Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [40]
Beth put her hand comfortingly on the older woman’s shoulder. ‘We can all share her,’ she said.
‘I don’t want to share her, I want her all for myself,’ Mrs Langworthy replied and she looked up at Beth with a pleading expression.
At that moment Mrs Bruce came down the stairs with some dirty glasses on a tray. ‘This is the last of them,’ she said cheerily, unaware she had walked in on something.
‘They certainly all ate and drank their fill,’ Cook said loudly, clearly trying to break the tense atmosphere. ‘Isn’t it time you took Molly home now, Beth?’
Mrs Langworthy got up abruptly and handed Molly back to Beth. ‘I’d better get back to my husband,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘He’s feeling a bit low too. I’m sure everything will be fine by tomorrow.’
The mistress didn’t get up the following day. Kathleen took in her early morning tea as usual, and reported back in the kitchen that she was feeling poorly.
‘Too much sherry,’ Cook said with a wink at Beth, but she kept her voice down so Mrs Bruce wouldn’t hear.
Mr Edward was out of sorts too. He snapped at Kathleen because his breakfast toast was cold, then went into his study and stayed there instead of going to his office.
‘It wouldn’t be fitting for him to go back to work today,’ Mrs Bruce said, as if she was trying to justify his actions. ‘He’ll have to sort out his father’s affairs and he must have dozens of letters to write. But I must say he’s taking this harder than I expected.’
Beth understood why Mrs Bruce was a little perplexed, for Mr Edward had gone to his office even on the day his father died, and had seemed perfectly composed yesterday at the funeral. It was understandable that Mrs Langworthy had taken to her bed — she had after all been run ragged for over a week arranging everything. But putting together Mr Edward’s uncharacteristic behaviour today, and his wife’s emotional state yesterday, Beth felt sure they’d had a quarrel last night.
Had she blamed him because she didn’t have a child of her own?
Three days after the funeral, Mrs Langworthy was still in her bed. Mrs Bruce had been taking up her meals on a tray, but she only picked at them.
‘The doctor said he can’t find anything wrong with her,’ Beth heard her saying to Cook. ‘He thought it was just melancholy and that perhaps Mr Edward ought to take her away for a holiday. But who would want to do that in this weather?’
It hadn’t snowed since the day of the funeral, but the temperature was so low that the snow was still lying and the wind was icy. It was so cold in the coach house that Beth stayed over in the house as long as possible, and she had been taking Molly into bed with her at night to keep her warm. Sam had been staying later at the hotel too, perhaps for the same reasons, so Beth hadn’t even had an opportunity to speak to him about America.
‘Beth, why don’t you go up and see her?’ Mrs Bruce suggested. ‘Take Molly with you, I’m sure that will cheer her up.’
It was mid-afternoon, and as there was no more work Beth could find that would give her an excuse to remain in the house, and it was far too cold to go out anywhere, she was only too glad to agree.
Mrs Langworthy was lying back listlessly on the pillows, not even reading, but when she saw Beth and Molly her face lit up. ‘What a nice surprise. I was just thinking about Molly. Let her come on the bed with me,’ she said, patting the coverlet.
Beth lifted her on and pulled up a chair for herself by the bed. Molly bounced around, then made the mistress laugh by playing peekaboo with her with the blanket.
‘What is wrong, mam?’ Beth asked after chatting about Molly for a little while. ‘Do you hurt anywhere? Have you been sick?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ Mrs Langworthy replied, and looked down fondly at Molly who was now snuggled up beside her as if intending to go to sleep. ‘I just feel weary with the pointlessness of my life.’
‘My mother said something like that to me once,’ Beth said thoughtfully. ‘I was a bit