The Thirteenth Tale- 第38部分

dear　dr。　maudsley；thank　you　for　the　offer　of　work　you　have　kindly　made　to　me。

i　shall　be　pleased　to　take　up　the　post　at　angelfield　on　the　19th　april　as　you　suggest。

i　have　made　inquiries　and　gather　that　the　trains　run　only　to　banbury。　perhaps　you　would　advise　me　how　i　can　best　make　my　way　to　angelfield　from　there。　i　shall　arrive　at　banbury　station　at　half　past　ten。

yours　sincerely；　hester　barrowthere　was　firmness　in　hester’s　sturdy　capitals；　consistency　in　the　slant　of　the　letters；　a　sense　of　smooth　flow　in　the　moderate　loops　of　the　g’s　and　the　m’s。　the　letter　size　was　small　enough　for　economy　of　ink　and　paper；　yet　large　enough　for　clarity。　there　were　no　embellishments。　no　elaborate　curls；　flounces　or　flourishes。　the　beauty　of　the　orthography　came　from　the　sense　of　order；　balance　and　proportion　that　governed　each　and　every　letter。　it　was　a　good；　clean　hand。　it　was　hester　herself；　made　word。

in　the　top　right…hand　corner　was　an　address　in　london。

good；　i　thought。　i　can　find　you　now。

i　reached　for　paper；　and　before　i　began　my　transcription；　wrote　a　letter　to　the　genealogist　father　had　remended。　it　was　a　longish　letter：　i　had　to　introduce　myself；　for　he　would　doubtless　be　unaware　mr。　lea　even　had　a　daughter；　i　had　to　touch　lightly　on　the　matter　of　the　almanacs　to　justify　my　claim　on　his　time；　i　had　to　enumerate　everything　i　knew　about　hester：　naples；　london；　angelfield。　but　the　gist　of　my　letter　was　simple：　find　her。

．．



AFTER　CHARLIE


miss　winter　did　not　ment　on　my　munications　with　her　solicitor；　though　i　am　certain　she　was　informed；　just　as　i　am　certain　the　documents　i　requested　would　never　have　been　sent　to　me　without　her　consent。　i　wondered　whether　she　might　consider　it　cheating；　whether　this　was　the　“jumping　about　in　the　story”　she　so　disapproved　of；　but　on　the　day　i　received　the　set　of　letters　from　mr。　lomax　and　sent　my　request　for　help　to　the　genealogist；　she　said　not　a　word　but　only　picked　up　her　story　where　she　had　left　it；　as　though　none　of　these　postal　exchanges　of　information　were　happening。

charlie　was　the　second　loss。　the　third　if　you　count　isabelle；　though　to　all　practical　purposes　we　had　lost　her　two　years　before；　and　so　she　hardly　counts。

john　was　more　affected　by　charlie’s　disappearance　than　by　hester’s。　charlie　might　have　been　a　recluse；　an　eccentric；　a　hermit；　but　he　was　the　master　of　the　house。　four　times　a　year；　at　the　sixth　or　seventh　time　of　asking；　he　would　scrawl　his　mark　on　a　paper　and　the　bank　would　release　funds　to　keep　the　household　ticking　over。　and　now　he　was　gone。　what　would　bee　of　the　household？　what　would　they　do　for　money？

john　had　a　few　dreadful　days。　he　insisted　on　cleaning　up　the　nursery　quarters—“it’ll　make　us　all　ill　otherwise”—and　when　he　could　bear　the　smell　no　longer；　he　sat　on　the　steps　outside；　drawing　in　the　clean　air　like　a　man　saved　from　drowning。　in　the　evening　he　took　long　baths；　using　up　a　whole　bar　of　soap；　scrubbing　his　skin　till　it　glowed　pink。　he　even　soaped　the　inside　of　his　nostrils。

and　he　cooked。　we’d　noticed　how　the　missus　lost　track　of　herself　halfway　through　preparing　a　meal。　the　vegetables　would　boil　to　a　mush；　then　burn　on　the　bottom　of　the　pan。　the　house　was　never　without　the　smell　of　carbonized　food。　then　one　day　we　found　john　in　the　kitchen。　the　hands　that　we　knew　dirty；　pulling　potatoes　from　the　ground；　were　now　rinsing　the　yellow…skinned　vegetables　in　water；　peeling　them；　rattling　pan　lids　at　the　stove。　we　ate　good　meat　or　fish　with　plenty　of　vegetables；　drank　strong；　hot　tea。　the　missus　sat　in　her　chair　in　the　corner　of　the　kitchen；　with　no　apparent　sense　that　these　used　to　be　her　tasks。　after　the　washing　up；　when　night　fell；　the　two　of　them　sat　talking　over　the　kitchen　table。　his　concerns　were　always　the　same。　what　would　they　do？　how　could　they　survive？　what　would　bee　of　us　all？

‘don’t　worry；　he’ll　e　out；“　the　missus　said。

e　out？　john　sighed　and　shook　his　head。　he’d　heard　this　before。　“he’s　not　there；　missus。　he’s　gone；　have　you　forgotten　already？”

‘gone！“　she　shook　her　head　and　laughed　as　if　he’d　made　a　joke。

at　the　moment　she　first　learned　the　fact　of　charlie’s　departure；　it　had　brushed　her　consciousness　momentarily　but　had　not　found　a　place　to　settle　there。　the　passages；　corridors　and　stairwells　in　her　mind；　that　connected　her　thoughts　but　also　held　them　apart；　had　been　undermined。　picking　up　one　end　of　a　trail　of　thought；　she　followed　it　through　holes　in　walls；　slipped　into　tunnels　that　opened　beneath　her　feet；　came　to　vague；　semipuzzled　halts：　wasn’t　there　something…　？　hadn’t　she　been…　？　thinking　of　charlie　locked　in　the　nursery；　crazed　with　grief　for　love　of　his　dead　sister；　she　fell　through　a　trapdoor　in　time；　without　even　realizing　it；　into　the　thought　of　his　father；　newly　bereaved；　locked　in　the　library　to　grieve　for　his　lost　wife。

