Matty - Parts 13 & 14 (end)

Part 13 – Sir Henry's Return

Matthew lay in Lady Caroline’s four poster bed, surprised at what had just happened. He remembered Lady Caroline telling the maid that she was dismissed after the two of them had led him unsteadily up the wide staircase and onto the landing. Then Lady Caroline had taken his hand and led him to this bedchamber where she had pushed him backwards onto the bed, pulled off his shoes and begun to unfasten his breeches. He could not remember his mother undressing him at bedtime, but he thought that this must have been what it was like, and he had felt so tired and ready for sleep that he did not mind at all.

Then something strange had taken place. There was a rustling noise and then the bed had tipped slightly and Lady Caroline, no longer wearing her gown but an odd, stiff-looking garment that was wrapped tightly around her middle, had climbed onto the bed and sat straddling his legs. She had leaned over him and both of her bosoms had fallen out of the garment, and she had pushed them into his face and they had been soft and warm. Then she had reached under his shirt and… He shuddered at the memory.

But suddenly he had understood, realising that this must be the job she had mentioned. He had seen what bulls did to cows and what stallions did to mares, and Lady Caroline obviously wanted him to do it to her.

Now, he lay beside her while she lay face down with one arm across his chest and snoring loudly. He no longer had his shirt on and he was feeling a little cold. There was still some daylight and occasionally a bright flash of lightning followed by thunder. Rain lashed the window, and Lady Caroline stirred and broke wind, and then she turned onto her side and lifted her head, and as she did so, her wig slipped off.

Scratching under her left armpit, she smiled at Matthew, showing the gap in her bottom row of teeth. ‘Could you do that again, Matty?’ she asked, her left hand moving to Matthew’s chest and then down his body.

‘Aye, me Lady,’ Matthew answered. ‘If you want me to.’

But at that moment a door slammed downstairs and there was the sound of footsteps on the stone floor of the entrance hall, followed by more footsteps on the wooden staircase. ‘Get dressed,’ ordered Lady Caroline, rolling off the bed and reaching for her gown.

Matthew got one leg into his breeches, then fell over onto the floor with a thud as he tried to get the second one in. He finished the job sitting on the floor and got up and reached for his shirt that was strewn across the pillow at the head of the bed, while Lady Caroline struggled to get back into her gown without bothering with her petticoats. It was then that the door was flung open and Sir Henry Donald stormed into the room, his hat and riding coat soaked, his expression grim. He looked first at Matthew and then at the bed and then at his wife.

‘You dare to make a cuckold of me in my own house, woman?’ he shouted. He glared at Lady Caroline with loathing and then turned to Matthew, who stood holding his shirt in shaking hands. ‘Barnes, get in here!’

John Barnes, looking just as soaked as Sir Henry, stepped into the room and surveyed the scene with a victorious look on his face. He held a pistol, primed and loaded in his right hand. ‘Yes, Sir Henry,’ he said.

‘Escort this boy off the estate at once.’

Barnes hesitated. ‘But what of your honour, Sir Henry?’ he asked. ‘If he should brag about this in the village…’

‘What about my honour?’ said Lady Caroline, still trying to fasten her gown. ‘He came in here and… and molested me. Tried to have his way with me, he did.’

‘What!’ shouted Sir Henry. ‘Molested you? Who in his right mind would want to interfere with a hag like you?’

‘How dare you, Sir?’ shouted Lady Caroline, indignantly. ‘Do I av to remind you that I am a lady?’ She reached for the large water jug that stood in the bowl on the dresser and hurled it at Sir Henry, and as the jug flew through the air its contents fell to the floor with a splash. Sir Henry would have been hit in the face, but he held up his left arm and the jug hit his wrist before falling to the floor and breaking.

Matthew had seen enough. He had hoped that this was all a bad dream but the sound of the jug smashing on the wooden floor spurred him into action. Without realising that his feet were still bare he rushed across the room towards the door. But as he stepped on one of the pieces of broken pottery he let out a cry of pain and then slipped in the spilled water and crashed to the floor at the feet of John Barnes. Barnes stooped and grabbed a handful of Matthew’s hair and held the pistol to his head as another flash of lightening lit the room momentarily, followed by a clap of thunder. Then Barnes looked up at Sir Henry. ‘What of your honour, Sir Henry?’ he asked again.

