms from Golden Square, and he had a packet from Lady Anne in his hand.

Her ladyship was graciously pleased to approve Mr Holdsworth’s proposal. She agreed that he might remove Frank from Dr Jermyn’s establishment, though her agreement was hedged round with caveats and veiled threats. She did not say it in so many words but her son’s repeated refusal to come home to her was clearly a blow she found hard to bear.

Matters now moved swiftly. The livery stable was reluctant to hire out its larger chaises without hiring out one of their coachmen or grooms too but Lady Anne’s money soon overcame this reluctance. At four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon Ben was sent to collect the carriage.

Carbury made the point that the fewer people who knew of Frank Oldershaw’s whereabouts, the better for everyone. He was, he said, reasonably confident that he could trust Ben to keep his mouth shut. ‘It is easier to manage these matters with one’s own servants, Mr Holdsworth. They are not called our dependants for nothing, eh?’

Mulgrave was late. The chaise was already waiting when he came through the screens from Chapel Court at a smart trot.

‘Beg pardon, sirs,’ he said, panting. ‘Mr Archdale is in such a taking and he’s late for dinner at Mr Whichcote’s.’

‘Dinner?’ Carbury said. ‘At this hour?’

‘Oh they dine very late at Lambourne House, sir, especially when there’s a club meeting. Why, they do not sit down until five or six o’clock I believe.’

‘Well, well, never mind that now,’ Carbury said. ‘You are here, and that is what matters. Remember, my man, you are entirely at Mr Holdsworth’s disposal. You must put all your other gentlemen to one side for the time being.’

Mulgrave and Ben loaded Holdsworth’s portmanteau on to the chaise with a great show of speed and efficiency. Mulgrave made as if to mount the box with Ben, but Holdsworth told him to ride inside.

The chaise jerked and rattled through the archway leading into Jerusalem Lane. The road to Barnwell was crowded and they made slow progress at first, as they were trapped behind a pair of wagons rumbling out of the town.

‘I do not anticipate any trouble with Mr Oldershaw,’ Holdsworth said quietly. ‘However, unless I tell you otherwise, I wish you to stay within earshot when we are at the mill. I must repeat what the Master said: for the time being you are working solely for me as her ladyship’s representative. For no one else. I wish to make that quite clear.’

The chaise edged forward through the press of traffic.

‘Mr Archdale asked where I was off to, sir,’ Mulgrave said. ‘He wanted to know why I would not wait on him tomorrow as usual.’

‘What did you say?’

Mulgrave shrugged. ‘I said you’d hired me to look after Mr Oldershaw. I didn’t say where and he didn’t ask. Lord, his head was so full of this evening, he couldn’t spare a thought for anything else.’

‘The Holy Ghost Club?’

‘That’s it, sir. He becomes a full member and wears the livery for the first time. He was parading up and down in front of the glass for half the afternoon, pleased as punch. He’ll be the worse for wear tomorrow morning, though, I’ll warrant. And Mr Whichcote will be a little richer, I daresay, not that any of it will come my way.’

‘A little richer?’

‘Lord love you, sir, Mr Whichcote don’t do all this from the kindness of his heart. The young gentlemen have to pay their subscriptions and they ain’t cheap. And there’s always play at these meetings, too, and the stakes are high. I’ve heard hundreds turn on one card, one throw of the dice. Still, it’s not my place to say anything about how gentlemen choose to amuse themselves. As long as they pays their way.’

The motion of the chaise suddenly accelerated. Holdsworth stared out of the window. They would soon be at Jermyn’s house.

‘There was something else I wished to ask you,’ he said. ‘About the supper you served Mr Oldershaw on the night of his – his seizure.’

‘As nice a little supper as I’ve ever served, though I say it myself. Everything neat and handsome.’

‘And how were the gentlemen? In spirits?’

If Mulgrave saw anything strange about the question he made no sign. ‘No, sir – Mr Whichcote was quiet and serious, and Mr Oldershaw was low-spirited. Had been for days. I believe he’d dined with Mr Archdale that day and afterwards they sat a long time over their wine, so his wits was already a little cloudy. And by the end of the evening, he must have been a lot more than half seas over, judging by the empty bottles and the state of the punch bowl.’

