The Emperor (9 page)

‘Then who is in charge of the stables here?'

‘Mr Hoskins, ma'am, but he's out at the moment. He's over at Twelvetrees as well. There's only me here.’

Mary Ann considered him. He looked reasonably intelli
gent. 'Then you will have to do. What is your name?'

‘Birkin, ma'am.'

‘Very well, Birkin. I want a small open carriage, in which to take a drive about the estate. Is there such a thing in the coach house?’

The boy thought deeply. 'Master's took his curricle - not
that that would be suitable for a lady, ma'am. There's the
gig, and the cocking-cart - but they're not very smart. Wait, though - there is something, ma'am, all shrouded up right at
the back. It's never used, but from its size and shape, it
might be some sort of light phaeton. Shall I have a look, ma'am?’

In a moment he was in the back of the coach-house,
dragging the covers off the vehicle, while Mary Ann stood at
the door watching, mindful of her dress. 'I was right, ma'am,
it is a phaeton,' he cried, growing less shy as he grew more
excited. 'Look - it's a beauty, too, and quite new, I should say - not a scratch on it. I wonder why it's all shrouded up? It seems a shame not to use it.'

‘It is suitable?' Mary Ann asked, not able to see much of it from her vantage point.

‘I'd say it were made for the job, ma'am,' Birkin said enthusiastically. 'It's right pretty, small, and light as a spider
web. It's a lady's park-phaeton all right. I wonder -’

Mary Ann was not interested in his wonderings. 'Is there
a horse to draw it? A quiet horse, that I could manage?’

‘
There's old Strawberry - he's quiet as a ewe-lamb.' He
examined the phaeton more closely. 'This is rigged for a pair
- ponies, I should say - but I can soon change that. If I take the shafts off the gig -'

‘Very well, Birkin, do so, if you please. Can you drive?'

‘Yes, ma'am.'

‘Then you shall teach me. Can you have the phaeton ready and the horse put to in half an hour?'

‘Well, yes, ma'am - but -'

‘Very well. Have it waiting at the door for me.’

When Mary Ann came down into the hall again, dressed
in her habit, and pulling on a pair of York tan gloves, she
saw the phaeton waiting for her at the foot of the steps, and
looking very smart. Birkin was holding the head of the horse
between the shafts, and Mary Ann was pleased to see that
the animal looked very quiet, and, being a pink roan, nicely
matched the coral-coloured upholstery of the phaeton.

She was not pleased when Oxhey came hurrying forward,
looking anxious, and tried to prevent her from taking the
drive she was so much looking forward to, especially as she
could make nothing of his incoherent reasons.

‘
Really, Oxhey, I cannot understand you. I gave Birkin
instructions to make the phaeton ready for me, as I wish to
drive in the park. What can you have to object to in that?'

‘
Oh, Madam, I only meant - that phaeton you see,
Madam, is Mr James's own -'

‘Well, and I am Mr James's wife. What of that?'

‘
I am persuaded he would not like it used, Madam. He
gave instructions it was not to be used.'

‘
Why? Is it unsafe?' Oxhey didn't answer. 'What reason
did he give?' Oxhey only looked miserable, unable to tell
her the reason, and not quick-witted enough to invent any
thing, and after a moment Mary Ann shrugged. 'I will not be
delayed by any more of this foolishness,' she said, and swept
past him down the steps.

*

Mary Ann enjoyed her drive, and she liked Birkin, who,
revelling in his meteoric promotion, was firmly established
as her champion, praised her progress, and enlivened the
drive for her by telling her the names of every tree and
flower they passed. His manner was respectful, but his
intelligence was too lively to allow him to remain silent until
spoken to, and Mary Ann had been lonely for so long that
she found his company refreshing.

She liked Strawberry, too, for his steadiness, though
Birkin said with affectionate contempt that he had only two paces, slow and slower. She was not a natural horsewoman,
and was slow to learn the handling of the reins; but the
phaeton was a perfect thing of its kind, and Strawberry
knew his business well enough to pick his own path. She returned from her drive exhilarated and determined to go
out again every day while the weather held.

When they drove back into the yard, she saw a sweating
horse tied up to the ring by the door, which Birkin told her knowledgeably was a post-horse, and she was not surprised,
therefore, on entering the great hall, to find an express
there. His business she could guess. She hurried to the
drawing-room, but it was empty; then she tried the
steward's room, and there found Oxhey standing before his
master, and Edward, the letter in his hand, and his face very
grave.

‘Is it news from London?' she asked.

Edward nodded, tried to speak, and had to clear his
throat before any sound would come. 'Flora is dead,' he
said. 'She died very quietly in her sleep. Charles was with
her, and my mother.' He swallowed again. 'They will remain
there until after the funeral. Charles is – bewildered with
grief, my sister says.'

‘
I am so very sorry,' Mary Ann said. She could see how
upset he was. 'Shall I send Father Thomas to you? A special
mass should be said –'

‘
Thank you,' Edward said, and Mary Ann inclined her
head, and left him alone.

*

James came home after the funeral, leaving Jemima and
Mary to keep Charles company a while longer. He came on
the night mail, setting down at the Hare and Heather a little
the worse for wear, and was easily persuaded to take a
leisurely breakfast in the inn parlour while Durban walked
up to the house to fetch the horses. A good fire and the
fragrance of fresh coffee raised his spirits, and the smell of
bacon frying in oatmeal was so tempting that he made a
much heartier breakfast than was his habit.