‘Let me think,’ said Sir Henry. But then he heard voices downstairs and footsteps on the staircase so he walked out of the bedchamber and along the landing. Ephraim Bromley, the new footman, had reached the top of the stairs and was standing shakily, with a pistol in his right hand and an oil lamp in the other. Sir Henry strode across to him and took both the pistol and the lantern. ‘Thank you, err…’

‘Ephraim, Sir,’ said Bromley.

‘Thank you, Ephraim,’ said Sir Henry, noticing that the rest of the servants were gathered in the hall and looking up at him. ‘Go back to your quarters and stay there, all of you. You too, Ephraim… Goodnight.’

Goodnight, Sir,’ said Bromley, as he retreated back down the stairs.

‘You all stay in your quarters, but leave me another lantern.’ shouted Sir Henry, as he returned to Lady Caroline’s bedchamber. ‘Barnes, take the boy to the barn. And you, whore, you come with me.

***

Apart from some surplus timber, and the cart used for fetching stone from the quarry, the new barn was empty. Outside, the rain was still falling, the darkness occasionally punctuated by lightening and loud thunderclaps. Inside, John Barnes had lit two more lanterns and placed them on the floor with the two from the house. The lanterns stood as though at the corners of a rectangle, and Sir Henry stood in the centre casting four wavering shadows that reached across the floor to the corners of the barn. He held a pair of broad bladed duelling swords, one in each hand, and they gleamed in the lamplight. They had belonged to his grandfather, Sir Albert Donald.

Lady Caroline and Matthew Groves stood near the great wooded barn door, which was closed and barred on the inside. John Barnes stood behind them with a pistol held close to Matthew's head.

‘I want to go home,’ wailed Matthew.

‘Shut your mouth!’ said Barnes, prodding the back of Matthew’s neck with the pistol.

‘Bring the boy here,’ ordered Sir Henry.

Matthew stumbled forward towards Sir Henry, encouraged to do so by Barnes who still held the pistol to Matthew’s head.

‘What’s your name boy?’ Sir Henry asked, as Matthew stood before him, trembling.

‘M… m… Matty, Sir,’ he said. A wet patch had begun to grow from his crotch and was spreading down the left leg of his breaches. Sir Henry’s resolve began to weaken, as had his anger since they had entered the barn. He looked at his wife and then at John Barnes.

‘Think of your family name, Sir Henry,’ said Barnes. Lady Caroline said nothing.

‘Take this,’ said Sir Henry, handing one of the swords to Matthew. ‘And prepare to defend yourself.’

Matthew took the sword by the hilt and looked at it. His mouth was very dry. He took several steps backwards but Barnes prodded him in the back with the pistol. So, wishing once more that this was just a nightmare, Matthew lifted the sword above his head and flung it at Sir Henry with all his strength.

The sword spun through the air towards Sir Henry, who was taken off guard and would have been struck in the chest if he had not ducked; but the sword hit the side of his head, and the sharp blade sliced off his left ear, before falling with a thud onto the dusty earthen floor.

At first Sir Henry felt no pain. But as he raised his left hand to his head he found that his ear was gone and that blood was dripping from the wound. And then, as he looked down and saw his ear lying in the dust, and felt the pain at the side of his head, anger welled up inside him once more and he rushed at Matthew, who stood paralysed with fear, and thrust his sword deep into his chest.

Lady Caroline let out a cry, but stifled it with her hands, while John Barnes took a backward step as though he feared that the blade might continue on and pierce his own chest. And then the pair of them watched as, with difficulty, Sir Henry withdrew his sword, and Matthew dropped to his knees and fell forward into a pool of his own blood.

John Barnes fetched one of the lamps, placed it on the floor beside Matthew and turned him over. ‘He’s dead, Sir Henry,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ said Lady Caroline, still standing in front of the barn door. ‘You have defended my honour.’

