CHAPTER EIGHT (Part Two)
When later Pricilla went off the village with Maggie, it was with added anguish in her heart that Rosalind, gathering her moral armour about her went to the housekeeper’s parlour. The door stood open and she could hear the woman moving about inside. She appeared to be alone and so Rosalind rapped smartly on the door.
Mrs Gilbert hove into sight. She stared at Rosalind in consternation.
‘What do you want?’ Her tone was acid.
‘As if you don’t know,’ Rosalind said.
‘Go away! I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Afraid to face me, are you?’ Rosalind challenged. ‘I know your conscience doesn’t worry you because obviously you don't have one.’ She barged past the housekeeper and stepped into the room.
‘Get out!’
‘Don’t think you can brow beat me,’ Rosalind flared at her. ‘I’m not one of your staff.’
Mrs Gilbert’s face was turning purple.
‘I’m going immediately to Sir Leopold,’ she spluttered. ‘I’ll have you thrown out, bag and baggage.’
‘I’ve already spoken to him,’ Rosalind said. ‘He doesn’t want me to leave; he said so.’
Mrs Gilbert’s mouth dropped open. ‘You barefaced liar!’
‘Let’s not bandy words,’ Rosalind said brusquely. ‘You have deliberately labelled me with foul names, stripping me of respectability in the village. I demand to know why.’
Mrs Gilbert’s lips twisted. ‘You’re a trollop, sure enough. The village needed to be warned against you.’
Rosalind tightened her lips in fury. ‘You bribed those man who gave false evidence against me; you or Mr Tucker,’ she rasped.
Her hands twitched at her sides, longing to grasp the older woman by her immaculate hair and tug it out by the roots.
‘How did you persuade the curate to fall in with your plans?’ Rosalind eyed the woman keenly. ‘Perhaps you know a secret of his that you threatened to reveal?’
Something like alarm flickered in Mrs Gilbert’s gimlet eyes and Rosalind knew she was right.
‘I think I know the secret too,’ Rosalind said with triumph. ‘He’s no more a true clergyman than you are. I wager he is an impostor and you are shielding him for your own purpose.’
‘You’re talking wild nonsense,’ Mrs Gilbert shouted. ‘You’ve been shown up for what you are and now you seek revenge on innocent people.’
‘I seek justice!’ Rosalind shouted back at the top of her voice, her blood boiling. ‘And I’ll get it too.’
‘You’ll get nothing,’ Mrs Gilbert hooted. ‘No one will raise a finger to help you. You’re finished in Rhosilli. Why don’t you get out and leave us alone.’
‘I’m not going anywhere until I expose both you and your accomplice, the co-called curate,’ Rosalind said. ‘I’ll be watching you closely from now, Mrs Gilbert. You’ll show your hand sooner or later. Your kind always over-reach themselves.’
With that Rosalind whirled on her heel and left the room. There was silence for a moment and then the door slammed behind her.
Now she had had her say Rosalind felt a little better, but not much. She was still labelled; still an outcast and Sir Leopold had not yet made a decision on her future. Mr Cedric was on her side, she was certain. He would speak up for her against his father, but would it do any good? She could not leave Rhosilli until her name was cleared. A bad reputation would follow her wherever she went and would prevent her from finding good employment.
She felt a little desperate then at the thought of penury and possibly the workhouse in her future. She must clear her name at all costs.
Rosalind now dreaded meal times and although she was hungry after spending the remainder of the day with Pricilla in the open air of the gardens, went into dinner with a feeling of despair.
It was again almost a silent meal except for Pricilla’s chatter. Her walk into the village with Maggie seemed like a great adventure, and she went over every moment of it as they ate. At least someone was happy.
The meal was halfway through when there was a great commotion in the hall. A high-pitched cry of one of the maids made Mr Cedric get to his feet hurriedly. But before he could take a step to investigate the clamour the door of the dining room was flung open and a man stepped in to confront them.
He was tall and lean, hatless, with thick dishevelled hair that hung below his collar. His eyes burned feverishly in a haggard pallid face, yet Rosalind could see that he was not old. A heavy coat was flung carelessly around his shoulders. He let this fall to the floor now in a gesture that spoke of defiance.