‘i　know　how　to　get　him　out　of　there；“　she　said　with　a　wink。　”i’ll　take　the　infant　to　him。　that’ll　do　the　trick。　in　fact；　i’ll　go　and　look　in　on　the　baby　now。“

john　didn’t　explain　to　her　again　that　isabelle　had　died；　for　it　would　only　bring　on　grief…stricken　surprise　and　a　demand　to　know　how　and　why。　“an　asylum？”　she　would　exclaim；　astonished。　“but　why　didn’t　anyone　tell　me　miss　isabelle　was　in　an　asylum？　to　think　of　the　girl’s　poor　father！　how　he　dotes　on　her！　it　will　be　the　death　of　him。”　and　she　would　lose　herself　for　hours　in　the　shattered　corridors　of　the　past；　grieving　over　tragedies　long　gone　as　though　they　had　happened　only　yesterday；　and　heedless　of　today’s　sorrows。　john　had　been　through　it　half　a　dozen　times　and　hadn’t　the　heart　to　go　through　it　again。

slowly　the　missus　raised　herself　out　of　her　chair　and；　putting　one　foot　painfully　in　front　of　the　other；　shuffled　out　of　the　room　to　see　to　the　baby　who；　in　the　years　her　memory　had　lost；　had　grown　up；　married；　had　twins　and　died。　john　didn’t　stop　her。　she　would　forget　where　she　was　going　before　she　even　reached　the　stairs。　but　behind　her　back　he　put　his　head　in　his　hands　and　sighed。

what　to　do？　about　charlie；　about　the　missus；　about　everything？　it　was　john’s　constant　preoccupation。　at　the　end　of　a　week；　the　nursery　was　clean　and　a　plan　of　sorts　had　arisen　out　of　the　evenings　of　deliberation。　no　reports　of　charlie　had　been　received；　from　near　or　far。　no　one　had　seen　him　go；　and　no　one　outside　the　house　knew　he　was　gone。　given　his　hermitlike　habits；　no　one　was　likely　to　discover　his　absence；　either。　was　he　under　any　kind　of　obligation；　john　wondered；　to　inform　anyone—the　doctor？　the　solicitor？—of　charlie’s　disappearance？　over　and　over　he　turned　the　question　in　his　mind；　and　each　time　he　found　the　answer　to　be　no。　a　man　had　the　perfect　right　to　leave　his　home　if　he　so　chose；　and　to　go　without　telling　his　employees　his　destination。　there　was　no　benefit　john　could　see　in　telling　the　doctor；　whose　previous　intervention　in　the　household　had　brought　nothing　but　ill；　and　as　for　the　solicitor…

here　john’s　thinking　out　loud　grew　slower　and　more　plicated。

for　if　charlie　did　not　return；　who　would　authorize　the　withdrawals　from　the　bank？　john　knew　obscurely　that　the　solicitor　would　have　to　be　involved　if　charlie’s　disappearance　was　prolonged；　but　yet…　his　reluctance　was　natural。　at　angelfield　they　had　lived　with　their　backs　to　the　world　for　years。　hester　had　been　the　one　outsider　to　enter　their　world；　and　look　what　had　happened　there！　besides；　he　had　an　innate　mistrust　of　solicitors。　john　had　no　specific　charge　against　mr。　lomax；　who　gave　every　appearance　of　being　a　decent；　sensible　chap；　yet　he　could　not　find　it　in　himself　to　confide　the　household’s　difficulty　to　a　member　of　a　profession　that　made　its　living　from　having　its　nose　in　other　people’s　private　affairs。　and　besides；　if　charlie’s　absence　became　public　knowledge；　as　his　strangeness　already　was；　would　the　solicitor　be　content　to　put　his　sign　on　charlie’s　bank　papers；　just　so　that　john　and　the　missus　could　continue　to　pay　the　grocery　bills？　no。　he　knew　enough　about　solicitors　to　know　that　it　would　not　be　as　simple　as　that。　john　frowned　as　he　envisaged　mr。　lomax　in　the　house；　opening　doors；　rummaging　through　cupboards；　casting　his　eye　into　every　dark　corner　and　carefully　cultivated　shadow　of　the　angelfield　world。　there　would　be　no　end　to　it。

and　then　the　solicitor　would　need　to　e　to　the　house　only　once　to　see　the　missus　wasn’t　right。　he　would　insist　on　the　doctor　being　called　in。　and　the　same　would　happen　to　the　missus　as　had　happened　to　isabelle。　she　would　be　taken　away。　how　could　that　do　any　good？

no。　they　had　just　got　rid　of　one　outsider；　it　was　no　time　to　invite　in　another。　much　safer　to　deal　with　private　things　privately。　which　meant；　now　that　things　were　as　they　were；　by　himself。

there　was　no　urgency。　the　most　recent　withdrawal　had　been　only　a　few　weeks　earlier；　so　they　were　not　entirely　without　money。　also；　hester　had　gone　without　collecting　her　wages；　so　that　cash　was　available　if　she　did　not　write　for　it　and　things　got　desperate。　there　was　no　need　to　pay　for　a　lot　of　food；　since　there　were　vegetables　and　fruit　to　feed　an　army　in　the　garden；　and　the　woods　were　full　of　grouse　and　pheasant。　and　if　it　came　to　it；　if　there　was　an　emergency；　a　calamity　（john　hardly　knew　what　he　meant　by　th