Diane Setterfield - The Thirteenth Tale

Directly inside the window, Miss Winter's sister sat at a table. Opposite her was Judith. She was spooning mouthfuls of soup between the invalid's raw, patched lips. Suddenly, midway between bowl and mouth, Judith paused and looked directly toward me. She couldn't see me; there was too much ivy. She must have felt the touch of my gaze. After a moment's pause, she turned back to her task and carried on. But not before I had noticed something strange about the spoon. It was a silver spoon with an elongated A in the form of a stylized angel ornamenting the handle.

I had seen a spoon like that before. A. Angel. Angelfield. Emmeline had a spoon like that, and so did Aurelius.

Keeping flat to the wall, and with the branches tangling in my hair, I wriggled back out of the shrubbery. The cat watched me as I brushed the bits of broken twig and dead leaves from my sleeves and shoulders.

"Inside?" I suggested, and he was more than happy to concur.

Mr. Drake hadn't been able to trace Hester for me. On the other hand, I had found Emmeline.

In my study I transcribed; in the garden I wandered; in my bedroom I stroked the cat and held off my nightmares by staying awake. The moonlit night when I had seen Emmeline appear in the garden seemed like a dream to me now, for the sky had closed in again, and we were immersed once more in the endless twilight.

With the deaths of the Missus and now John-the-dig, an additional chill crept into Miss Winter's story. Was it Emmeline-that alarming figure in the garden-who had tampered with the ladder? I could only wait and let the story reveal itself. Meanwhile, with December waxing, the shadow hovering at my window grew always more intense. Her closeness repelled me, her distance broke my heart, every sight of her evoked in me the familiar combination of fear and longing.

I got to the library in advance of Miss Winter-morning or afternoon or evening, I don't know, they were all the same by now-and stood by the window to wait. My pale sister pressed her fingers to mine, trapped me in her imploring gaze, misted the glass with her cool breath. I only had to break the glass, and I could join her.

"Whatever are you looking at?" came Miss Winter's voice behind me.

Slowly I turned.

"Sit down," she barked at me. Then, "Judith, put another log on the fire, would you, and then bring this girl something to eat."

I sat down.

Judith brought cocoa and toast.

Miss Winter continued her story while I sipped at the hot cocoa.

"I'll help you," he said. But what could he do? He was just a boy.

I got him out of the way. I sent him to fetch Dr. Maudsley, and while he was gone I made strong, sweet tea and drank a potful. I thought hard thoughts and I thought them quickly. By the time I was at the dregs, the prick of tears had quite retreated from my eyes. It was time for action.

By the time the boy returned with the doctor, I was ready. The moment I heard their steps approaching the house, I turned the corner to meet them.

"Emmeline, poor child!" the doctor exclaimed as he came near, hand outstretched in a sympathetic gesture, as though to embrace me.

I took a step back, and he halted. "Emmeline?" In his eyes, uncertainty flared. Adeline? It was not possible. It could not be. The name died on his lips. "Forgive me," he stammered. But still he did not know.

I did not help him out of his confusion. Instead I cried.

Not real tears. My real tears-and I had plenty of them, believe me-were all stored up. Sometime, tonight or tomorrow or sometime soon, I did not exactly know when, I would be alone and I would cry for hours. For John. For me. I would cry out loud, shrieking my tears, the way I used to cry as a little girl when only John could soothe me, stroking my hair with hands that smelled of tobacco and the garden. Hot, ugly tears they would be, and when the end came-if it came- my eyes would be so puffed up I would have only red-rimmed slits to see out of.

But those were private tears, and not for this man. The tears I gratified him with were fake ones. Ones to set off my green eyes the way diamonds set off emeralds. And it worked. If you dazzle a man with green eyes, he will be so hypnotized that he won't notice there is someone inside the eyes spying on him.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for Mr. Digence," he said, rising from beside the body.

It was odd to hear John's real name.

"However did it happen?" He looked up at the balustrade where John had been working, then bent over the ladder. "Did the safety catch fail?"

I could look at the corpse without emotion, almost. "Might he have slipped?" I wondered aloud. "Did he grab at the ladder as he fell and bring it down after him?"

"No one saw him fall?"

"Our rooms are at the other side of the house, and the boy was in the vegetable garden." The boy stood slightly apart from us, looking away from the body.

"Hmm. There is no family, I seem to remember."

"He always lived quite alone."

"I see. And where is your uncle? Why is he not here to meet me?"

I had no idea what John had told the boy about our situation. I had to play it by ear. With a sob to my voice, I told the doctor that my uncle had gone away.

"Away!" The doctor frowned.

The boy did not react. Nothing to surprise him so far, then. He stood looking at his feet so as not to look at the corpse, and I had time to think him a sissy before going on to say, "My uncle won't be back for a few days."

"How many days?"

"Oh! Now, when was it exactly he went away…?" I frowned and made a little pretense of counting back the days. Then, allowing my eyes to rest on the corpse, I let my knees quiver.

The doctor and the boy both leaped to my side, taking an elbow each. "All right. Later, my dear, later." I permitted them to lead me around the house toward the kitchen door. "I don't know exactly what to do!" I said as we rounded the corner. "About what, exactly?" "The funeral." "You don't need to do anything. I will arrange the undertakers, and the vicar will take care of the rest." "But what about the money?" "Your uncle will settle that when he returns. Where is he, by the way? "But what if he should be delayed?" "You think it likely he will be delayed?" "He's an… unpredictable man." "Indeed." The boy opened the kitchen door, and the doctor guided me in and pulled out a chair. I collapsed into it. "The solicitor will sort out anything that needs doing, if it comes to it. Now, where is your sister? Does she know what's happened?" I didn't bat an eyelid. "She is sleeping." "Just as well. Let her sleep, perhaps, eh?" I nodded. "Now, who can look after you while you're on your own here, then?" "Look after us?" "You can hardly stay here on your own… Not after this. It was rash of your uncle to leave you in the first place so soon after losing your housekeeper and without finding a replacement. Someone must come."

"Is it really necessary?" I was all tears and green eyes; Emmeline wasn't the only one who knew how to be womanly. "Well, surely you-"

"It's just that the last time someone came to take care of us- You do remember our governess, don't you?" And I flashed him a look so mean and so quick he could hardly believe he'd seen it. He had the grace to blush and looked away. When he looked back, I was nothing but emeralds and diamonds again.

The boy cleared his throat. "My grandmother could come and look in, sir. Not to stay like, but she could come every day, just for a bit." Dr. Maudsley, disconcerted, considered. It was a way out, and he was looking for a way out.

"Well, Ambrose, I think that would be the ideal arrangement. In the short term, at least. And no doubt your uncle will be back in a very few days, in which case there will be no need, as you say, to, er, to-"