The Trespass (32 page)

She saw from his face that he did not know what she was talking about.

For Cecil, however, some of the bits of the jigsaw fell into place.

And then the ship’s bell began to ring.

At once people shouted, rushed along the passageway outside and out on to the deck; sailors were unfurling the smaller sails, ready to go out into the channel.

Cecil walked inside the cabin and closed the door. Harriet and Ralph were both immediately acutely aware of Cecil’s sweaty, unwashed presence in the small space: he may have been aware also, but time was short. He glanced at Harriet carefully out of the corner of his eye for a moment, seeming to inspect the roof of the cabin.
She’s lost her stuffing,
he thought to himself.
Not that she had much to begin with.
The man’s visit seemed to have made her shorter, more crumpled. Ralph was looking at him in surprise and anger. Again the ship’s bell rang.

‘Excuse me, Lord Kingdom,’ he said. ‘I think that if this lass wants to go, is determined to go, you should not stand in her way.’

‘How dare you have the impertinence to think anything at all. What has this got to do with you?’ He turned away: Lord Ralph Kingdom did not converse with servants.

‘Lord Kingdom, there is not much time, so I won’t beat about the bush. I by chance took this lady to her home the other day where I was questioned and bullied by one of the servants as to her every movement in a most unpleasant manner. I was not taken with the atmosphere, so to speak. You may perhaps think young ladies should be imprisoned in their own homes, but I do not.’

The ship’s bell rang on continuously, jangling into the cabin. Lord Ralph Kingdom did not converse with servants but this one seemed determined to be conversed with. ‘Of course not,’ said Ralph haughtily, ‘but that was only a servant, like you. Her father is away.’

‘This “servant” told me that the Right Honourable Sir Charles Cooper, MP (for he gave me the whole title), had given strict instructions that Miss Cooper was never to be alone, and if possible kept in the house.’

‘I expect he has been worried about her great grief at her sister’s death, as have I.’

‘All I’m saying, Lord Ralph, is that perhaps she should be allowed to deal with her grief her own way and if travelling the world is her decision, I say you should leave her to make it.’

‘Miss Cooper is only seventeen!’

‘Old enough to marry you but not old enough to know her own mind, is that it?’

‘That is completely different. She would come into my care.’ They had begun to speak as if she was not there.

‘My daughter was fifteen when she emigrated to Australia. She wanted to better her life and I said good luck to her.’

‘She was a working girl! It is quite different.’

‘I would think educated girls would be even more equipped myself. They got money. They got cabins. My girl travelled steerage. However, the fact is I think Miss Harriet should be allowed to decide and for all we know she has her reasons.’ Some legs ran past the window, someone was shouting, the bell was continually ringing.

‘Harriet.’ Ralph dismissed Cecil from his mind and turned back to her. ‘I have told you over and over, I simply cannot let you do this. I insist, come with me now, quickly, and I will take you back to London and your father’s house and we will forget this terrible day ever dawned.’ And he took her arm.

‘Different rules, eh, Lord Kingdom? But I tell you this, I’d never imprison my daughter in my house, because I think of my daughter as a person. You people don’t let your women into the real world, you know that? Why should Miss Harriet be imprisoned just because she is unhappy? By her father or by the servants or by you or by anyone else. And different rules for little ballet dancers, of course, their fathers don’t imprison them in their houses. Or where would you be, Lord Kingdom?’ Ralph’s face blanched in shock: he wheeled round to Cecil again and it seemed as if he would hit him. Cecil was ready, balanced, waiting. ‘Does she know about your little ballet dancer, Lord Kingdom?’ Harriet saw that there was violence now in the air: yet the cabin was far too small and crowded for all this drama and ringing bells: in a mad moment Harriet saw Mary, hovering and
laughing.

