Philippa Gregory - Wideacre

I had him on the run, my husband. He spoke privately with Celia some time while I was out on my drive, and when I came home I noticed her face at the window of the parlour. As I expected, Stride came out to the stable yard with a message from her. He waited while I held Richard up to stroke the horse’s nose, and while I fed it a handful of corn from my pocket; then he told me Lady Lacey would like to see me at once, if it was convenient. I nodded, gave Richard a good hard hug, and told him to eat up all his dinner and went with a quick step to the parlour.

Celia was sewing in the window seat and her face was pale and tired again.

‘Good afternoon,’ I said blithely. ‘I have come straight to you smelling of horse and must be quick, for I have to change.’

Celia nodded with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

‘Have you seen John today, Beatrice?’ she asked.

‘No,’ I said lightly. ‘I passed him on the stairs this morning but we did not speak.’

Her look was suddenly intent. ‘You said nothing to each other?’ she asked.

‘No,’ I said casually. ‘I had Richard with me, and John looked ill. I did not want him upsetting the child.’

Celia’s face was aghast. ‘Beatrice, I am so afraid!’ she exclaimed. I turned to her in surprise.

‘Celia, what is it?’ I asked, full of concern. ‘What has happened?’

‘It is John,’ she said, nearly in tears. ‘I think he is delirious with drink.’

I feigned shock, and sat beside her on the window seat, taking her embroidery from her still hands.

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘What is happening?’

Celia gave a muffled sob and dipped her face into her hands. ‘John came to me just after breakfast,’ she said. ‘He looked dreadful and he talked wildly. He said you were a witch, Beatrice. That you were a woman possessed by the land. He said that you had killed for the land. That you were trying to kill him. That you had promised that everywhere he went there would be drink until he was dead from it. And when I told him that he was dreaming, he looked at me wildly and said, “You too! She has captured you too!” and he dashed from the room.’

I put my arm around her and Celia leaned her soft pliant body against me and wept into my shoulder.

‘There, there,’ I said. ‘Don’t cry so, Celia. It sounds so very bad, but I am sure we can cure John in the end. It sounds indeed as if he is half crazed, but we can help him.’

Celia shuddered with a sob and was still.

‘He talks as if it were all your fault,’ she whispered. ‘He talks as if you were a monster. He calls you a witch, Beatrice.’

‘It is often the way,’ I said steadily, sadly. ‘Men who drink so much often turn against the very people they love most in the world. It is part of the madness, I think.’

Celia nodded, and straightened up, drying her eyes.

‘He had a drink last night,’ she said sadly. ‘I was not able to prevent that. He told me it simply appeared in his room. He said you had cursed him with drink every time he reaches out a hand.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I suppose he would blame me for everything. He loves me still in his heart. That is why he has turned against me now.’

Celia looked at me wonderingly. ‘You are so calm,’ she said.

‘He seems to me to be going mad, and yet you are so calm, Beatrice.’

I raised my head and looked at her tired face with eyes that were filled with tears. ‘I have had much sorrow in my life, Celia,’ I said sadly. ‘I lost my papa when I was only fifteen, and my mama just after my nineteenth birthday. Now I fear my husband is going mad with drink. I weep inside, Celia. But I have learned to be brave while there is work, and plans to be made.’

Celia nodded respectfully.

‘You are braver and stronger than I,’ she said. ‘For I have been in tears all morning ever since I saw John. I simply do not know what we can do.’

I nodded. ‘The problem is too great for us to try to handle alone,’ I said. ‘He must go to some specialist who will be able to care for him properly. Dr Rose should come this week with his partner and they could take John back to Bristol with them.’

Celia’s face lightened with hope.

‘But would he go?’ she asked. ‘He was talking so wildly, Beatrice, as if he trusted no one. He might refuse to go with them.’

‘If they agree to take him, agree that he needs treatment, we can force him to take treatment with them,’ I said. ‘They can sign a contract promising to house and treat him until he is well enough to come home.’

‘I didn’t know,’ said Celia. ‘I know so little about such things.’

‘Nor did I,’ I said ruefully. ‘But I have had to learn. This Dr Rose writes that if John can be persuaded to meet him and just talk with him he will be able to advise us. Do you think John would take your advice and agree to meet Dr Rose and his partner if you asked it of him? If you gave him your word it was for the best?’

Celia frowned. ‘I think so. Yes, I am sure he would,’ she said. ‘He accused you and Harry of being in some dreadful league for Wideacre, but he does not seem to doubt my affection for him. If this Dr Rose comes soon I am sure John will see him if I promise him that it is in his own interest.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Then you must keep my name out of it altogether. Just let him think that they are doctors you have found for him, and then he will trust them and talk to them, and his poor delirious mind will have some peace.’

Celia snatched at my hand and kissed it.

‘You are good, Beatrice,’ she said chokingly. ‘I think I must have been as crazy with worry as John is with drink. Of course I will do whatever you think best. I know all you are thinking of is the good of all of us. I will trust you.’

I smiled sweetly and pulled her face up so I could kiss her cheek.

‘Dear little Celia,’ I said lovingly. ‘How could you ever have doubted me?’

She clung to my hands like a drowning woman.

‘You can free us from this madness, I know,’ she whispered. ‘I have tried and tried but it only seems to become worse. But you can make it all right again, Beatrice.’

‘Yes, I can,’ I said gently. ‘Be guided by me and nothing can be as bad as this again. We can save John.’

She gave another little sob and I slid my arm around her waist. We sat quiet in the window seat warmed by the winter sun on our backs for a long peaceful time.

I left the parlour well satisfied. Celia was snared by her own faith in me, and I had made John’s accusations mere evidence of his madness. In the mire of sin that held us all and muddied every clarity, John’s solitary clear vision was incomprehensible. They could have as many afternoons as they wished drinking strong sweet tea and trying to keep John from alcohol. Drunk or sober, as soon as my name was mentioned John would sound like a madman. But during those afternoons Celia, loyally and faithfully doing my witch’s work, spoke to John of the reputation of Dr Rose, and persuaded him to meet the specialist. She did better than that; she persuaded John that the only way he could be cured of his terror of me and his addiction to drink would be in the haven of Dr Rose’s Bristol clinic. And John, drinking and sobering in a haze of nauseous remorse, haunted by bottles tucked into his bed or between his linen, terrified of the gulf that yawned before him, and seeing my witch’s smile and my cat’s eyes every night and day, promised he would go.

The day of the doctor’s visit John had kept sober. I heard him, in the bedroom next to mine, sleeplessly pacing. When he went to throw himself into bed I heard him groan as he found on the pillows a bottle of port. Then I heard the clatter of his boots on the west-wing stairs as he fled the house to the icy garden to escape the lure of the drink. I dozed then, and heard him come in, in the early hours of the morning. He must have been frozen. The December mornings showed a heavy frost and often in the night we had a light dusting of snow. John had walked all night, wrapped in his driving coat, tears freezing on his cheeks, in a panic of fear to be away from the house, to set dark miles between him and me. But he was still on my land.