Mark Dunn - Under the Harrow

“Such as your maid Sarah?” asked Antonia.

“Oh goodness, no. The girl sleeps with plugs in her ears, because the attic squirrels keep her awake otherwise. It was only I standing at that window, and yet something within me nonetheless propelled me to the door, even without my bedrobe wrapt round me. I took up Mr. Toddles (for he was trembling just as much as was I, and I felt that we should comfort one another) and the two of us went out into the street to render what assistance to the woman we were able. And for a short time it was only Mr. Toddles and myself and Mrs. Pyegrave alone in the street. And as I spoke to her to see if she was still conscious, Mr. Toddles jumped from my arms to make his own judgement of the scene by sniffing the poor woman whom he knew from her many passages hither and thither before our house. I was so afraid that the broken glass would cut his little paws that I snatched him back into my arms but not before he had drawn from the victim’s hand a folded note card just about this size.” Here Mrs. Gargery stretched her forefinger and thumb apart to give an approximation of the card’s size. “I pocketed the card from Mr. Toddles’ mouth and returned my thoughts to ministering as best I could to the woman, as the street began finally to fill itself with my neighbours all come to either help the victim or to gawk at her, such as their inclination directed.”

“And is it true, Mrs. Gargery, that Mr. Pyegrave was amongst the last to come down to the street?”

“Yes. Quite true. I found it most curious. I continue to find everything about that tragic accident to be curious to this day. Miss Milvey will not suffer me to speak of it, but I am happy to confess to you, Miss Bocker, that not a lot of it makes much sense to me.”

“And this you told to Deputy Boldwig as well? How odd you found it that Pyegrave took his time in coming down?”

Mrs. Gargery shook her head. “Nor did I think it should be his business to know about the card. In fine, I told the deputy nothing more than the fact of what I heard from my couch and then the fact of my wandering out and then being joined by others. I elaborated for your benefit, Miss Bocker, because of how much of a burden it has been to carry the particulars of that strange and tragic night upon my solitary shoulders.”

“Yet he continues to return to ask questions.”

Mrs. Gargery nodded.“Twice again and is ruder still with each new visit.”

“What sort of questions does he ask?”

“The same. Always the same. But there is one in particular that seems the most pressing. And I have come to the conclusion that this is the one that largely necessitates each of his insolent visits.”

Sarah had returned with Mrs. Gargery’s headache power in a paper upon a pewter salver, and a glass of water, and Mrs. Gargery permitted the interruption so that she could medicate herself. “Thank you, Sarah,” she said. “Go up to your room now if you will. There is a private matter which I wish to discuss with Miss Bocker.”

Dropping a curtsey: “Yes, ma’am.”

As Sarah was repairing obediently to her room, Mrs. Gargery whispered to her guest (the one who was not slipping into a gin-induced slumber in her chair) that Sarah was the best servant in the Dell. The reason for her most dutiful servitude was this: Sarah had been shewn Mrs. Gargery’s last will and testament, and now knew for certain that which she had always been told: that she was the old woman’s sole heiress. “I did this,” explained Mrs. Gargery in a brief digressive admission to Antonia, “because I sought to guarantee faithful and loving subservience in my declining years. And it has worked, has it not? See how she hops to?”

“You were saying — about the one question—?”

“Come now, Miss Bocker, can you not guess? It is about the card that Mr. Toddles took from the poor woman’s bloody hand. Someone has, no doubt, been looking for it.”

“Someone? Whom do you mean?”

“I cannot say. But I have read the card and its contents are intriguing— the words that are engraved thereon, and those as well that someone has pencilled upon the back.”

“And have you shared those words with anyone else?”

“Oh bless my life and soul, Miss Bocker — I could not possibly do such a thing.”

“Would you tell me , Mrs. Gargery?”

The old woman raised a wary eyebrow.

“And just why should I bring you into my confidence, Miss Bocker? There cannot be two more dissimilar women in all the Dell. Why, I have much more in common with Miss Milvey who knows only of flowers, and spends her days in quiet, unobtrusive inebriety, than I do you.”

“Have we not always been friends after a fashion?”

“Have we? I once caught you sniggering at me when you passed my door.”

“Sniggering? No. Smiling? Perhaps. Good God, my darling woman! You were feeding a rasher of bacon to a dog and taking such transporting delight in it!”

“Which makes me some sort of daft and doddering old fool. Is this not your true assessment of me?”

“It most certainly is not!” protested Antonia, sitting herself down upon the end of the chaise. Mrs. Gargery courteously retracted a leg to give her guest more than a mere perching-seat. “My dear Mrs. Gargery, believe me. It is not in my nature to deceive anyone. I have achieved success in business through honesty and plain dealing. Certainly you know this. Recall how easily went the negociations between your husband and me when I purchased his tobacconist shop — let alone the good price that I gave him. Have you wanted for anything from that sale? Perhaps we have not become the best of friends over the years, but I have always held you, and will continue, my dear, to hold you in only the highest regard. It is no more odd to me that you should sit in your doorway of a morning and feed bacon strips to your dog than it should be that I — and now I shall make a rather large confession to win your confidence — that I should find in my heart the capacity to love a woman with far greater fervour and passion than ever I should love a man.”

“My word, Miss Bocker! Is this the reason that you never married?”

Antonia nodded.

“And was there ever a woman to whom you surrendered your heart as most women surrender theirs to men?”

Antonia nodded. “But the transaction was only one-sided and never made privy to the other party. I loved only from afar, Mrs. Gargery. For good or bad, there it is.”

“Myself as well.”

Antonia drew back in surprise. “ You ?”

Mrs. Gargery nodded with a schoolgirl’s pert bite upon the nether lip.

“But what of your husband?”

“He was a dear. But I didn’t love him. Not from the true depths of my heart. Our marriage was a fine friendship — a partnership, if you will, but nothing more. I confess, though, that I too have only loved— truly loved — from a distance. Though even in my dotage, may I say that the beauty of my fair cherry-lipped Sarah does not much tire the eyes — not even old ones like mine with a haze upon them? Good Lord, how emancipating it feels to say such a thing to another after all these many years of silence upon the subject. Now, dear sister of the heart, let me shew you the card and you will tell me what you think it all means.”

t was late afternoon when Antonia and I entered the Wang-Wang tearoom. In contrast to my previous visits, the establishment was far from empty. There were several other couples present with whom I was either fairly well acquainted or knew in passing (for so many faces in the Dell were familiar to me, given that only 11,000 souls lived therein), most of the patrons huddling and cuddling in the shadows: Mr. Creakle, the unhappily married bottle-maker, keeping amorous company with Mrs. Babley, the equally unhappy wife of Babley, the coach painter; Mr. Chestle, the dance master, with Mr. Glamour, the milliner; and there in the darkest corner of all sat Jemmy, the handsome stableboy, twining his fingers through the hair of Mrs. Packlemerton, the chinless wife of the distiller. Seeing me, Jemmy retreated even further into the shadows. In fact, all who were present at this time seemed either a bit disturbed by Antonia’s and my sudden arrival, or greeted us with pregnant looks and conspiratorial nods.