He took her out the next day. He invited me to accompany them but I declined, saying that I must shop with my mother. But the following day Jonathan took Tamarisk for a trip on the river and there was our opportunity.
Of course I should have resisted it. I meant to, but my resistance crumbled and there I was as I had been before in that House in Blore Street, quite abandoned to my love.
He said that our separation had been unbearable. He made all sorts of wild plans and I let myself imagine that there might be possibilities of their coming to pass.
But how could there be? I was married to Edward. There was no way out for me.
I wondered how long he would wait. He was a very impatient man. He chafed against frustration more than I did. At least I had my guilt to hold me back.
When I looked ahead I saw years of secret meetings like this, years of frustrated longing and even when those longings were satisfied they were accompanied by the heavy weight of guilt.
“How I wish we need never leave here,” he said. “If we could stay here for ever … just the two of us …”
I reminded him: “You are forgetting this visit was arranged so that you could see your daughter.”
“And Jonathan has obligingly taken her off our hands.”
A thought struck me then. Obligingly? Could it possibly be that Jonathan knew? Was he helping us to be together? That was just the sort of thing he would do. Jonathan, at least, would understand.
But the very thought of anyone’s sharing our secret alarmed me.
I was restless … even in moments of intense passion. Then I thought of Amaryllis so secure in her domestic happiness. Oh happy Amaryllis!
I said: “We can’t go on like this.”
But he just looked at me and smiled. He knew—as I knew—that we would whenever the opportunity offered itself. More than that, he being the man he was would make those opportunities.
As we came out of the house I saw a man standing on the street corner. He turned and started to walk away in the opposite direction. I fancied I had seen him in this street before. It could have been on my last visit to London. I did not give him a second thought then.
We walked slowly back to the house.
We had retired for the night. I was very tired and went to sleep almost immediately to be awakened suddenly by the sound of shouts and footsteps. I hurriedly put on dressing gown and slippers and went into the corridor. I could hear someone crying. It sounded like a woman’s voice; and the noise was coming from my parents’ room.
I ran to it and there I stopped short. My father was red faced and angry. Jonathan was there in a state of undress as though he had just got out of bed hurriedly; and with her bodice torn and a scratch on her neck was Prue the new parlourmaid. Great sobs shook her body and she was trying to cover her breast with her hands.
Jonathan was shouting: “It’s a pack of lies. I did not send for her. She came.”
“Oh sir… oh sir…” moaned Prue. “Nobody will believe me.
“Be silent,” cried my father. “Do you want to wake the house?”
“Oh sir … he sent for me … he did … on my honour he did … and when I come he just got hold of me … and tore my bodice. I was frightened.”
My father said: “All go to your rooms. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“You won’t believe me,” wailed Prue. “You’ll all say I’m a bad girl… I’m not. I’m a good girl. I never done nothing …”
“You won’t be condemned without reason,” said my father, glaring at Jonathan. “But this is not the time.”
My mother got out of bed and put on her dressing gown.
“Come with me, Prue,” she said. “You should go to bed. We’ll hear all about it in the morning.”
“The girl’s a brazen liar,” said Jonathan.
“Hold your tongue!” cried my father. “And get out. Lottie, can you do something about this girl?”
I went over to her. “Come on, Prue,” I said. “You can tell me all about it.”
She lifted her face to mine. “I never… I swear I never.”
“All right,” I said, “all right. Which is your room?”
“I share with Dot and Emily.”
“Well, first of all we’ll tidy you up a little.”
My mother looked relieved. “Will you see to it, Jessica?”
“Yes,” I said.
Jonathan caught my arm.
“I swear, Jessica, she came to me.”
“Look, Jonathan,” I said. “It’s late. We don’t want to wake all the servants. Go to your room. It can all be sorted out in the morning.”
“It was a trick.”
“All right. But go now.”
I could see my father was getting more and more angry and that his anger was directed at Jonathan, and I felt I must put an end to the scene as soon as possible.
I managed to get Jonathan and the girl outside. Then I saw Tamarisk.
“What’s happened?” she cried.
“Nothing,” I said. “Go back to bed.”
She looked at Jonathan. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded, smiling at her.
She ran to him and caught his arm. “You look funny.”
“Angry,” he said.
“Not with me?”
“Of course not.”
“With Jessica?”
He shook his head.
“Why is Prue’s blouse torn? Why is she crying?”
“Never mind now.”
She clung to his arm. “Are they trying to hurt you?”
“Yes, they are.”
“I won’t let them.”
“No, of course you won’t.”
“Jonathan,” I said. “Go to your room. You, too, Tamarisk. We’ll meet in the morning. Come along with me, Prue.”
I took her into my room and firmly shut the door.
I said: “We’ll wash your face and tidy you up a bit. Tell me exactly what happened.”
“It was my turn for late duty. I was just going to bed when the bell rang for Mr. Jonathan’s room.”
“Yes?”
“So I went up, Mrs. Barrington.”
“And what happened then?”
“He said. ‘Come in.’ He was in bed. He said, ‘Come over here, Prue.’ So I went to the bed. Then he got hold of me and pulled me down. I knew that I had to get away. I started screaming and fighting. He was very angry. But I got away and ran to Mr. and Mrs. Frenshaw’s room because I reckoned that was where I could be safe from him. They won’t believe me, Mrs. Barrington. They’ll believe him.”
“They’ll want to know the truth and that is what they’ll believe.”
“But I’m only the maid and he … and he … Oh, they won’t believe me. They’ll say I’m a bad girl… They’ll send me away and I won’t get a reference …”
“Now listen to me, Prue. In the morning there’ll be questions. If you answer up truthfully you will be believed.”
She shook her head. “They won’t…”
“Oh yes, they will. Now let us bathe your face.”
She stood still, her face full of misery. I bathed her eyes.
“There,” I said briskly. “That’s better. How badly torn your bodice is. Do you think you could slip into your room without the others noticing?”
She nodded.
“Well, do that. Go quietly. They’ll probably be asleep. And in the morning we’ll sort it all out.”
“It’s no good. What’s my voice against his … He’s one of the family …”
“That won’t make any difference with Mr. Frenshaw. He will find out the truth and see that justice is done.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barrington,” she said quietly.
I took her to the corridor and watched her go upstairs.
Oh, Jonathan, I thought, how foolish you are!
Next morning there was consternation in the house. Prue had left.
Dot came to tell me, her eyes wide with that excited horror which some people betray when they are the bearers of bad news.