‘But … what has this got to do with Cat?’
‘With Cat? Who is Cat?
‘The maid, Bertie. You said the maid would have to be let go …’
‘Yes! By all means, she must go! She was there, Hetty – she was there, fleeing like one of the rats as the police stormed in and turned out the nest of them … I saw her! I knew her at once!’
‘You must be mistaken, Bertie … why in heaven’s name would Cat be in Thatcham, and gambling, for pity’s sake? It couldn’t have been her – she was upstairs and in bed, I’m sure of it!’
‘No, no, you are not sure. I saw her, Hester. A liar and a gambler and no doubt a lascivious doxy besides …’
‘But you must be mistaken,’ Hester insists.
‘I want her gone. She will be the ruin of us all.’
‘No, Albert! On this you must listen to me – please. You’re mistaken. She’s a good girl! She works hard—’
‘It has come to a fine state of affairs that my own wife should doubt my word,’ Albert says, coldly. ‘Call her up, and ask her. Ask her, then, and let’s see how deep the roots of her dishonesty go!’
Hester finds Cat making up the master bed with fresh linens, the dirty ones twisted into a bundle by the door. Hester steps over it, suddenly finding her feet like lead, and her tongue made of wood. She smiles weakly when Cat looks up, and notices the dark shadows under the girl’s eyes and that, however well brushed they have been, her shoes still look dirty, muddy.
‘Sorry, madam. I won’t be a moment, but I can finish this later if you’d rather?’ Cat says quietly.
‘No, no, Cat. It’s quite all right. There was … actually something else I wanted to talk to you about,’ Hester says reluctantly. Cat throws her arms wide and a clean sheet billows out, falling slowly and with expert aim into just the right position. She twitches it a couple of times, and then stands up, turning to face Hester with a look of such calm resignation that Hester knows the answer before she has asked the question. ‘It’s true then? You were out in Thatcham last night? And gambling? My husband says he saw you there …’ She trails off, surprised by the way her nerves jangle, and to find that she has been hoping it has all been a mistake. Praying it, even.
‘He saw me there, it’s true. But I was not gambling, madam,’ Cat says, looking straight at Hester without flinching; that black, disconcerting stare of hers.
‘Oh, Cat! How could you? How … how on earth did you get there?’
‘I borrowed the vicar’s bicycle. I’ve done it many times before,’ Cat announces, tipping up her chin defiantly, as if daring Hester to rebuke her. Hester stares at her, dumbfounded, for a long moment, until Cat speaks again. ‘I suppose I shall be let go?’ she asks, and though her defiance remains, there is a slight tremor in her voice.
‘I don’t know … I don’t know. If the vicar finds out you took his bicycle … You have done it many times?’ Hester breathes. ‘But, to do what? When do you sleep?’
‘I do not sleep easy, madam. Since I was gaoled I … I do not sleep easy. And you never said I could not go out of the house when the day was over. It was never said that I shouldn’t! All I wanted was to have some taste of life beyond these four walls. Is that a crime?’
‘No, no, it’s not a crime, Cat! But it is not seemly! Those places in Thatcham, and at that hour of the night, unaccompanied … it is no place for a young woman on her own! Anything could have happened to you! People might have thought the very worst of you! It’s just not the done thing, Cat! I never said so explicitly because I never thought it needed saying! And you know I have the right of it!’ Hester cries, her voice rising higher and higher, beyond her control.
‘I was not always unaccompanied,’ Cat mutters.
‘Oh, and who went with you? Not Sophie Bell, I know that for sure …’ Hester falters, as Cat’s meaning becomes clear. ‘You mean … you have a sweetheart?’ she asks. Cat says nothing, but a flicker of emotion kindles in her eyes. ‘I see,’ Hester says, quietly. Was that what she had witnessed, in the courtyard? A lover’s tiff? She looks out of the window, at the far green blur of distant trees. Birds are singing, as they always do. The air is bright and dry, but suddenly the house feels far away, removed. Or perhaps it is she, Hester, who is far away. Disconnected from all the things she thinks she knows. ‘But,’ she gropes weakly for some redeeming feature in it all, ‘but you were not there to gamble? Last night?’