Читать книгу Charles Augustus Fenton - Alana Whiting - Страница 19

I heard Jack’s anguished yell the next day. Being fleet of foot I arrived before the household staff and came across Jack clutching a white piece of paper given to him from the hospital orderly. Tears were streaming down his face and he collapsed to his knees moaning. I hesitated, then ran to him and tried to hug him. He shuddered, then seeing me, grabbed me with a wild strength, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.

I was so upset at his outburst that I began crying too without really knowing why. Meg came running in, followed closely by the cook and my mother.

‘Jack. What has happened?’ my mother asked softly.

Jack stared mournfully at her, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. The suffering in his face caused her to step back. He raised his right hand holding the sodden letter out to her. She stiffened and came towards him to take the letter and read it. We all stared at her wondering what had caused him so much misery. She sighed handing the letter to Meg.

‘I’m so sorry, Jack,’ she said, touching his back gently. ‘She was a good woman. May her troubled soul rest in peace.’

My eyes widened and I frowned, guessing at the contents with horror. Was my visit to Magda in any way connected to the sudden demise of his wife? Had I unintentionally provoked some ancient curse and wished her dead without realising? The timing was surely more than coincidental and I shivered, feeling cold to the core. I wanted my mother and managed to wrestle out of Jack’s arms to race into hers. She hugged me sweetly, mystified at my abject dismay. How darling her son was to be so sad for his friend Jack. She kissed my head and cuddled me more. She loved my sensitive spirit.

The guilt sat thickly inside my gut. I had a hairy, black spider crawling inside me, reaching into my limbs and weaving threads of darkness around my organs. Why did I have to be so nosy? If only I could leave well enough alone for once instead of sticking my fat beak into it. I would have given anything to have the power to undo what was done but it was too late now. I glumly stared over at Meg as she read the letter. She padded over to Jack and cuddled him, oblivious of the eyes watching.

‘My poor Jack. My poor Jack. I’m sorry, my love,’ she cooed into his ear, nestling his head deep into her bosom. He burrowed in seeking sanctuary whilst sobbing. I peeked at my mother with interest to see how she would react to this open display of affection. She seemed unperturbed. I guessed she had known all along about their relationship but had remained discreet about their privacy. I hugged her again with love.

My father had been in the office and was unaware of the drama unfolding in the courtyard. It was only when my mother sent the cook to inform him that he arrived and stared in confusion at Jack and Meg embracing with tears.

‘What’s happened, Elizabeth?’ he asked quietly in her ear. She whispered to him with me still entangled around her legs. He nodded occasionally and rubbed his chin with his fingers. He looked to the couple and back at her in askance. She nodded sadly as it dawned on his face. He stood thinking before approaching the couple awkwardly.

‘I’m sorry to hear the bad news, Jack. Dreadful business, dreadful. Rebecca was unwell for an interminable amount of time and we all know how much you cared for her.’ He watched Jack unfurl from Meg to stand and shake Charles’ hand.

‘Thank you, Master Charles. I appreciate your kind words.’ He rummaged in his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his eyes and blow his nose.

‘I understand that you would like some time off to attend to the funeral arrangements. We would be honoured to assist in returning her back to the estate and burying her next to your son George.’

Jack’s eyes filled again and he jutted his chin out and nodded. Then he turned and walked back to his cottage. Meg made to go after him but a sober glance from Jack stopped her in her tracks. He stared right through her with soulless eyes and shook his head. A sob caught in her throat and she falteringly turned back towards the house with my mother. I was at a loss as to what to do next so I clasped my mother’s hand and followed her. My father beckoned to the hospital orderly to come inside and wait whilst he wrote a note arranging the return of Rebecca’s body to Jack’s cottage. Silence filled the courtyard.