The potboy stuck his head round the door while James
was addressing a second toasted bun, to say that Durban
was back. James was so comfortable that he found himself
in no hurry to go home, and he poured himself another cup
of coffee, buttered another bun, put his feet up on the
fender, and slipped into a half-dream. A pleasant digestive
sadness came over him. Life could have been so different,
he thought, and the barrier between what was and what
might have been was so thin and transparent that it was hard
to believe that events were irreversible. One small, appar
ently unimportant event could change everything; the
essence of human tragedy was its inconsequence.

Pondering the mysteries of life was, of course, a good
way to delay going home to a house which held the wrong wife; but then he recollected that it also held a dear, good
brother, probably eager for news, and a darling daughter
who was at the age when every day brought its changes, so
he dragged himself out of his chair and went out into the
yard, yelling for Durban.

They had just come in sight of the house, and the horses
were beginning to pull and jog, when a one-horse phaeton
came out from under the barbican and turned onto the
track, heading away from them.

‘
Visitors?' James said aloud. 'It's a little early. I suppose –'
The nagging sense of familiarity resolved itself as he spoke. He broke off, his face whitening, his lips compressing themselves grimly. Durban opened his mouth to speak, but James
had kicked Nez Carré sharply enough to make that well-
bred animal snort with indignation and leap straight from a
walk into a canter, and by the time Durban had controlled
his own excited mount, his master was well ahead of him.

Mary Ann heard the bellowing and the sound of hooves,
looked over her shoulder, and after a moment's appre
hension that she was about to be attacked by highwaymen,
recognized her husband and pulled up.

‘
Ma'am –' began Birkin in sudden fear, his sharper eyes
noticing the expression on James's face, but there was no
time for more. James, carried past by the speed of his
approach, wrenched Nez Carré round on his hocks, and
swirled round them, his horse trampling and snorting and spattering the unfortunate Strawberry with foam from his
tossing head.

‘
Get down!' James bellowed, beside himself with fury, trying to drive Nez Carré near enough to grab the reins of
the phaeton. 'Get down this instant! How dare you take out my phaeton? Get down, I say!’

Birkin, supposing the command for him, turned as pale
as his master, scrambled over the side of the phaeton and
ran to Strawberry's head.

‘What ever is the matter, Mr Morland?' Mary Ann said composedly. 'Why are you so excited?'

‘
How dare you take out this carriage?' James shouted
furiously. 'I gave orders it was not to be used. No-one is to
touch it, no-one, do you hear? You will get down from
there at once. How dare you disobey me? By God, if this
were my regiment, I would see you flogged for this!’

Mary Ann could only assume that the last sentence was
meant for Birkin, though from his expression he might have
meant either of them, or both. She faced him firmly and
said, 'Birkin was obeying my orders, sir. And indeed, why
should I not use this carriage? It was there in the coach
house, unused, and it perfectly suits my requirements. You
cannot suppose I am harming it by driving in it a little, about
the estate?'

‘
No-one is allowed to use it,' James said. He was no
longer shouting, but his voice was no less angry. 'Everyone understood that order. Why were you not informed?'

‘To be sure,' Mary Ann said, blithely throwing away her
exculpation, 'Oxhey did try to dissuade me, but I thought he
was talking nonsense. He would give me no reason except
that the phaeton belonged to you, and I said to him, that as I
am your wife, there could be no objection.’

James jumped down from his horse and flung the reins to
Durban, who had caught up with them, took one step to the
phaeton and dragged Mary Ann by the arm out of the
driving seat. She staggered as she landed, and he shook her
upright, his fingers like shackles round her wrist.

‘
My wife, yes, you are my wife!' He shook her back and
forth, and she resisted him, trying to pry his hand loose, but
though she was tall and strong, he was wiry, and made
stronger by his anger. 'By God, there is no chance I will
forget that! Well, as
my wife
you will learn to obey my
orders and to keep your place! You
will not
touch anything
of mine without my permission, do you understand?’

Mary Ann, angry herself now, though frightened, began
to protest, but James only shouted again, 'Do you under
stand?' and pushing her back from him violently, at the
same time released her arm, so that she staggered, and fell,
or rather sat down, on the bare earth of the track.

The stillness and silence that followed was one of shock.
It was James who recovered first, though he was still so pale
that even his lips were white, and his eyes looked dark, like
bruises, in comparison. He could hardly believe what he had
done, but the sight of Mary Ann sitting on the ground, her
hat fallen off, her hair coming down, her eyes fixed on him
more in astonishment than fear, horrified and sobered him.
He spoke tersely to the two grooms.

‘
Durban, take the horses in. You, Birkin, take that
phaeton and put it back exactly as you found it. I'll speak to
you both later. Now go!’

They left him reluctantly. James went to Mary Ann and
helped her to her feet, and she was too surprised to resist him, but once upright she recovered enough to thrust him from her angrily. She straightened her clothes and dusted
herself down; James fetched her hat and gave it to her, and
they faced each other, she with growing indignation, he with
a sort of doomed calm.