Стефани Баррон - The White Garden - A Novel of Virginia Woolf

She was hurrying down the drive to the road. I’d no business telling the gentry what to do, but I didn’t like the look of her, nor her being all alone in such a state, and I reckoned Miss Vita would be angry if I said I’d seen the Lady go and lifted not a finger to stop her. I caught her up and said, Now, ma’am, can’t it wait till morning, and she said I’ll be lucky if they don’t find me before then. I said, Who? But she didn’t answer, just turned round wild-like and clutched my jacket with her hands. Jock, she says, Don’t ever trust the men of Westminster, no matter what they offer. Westminster men lie.

Do they now, I says, as though she’s talking how deep to plant bulbs before the first frost. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. But it’s five mile and more to Staplehurst, and a long enough wait for the first train. Do you stay warm inside, ma’am, and I’ll come find you at first light. You’ll be much more comfortable in the pony trap, or Miss Vita’s car.

Why do you call her that? she asked. Not Mrs. Nicolson, but Miss Vita?

It’s what we all called her at Knole, I says. I’m a Knole lad, born and bred.

She’s not to know, the Lady said, nearly in tears. She’s not to know. It was a terrible mistake to tell Harold. I’ve written it all down.

She tapped something she had under her arm, and I saw it was a copybook, like we used in school.

That’s all right then, I told her, like she was a little child. If you’ve wrote it all down. That’ll keep till morning.

I made so bold as to take her by the arm, and turned her towards the house, thinking that if I talked to her gentle-like she might come back the right way so I could settle her and get Miss Vita to call Doctor. But she dug in her heels and shook her head and said I can’t stay in this place, I’d be a fool to stay here now Harold’s gone.

What, I says, with me and Hayter and Miss Vita what can handle a gun, and that Home Guard fellow posted in the tower? You’re safe as houses, ma’am.

Don’t lie to me, Jock, she says too quiet.

I put my hand on her arm again. If you go I shall have to rouse Miss Vita. It’s as much as my place is worth, you leaving and me saying no word.

She seemed to fall in like a wilted flower at that, her shoulders hunching and her head drooping on her thin neck, and I was afraid she’d started to cry. I asked if she was all right and she said in a kind of whisper My head aches so, it’s the voices clamouring, every hour, they never stop no matter how much I plead.

That sent a chill up my spine and I said, I’ll get Miss Vita. But the Lady swayed where she stood and I had to reach for her, sure enough, before she swooned. Come along, I said, trying to keep the scared out of my voice. You have a liedown and we’ll set you to rights.

A slow walk back to South Cottage, me holding her upright and her breathing hard. I looked at her face once and it was dead pale, shining like a ghost in the night, though there was no moon. When we reached the door I rapped on it, hard, and rapped on it again.

Jock, she says faintly, I’m not well. Take the book, Jock. Keep it safe.

She fainted then right enough. But it was Miss Vita who put the Lady to bed, and Miss Vita who kept the book, sending me about my business once I’d helped her carry the Lady upstairs .

I’m not easy in my mind. Not liking to fail her.

Miss Vita gave me a shilling, and said as how I was a good lad and to say nothing more about it.

She threw the deadbolt on the cottage door as I left.

4 April 1941

I fetched Mr. Harold from Staplehurst this afternoon, him coming down as usual for the Saturday and Sunday. Very absent-minded he was, and Is the Lady still unwell? he asks, as soon as I’ve seen his traps into the cart. He’d had a letter from Miss Vita, seemingly, them being the sort to write to each other every day. I told him I hadn’t seen the Lady since Wednesday night when she’d had her fit, me being that busy with turning the kitchen garden, but I hoped as she was on the mend. He called me good lad as he stepped down from the box, but when I carried in his things I heard him talk low to Miss Vita. Quite out of her head, Miss Vita said, and it’s clearly a return of the old trouble; do you think we should write to Leonard?

I’ve written to Maynard, he says. That should settle her.

When they saw me they fell quiet and I hurried with the bags, not liking to put my nose where it wasn’t wanted.

I hope they have her book put by safe. Maybe it’s fretting after it that’s driven her out of her senses.

5 April 1941

I was up with the light this morning, knowing full well how Mr. Harold is when he’s down for his two days, wanting to dig in his bit of garden. He was before me, all the same, smoking his pipe on the steps of the Tower, which is sandbagged and barricaded by the Home Guard and even Miss Vita barred entry. Very natural Mr. Harold looked, a proper gentleman in his old tweed jacket and flannel bags, and the smoke curling about his head. He bid me good morning, and said something about the beds in the Lime Walk, and I made to move on, me hoping to thin the peas, when he said, You did well to come to Mrs. Nicolson the other night. If anything like that should happen again, be a good lad and do the same, won’t you? And I said as how I hoped the Lady was faring better. He said I am sure we shall have her on her feet in no time. And then — for the life of me I couldn’t say why, or what moved me to do it — I says, very bold like, I hope as her book is kept safe. She was that worried about it.

Mr. Harold takes his pipe out of his mouth and looks at me as though my face had gone blue. Quite safe, he says. Provided no one talks when they shouldn’t.

I hope I know how to keep a secret, I says, on my dignity; and how to value the trust of my betters. I pick up my barrow and turn for the kitchen garden when Mr. Harold says, I have set an angelic host around it, and lifts his pipe to the sky.

I gave no sign I knew what he meant. But it’s clear as daisies. He’s hid the book in Miss Vita’s tower, where nobody can come nigh it.

I felt better after that. The two of them worked in the garden, and at tea time the Lady took a stroll among the roses, which is just starting to leaf. There was colour in her cheeks and no wildness about her looks and I thought, No harm done that I can tell.

Until bedtime, when she came looking for me again.

JOCK, SHE WHISPERED, STANDING RIGHT OVER ME so I was scared half to death. Jock, you must help me .

What is it? I says, sitting up with the sheet to my neck .

I can’t stay here any longer. If I stay here I shall die .

Now, ma’am, I says, don’t you think you ought to speak with Miss Vita?

Please, Jock, she says. I’ve no one I can trust. Please help me .

I asked her to turn around while I pulled my clothes on and then I got her back down the stairs as fast as I could. It not being seemly for a lady of her quality to be up in a hayloft .

Ma’am, I says, the only way I can help you is if I call Miss Vita now. Or Mr. Harold. You must know how it is .

Call Miss Vita and you will kill me, she says .

I tried to speak, but no words come. There was something in her eyes — that look like a cornered animal — that made me listen. She was terrified of Miss Vita and Mr. Harold. I was sending her for help to the very ones she feared .

Lord, ma’am, I said. Whatever is amiss?