‘Jonathan!’ It was Cedric who spoke the name in a tone of utter disbelief.
Sir Leopold’s chair scraped back as he got unsteadily to his feet. ‘You blackguard!’ he shouted at the man. ‘How dare you step foot in this house?’
Jonathan Trevellian stood swaying on his feet, his hot eyes surveying the room as though remembering times past. Rosalind could see then the strong resemblance to Sir Leopold.
She glanced around the table at the girls. Melissa sat motionless, both hands covering her face. Pricilla was staring at the newcomer, obviously bewildered.
Sir Leopold raised an arm and pointed. ‘Leave this house now! You are not welcome under my roof.’
‘Father, wait!’ Cedric said. ‘I think he’s unwell.’
Cedric went to his brother and took hold of his arm.
‘Sit down, Jonathan.’ He pulled a chair at the table and edged his brother towards it where he sank into it.
‘Are you mad, Cedric?’ Sir Leopold bellowed. ‘This man is a pariah. He has betrayed you, all of us.’
‘This man is your eldest son,’ Cedric retorted. ‘Your flesh and blood.’
‘He’s no son of mine!’
Jonathan Trevellian seemed to be in a world of his own for he neither spoke nor showed any sign that he heard the words flung at him.
‘How did he get here?’ Melissa spoke in a whisper. ‘Is - is my mother with him?’
The answer seemed to come in the loud clatter of a man’s boot-steps crossing the hall from the front door and the next instant another man entered.
He was tall and fashionably dressed, with a keen healthy look about him that was in contrast to the man now slumped at the table. He lifted his tall hat from his head at the sight of woman present and held it against his coat front.
‘Whillowby!’ Sir Leopold began in a thunderous voice. ‘You dare to bring this scoundrel to my home?’
‘I dare Sir Leopold,’ the man Whillowby said strongly. ‘Because Jonathan is very ill. I found him in filthy lodgings in Whitechapel. I could not in good conscience leave him there to his fate.’
‘It would be better if he were dead!’ Sir Leopold pronounced with high emotion.
‘Father!
‘Have you forgotten he well-neigh ruined us?’
‘That’s an exaggeration, Father,’ Cedric retorted. ‘We have survived the scandal.’
‘Uncle Richard, where is my mother?’ Melissa was on her feet now standing before Whillowby. Her hands were pressed together before her as though in prayer.
Richard Whillowby gazed into the room above Melissa’s head, his glance falling on Rosalind, a stranger to him.
‘We’ll talk of that in private,’ he said. ‘But first we must get Jonathan to bed.’
‘He’ll not spend one night under my roof,’ Sir Leopold declared in thunderous tones. ‘I deny him utterly.’
‘You can’t mean that, Father,’ Cedric exclaimed aghast. ‘He’s in dire need. Look at him. He’s burning up with fever.’
‘I have already thrown him off,’ Sir Leopold said sternly. ‘I will not rescind.’
‘But, sir, where can he go?’ Richard Whillowby asked. ‘The inn may not receive him in this state. There’ll be fears of disease. You know what villagers are like.’
‘You should not have brought him here.’
‘Is he to be denied a roof over his head when he is so ill?’ Whillowby’s voice was pleading.
‘What about the cottage?’ Rosalind asked, standing up. ‘That’s unoccupied.’
There was silence as all eyes turned towards her.
‘What did you say?’ Sir Leopold said at last, staring at her with wrathful eyes. But she bore his look with determination.
‘You’re unwilling for him remain under this roof,’ she exclaimed loudly. ‘But surely he can find shelter at the cottage.’
‘Father, that’s a sensible idea,’ Cedric said quickly.
‘No!’
‘But, sir.’ Rosalind came forward now to press her point. ‘It’s inhuman to turn away a sick man, no matter who he is or what he’s done.’
Sir Leopold glared at her his features turning dull red. ‘How dare you interfere in family matters – you who are in disgrace yourself?’
‘I am not in disgrace and well you know it!’ Rosalind flared at him not caring who he was at that moment. ‘There’s disgrace enough in this house though it is well hidden.’
‘What do you mean?’
Rosalind collected herself together, swallowing her anger but shaking her head at him. ‘No matter now, Sir Leopold. This is something more pressing. It’s unchristian to turn this man away when he is in so bad a way.’
