"Still obstinate?"
Kate turned her head and looked gravely at Garstang, but made no reply.
A week had passed since the scene in the library, and during that period
she had calmly resumed her old position in the house, meeting her enemy
at the morning and evening meals; and while completely crushing every
advance by her manner, shown him that she was waiting in full confidence
for the hour of her release.
She never once showed her weakness, or let him see traces of the misery
or despair which rendered her nights, sleeping or waking, an agony; she
answered him quietly enough whenever he spoke on ordinary subjects, but
at the slightest approach to familiarity, or if he showed a disposition
to argue about the folly, as he called it, of her conduct, she rose and
left the room, and somehow her manner impressed him so, that he dared
not try to detain her.
He felt, as she had told him, that it was no longer the weak girl with
whom he was contending, but the firm, imperious woman; while her
confidence in her own power increased as she, on more than one occasion,
realised the fact that she had completely mastered.
But the position remained the same, and as soon as she was alone the
battle with another enemy commenced. Despair was always making its
insidious approaches, sapping her very life, and teaching her that her
triumph was but temporary; and she shuddered often as she thought of the
hour when her strength and determination would fail.
Another week commenced, and she noted that there was a marked change in
Garstang. Consummate actor as he was, he had returned to his former
treatment, save that he no longer played the amiable guardian, but the
chivalrous gentleman, full of deference and respect for her slightest
wish. He made no approaches. There was nothing in his behaviour to
which the most scrupulous could have objected; but knowing full well now
that he had only covered his face with a fresh mask, she was more than
ever on her guard, never relaxing her watchfulness of self for a moment.
She could only feel that he was waiting his time, that it was a siege
which would be long, but undertaken by him in the full belief that
sooner or later she would surrender.
That he left the house sometimes she felt convinced; but how or when she
never knew, and the greater part of his time was passed in the library,
where he evidently worked hard over what seemed to be legal business.
Japanned tin boxes had made their appearance, and she had more than once
seen the table littered with papers and parchments; but all these
disappeared into the boxes at night, and the evenings were spent much as
of old, though the conversation was distant and brief.
At last, about a fortnight after the setting in of the fresh regime, she
was descending the stairs one afternoon, when she had proof of
Garstang's having been away, for a latch-key rattled in the door, he
entered, and stood with it open, while a cabman brought in a large deed
box, set it down in the hall, and the door was closed and locked. After
this, Garstang lifted the box to bear it into the library, when he
caught sight of Kate descending to enter the inner room, the one into
which he had ushered her on the morning of her coming, and in which he
now passed a great deal of his time.
As their eyes met she saw that he looked pale and haggard, and it struck
her at the moment that something had occurred to disturb him. Her heart
leaped, for naturally enough she felt that it must be something relating
to her, and in the momentary fit of exultation she felt that help was
coming, and hurried into the room to hide the agitation from which she
was suffering.
And now for the first time since her attempt to escape, she caught sight
of Becky, passing down from the upper part of the staircase, but the
glance was only momentary. As soon as she saw that she was observed,
the pale-faced woman drew back.
There she stood, panting heavily as if suffering from some severe
exertion. For she felt that Garstang would follow her in, that there
would be a scene; but the minutes went by, and all was quite still, and
by degrees her firmness was restored; but instinctively she felt that
something was about to happen, and the dread of this, whatever it might
be, set her longing to escape.
And now once more the idea came that it was absurd for her to be in
prison there, when it seemed as if she had only to open the door and
step out, or else descend to the basement, wait till one of the
tradesmen came down the area, and then seize that opportunity to go.
But she had tried it and failed. The doors were always locked, save
when tradesmen or postmen came; and then there was the area gate. No
one ever came down.
The dinner time came, and she calmly took her place. Garstang was
quietly cordial, though a little more silent than customary to her; but
it was plain enough that he was suffering from some unusual excitement,
when he addressed the housekeeper. For he found fault with nearly
everything, and finally dismissed her in a fit of anger.
"Servants are so thoughtless," he said, with an apologetic smile. "That
woman knows perfectly well what I like, and yet if I do not go into a
fit of anger with her now and then, she grows dilatory and careless.
But there, I beg your pardon; I ought to have waited until we were
alone."
Kate rose soon after and went into the library, where, as she sat
reading, she was dimly conscious of voices in the passage; and assuming
that the housekeeper was again being taken to task, she forced herself
to think only of her book, and soon after silence and the closing of the
dining-room door told her that Garstang had gone back to his wine.
His stay after dinner had grown longer now, and it was quite half-past
nine before he joined her, sometimes partaking of a cup of tea, but more
often declining it, and sitting in silence gazing at the fire.
Upon this occasion she sat until the housekeeper brought in the tea
tray, placed it upon its table, while a low, hissing sound outside told
her that the urn was waiting; and Kate found herself thinking that Becky
must be there until her mother fetched it, and she wondered whether it
would be possible to get a few words with the woman again, and if she
would be too frightened to try and post another letter.
Kate looked up suddenly and found that the housekeeper was watching her
in a peculiar manner, but turned hurriedly away in confusion, and
fetched the tea-caddy to place beside the tray. And again Kate found
that she was watching her, and it seemed to her that it was with a
pitying look in her eyes. This idea soon gave place to another. The
woman wanted to talk to her, and her theme would be Garstang.