Sir Henry looked at his wife. ‘Your honour?’ he said. ‘Your honour? This boy is dead because of you!’

‘Well you killed him,’ replied Lady Caroline. ‘An if you don’t show me some respect, I’ll see that you hang for it.’

‘You evil bitch!’ shouted Sir Henry, taking several strides towards Lady Caroline, his sword still in his hand.

Terrified and wishing she had kept her mouth shut, Caroline stepped backwards and pressed herself against the barn door. ‘No, please,’ she begged. But a final clap of thunder drowned her pleas for mercy, and Sir Henry thrust his sword through her heart with such force that she was pinned to the door by the blade.

***

John Barnes pressed a shilling into young Josef Boyer’s hand. ‘Aye, one of our old hands died last night, and we thought it best to bury im as soon as possible. So as there was already a grave dug…’

With Sir Henry’s help John Barnes had loaded both of the bodies into the cart, hitched it to one of the horses and driven through the village and to the rear entrance to the church. The rain had stopped, and working by moonlight he had rolled each of the bodies off the cart and over the wall into the churchyard, dragged them over to the empty grave and pushed them in. But in doing so he had noticed the gold ring on Lady Caroline’s finger and removed it, telling himself it was payment for his services.

After returning to the cart for the spade that he had brought for the purpose, he had filled in the grave. But as he covered the bodies he had been engulfed by a wave of guilt, and had taken the ring from his pocket and thrown it into the grave, praying to God for forgiveness.

‘Aye, all right then. Thanks very much Mr. Barnes,’ said Boyer, the gravedigger, suspecting that there was something amiss. But a shilling was a shilling, and more than he usually got for digging a grave. Though I’ll have to be quick about digging another, he though to himself. Old Mrs. Coats is to be buried this afternoon. ‘Err, what about a gravestone?’ he asked.

‘Oh, there’s no money for that, lad,’ replied John Barnes, walking off towards the front gate. ‘Leave it unmarked.’

‘But…’ Boyer scratched his head and turned to look at the grave. Though the turf had been replaced, its outline was clear, and he wondered if questions would be asked. 'Better get another one dug then,' he said out loud.

***

Two years later Sir Henry Donald was hanged for murder after a lengthy investigation and public trial instigated by the Middlemas family. Sir Henry refused to speak at the trial and John Barnes could not be called as a witness, as he had taken his own life two months before. The bodies of Lady Caroline Donald and Matthew Groves had been exhumed by court order six months before the trial, and both had been reburied with ceremonies appropriate to their status.

An account of the trial was published in the London newspaper, The Daily Courant, and musicians of the day composed their own version of the events. As Sir Henry had no heirs, his title and estate went to Sir Henry’s younger brother Philip. And the plot in the churchyard that had been occupied by Lady Caroline and Matthew Groves for those few short months lay unused for many years.

Part 14 - Fire

~ 2002 ~

David withdrew his sword and Matthew clutched at the wound in his right breast. As blood oozed between his fingers he swayed and his legs gave way and he fell, first to his knees and then onto his side.

‘Daddy! My daddy!’ screamed Dylan. ‘You hurt my daddy!’

He rushed over to his father’s prone body and flung himself down on top of him, holding him as though screening him from further blows.

Philippa roused herself and, leaning against the wall, pushed herself up until she was standing, her mind fighting the reality of what she had just witnessed. She staggered towards Matthew and Dylan, looking down at them, and then turned towards David.

‘You bastard!’ she screamed. ‘You Bastard!’

David took several steps backwards, looking at the sword in his right hand, as blood dripped from its point and, as Philippa came at him, he raised it defensively. Again there was a crash of thunder and lightening and the whole building seemed to shake, and the electric lights flickered. Outside there was a mighty screeching and tearing sound, but Philippa was oblivious to it as she raced towards the point of the sword.

David’s mind was numbed, but the sounds from outside and the flickering of the lights shocked him back to reality, and as Philippa’s left breast touched the point of his sword he pulled it away and threw it clattering onto the floor behind him. Philippa tried to slash at David’s face with her fingernails, but he took her by the wrists, and she collapsed to her knees.

