Hope - Lesley Pearse [165]
‘Because he’s well paid, likes living in the gatehouse, and because he wouldn’t have the freedom he gets here anywhere else,’ William said plaintively. ‘He has a completely free hand with the grounds, and you have to admit he’s far more than a gardener, he’s an artist! Do you remember how glorious the flowerbeds were last summer, such wonderful colour combinations, the clever way he has of always having something new coming up to hide the fading plants? I’ve never seen his like before.’
Anne did remember; in fact, the only time she’d ever seen the man looking really happy was when he was admiring his plants. But at the same time he made sure she and William couldn’t enjoy them.
If they sat out in the garden for tea, Albert would start scything the grass near them. If they just walked around, he followed them pushing a wheelbarrow; he glowered at them if they picked some flowers, and made them feel they were intruders.
It was as if he wished to imprison them in the house, and even on a winter’s day he made sure they were aware of his presence in little ways like the wet coal. Raking the gravel on the drive outside the study window was a favourite too, and in summer he would often disturb a wasps’ nest so that the insects flew in through the windows.
Sometimes when he saw Anne looking out of the window he would urinate in front of her. Late at night he would walk around the house, his feet scrunching on the gravel, just a reminder that he was still there, watching and biding his time.
Again and again William had tried to take him to task, but it always ended the same way. Albert would threaten to expose them.
‘Damn it,’ William exclaimed, jumping up as a definite smell of urine wafted out from either the fire or the coal box. ‘Enough is enough!’
‘What, dearest?’ Anne asked.
‘Albert! He’s got to go. Tomorrow, first thing, I’ll insist he leaves. I’ll give him till the end of the week and if he isn’t gone by then I’ll get a couple of men to empty his belongings from the gatehouse and change the locks on the doors.’
‘But what if he attacks you?’ Anne said nervously.
William went over to the window and looked out. ‘I almost hope he does,’ he said. ‘Then I can get the police and have him arrested.’
Anne had heard William talk like this before but each time he’d backed down later, often having to give Albert more money to appease him. But she was pleased to hear that this time William really did sound determined and she guessed it was because of Rufus.
He was in his second year at Oxford University now, but he’d declined to come home at Christmas. Albert had sneeringly claimed it was because he’d grown too grand for the shabby house, and the lack of parties and dances, but both Anne and William knew that wasn’t the case. Rufus had grown into a tall, strong and handsome young man, but he had no airs and graces. He still liked to go to Matt’s farm when he was home; last summer he was there every day helping with the harvest.
They both knew he hadn’t come home this Christmas because of Albert. The convictions he’d had as a young lad about the man had remained, and he’d become increasingly outraged as he saw Albert strutting around as if he were the master, and his parents kowtowing to him. Staying away was his way of showing his disapproval, and the message was simple: Albert should be dismissed or Rufus would not be home for any future holidays with his parents.
It had been the most cheerless Christmas they had ever known, and Anne knew that it had made William feel even more aggrieved with Albert.
‘Are you prepared for the gossip if he does make good his threats?’ Anne asked. She felt she was prepared now, but she didn’t want William suddenly caving in at the first whiff of scandal.
‘I am, never more so. Come on, old girl, don’t fail me now! We’ve got to do this or stay under his yoke for the rest