The Madness (19 page)

A murmur of voices drifted down from the upstairs bedchamber. Marnie listened half-heartedly, not caring what was being said. The voices rumbled on and Marnie let the sound lull her to another place; to a summer day when the waves were rolling gently on to the beach and she and Noah were sitting on the shingle watching a green fishing boat catch the breeze in its white sails. ‘There’s me pa,’ said Marnie excitedly, pointing at the yellow-bearded fisherman who was waving at them from the boat. Noah took her hand and squeezed it tight. Seagulls were wheeling overhead, shouting and screeching in delight.

Then the shouts from upstairs grew louder and Smoaker’s voice came strong and clear and pushed the images from Marnie’s head.

‘I’ve been shamed!’ he shouted. ‘I’m a laughing stock on that pier. Word is we’re running a whorehouse here!’

‘Well, I hope you put them straight!’ Ma’s shrill voice pierced through the thin ceiling. ‘She wouldn’t know what to do with a man if a knife was put to her throat!’

‘That man has set tongues wagging,’ bawled Smoaker. ‘I’m telling you. And the girl is naught but trouble! I’ve had enough of it. I’m warning you, you’d best see to it that you keep a close eye on her from now on!’

Ma mumbled something back that Marnie couldn’t quite catch. A door slammed and Marnie heard the unmistakeable thudding of Ma coming down the stairs. ‘Shift over,’ she ordered as she strode into the bedchamber. Marnie slid over to the other side of the bed, leaving behind the warm spot she had made. Ma climbed in, grumbling and fidgeting until she’d got herself comfy.

‘What’s going on?’ Marnie whispered.

‘You might well ask,’ said Ma. ‘We’ve lost Eldon and his money and now he’s spreading gossip. Smoaker’s off his head with fury and you  …  ? Well, you’ve gone and got yourself a whole new livelihood as a whore. So it seems!’ Ma huffed and turned on her side with her back to Marnie.

‘You know it’s not true, don’t you, Ma?’ protested Marnie.

Ma had taken most of the blanket with her and when she shrugged her reply, the last corner slipped off Marnie’s legs. ‘Don’t stop Smoaker from having to deal with all the talk though, does it?’ she said.

‘But I’ve done nothing wrong!’

‘Maybe so,’ said Ma. ‘But it don’t make life any easier for us. You do nothing but bring trouble to our door, Marnie Gunn.’

‘But Ma  …  !’

‘But nothing!’ snapped Ma. ‘Go to sleep.’

Marnie opened her mouth to speak. Then shut it again. What was the point? She didn’t care what they all thought. She was glad Eldon had gone. He could get washed off the pier and drowned out to sea for all she cared. She only wanted to get through the next months as swiftly as possible. She would keep busy: washing soiled linen till her hands were raw, she would press it smooth till the muscles in her arms ached and she would keep quiet. She would go about her work without a fuss and the rest of the world could do as it liked. She pulled at the blanket and secured the edge of it from Ma’s fast-fading grip. Ma’s breathing rattled its way into sleep and Marnie lay still, waiting for the heat of Ma’s bulk to creep its way over to her side of the bed.

The following morning, on her way to the water pump, Marnie stopped in the backyard and moved the old firebrick that hid her lost treasures. She picked them up, one by one, and turned them over in her hand: a scrap of scarlet ribbon, a broken comb, a mother-of-pearl button and a torn lace handkerchief. They were useless things really. Lost things and no good to anyone any more. Marnie gathered them all in her hands and in one swift movement she flung them over the back wall into the scrub and tangle of grass and weeds. She didn’t need them now. She had something to replace them with. Something much better. From the pocket of her frock she took out the handkerchief that Noah had tied around her knee. She’d washed the blood off, after dabbing at it first with milk, then she’d pressed it carefully, folded it and hidden it in her pocket. She looked at it now, and spread it out across her hand. It was made of the finest cotton and Noah’s initials were embroidered in one corner. She brought it to her mouth and kissed the letters gently before hiding it away under the brick.

