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.And where would it leave him? At the mercy of Jane’s generosity.Oh, she would be generous, she would look after him until he died.He slipped from the chair and stood upright on his stumps.From now on there was no-one going to dictate to him, not even Jane.He would rule, he would be master of this house or die in the attempt.It was either him or his father.This last will taken care of, there remained only the other one, the legal one, which left everything to his mother; and his mother was dead, and he was his mother’s son.Nobody could get over that, could they? And should the parsons remember that they signed a will in 1889, what could they do if it couldn’t be found.what?He went swiftly to the table near his bed and, taking up a box of matches, he lit a candle, and when it was well alight he held over it the piece of paper that would have robbed him of the recompense he considered his due.When it was burnt two-thirds through he moved on his stumps in a body-twisting motion and dropped the paper into the empty grate and watched it curl into black ash.Then he picked up the other will and, putting it in his pocket, he went to find Jane to tell her that she needn’t worry any more, he had found what she was looking for.Four‘What is it?’ Winnie looked at Molly as she came slowly into the kitchen.‘Is he worse?’‘Aye, I should think so.He’s agitated, got somethin’ on his mind.’‘Well, that’s natural,’ said Winnie.‘It’s likely that Miss Reed.Did Miss Jane tell him she’d called?’‘Not when I was in she didn’t.’‘I’ll take this broth up.’ Winnie went to pick up a tray from the table, adding, ‘Then I’ll slip along the road for half an hour and get them something.Davie says he can manage, an’ I dare say he could with a galley concoction.’‘Well, leave it down, I’ll see to it.I’ve got to go up again anyway.’‘You sure, lass?’‘Yes, yes.Get yourself away.An’ you needn’t rush, ’cos the dinner here’s all ready.Not that anybody’ll eat it.’‘I know one will.’ Winnie’s voice was low, and when Molly didn’t answer but stood gazing down at the steam rising from the broth, she went on, ‘I know he hasn’t been treated fair but he’s struttin’ around like a stumped peacock, as if he was already the master.’ Winnie stopped and, looking closely at Molly now, asked under her breath, ‘What is it, lass?’ But as soon as she had put the question she thought it was a stupid thing to say for there were three things at least that could bring Molly low at the present moment.There was the master near death, and if there had been nothing between them for years, there had at one time, and the evidence of it was in the dairy at this minute.Then there was the fact of her Davie coming back.Fifteen years was a long time, time enough to forget a man and marry, but she hadn’t married.Then there was a third thing that was always worrying her, Master Amos and his constant chasing of Biddy, and his acting at times like a normal man who owned her.Yes, she had a lot on her plate had Molly, and she was sorry for her.She had grown to like her over the years, and that was odd because at one time she had thought her fast and brash, but at that time she had been fearful of her hooking Davie, and she had wanted someone better for her lad.She still did, but there was no fear of Davie falling again.Davie the man was a different kettle of fish from Davie the youth, or even the young sailor who had turned up five years ago in much the same way as he had come in the other night.She watched Molly now pick up the tray as she said, ‘Oh, I’m like the lot of us, just tired,’ and smile weakly as she added, ‘Go on an’ get them something, an’ as I said don’t hurry back.Biddy’ll help me here.There’ll only be one for the dinin’ room, Miss Jane will have hers upstairs.’‘Thanks, lass.’ They nodded at each other, then Molly went out with the tray and as she crossed the hall she looked towards the dining room and she repeated to herself, ‘Only one for the dinin’ room.’ That maimed skit would be lording it in the master’s chair when he should be in.She gulped and gripped the tray tighter.She’d have to tell somebody and the only one she could talk to was Winnie.But then Winnie might let on to Miss Jane, Winnie wasn’t all that cautious.And what would happen then? Miss Jane had had nothing out of life but worry and frustration.Courting the parson for years, a walk across the fields on a Sunday or up to the Tor.There hadn’t even been the comfort of a roll in the hay.No, Miss Jane mustn’t know; but she must tell somebody about that devil or bust.She had always known he was bad; she had tried to make Biddy see he was bad, but Biddy was sorry for him.Biddy said she understood him.And well she might.When the master died he would take over completely; then God help them all.God help Biddy.Eeh! she’d have to talk to somebody, Parson Hedley? No.No, he was too near to Miss Jane.If he were to expose Master Amos as a murderer then how would Miss Jane take it?When she entered the room Jane turned from the bed and, coming towards her, whispered, ‘He’s so exhausted.He seems to be sleeping, I wouldn’t give it to him yet.And while you’re here, Molly, I’ll slip to my room, I must change my clothes.’‘Do that, Miss.And don’t worry, I’ll call you if there’s any change.Have a wash and it’ll freshen you up.’Jane nodded at her, then went towards the bed again and looked down at the still grey face for a moment before turning away and saying under her breath, ‘I’ll leave the door open so you can call if you want me.I’ll leave mine open too.’‘Do that, Miss.Yes, do that.’ Molly nodded at her, then took her place in the chair at the head of the bed.As she sat staring at the still form lying there she did not see the man who had once showed her ways of loving that had been as enchanting as witchcraft.at the time.Reality had faded with the years until now she imagined she had dreamed most of what they had experienced together.Even at night when her body ached for comfort and love her mind bypassed that early episode as if, like leprosy, it would contaminate her present existence; yet the thought was ever present in her mind that her life would have been different if his hand on her thigh hadn’t awakened her from sleep on that night.When his eyes opened and looked at her she bent quickly forward and said, ‘Would you like a drop of broth, Master?’ She watched his nostrils dilating, his breath coming in short laboured gasps, and when she saw his tongue come out and pass over his lips she took a square of lint that was floating in a bowl of water on the side table and gently drew it around his mouth.She asked again, ‘Would you like a drop of soup, Master?’ and when his eyelids closed once, she knew he did not want any.As she watched his tongue move over his lips again she said, ‘A drink of water?’His eyes remained open, and she nodded at him and smiled.‘I’ll get you a nice cold one, there’s a jug fresh from the well.I won’t be a minute.’ She nodded at him and hurried round the bed and into the dressing room.The glass was full in her hand when she heard the stifled cry.It was like the death rattle of a calf, a strangled whining sound
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