‘Jonathan will need nursing,’ Richard Whillowby said quickly. ‘He cannot be left alone. He’s out of his mind with fever.’
‘I can spare no servant to care for him,’ Sir Leopold insisted. ‘It’s out of the question.’
‘I’ll care for him,’ Rosalind offered spontaneously. ‘I can move into the cottage also. He’ll have care day and night.’
‘Rosalind...’ Cedric looked dubious. ‘I can’t let you do that?’
‘Why not, Mr Cedric?’ she asked. ‘You brother needs help and no one seems concerned. We stand here arguing while he suffers. Look at him.’
Cedric moved quickly. ‘Here Richard! Help me get him to the cottage. Melissa, send for the trap. We’ll take him to the cottage in that.’
‘I forbid it!’ Sir Leopold exclaimed although his tone was less certain.
Cedric ignored the outburst. He and Richard Whillowby, taking Jonathan under his arms lifted him from the chair and half carrying, half dragging took him out into the hall where most of the servants were lingering in curiosity.
Rosalind followed quickly in their wake. By the time the two men carrying Jonathan reached the door the trap was outside.
‘The doctor must be sent for,’ Rosalind said firmly. ‘George Dobbs must go to the village to fetch him.’
‘There is no doctor in Rhosilli,’ Cedric said panting as they hauled Jonathan onto the trap. ‘The nearest medical man is at Middleton.’
‘Then George must go for him as soon as possible,’ Rosalind said. ‘When we’ve finished with the trap he must be off.’
She was aware that she was taking charge and the men were allowing her to do so.
‘I’ll need one maid at my disposal,’ Rosalind said firmly as the horse and trap pushed its way through the wildness of the track beyond the house. ‘Let me have Maggie Dawes.’
‘I’ll arrange it, Rosalind,’ Cedric said. ‘Whatever you need will be at your disposal.’
Rosalind was surprised that Melissa had accompanied them. Silently she trudged alongside Rosalind as they followed in the wake of the trap. For the moment her face had lost its arrogance and now she looked pale and frightened. Rosalind was tempted to say a comforting word but decided it might be unwelcome.
The cottage had been unoccupied so long it must be damp. They would need fresh bedding and fires must be lit.
When the trap reached the cottage Rosalind viewed it with trepidation. How damp was it? It might be a death trap to someone in Jonathan Trevellian’s weakened condition, but there was no other solution.
Surprisingly, Cedric produced a key and opened the door. Rosalind rushed in ahead while the men got the sick man out of the trap. The front door opened into a very large sitting-room with a big fireplace. The place smelled musty and there was a thick film of dust everywhere.
Rosalind decided straight away that this is where she would nurse Jonathan Trevellian. A bed must be brought down from upstairs and placed near the fire, but for the moment the couch must do.
‘Melissa, quickly,’ Rosalind ventured to say. ‘Brush away the dust from that couch. Your uncle must lay there for the moment until we can air a mattress.’
The girl hesitated for only a second before grabbing an antimacassar from the back of a nearby chair and attacking the dusty couch with it.
The men came in with their burden and Rosalind heard the trap rattle away. The doctor could not come quickly enough for her.
‘On the couch,’ Rosalind instructed deciding she must be decisive. ‘One of you must undress him immediately while I go and look for some firewood. We must light a fire as quickly as possible.’
‘What shall I do?’ Melissa was standing there awkwardly twisting her hands in front of her.
Rosalind decided this was no place for her. ‘Melissa, go back to the house. Find Maggie. Bring bedclothes and fresh linen for Mr Jonathan. And some food. Brandy.’
Nodding Melissa turned on her heels and was off.
‘I’ll undress my brother,’ Cedric said. ‘You help Rosalind, Whillowby.’
‘I’d be grateful of Mr Whillowby would chop a good supply of logs for the fire,’ Rosalind said. ‘I can’t rely on gatherings from the woods to keep the fire going day and night.’
Richard Whillowby immediately took off his elegantly tailored coat and rolling up the sleeves of his silk shirt went outside to find an axe.
As she went off into the surrounding woods Rosalind could hear the rhythmic pounding of the axe and felt a little in awe that she was in command.
