Half Moon Street - Anne Perry [96]
Caroline leaned forward in her chair, crushing her skirt further. “Mama-in-law! What is it you think Samuel knows?” She moistened her lips. “Were you not married to Father Ellison?”
The old lady wanted to laugh. That would have been shameful— of course it would—and it would mean both her children would be illegitimate. But somehow it looked almost trivial compared with what she would have to tell Caroline.
“Yes, I was married to him. He divorced Alys perfectly legally, and I knew of her existence. My father saw to all that.”
“Then what?” Caroline demanded. “It obviously has to do with Alys, or Samuel could not know about it.”
“Yes it has. It has to do with why she left. Have you never wondered why she did something so extreme, so dangerous, and both legally and socially unacceptable?”
“Yes, of course I have,” Caroline said instantly. “But I could hardly ask. I assumed she ran off with someone, and then he abandoned her, and of course she would not then go back to Grandpapa. She must have left before she knew she was with child. No one could doubt Samuel is Grandpapa’s.”
“That is what one would assume,” Mariah agreed very quietly. “It is not what happened.”
There must have been something in her voice which struck Caroline in a new way, more deeply, and with a stab of tragedy. She barely moved, but there was a gentleness in her eyes, an attention which no longer made judgments.
“Why did she go?” she said in little more than a whisper.
This was the moment. It was like plunging into black, stinking water, ice-cold to take the breath away.
“Because he forced her into unnatural practices—painful, degrading things no human should do . . .” It was like hearing someone else’s voice.
Caroline drew in her breath as if she had been struck. Her face was white to the lips, her eyes hollow. She started to speak, then faltered and fell silent. She began to shake her head in short, sharp little movements.
“I thought you wouldn’t believe me,” the old lady said quietly. “No one would. It is not something you can tell . . . not anyone . . . not ever.”
“But . . . but you didn’t know Alys!” Caroline protested. “Samuel didn’t tell you . . .” Again she stopped. She stared fixedly into the old lady’s eyes. In all the years they had known each other they had never met in a look so honest. Caroline took in a long, shaking breath and let it out in a sigh. “You mean . . .” She put her hand up to her lips as if to stifle the next words. “You mean he . . . you . . .”
“Don’t say it!” Mariah pleaded. This was absurd, futile. She ached to be believed, and here she was begging Caroline not to give words to the truth.
“Un . . . natural?” Caroline struggled with the word.
Mariah shut her eyes. “I believe men do it to each other . . . at least some men do. It is known as sodomy. It is more painful than you can imagine . . . against your will. It is your pain which . . . which gives him pleasure.” The rage and humiliation of it poured back over her, bringing her body out in sweat. “He made me strip naked, on my hands and knees, like an animal—”
“Stop it!” Caroline’s voice was high and shrill. “Stop it! Stop it!” She put up her hands, palms outward, to push it away.
“You can’t imagine your father-in-law like that, can you?” Mariah whispered. “Or me? Together on the floor like dogs, me weeping with pain and humiliation, wishing I could die, and him more and more excited, shouting, unable to control himself until he was finished.”
“Stop it!” Caroline moved her fingers to her mouth. “Don’t!”
“You can’t listen?” The old lady was shaking so violently with the memory of it she could hardly speak without stuttering. “I l-lived with it . . . for years . . . all my married life. He died of a stroke like that, naked, on the floor, without his clothes. I’d prayed for him to d-die . . . and he did! I crept away from him and washed myself—he often made