She waited. I thought, 'It's not a lie, it's not a lie, he loves her for her money. I think he would die if he lost it now.' I said,
'I know it, miss.'
She looked at the ground. 'But, what can he do?'
'He must ask your uncle.'
'He cannot!'
'Then'— I drew in my breath— 'you must find another way.' She said nothing, but moved her head. 'You must do that.' Still nothing. 'Isn't there,' I said, 'another way you might take . . .?'
She lifted her eyes to mine and blinked back her tears. She looked anxiously to left and to right, then drew a little closer. She said, in a whisper:
'You'll tell no-one, Sue?'
'Tell them what, miss?'
She blinked again, hesitating. 'You must promise not to tell. You must swear it!'
79
'I swear!' I said. 'I swear!'— all the time thinking, Come on, say it Now!— for it was dreadful, seeing her so afraid to give up her secret, when I knew what the secret was.
Then she did say it. 'Mr Rivers,' she said, more quietly than ever, 'says we might go away, at night.'
'At night!' I said.
'He says we might be privately married. He says my uncle might try to claim me then; but he does not think he will. Not once I am a— a wife.'
Her face, as she said the word, grew pale, I saw the blood fall out of her cheek. She looked at the stone on her mother's grave. I said,
'You must follow your heart, miss.'
'I am not sure. After all, I am not sure.'
'But to love, and then to lose him!' Her gaze grew strange. I said, 'You love him, don't you?'
She turned a little, and still looked queer, and would not answer. Then she said,
'I don't know.'
'Don't know? How can you not know a thing like that? Doesn't your blood beat hard when you see him coming? Doesn't his voice thrill in your ears, and his touch set you shaking? Don't you dream of him, at night?'
She bit her plump lip. And those things mean I love him?'
'Of course! What else could they mean?'
She did not answer. Instead, she closed her eyes and gave a shiver. She put her hands together, and again she stroked the spot upon her palm where he had yesterday touched his lips.
Only now I saw, she was not stroking the flesh so much as rubbing at it. She was not nursing the kiss. She felt his mouth like a burn, like an itch, like a splinter, and was trying to rub the memory of it away.
She didn't love him at all. She was afraid of him.
I drew in my breath. She opened her eyes and held my gaze.
'What will you do?' I said, in a whisper.
'What can I do?' She shivered. 'He wants me. He has asked me. He means to make me his.'
'You might— say no.'
She blinked, as if she could not believe I had said it. I could not believe it, either.
'Say no to him?' she said slowly. 'Say no?' Then her look changed. 'And watch him leave, from my window? Or perhaps when he goes I shall be in my uncle's library, where the windows are all dark; and then I shan't see him leave at all. And then, and then— oh, Sue, don't you think I should wonder, over the life I might have had? Do you suppose another man will come visiting, that will want me half as much as he?
What choice have I?'
Her gaze, now, was so steady and so bare, I flinched from it. I did not answer for a moment, but turned and gazed down at the wood of the door we stood against, and the rusting chain that held it closed, and the padlock. The padlock is the simplest kind of lock. The worst are the kind that keep their business parts guarded. They are devils to crack. Mr Ibbs taught me that. I closed my eyes and saw his face; and then, Mrs 80
Sucksby's. Three thousand pounds— .' I drew in my breath, looked back to Maud, and said,
'Marry him, miss. Don't wait for your uncle's word. Mr Rivers loves you, and love won't harm a flea. You will learn to like him as you ought, in time. Till then go with him in secret, and do everything he says.'
For a second, she looked wretched— as if she might have been hoping I would say anything but that; but it was only for a second. Then her face grew clear. She said,
'I will. I'll do it. But, I can't go alone. You mustn't make me go with him, quite on my own. You must come with me. Say you will. Say you'll come and be my maid, in my new life, in London!'
I said I would. She gave a high, nervous laugh and then, from having wept and been so low, she grew almost giddy. She talked of the house that Gentleman had promised her; and of the fashions of London, that I would help her choose; and of the carriage she
would have. She said she would buy me handsome gowns. She said she wouldn't call me her maid then, but her companion. She said she would get me a maid of my own.
'For you know I shall be very rich,' she said simply, 'once I am married?'
She shivered and smiled and clutched at my arm, and then she drew me to her and put her head against mine. Her cheek was cool, and smooth as a pearl. Her hair was bright with beads of rainwater. I think she was weeping. But I did not pull away to try and find out. I did not want her to see my face. I think the look in my eyes must have been awful.
That afternoon she set out her paints and her painting, as usual; but the brushes and the colours stayed dry. Gentleman came to her parlour, walked quickly to her, and stood before her as if he longed to pull her to him but was afraid. He said her name— not Miss Lilly, but Maud. He said it in a quiet, fierce voice, and she quivered, and hesitated once, then nodded. He gave a great sigh, seized her hand and sank before her— I thought that was pushing it a bit, myself, and even she looked doubtful.
She said, 'No, not here!' and gazed quickly at me; and he, seeing her look, said, 'But we may be quite free, before Sue? You've told her? She knows all?' He turned to me with an awkward gesture of his head, as if it hurt his eyes to look at anything but her.
Ah, Sue,' he said, 'if you were ever a friend to your mistress, be her friend now! If you ever looked kindly on a pair of foolish lovers, look kindly on us!'
He gazed hard at me. I gazed hard back.
'She has promised to help us,' said Maud. 'But, Mr Rivers— '
'Oh, Maud,' he said at that. 'Do you mean to slight me?'