Over Philippa’s sobs David heard a crackling sound and began to smell smoke. The electric lights flickered again but remained lit. Dylan was crying and still hugging his father, and blood was still oozing from the wound on Matthew’s chest close to his right arm. Matthew groaned as he regained consciousness and pushed Dylan to one side. From the stable there came a terrible sound: Sapphire’s whinny, more like a scream. Philippa looked up at David, a look of complete desperation on her face.

‘Sapphire,’ she said.

David looked at Philippa with a sad expression upon his face, but then, as though waking from a dream, his expression changed and he looked around the room. He released Philippa’s wrists, walked over to the wall-mounted telephone and lifted the receiver. It was still working. He dialled 999.

‘Emergency, which service do you require?’

‘I’m calling from The Manor, just off the B-forty-seven, south of Scarford in Whartondale. I need the fire brigade and an ambulance immediately.’

He dropped the receiver, not waiting for a reply. Smoke was now beginning to drift into the gym through the shower-room door and Philippa was on her feet and heading towards it.

‘No! You take care of them,’ ordered David, pointing towards Matthew and Dylan. ‘Get them outside.’ He held the front of his sweatshirt to he face as he entered the shower room and strode over to the towel rack. Grabbing one of the towels, he stepped into the shower and turned it on, soaking the towel and his clothes with cold water. He left the shower running, put the wet towel over his head and made his way through the smoke into the stable.

There were flames reaching up the far wall, but most of the smoke was rising and curling up through a large hole in the roof above a pile of rubble, and the burning branches of a tree. Clearly the old oak had been struck by lightening and come crashing through, and Sapphire, in a complete state of panic, was whinnying loudly and kicking at her stall door with her hooves.

David opened the door and stood to one side waving his arms at her and forcing her to go towards the shower room. She went but she lashed out with her hind legs and one hoof caught him on the shin. He heard bone break and felt a searing pain but somehow managed to stay on his feet and slap Sapphire hard on the rump. She moved forward, still whinnying loudly and passed through the two doors into the gym with David limping along behind her.

As Sapphire entered the gym, Philippa called her name and she went to her and was led outside where the rain had stopped, the storm having moved away. Sapphire, still very frightened by her experience, trotted away from the barn, not stopping until she was half way down the gravel drive. Matthew sat against the barn wall holding his shirt to his chest and Dylan stood beside him, his arms around his father’s neck. As David reached the door he collapsed in pain and Philippa went to help him.

The fire took hold of the barn roof and more stone tiles began to fall, crashing loudly. Philippa helped David back onto his feet and the two of them pulled Matthew away from the burning building with Dylan bravely trying to help. Eventually the four of them collapsed into the porch and were still there when the first of the emergency services arrived a few minutes later.

***

At Leeds Crown Court, David Lord pleaded guilty to a charge of grievous bodily harm and received a five-year suspended sentence. He stood down as president of Durell Industries, taking early retirement, but later started a small engineering business in an industrial estate on the outskirts of Bradford. He continued to sail, but gave up fencing completely.

David and Philippa divorced amicably, sharing the proceeds of the sale of The Manor and the estate, but agreeing that a substantial sum be set aside for David’s daughter, Sarah.

David moved away from Scarford but Philippa stayed, using her part of the divorce settlement to buy a house and the riding school in the village.

Matthew Gower recovered from the wound in his chest and he and Dylan came to live with Philippa in her house in Scarford. The spare bedroom became Matthew’s workshop, where he continued to design and make jewellery.

The fire and damage to the barn was blamed on the freak storm that had inexplicably visited Whartondale on an otherwise perfect Spring Bank Holiday evening. But the barn had not been completely destroyed. And the new owners of The Manor converted it into holiday homes.

Epilogue

~ 1902 ~

As Mary finished her song and switched Philippa to her other breast, another trout leapt from the water and flopped back under with a splash. ‘That were a big un,’ said Henry Bromley, stretching. ‘Is it time we went home fo some tea?’

THE END

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