“It’s all right, Esther. It’s all right. You’re not there now. You’re here … It’s all right here, Esther.” What she owed Carolan she could never repay, and what joy it was to do the hardest tasks for her! In it was the glory of the hair-shirt, of the stony pilgrimage, of hardship and suffering. And now, with Margery’s hard eyes on her, saying “Drink that up!” she caught again that spirit of Newgate, the tyranny of the strong over the weak, the hatred of the impious for the pious. And Carolan, her protector, was urging her with her eyes to sip, to feign to drink. Carolan, her eyes alert, Carolan grown wiser, sensing danger.
“You too, me love!” Margery’s eyes caressed the face of the girl beside her. It was pleasant to turn back to memory. Might be me own young daughter, thought Margery. Like her to be! We’d get on. Only, if she was my daughter I wouldn’t have had her so haughty. Fun it would have been to listen to a daughter’s romances, rather than suffer the uncertain glory of romancing oneself.
“Fill up,” said Carolan.
“Come, Jin! Come on. Poll! Come on, James,” cried Margery. The bottle was empty before she had done. She lay lolling back in her chair.
Carolan twirled the gin in her glass. The effect of it was strange. It made her want to cry, cry for Haredon and its comforts, cry for Everard. For Marcus? She was not sure which. The lamp flickered up suddenly. The oil was running low. Jin folded her hands on the table and glanced at James; James fidgeted and started to talk to Margery, who laughed heartily over nothing and pathetically tried to reassure herself that that slut, Jin, wasn’t there. Poll was crying softly for her baby. Esther had drunk too much gin; it gave her a look of fever; Carolan thought her very beautiful tonight.
Margery said suddenly: “Shut up, snivelling. Poll! Why, what Mr. Masterman would say if he was to come down here I couldn’t think. And what of her bath? Good gracious me, look at the time. She’ll retire at eleven, if the others don’t. Doctor Martin’s orders if you please. And a hot bath she wants, before getting to bed. It’s a wonder to me she don’t catch her death. Jin! What are you thinking of? Get up, you lazy slut! Get her cans of hot water. There’ll be trouble in a minute. Why, it only wants five minutes to eleven!”
Jin drained her glass. From under her sullen brows she watched Margery. She was a little afraid of her. Jin’s stay in prison and again on board the prison ship had taught her the folly of flouting authority. Margery had not used the whip yet, but she might for some offences. Jin did not like the thought of the whip. She had often shuddered at the sight of the triangle in the yard. She had seen one of the men convicts whipped; she had run away, but she had heard the sound of the whip swishing through the air, and the sickening thud of its fall; she had heard the agonized screaming of male voices. No, no. There was not one of them in the basement kitchen who would dare to flout authority completely.
Jin stood up. She clutched the table. She swayed. Margery was beside her, gripping her shoulders, breathing gin fumes over her dark face.
“Ye’re drunk, me lady! Drunk!” She caught the girl’s ear and pinched it hard. She laughed almost with relief. If Jin was drunk, that would account for her boldness. Drink and love! she reasoned. If you were under the influence of either you couldn’t be taken too much to task for what you did. She pushed Jin back into her chair.
Carolan said: “Shall I take up the cans of hot water?”
Margery nodded, and fell into the chair next to James.
“Let me do it,” said Esther.
“They are heavy, Carolan. And you know how you hate carrying things!”
“No!” said Carolan.
“You have had too much gin. I can see you have, Esther, so it is no use saying you have not!”
“Ha ha!” cried Margery.
“These praying people! Just show them a gin bottle, and they are as bad as the rest. Look sharp with the cans, me Jove. I don’t want complaints.”
A queer excitement filled Carolan. She had seized on the opportunity of getting upstairs. She wanted to be caught up in the excitement of the party. She longed to go to a party, to wear a beautiful dress. But first of all it would be necessary to have a bath. She grimaced at her hands; they were grimy and beneath the nails were black rims that it was impossible to eliminate.
She filled the cans. Esther came to her.
“Are you sure, Carolan?”
“Oh, go to bed, Esther! I am absolutely sure.”
When she carried the cans through the kitchen, Jin and Esther and Poll had already gone into the bedroom. Cautiously, for the cans were heavy, Carolan mounted the back staircase.
On the first floor of the house was the suite occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Masterman. She had seen it once when she went to help Jin clean up. This was the first time she had been allowed to roam about the house by herself, for newly acquired convicts were rarely allowed upstairs alone. It was the unwritten law of the establishment, and was a sensible enough rule, she had to remind herself. A Sydney servant would very likely be a desperate creature. She smiled, thinking of Mr. Masterman. She supposed he had a dossier of them all. They would all be neatly labelled; for example, “Carolan Haredon, thief.
Outside the suite of rooms she paused. Mrs. Masterman’s room was at the end of the corridor, and between it and Mr. Masterman’s there was a smaller room where they made their toilets. The house had been planned with care. There were doors connecting the two larger rooms with the toilet-room, and that itself had yet another, opening on to the corridor. Mr. Masterman had planned the house, Margery said. One had to admire his methods.
Carolan set down the cans outside the door of this toilet-room, and knocked. There was no answer, so she went in. It was a fairly large room, for all the rooms in the house were large. There was a hip-bath in the corner, and a long mirror. There were several cupboards. On a table near the mirror were cosmetics and bottles of perfume. It was pleasant merely to be in such a place.
But she must not stand about, letting the water get cold, or she would not be allowed to come up here again. She went across to Mrs. Masterman’s door, and knocked.
She heard a sigh, then a very weary voice said: “Come in.”
Mrs. Masterman was in bed. The blue frock lay on the floor, and beside it the silver slippers. Mrs. Masterman’s thin fair hair was spread out on the pillows. She looked very tired.
She said, without turning her head: “Oh, is it my bath? I’m too tired now …”
“I will take the water away,” said Carolan.
The sound of her voice, cultured, unlike the husky tones of Jin, made Mrs. Masterman turn her head slowly.
“Oh…” she said.
“Oh…” And then: Take my frock and put it away, will you? It goes in the cupboard in the toilet room’ Weary eyes watched the yellow-clad figure walk across the room and stoop to pick up the dress.
“Have I seen you before?” asked Mrs. Masterman.
“I do not know,” said Carolan.
“I have seen you.”
It was not like a conversation between mistress and convict servant. It was like one lady paying a call on another.
“I think I should have remembered if I had,” said Mrs. Masterman.
“Give me one of those pills on the table, will you? A glass of water is what I have with the pill.”
Carolan was aware of Lucille Masterman’s very white hands lying on the counterpane.
Thank you. I have very bad health.”
“I am sorry,” said Carolan.
“Sometimes I scarcely sleep a wink all night.”
That must be very unpleasant.”
“It is. Thank you. Doctor Martin says these pills are wonderful.”
“I trust you find them effective?”
“I do. Although of course one gets accustomed to taking anything. Good night. Hang the dress up in the cupboard, please.”
“I will,” said Carolan.
“Good night.”
Lucille called her back when she reached the door.
“Lock it, please. And when you have locked it, will you push the key under the door?”
“Yes,” said Carolan, and went out and did so. It was rather an extraordinary experience. She felt intoxicated with success. It was the gin perhaps: it was such heady stuff. It made her excited because for the first time since she had been thrust into Newgate someone had treated her as she used to be treated in the Haredon days; and this the mistress of the house!