The Anatomy Of Ghosts

improving one’s lot with a little private tuition, perhaps, or a lectureship. And the college has a number of livings at its disposal and, in the course of time, one of these may fall vacant, and so preferment within the Church is not an impossibility.’

‘I hear the Rosington Fellowship may become vacant soon.’

Soresby’s expression changed: his face narrowed and sharpened. His features might have belonged to a starving man. ‘If I were to get the promise of it, my situation would improve beyond all recognition. But it’s in the gift of the Master.’ He paused and then added in a sudden, savage rush, ‘It’s all of a piece, here at Jerusalem, sir: one can hope for nothing, large or small, without the support of Dr Carbury.’

20

On Tuesday morning, Elinor sent Susan to rinse collars and cuffs in the wash-house, which was in the little service yard. It was always damp and gloomy because it was overshadowed by the high blank wall of Yarmouth Hall on one side and the back of the Master’s Lodge on another. Later that morning, Elinor passed through the yard herself on the way to the necessary house. The door to the wash-house was ajar, and she heard Susan laugh softly.

Elinor paused. She was about to go in to see Susan when a man said something. Her maid wasn’t alone. Suddenly Susan cried out, and the sound was like a dog’s yelp when someone treads on its paw. The cry was hastily smothered. Elinor took a step towards the door and then stopped again as she became aware of a rhythmic movement inside the wash-house. It rapidly gathered momentum.

She could now see a little way inside. Two people were lying on the brick floor. She could see only part of their legs and their shoes – Susan’s shoes and stockings, a man’s square-toed shoes, part of his breeches and a flash of white muscular thighs pumping up and down.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Susan. ‘Ah! Yes!’

Susan was lying there with Ben. What they were doing was foul. It was immoral. By rights Elinor should sweep in there and instantly dismiss them both. Instead she felt herself flushing, and her breathing accelerating.

Ben grunted urgently.

‘Hush!’ Susan whispered.

Elinor went back in the house, slamming the door behind her. The words formed in her mind: My servants are copulating in the wash-house, snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. She was trembling. How dared they? And to do it in broad daylight, where anyone might stumble across them. Such brazen behaviour beggared belief.

She found Dr Carbury was sitting in an armchair drawn up to the window of the little dining parlour at the Master’s Lodge. His mouth was open, his feet were up on a footstool and a book was open on his lap. He was so very still that for an instant Elinor thought he was dead. He sat up and looked around wildly before his eyes fell on her. He looked old and unwell.

‘My dear sir,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing – nothing in the world. I was merely dozing a little, that’s all. What do you want?’

She had intended to complain to him about the lewd behaviour of their servants. But she could not trouble him when he was in this state. Then she was distracted by footsteps in the hall behind her.

‘Is that Mr Holdsworth?’ Dr Carbury asked. ‘Pray ask him to step in here.’

Holdsworth was already coming towards them. What if it had been Holdsworth with Susan in the wash-house? Snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. The very notion was absurd and fantastical but she felt a sensation strangely like jealousy.

Jealousy?

But if it had been herself with Holdsworth? Snuffling and grunting like pigs in our sty. She turned aside, shocked by the wanton immorality of her own imaginings. She made as if to straighten a salver on the sideboard.

‘I have not been idle, Mr Holdsworth,’ Carbury was saying. ‘I think I have found somewhere where you may stay with Mr Oldershaw, at least for a few days. The college has a small estate out beyond Histon, on the edge of Whitebeach Fen. It is no more than a farm and a watermill with a cottage attached to it. The mill is empty at present – we’re between tenants.’

‘Are there neighbours, sir?’ Holdsworth asked.

‘Only the farmer, a man called Smedley. He’s a taciturn fellow, and will not trouble you if you choose to stay there. But I shall write to him today, and tell him to send a servant over to make the cottage ready in case.’

‘But what will you tell him?’ Elinor said, turning back to face the men. She was tolerably sure that nothing about her would betray the unpleasant fancies that had just passed through her mind.

Carbury replied to Holdsworth as if he had asked the question. ‘I shall say that a small reading party may come over for a few days, and must not be disturbed on any account. The last tenant died, and his furniture is still there – his family have not collected it yet so they can hardly complain if we use it. I will speak to Mulgrave too.’

Elinor stared at Mr Holdsworth’s hand, which had touched hers through the gate. She thought of Ben and Susan in the wash-house. Dear God, she was even envious of them. Snuffling and grunting like pigs in their sty. What must it be like to feel like that?

There was a knock at the hall door.

‘Where are the servants?’ Carbury demanded when no one came. ‘Never here when one wants them. You must speak to them.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Elinor said. ‘Susan’s in the wash-house. Perhaps Ben’s in the garden. I’ll see who it is.’

She opened the door. She recognized the man waiting outside. It was one of the grooms from Golden Square, and he had a packet from Lady Anne in his hand.

Her ladyship was graciously pleased to approve Mr Holdsworth’s proposal. She agreed that he might remove Frank from Dr Jermyn’s establishment, though her agreement was hedged round with caveats and veiled threats. She did not say it in so many words but her son’s repeated refusal to come home to her was clearly a blow she found hard to bear.

Matters now moved swiftly. The livery stable was reluctant to hire out its larger chaises without hiring out one of their coachmen or grooms too but Lady Anne’s money soon overcame this reluctance. At four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon Ben was sent to collect the carriage.

Carbury made the point that the fewer people who knew of Frank Oldershaw’s whereabouts, the better for everyone. He was, he said, reasonably confident that he could trust Ben to keep his mouth shut. ‘It is easier to manage these matters with one’s own servants, Mr Holdsworth. They are not called our dependants for nothing, eh?’

Mulgrave was late. The chaise was already waiting when he came through the screens from Chapel Court at a smart trot.

‘Beg pardon, sirs,’ he said, panting. ‘Mr Archdale is in such a taking and he’s late for dinner at Mr Whichcote’s.’

‘Dinner?’ Carbury said. ‘At this hour?’

‘Oh they dine very late at Lambourne House, sir, especially when there’s a club meeting. Why, they do not sit down until five or six o’clock I believe.’

‘Well, well, never mind that now,’ Carbury said. ‘You are here, and that is what matters. Remember, my man, you are entirely at Mr Holdsworth’s disposal. You must put all your other gentlemen to one side for the time being.’

Mulgrave and Ben loaded Holdsworth’s portmanteau on to the chaise with a great show of speed and efficiency. Mulgrave made as if to mount the box with Ben, but Holdsworth told him to ride inside.

The chaise jerked and rattled through the archway leading into Jerusalem Lane. The road to Barnwell was crowded and they made slow progress at first, as they were trapped behind a pair of wagons rumbling out of the town.

‘I do not anticipate any trouble with Mr Oldershaw,’ Holdsworth said quietly. ‘However, unless I tell you otherwise, I wish you to stay within earshot when we are at the mill. I must repeat what the Master said: for the