"That will do, Mrs Plant," she said; when the woman darted another
peculiar look at her, and Kate saw the woman's lips move, but she said
nothing aloud, and left the room, leaving its occupant thoughtful and
repentant. For it struck her that the woman's eyes had a pitying
sympathetic aspect, and that perhaps a few words of appeal to her better
feelings would be of no avail, and that help might come through her
after all.
Should she ring and try?
A few minutes' thought, and the idea grew less and less vivid, till it
died away.
"She dare not, even if she would," thought Kate; and calmly and
methodically she proceeded to make the tea, just casually noticing that
the screw which held in its place the ornamental knob on the lid of the
silver tea-pot had been off and was secured in its place again with what
appeared to be resin.
It was a trifle which seemed to be of no importance then, as she turned
on the hot water from the urn, rinsed out the pot made the tea and sat
thinking while she gave it time to draw. Her thoughts were upon the old
theme, the way of escape, or to find a way of sending letters to both
Jenny and her uncle.
She started from her reverie, poured out a cupful, took up her book
again, grew immersed in it, and sat back sipping her tea from time to
time, till about half the cup was finished, before she noticed that it
had a peculiar flavour, but concluded that it was fresh tea, and she had
made it a little too strong.
The old German book was interesting, and she still read on and sipped
her tea till she had finished the cup, and then sat frowning, for the
last spoonful or two had the peculiar flavour intensified.
It was very strange. The tea was very different. She smelt the dregs
in her cup, and the odour was strongly herbaceous.
She tasted it again, and it was stronger, while the flavour was now
clinging to her palate.
She sat thinking for a few moments, laid her book aside, and let a
little water from the urn flow into the spare cup, and examined it.
Pure and tasteless, just boiled water; there was nothing there; so she
drew the pot to her side, opened the lid and smelt it.
The odour was plain enough. A dull, vapid, flat scent, which seemed
familiar, but she could not give it a name.
"What strange tea!" she thought; and then the mystery was out, for she
caught sight of the fastening of the lid handle. It was as it usually
appeared; but the screw was loose, and it turned and rattled in her
fingers. The dark, resinous patch which had held it firmly had gone,
melted by the heat and steam, and hence the peculiar flavour of the tea.
"How stupid!" she exclaimed; and rising from her seat, she rang the
bell.
The housekeeper was longer than usual in answering, and Kate was about
to ring again, when the woman appeared, looking nervous and scared.
"Did you ring, ma'am?" she asked; and her voice sounded weak and husky.
"Yes; look at that tea-pot, Mrs Plant; smell the tea."
"Is--is anything the matter with it, ma'am?" faltered the woman.
"Matter? Yes! How could you be so foolish! I noticed that something
had been used to fasten the knob on the lid."
"Yes--yes, ma'am; it has worn loose. The screw has got old."
"What did you use to fasten it with--resin?"
"I--I did not do anything to it, ma'am," faltered the woman, whose face
was now ghastly.
"Someone did, and it melted down into the tea. It tastes horrible.
Take the pot, and wash it out I must make some fresh."
"Yes, ma'am," said the woman eagerly, glancing from the tea-pot to her
and back again. "You had better make some fresh, of course."
She uttered a sigh, as if relieved, but Kate saw that her hands trembled
as she took up the pot.
"There, be quick. I shall not complain to Mr Garstang, and get you
another scolding."
"Thank you, ma'am--no ma'am," said the woman faintly, and she glanced
behind her toward the door, and then caught at the table to support
herself.
"What is the matter? Are you unwell?" asked Kate.
"N-no, ma'am--a little faint and giddy, that's all," she faltered. "I--
am gettin' better now--it's going off."
"You are ill?" said Kate kindly. "Never mind the tea. I will go to the
cellaret and get you a little brandy. There, sit down for a few
moments. Yes, sit down; your face is covered with cold perspiration.
Are you in the habit of turning like this?"
The woman did not answer, but sat back in the chair into which she had
been pressed, moaning slightly, and wringing her hands.
"No-no," she whispered wildly; "don't go. He's there. I dursen't. I
shall be better directly. Miss Wilton, I couldn't help it, dear; he--he
did it. Don't say you've drunk any of that tea!"
It was Kate's turn to snatch at something to support her, as the
horrible truth flashed upon her; and she stood there with her face
ghastly and her eyes wild and staring at the woman, who had now
struggled to her feet.
For some moments she could not stir, but at last the reaction came, and
she caught the housekeeper tightly by the arm, and placed her lips to
her ear.
"You are a woman--a mother; for God's sake, help me! Quick, while there
is time. Take me with you now."
"I can't--I can't," came back faintly; "I daren't; it's impossible."
Kate thrust the woman from her, and with a sudden movement clapped her
hands to her head to try and collect herself, for a strange singing had
come in her ears, and objects in the room seemed a long distance off.
The sensation was momentary and was succeeded by a feeling of wild
exhilaration and strength, but almost instantaneously this too passed
off; and she reeled, and saved herself from falling by catching at one
of the easy chairs, into which she sank, and sat staring helplessly at
the woman, who was now speaking to someone--she could not see whom--but
the words spoken rang in her ears above the strange metallic singing
which filled them.
"Oh, sir, pray--pray, only think! For God's sake, sir!"
"Curse you, hold your tongue, and go! Dare to say another word, and--do
you hear me?--go!"
Kate was sensible of a thin cold hand clutching at hers for a moment;
then a wave of misty light which she could not penetrate passed softly
before her eyes, and this gradually deepened; the voices grew more and
more distant and then everything seemed to have passed away.