She could wait for him. She knew that now. She had no choice. But at least she had a piece of him. With the handkerchief and the baby in her belly, she had real treasures to look after now.

44

A Bone Hairbrush

Marnie was used to her monthly courses. They had been coming since she was thirteen. So she wasn’t surprised at first when, a week after Noah’s departure, she started to bleed. She tore up some rags as usual, to pad herself with, and began to sort through the pile of dirty linen Ma had dumped on the kitchen table.

Marnie was thinking of Noah, as she did every minute of every day. She was thinking of the odd colours of his eyes, the pale mole under his eyebrow, the set of his shoulders, the white of his skin, the birthmark on his hip and the clean, soft brown of his hair. But try as she might she couldn’t picture the whole of him at once. She envied those lovers, the gentry mostly, who kept miniature portraits of their loved ones in silver lockets around their necks.

Her lower belly ached, as it always did on the first day of her courses. She rubbed at it with her hand. Then a terrible thought struck her and she let the shirt she was holding drop on to the kitchen floor. What if her bleeding meant there wasn’t a baby? What if this was the baby’s blood now, creeping out of her so slowly? She wasn’t sure how it all worked and there was no one she could ask.

‘Marnie!’ Ma yelled at her. ‘Stop daydreaming, girl, and get on with sorting that washing.’

Marnie looked across at Ma, huffing and puffing over the dolly-tub. She couldn’t ask her, that was for sure. Ma would think she was imagining being with child and would have her in the madhouse for certain.

She would just wait, Marnie decided. She was getting good at that. Soon her belly would start growing and the truth of it would be there for all the world to see.

When Ma had finished with her for the day, Marnie wandered up the road to the manor and stood outside the iron gates. It made her feel closer to Noah somehow and made her feel special to know she’d been inside, that she’d been
invited
inside the grandest house for miles around. If truth be told, she was also checking that Noah hadn’t unexpectedly returned. But the upstairs windows were shuttered, the driveway was thick with unswept leaves and, though the maid Hetty had said a few servants would be staying on at the manor, the whole place had a look of sleep about it. Marnie wanted to knock at the door and ask for Hetty. What if she had news of Noah? Even if not, she was someone Marnie could talk to about him. She knew Noah’s habits; she cleaned his bedchamber, served his meals, even washed his soiled linen. Being close to Hetty would be a way of keeping close to Noah.

Marnie walked up the driveway, expecting any minute for someone to appear and warn her off. But except for the crunch of leaves under her feet and the dull tap of her stick, there was silence. She walked by the Grand door and a shiver ran through her. Once Noah was back and she told him about the baby, he’d be sure to marry her as soon as possible. Then she’d belong
here.
She’d use the Grand door like a proper lady and everyone down in the village would treat her like she deserved to be treated. There’s be no more taunts, no more whispers, no more running away from her. She’d be proud then to walk through the village any time she liked. And Pa would be sure to come back too. He would never want to miss her wedding.

There was still not a soul to be seen as Marnie walked around the side of the manor to the servants’ door. If she didn’t know better she would swear the whole place was empty. But as she reached the door, she saw it was half open. She stopped. Should she knock? Would Hetty be kind to her? Or would she throw her off the grounds like she’d threatened to do the last time?

The open door was tempting. Marnie pushed at it gently and it swung full open without a squeak. She recognised the passageway inside. The screens passage, Noah had called it. It was as dark inside as it had been the first night Noah had brought her here. Only the light from the open door crept across the threshold. Marnie stepped inside. She listened carefully. There were voices, she was sure of it. But they sounded a long way off. She inched forwards.

She walked past doors on both sides of the passage. There was the one to the Great Hall, she was sure of it. And there was the door to the kitchen. The voices sounded louder now. If it was Hetty and some of the other servants, they were there in the kitchen. No doubt enjoying the freedom while their masters were away. Marnie walked quickly by. Hetty could wait. She had something else in mind now.

