Anne Hereford: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"What do you mean, Lizzy?"

"I have got a brother, Miss; as steady, well-meaning a man as you'd wish to see," she answered, coming nearer and dropping her voice to a low tone. "He came into this neighbourhood in search of work, he and his wife. Oh, but it's she that's the plague; and a fine worry he has had with her, on and off. She's wild; if there's a wake or a dance within ten miles, she'll be off after it: and at times she has been seen the worse for drink. Not that you'd think it, to look at her; she's a pretty, neat, jaunty young woman; never a pleasanter than she when she chooses. Well, try as he would, he couldn't get work in these parts, except an odd job now and again: and you know, Miss, when everything is going out, and nothing's coming in, it don't take long for any few pounds that may have been saved in an old stocking, to come to an end."

"That's true enough, Lizzy."

"Theirs did. And what should they do when all was gone but come to me to help them. I did it. I helped them till I was tired, till I could help no longer. She, it was, mostly that asked; he'd never have begged a sixpence from me but when driven to it by sheer want. She pestered my very life out, coming here continually, and when I told her I had no more money to give, and it was of no use asking for it, then she prayed for broken victuals. Things had got very low with them. 'Who's that woman that's always creeping here after Lizzy Dene!' the servants said. 'Who's that man that we see her with!' they'd say again. And I did not choose to say who. Both of them had got shabby then, in rags almost; and he, what with the ill luck and her conduct, had been seen twice in drink. My lady is excessively particular that the servants she has about her shall belong to respectable people; Hill, she's always on the watch; and what I feared was that I might be turned from my place. It was not a pleasant life for me, Miss."

I thought it could not have been.

"One afternoon—the same that the accident occurred to Mr. Chandos—Tilda had been up to the house, begging as usual. She vowed, if I would not relieve her with either money or food, to do some damage to the family: but she had been having a drop of beer, and I paid no attention to her, and wouldn't give her anything. I may be giving for ever, I said to her, and she went away, threatening. After she was gone, I kept thinking over what she had said—that she'd do some damage to the family—the words wouldn't go away from me, and I got right down frightened, lest she should put her threat in force. What if she should fire one of the haystacks, or poison the poultry?—all sorts of horrors I kept on imagining. I begged some cold meat of the cook, inventing a story of a poor sick family, and collected some broken bits of bread, with a pinch of tea, and ran out with it all in a basket, at the dusk hour. They were lodging in one of the lanes close by; and when I got there I found Tilda had not been in. I couldn't stop; I gave the things to John, and told him he must keep Tilda away or I should lose my place; he promised he'd do what he could, but added that I knew as well as he did how little she'd be said. In hurrying back through the avenue, with my basket, I came upon Mr. Chandos lying there; you were standing by him. Miss, when I heard what had happened, as true as that we are here, I was afraid that she had done it. I went back and taxed her with it; she had come in then, but she was sullen and would not say yes nor no. I was frightened out of my senses for fear it should come out; and I tried to lay it upon the gipsies. But the next day, when her temper came to her, she vowed and protested that she'd had nothing to do with it. I thought then it really was the gipsies, and wished to bring it home to them. That's the truth, Miss, as I'm here living."

"And what were you doing in my room that night, Lizzy?"

"What night, Miss?"

"When I surprised you, and you appeared so confused. The excuse you made was that you were looking for the ghost."

"And so I was looking for it, Miss," she answered: "I was doing nothing else. One of the girls had said the ghost was abroad that night, and I thought I'd look. Between Tilda and the ghost my time was a bad one just then. I'm sure I was thankful when she and John left these parts. He has got work at the malting in a distant town, and they are doing well. I wish the ghost could be got rid of as easily."