‘Different rules again, Lord Kingdom, different rules for Lords. You toffs and Lords, you make me sick. Drag her off this boat big and strong, go on, why don’t you? But she’ll always know you’re a hypocrite. Tell her about your little place in Park Lane.’ But Harriet saw that for some reason Cecil too was now really angry in a different way, as if the argument was suddenly about something else. ‘And just maybe her father’s a hypocrite too. And both of you running the country, isn’t that just dandy? There are changes coming, Lord Kingdom, one day in the not too distant future England will be ruled by men who
deserve
to rule, who’ll be chosen by people like me. The world’s filling up with people like me, and people like you don’t realise it. You’re a hypocrite, Lord Kingdom, and you’ve come in here and told this girl what she must do as if you own her. I hear you – “I can’t possibly allow it” – you make me sick, you hear that?’ And Cecil, breathing heavily, nodded to Harriet. ‘I’ll be on deck if you need me, the ship will go shortly.’ And he turned and left the small cabin. The smell of his sweat remained behind.

The ship’s bell was now ringing continuously, and they heard feet above them, hurrying from side to side, things being dragged across the deck.

Lord Ralph Kingdom was literally speechless. So Harriet spoke.

‘Please, Ralph, leave me now. If you have any feelings in the world for me, leave me now.’

‘That man should be horsewhipped. How dare he speak that way in front of a lady.’ As Harriet said nothing he went on, with difficulty, ‘He should not have – the ballet dancer…’

She wanted to say she did not care about the ballet dancer. But some instinct made her understand that mention of the ballet dancer had undermined his position of authority with Harriet, and that he cared more about that than anything else Cecil had said.

‘Of course,’ he continued stiffly, but honourably, ‘I will leave. I have no wish to force my attentions upon you.’ He picked up his hat. ‘But quite apart from my feelings for you I will feel it my duty to tell your father that I have seen you. He can easily board the ship from a pilot boat off Falmouth, you must realise that.’

‘What do you mean?’ She looked at him in terror.

‘The ship must wait for tides and winds once it has gone down the channel. It could be a week or more before you finally say goodbye to the English coast.’

‘Ralph. I fear my father. It is because of him that I am leaving.’ If he could have, just then, only looked at her carefully, listened to her properly, he would have understood there was something beneath her words. But he was not looking at her, he was not listening to her: he was thinking of his own position, of what he should do.

‘You love him, I am certain, all girls love their fathers. And he will want, as I do, only what is best for you.’

Now they called from the deck, LAST VISITORS ASHORE. LAST VISITORS ASHORE.

So Harriet gathered up her final remaining strength, and crossed a line she had never crossed before. ‘In that case, Lord Kingdom, you leave me no option. If my father boards this ship I will feel it my duty to inform both my father and your mother that I know about – about your ballet dancer. It is common knowledge and my family at Rusholme will confirm that I have known about it for some time. I have your gift of Tennyson to me with the inscription and it will be understood that I took this ship because you broke my heart.’

Ralph looked at her in utter disbelief. Then he turned and left the cabin.

Cecil found her there; she had fainted yet again. Caution made him not call for a steward but lift her himself. Before she opened her eyes she smelt the sweat and the clothes.

‘I have to leave you, Miss Harriet,’ he said hurriedly. ‘They’re just going to take up the plank. I don’t even have water for you but I daresn’t wait any longer or I’ll be coming with you and my family would have something to say about that. Are you well enough for this adventure? Do you want to disembark? I could still get you off.’ She shook her head weakly, fumbled in her embroidery bag to give him money, half of which he laid discreetly back on the small table on top of a letter that he had placed there.

‘Is it true we shall take a week to leave the English coast?’

‘Depends on the weather. This time of year, anything could happen.’

‘Then Lord Ralph could stop me still.’

‘Do you think that is his intention?’ Cecil was trying to get out of the door, looking anxiously upwards.

‘I – I’m not sure. I said I would inform his mother and my father about his ballet dancer, and tell them that I had left—’ she gave an odd half laugh, ‘because he had broken my heart.’

‘Good girl. That’s the spirit. I’ll tell the servants I put you on a train. That’ll confuse them for a while!’ Just then there was a harsh cranking noise: the capstan starting to drag the chains and very slowly pull at the anchor. Sailors shouted, footsteps ran across the deck and then the sailors started singing.

‘Good luck, Miss Harriet,’ but she followed him, calling to him as he was disappearing down the gangplank.

‘Cecil!’ He turned. Two spots of colour had returned to her face. She had to lean towards him to speak above the noise of the capstan turning. ‘In my life I never heard a man talk as you did. You sounded like John Stuart Mill himself! How I wish you had known my sister Mary.’