When she reached the end of the passage, there was another door. She carefully opened it and peeped inside. It was the hallway, with the great sweeping staircase that she and Noah had slid down. Marnie smiled at the memory. It was quiet and hushed with only the sound of her shallow breaths moving the air around her. Marnie began to climb the stairs, remembering the softness of the carpet as her stick sank into each step. Up she went, marvelling again at the richness of the paper on the walls and the faces of Noah’s relatives peering out at her from their heavy frames. It was hard to believe they would soon be her people too. Maybe one day a painting of her would be on these walls. Smiling down for all the world to see.

Marnie reached the landing and stood awhile to ease the ache in her leg and to listen for any sign of movement. There was nothing. Her body relaxed. She felt safe up here, with the servants away far below. She just had to find Noah’s bedchamber now.

There were doors stretching away down the corridor on either side of the staircase. Marnie wasn’t sure which way to try first. Left or right? Left or right? After a moment’s hesitation, she let her good leg lead the way and turned to her left. The first door whined as she opened it, the sound loud in the still of the corridor. Marnie held her breath. She let it out again. No one had heard. She stepped inside the room and narrowed her eyes to see through the gloom. Large shapes were covered by sheets and there was the heavy scent of roses in the air. Marnie knew at once it couldn’t be Noah’s room. It didn’t smell like him. But just to be sure, she moved across the room to where a heavy pair of curtains were drawn tight over the windows. She stepped behind them and saw at once that this room looked out over the back of the manor. Over a sweeping lawn and flower beds and a wooded copse at the top. With a sigh she realised she’d chosen the wrong direction down the corridor.

With a growing sense of boldness, Marnie stepped back outside the room and turned to her right. ‘
Which room? Which room?’
she murmured to herself. She let her fingers play over the ancient wooden handles of the first two doors. Then, knowing that Noah’s bedchamber window was in the centre of the top floor, she chose the third handle to eventually turn. There was no scent of roses in this room, just a pleasant muskiness of old ashes and candlewax. She went straight to the window, just to be sure. As she pulled aside the curtain, she knew with a leap of her heart that she had chosen correctly this time. She was looking out high over the village, at the rooftops, chimneys, tiny winding lanes and the mess of the pier works. And there, behind it all, spread out before her, was the ocean. She had never seen so much of it before; she had never realised how enormous it was. Or how very beautiful.

Noah had been right. He had the best view of the whole manor. Marnie felt a stab of envy. How lucky he was to wake to this every morning. Why would he wish to go back to London when he had this glorious sight to look upon every day? It was like the best painting Marnie could ever imagine. Perhaps though, she dared to think, once they were married they could keep this room and she too could look out upon all of this every morning and every night.

She turned from the window and looked at the dust sheets draped across the furniture. She went to the bed first and pulled back the heavy sheet that covered it. Her nose itched at the cloud of dust that rose in the air. Underneath, the bed was still made up. Marnie wondered if the bedding had been washed since Noah last slept there. She lifted the covers, then, resting her stick against the bedstead, climbed on to the mattress and lay down. It was so soft and the pillows were so high and so white. She turned and pressed her face into the smooth linen. Could she still smell him there? She sniffed deeply and was sure that in the depths of the pillow there was a trace of his sweat and saltiness. She lay still. Being there, so close to him, was almost as good as having his arms around her.

She lay there for a while, savouring the quiet, the scents and the luxury of it all. Her eyes closed and she drifted. She was safe and warm. She was where she belonged.

With a start, Marnie opened her eyes. The pillow was damp on her cheek and her neck a little stiff. How long had she been there? With a yawn, she quickly climbed out of the bed, straightened the covers and replaced the dust sheet. It seemed gloomier in the room now, the light a silver grey. She took up her stick and readied herself to leave. But as she walked by another sheeted object, she couldn’t help but take a peek. It was a washstand, and lying by the jug and bowl was a hairbrush. Noah’s hairbrush. Marnie picked it up. It was heavy, made of fine bone and stiff bristles. Marnie held it in her hand as Noah might have held it in his. Then she saw that tangled around the bristles there were pale brown hairs; a small handful at least. She pulled at them and eased them away. They were soft and clean. She wrapped the hairs around her fingers to make a small bundle, and tucked it safe in her pocket. She sighed with satisfaction.