Dan Simmons - Drood

I told her what I needed.

“Of course,” she said and went into the other room and came back with £300 in various bills and coins.

Perfect.

I had not taken off my overcoat and now I thrust the money into my coat pocket and opened the door. “Thank you, my dear. I will return the amount first thing Monday, after the banks open. Perhaps before then.”

“Wilkie?”

Her voice stopped me. She rarely called me by name.

“Yes, my dear?” I had to work to keep the impatience out of my voice.

“I am with child.”

I blinked rapidly behind my small round glasses. My neck was suddenly very warm and prickly.

“Did you hear me, Wilkie? I am with child.”

“Yes, I heard you.”

I opened the door to go but paused. She had no idea how precious were these seconds and minutes I was giving her. “How far along?” I asked softly.

“I believe our child will come in late June or early July.”

A little over two months ago, then. It had been that night in October after all—the night of Caroline’s wedding.

I smiled. I knew I should take three steps forward and put my arms around her—I knew that Martha expected this, even though she usually expected or asked for so little—but I could not. So I smiled instead.

“We shall have to raise your allowance when the time comes,” I said. “Perhaps from twenty pounds to twenty-five pounds.”

She nodded and looked down at the worn carpet.

“I shall return this three hundred pounds as soon as I can,” I said. And then I left.

COME INTO THE PARLOUR, child,” I said.

Agnes had been ironing my third shirt when I returned. I’d left the cab waiting outside. During the ride back from Bolsover Street, I’d given careful thought to where the girl and I should have our conversation. The kitchen was too informal… and I did not want her in that room yet. Normally, I would have asked a servant who needed a talking-to to come into my study, but that would have frightened Agnes now. So it was the parlour.

“Sit down, please,” I said. I had taken the large leather chair near the fire and I waved her to a lower, less comfortable wooden chair I had pulled into place. This time my tone left no room for her not to comply.

She sat. Her eyes were down, focusing on nothing save for her red hands folded on her lap.

“Agnes, I have been giving much thought recently to your future.…”

She did not look up. Her entire body was trembling slightly.

“You know that not too long ago I placed Carrie… Miss G—… in a wonderful position as governess to an excellent family?”

She said nothing.

“Speak up, please. You are aware of Miss Carrie’s new position?”

“Yes, sir.” The syllables were so soft that an ember crumbling in the fireplace could have muffled them.

“I have decided that it is time for you to have the same opportunities,” I said.

She looked up then. Her eyes were as red-rimmed as her fingernails. Had she been crying while she ironed?

“Please read this,” I said, handing her a letter I had written the night before on my best stationery.

The heavy cream paper vibrated in her hands as she read—slowly, her lips moving as she silently sounded out the words. Finally she finished and tried to hand it back to me. “That is… very kind of you… sir. Very kind.”

At least the d— ned stutter was gone.

“No, you keep it, my child. That is your letter of reference and an excellently worded one, if I do say so myself. I have chosen the family you will work for. They have an estate near Edinburgh. I have sent word to them that you are coming and that you will begin your duties there tomorrow.”

Her eyes widened and continued to widen. I thought she might faint.

“I don’t know nothing about governessin’, Mr Collins.”

Nothink.

I smiled paternally. I was tempted to lean forward and pat her shaking hands, but was afraid she might bolt if I did so. “That doesn’t matter at all, Agnes. Miss Carrie knew nothing about being a governess before she began her employment. And look how wonderfully that has worked out.”

Agnes’s eyes darted down to her folded hands. When I stood suddenly, she physically flinched. I began to understand at that moment why thuggish men beat their women; when someone acted as a puppy acted, the urge to beat them like a puppy was very strong. I was too aware of the heavy iron poker by the fireplace.

I parted the drapes. “Look out here, please,” I commanded.

Her head came up, but her eyes were wide and wild.

“Stand up, Agnes. That’s a good girl. Look out here. What do you see?”

“A closed carriage, sir.”

“That’s a cab, Agnes. It’s waiting for you. The driver shall take you to the railway station.”

“I ain’t ever ridden in a cab, sir.”

“I know,” I sighed, allowing the heavy drapes to swing closed. “There are all sorts of new experiences waiting for you, my dear child. This will be the first of many wonderful new things.”

I went to the nearby table and returned with a writing board, a page of stationery, and a pencil for her. In her current state, I did not trust her with pen and ink.

“Agnes, you are now going to write a short note to your parents, telling them that a wonderful employment opportunity has arisen and that you have left London to pursue it. You will give them no details… simply tell them that you will write them once you have begun employment there.”

“Sir… I… I cannot… I do not…”

“Just write what I dictate to you, Agnes. Now take up the pencil. That’s a good girl.”

I made the note short—four sentences as simple as this dull child would write—and I looked it over when she had finished. The clumsy letters were formed in a spidery, nervous hand, the capitalisation was random, and several simple words were misspelled, but that would have been true in any case.

“Very good, Agnes. Now sign it. Add your love and sign it.”

She did so.

I put the writing board and pencil back and folded the note, slipping it into my pocket.

I set the £300 on the ottoman between us.

“This is for you, my child. The family to whom I have recommended you will pay you, of course… pay you very well, in truth, even more than Miss Carrie is currently earning (old families in Scotland can be very generous)… but this amount, which you must admit is also very generous, will allow you to purchase new clothes, more fitting for your new employment and responsibilities, upon your arrival in Edinburgh. Even that shall leave adequate funds for your first year or two.”

I had never noticed the girl’s freckles. When she looked up at me now, her round face was so pale that those freckles stood out in bold relief. “Me mum…” she said. “Me dad… I can’t… they…”

“They will be delighted, ” I said heartily. “I shall explain it all to them as soon as they return and they will almost certainly come to visit you as soon as they are able. Now go on upstairs and pack everything you want to bring to this new life. Do not forget your prettiest dresses. There will be parties and balls.”

She continued sitting.

“Go!” I commanded. “No! Come back! Take the money with you. Now go!”

Agnes scurried up the stairway to pack her clothing and few pitiful personal items.

I followed her upstairs to check that she was complying. Then I went down to the basement to the workbench and toolbox that George kept in order there. Selecting the large hammer with its pry jaws and a heavy pry bar, I went back upstairs.

DEAR READER from another time, if at this point you are tempted to judge me, I would ask you not to. If you knew me in real life as opposed to through these mere words, you would know that I am a gentle man.