‘I did,’ he said, and he was gone.

*   *   *

The harsh cranking noise got louder as the anchor was raised: finally there was a juddering at the stern as it was pulled aboard by the sailors. Harriet walked slowly, as if in a dream, along the deck which was overflowing with waving, weeping people. The German band below was playing a last hymn. On the deck children ran everywhere, trying to get a better view, adults pushed past her, waving and calling. She was knocked and buffeted but did not seem to notice. Then she heard the wind catch at the sails; looked upwards, saw the Captain and the pilot and the officers shouting instructions, saw the sailors pulling on the ropes, singing, saw the sails billow noisily outward and then flap loudly against the masts as the ship began to move. Away from the shore. As the stretch of water widened the sailors relaxed for a moment, stood watching the sails and the ropes for the next command: briefly the sound of the sails and the sound of the water was all that could be heard. Harriet suddenly saw that people had stopped calling and waving, stared back at the disappearing land with taut, terrible faces.

On the shore a man with a battered hat standing beside a cart raised his hand in farewell as the
Amaryllis
got smaller and smaller.

EIGHTEEN

In London the consternation was much, much worse than Harriet had anticipated. She had thought of herself and her disappearance as the object of the consternation: for everyone else the object of consternation was her father.

When she had not come back to the carriage outside St Paul’s Church; when first Lucy and at last the head footman had gone into the church, found the vicar and ascertained that Harriet had not spoken to him, the immediate assumption was that she had been kidnapped in Covent Garden, the daughter of a Member of Parliament, perhaps held to ransom. The servants were terrified for their very lives. Messages were sent to the brothers, Richard and Walter, who in turn sent a messenger to Sir Charles in Norwich: not only the police but the Prime Minister had soon been alerted; over and over Lucy wept that she would be dismissed.

Sir Charles (disdaining the London and North Eastern Railway even though he was a shareholder) arrived, incandescent with rage and fear, on horseback. He had ridden, whipping his horses to the point of collapse, leaving even Peters, who was usually a galloping match for his master, struggling to catch him. Sir Charles marched into his house, striking the footman who opened the door across the face; the servants were assembled and the police inspector was waiting. Each servant went over the events, Sir Charles shouted, the police took notes (Peters smugly thought to himself that this would never have happened if he had stayed in London). The cook and one of the butlers confirmed that a hansom cab driver, the same one who had taken the furniture away in a cart, had come to the door in the mews, anxious to volunteer that he’d taken the young lady to Fenchurch Street Station, but could say nothing about her further whereabouts; he had come, he said, because he felt uneasy about dropping off a young lady at a railway station on her own: when the police tried to find this cabman to ascertain whence he had collected her, he was nowhere to be found. Lucy was instantly dismissed, Sir Charles unmoved by her weeping: she was the personal maid, she should have known where Harriet was at all times.

Mary’s stripped room was observed in incomprehension; Harriet’s own room was studied, but not by Lucy, who would have recognised that Mary’s gowns and hats swelled Harriet’s wardrobe: Lucy was now trudging to Spitalfields. Sir Charles and Richard and Walter and the police saw Harriet’s clothes untouched, it seemed: how could they have been expected to know that it was Mary’s linen that lay on the lemon-scented shelves?

A heavy police-presence was seen in Covent Garden and at Fenchurch Street Station: if anyone had seen Harriet quickly making her way through the cabbages and the chickens in one, or the new railway trains in the other, or the rats in both – would they tell the bobbies and get into trouble themselves? In Covent Garden the pale girl with the baby and the violets remembered Harriet: nobody asked her. Although the police inspector assured Sir Charles that they would find the culprit, that no young girl – he corrected himself, no young
lady
– could simply disappear, by Sunday evening they had drawn a blank. No ransom note had been received. No matter that Sir Charles Cooper lashed at his sons and his servants with his anger, no-one could throw any further light on Harriet’s disappearance.

Messages were sent to Aunt Lydia in Norfolk, and the Coopers in Kent; nobody at Rusholme of course took any notice of Asobel, who had received Harriet’s letter, her first letter.