But did she know what she was about? She had undertaken to care for Jonathan Trevellian. She prayed she would be up to the task. She must put all her own trouble aside and concentrate of her charge. He looked a very sick man, but she would do all she could for him as though he were kin.
When she got back with an armful of dried sticks and branches, she saw that Maggie, seated on the driving seat of a small gig had arrived with the required supplies of bedding, food and other necessities.
She wondered if Sir Leopold had made objections.
Putting a screen around the couch Cedric attired his brother in a clean night shirt while Rosalind and Maggie set the fire and soon had a good blaze going.
‘Maggie, please make some clear vegetable broth,’ Rosalind said. ‘Mr Jonathan must have some nourishment before he sleeps.’
‘What next?’ Richard Whillowby asked standing in his shirt sleeves, fists on his hips.
‘I’d be grateful, sir,’ Rosalind said carefully. ‘If one of the beds could be brought down. This will be the sick room.’
‘Right you are, Miss Trevellian,’ Richard Whillowby said cheerfully. ‘Cedric help me manhandle the thing down those narrow stairs.’
Cedric was standing staring around him and it was then that Rosalind saw that some of the walls were adorned with paintings and that other canvases were stacked at the other end of the room. She realised it must be very painful for him to be reminded so of his wife in this way.
‘Come along, Cedric!’ Richard Whillowby said from the bottom of the staircase. ‘We must get Jonathan settled for the night.’
Cedric Trevellian had a very forgiving nature, Rosalind reflected. Here was the man who had taken his wife, but he was doing all that he could for him. She admired him for that.
Soon the bed was down, the mattress aired and Jonathan Trevellian placed in it, covered by clean warm bedclothes.
‘Where will you sleep, Rosalind?’ asked Cedric when all arrangements were complete
‘The couch will do for me.’
He glanced at the sick man. ‘I’m not sure that is proper.’
Rosalind was surprised at his attitude. ‘I have undertaken to care for him,’ she reminded him. ‘I am in effect his nurse. Propriety has nothing to do with the situation.’
‘Maggie must remain with you,’ Cedric said firmly. ‘It might be wise too to get a woman up from the village to see to the rough work.’
‘After this morning I doubt any village woman will associate with me.’
Cedric’s lips tightened. ‘That infernal curate! I’ve a mind...’
Rosalind held up a hand in protest. ‘Please, sir, do nothing rash. Nothing of that matters now. All our efforts must concentrate on Mr Jonathan’s predicament.’
‘Rosalind, I do appreciate what you are doing for my brother. You stood up to my father well. He’s not used to that, certainly not from a woman.’
She knew she was not mistaken in hearing admiration in his voice and felt her cheeks flame.
‘He may defeat me yet,’ she said. ‘Maggie has had no choice but to return to Cliff House. She tells me that Sir Leopold allowed her to bring the supplies this once but he insists she return to the house tonight. He may forbid me further help.’
Cedric muttered under his breath. To Rosalind his faint utterances sounded like curses and she suddenly saw how frustrated Cedric was always under the edicts of his father.
‘Don’t be concerned, Rosalind,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll find help for you from the village. I’ll get a young girl to live in. Villagers will soon overcome their scruples when the wage is generous.’
‘When will the doctor come?’ Rosalind asked uneasily. It seemed like hours since he was sent for.
‘Soon, I hope,’ Cedric assured her.
Richard Whillowby appeared at the cottage door. He had resumed his attire and looked as elegant as when he first arrived.
‘Cedric, I leave forLondonnow. Your father is lending me a horse.’
Cedric turned to him in surprise. ‘You ride by night? Is that wise?’
‘A messenger has just arrived at Cliff House from the city.’ He glanced warily at Rosalind for a moment and then went on. ‘He brings news of my sister, Cynthia.’
‘What?’
Rosalind watched as the two men hurried away without another word to her.
She closed the door and then went to look at her patient. Jonathan Trevellian appeared to be sleeping normally, soothed perhaps by the hot broth.
She lay fully clothed on the couch, afraid to undress lest the doctor arrive any minute. She felt so weary all at once and so inadequate of the task ahead of her. She prayed that God would give her the strength and the endurance to see it through to whatever end He had in store for Jonathan Trevellian.