They came to a halt outside the gates of Dr Jermyn’s establishment. The carriage lurched as Ben scrambled down from the box and rang the bell.

‘When we leave with Mr Oldershaw,’ Holdsworth said softly, ‘you will ride outside with Ben.’

Mulgrave shot a sly glance from the opposite corner of the chaise. ‘Are you sure, sir? If he has one of his reckless fits -’

‘Quite sure.’

‘You want the young gentleman to have his privacy, sir, I shouldn’t wonder. Very natural, I’m sure, and of course you could have him restrained. Just as a precaution. I am sure Norcross would lend you a straitjacket for a consideration.’

‘I’m obliged to you, but I don’t think I shall want a straitjacket.’

The gates opened and the chaise rolled slowly up the drive. At the house, Ben remained on the box. Mulgrave opened the door, jumped down from the carriage and let down the steps for Holdsworth. Now the gyp was in the public view, he had transformed himself with the swift efficiency of his kind into a perfect upper servant, a mere machine ingeniously designed to gratify the desires of his employer.

When the door opened, Holdsworth found himself face to face with Frank Oldershaw. Norcross was on one side of him and another attendant on the other. The young man was dressed immaculately in black. He looked at Holdsworth and then past him at the chaise waiting on the gravel sweep in front of the door.

‘There’s a couple of portmanteaus here, sir,’ Norcross said. ‘No doubt her ladyship will send for the rest of his things.’

‘Thank you, I’m obliged to you. Where is your master?’

‘Dr Jermyn’s compliments, sir, and he regrets he is not at liberty to receive you.’

‘Very well. We need detain you no longer. Mr Oldershaw, would you be so good as to enter the chaise?’

At these words, Mulgrave brought his heels together like a soldier coming to attention and opened the carriage door. Ignoring Holdsworth, ignoring Norcross and the attendant, Frank walked down the steps, across the gravel and climbed into the carriage. Holdsworth followed. Mulgrave shut the door behind them and folded up the steps. Frank was sitting in the furthest corner, facing forward. Holdsworth sat down diagonally opposite. Mulgrave mounted the box. There was a jolt and the carriage moved away.

‘I have her ladyship’s authority to take you to a cottage north of Cambridge, sir,’ Holdsworth said as they were travelling slowly down the drive. ‘It is a secluded place and we shall see no one. Mulgrave will attend us. There will be no one else.’

Frank said nothing. He was staring at the empty seat directly opposite him.

‘We are obliged to drive back through Barnwell and then Cambridge to reach our destination,’ Holdsworth went on. ‘To avoid inconvenience, I propose we put up the glasses and lower the blinds until we are past the town.’

He put up his own glass and drew down his own blind and then he leaned across and did the same on Frank’s side of the chaise. The young man made no move to stop him.

They drove slowly through Cambridge, often travelling no more than a footpace. The interior of the chaise was gloomy and close. Holdsworth’s limbs ached. It seemed to him that he had spent most of the last three days cooped up in a carriage. It was easy enough to monitor their progress by the speed they were going, by the surface under their wheels and by the noises that reached them from the outside world. First, came cobbles and paved roads. The timbre of the wheels changed as they rolled across the great bridge near Magdalene College. They picked up speed briefly and then slowed for the hill beside the castle. Beyond the castle, they turned right, leaving the main road to Huntingdon and travelled in a northerly direction on a road whose condition grew steadily worse.

‘We may raise the blinds if you wish, sir,’ Holdsworth said.

Frank made no reply.

Holdsworth raised the blind on his own side and light flooded into the carriage. He lowered the glass, too. They were running down a long, straight lane with huge flat fields on either side.

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement on the other side of the carriage. Frank raised his blind and lowered the glass. He poked his head half out of the window. The wind of their passage ruffled his hair and sent the powder flying away in little curls and puffs. Holdsworth watched him but did not move.

In a moment, Frank withdrew his head and sat back. He said as casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world, ‘I – I am obliged to you, sir. It is Mr Holdsworth, is it not?’

‘Yes, sir. You remember that her ladyship has sent me. She hopes that you will soon be restored and able to return to her.’

Frank screwed up his features and turned his head away. ‘As to that, what’s the point of her wishes?’ he muttered. ‘I am the unhappiest wretch alive. I wish I were dead.’