Daughter of Satan (22 page)

She was fascinated, in spite of her determination not to be. How his eyes sparkled as he talked; they took on that vivid shade of blue which burned in them when, she knew, he most desired her. He was a man such as Humility Brown could never be.

At Christmas time there was lavish entertainment at Stoke; and the guests of honour were Tamar and her father. There were hunting parties when Tamar and Bartle rode side by side and were always first at the kill. He was more gentle and no longer referred to that night when he had forced himself upon her. He had taken heed of her words; and she was warming towards him.

When he came upon little Christian toddling in the gardens, he would stop and speak to him; he would bring him sweetmeats and fruit, and the child would crow with pleasure at the sight of him. He would take the little boy in his arms and
throw him into the air; he would set him upon his mare and hold him there while the mare walked about on the grass. The child adored him.

Annis – now expecting another child – looked on with tears in her eyes.

‘He is a good man,' she whispered to Tamar; ‘for only good men are kind to children and the weak.'

Then Tamar forced herself to remember an occasion when he had not been so kind to the weak. But was she right in harbouring resentment? Should he not be forgiven if he had repented of his harsh treatment of her?

He was the wooer now. He implied when he entertained her at his father's mansion: This is what I have to offer you. This house and estates will be mine one day.

When they rode to the hunt together he was telling her: We should have a good life together.

When he made much of little Christian he meant: See! How happy we should be if we had children of our own!

But Tamar could not easily forget her distrust of him. There was too much that she could remember vividly.

I do not trust him! she insisted to herself.

And yet, the days when she did not see him were dull days. She was softening towards him and might have softened more, but, naturally, he could not for long keep up this model behaviour.

Several times he had seen her talking to Humility Brown, and on these occasions he had spoken slightingly of the man, whereupon Tamar had characteristically sprung to his defence.

One day, at the beginning of the spring, Bartle came to Pennicomquick and found Tamar in the gardens conversing with the Puritan; and when later she and Bartle were riding out together, he said: ‘You seem very taken with that fellow.'

‘Taken with him?'

‘You cannot hide your feelings from me by repeating what I say. You are
taken
with him! I could see that by the way you looked at him.'

‘You see too much, Bartle, since you see what is not there.'

‘You were coquetting with him. By God, you were!
Forcing him to look at you, standing there smiling provocatively. You have a fancy for him!' Bartle's face was flushed and distorted with his jealousy. ‘I believe he is your lover.'

She answered coldly: ‘I had thought your manners improved of late. It seems I am mistaken.'

‘You cannot deny it. You prevaricate. You cannot hide the truth from me.'

‘And even if your foul suggestion were truth, why should I wish to hide it from you? What concern would it be of yours?'

‘So all this time while I have been playing the mild-mannered suitor, he has been revelling in the pleasures of your bed!'

‘If you were nearer, I would strike you for that.'

‘You need not be so concerned to protect the honour of your sly-eyed Puritan. I always did suspect the meekness of such fellows. They use it to disarm foolish females like yourself. Tell me, does he begin your pleasures by praying first?'

‘Stop it!' she screamed at him. ‘I hate you! What a fool I was to imagine that you were slightly less hateful than I had believed you to be! How dare you utter your coarse thoughts aloud to me! Do you imagine all men are as depraved as yourself!'

He was solemn suddenly. ‘Tamar, I was wrong. I see it. Forgive me.'

‘That I will not do. I cannot endure your conversation. Save it, please, for your low-born sailors. I speak to whom I will, and at this moment I do not wish to speak to you.'

She was about to whip up her horse when he laid his hand on the bridle.

‘Can you not forgive a jealous lover?'

She looked haughtily beyond him. ‘I can forgive no one who dares say such things.'

‘Listen, Tamar. I was wrong. I was foolish and jealous. I did not like to see you smile at anyone but me.'

‘Say no more,' she said. ‘And pray take your hands from my bridle. I wish to go home now.'

‘First say you forgive me. Say all things are as they were between us.'

She met his eyes coolly. ‘Very well. We were but friendly
because our fathers' houses are close, and our fathers wish us to be.'

She saw that fierce, angry passion blaze into his eyes.

But he said no more and they rode back to Pennicomquick.

Next day he rode over again. She saw him in the garden with young Christian and noticed how handsome he was, how tall, how strong and how puny Humility Brown seemed when compared with him.

The child was smiling with pleasure as Bartle lifted him up. He loved children and softened when he was with them – but not too much. He was one of those men who had the power to attract children even when he reprimanded them or scarcely seemed to notice them. He would make a fine father – a father children would be proud of. She pondered: I am twenty, and whom else could I marry if not Bartle? Love, though, should be soft and tender – not fierce, demanding, fostering those tempestuous quarrels which were continually springing up between them. No, she could not love Bartle, but he excited her.

She went down to him and they played with the child together. Humility walked by on his way to the potting sheds, and she smiled at him as he passed; she was thinking of the contrast between him and Bartle, but Bartle saw the smile and misconstrued it. His expression changed, and Tamar felt her anger rising.

Bartle said: ‘There is to be an expedition at the beginning of the summer. I am asked to captain one of the ships.'

‘That should be exciting for you,' she answered.

‘It will. One grows tired of a landsman's life.'

They went into the house and she was astonished at her depression which the prospect of losing him had brought with it.

She thought afterwards how different their lives might have been if they had not, at that point, taken a certain turning.

She was wild, passionate and unaccountable; she had forgotten that Bartle was similar.

If pride was her besetting sin, impatience and violence were his. He was a man of deep and sensuous passions, and he had
been celibate too long. It had needed only the smile she had given Humility Brown – that most inoffensive of men– to rekindle the violent passions Bartle had been suppressing all these months.

He sought her out. He must speak to her. Would she walk in the grounds with him?

He took her to that spot by the stream which they both had cause to remember so well; she knew as soon as they reached that spot that she had the old Bartle to deal with. Gone was the tender lover, striving to please; there remained the sensual man determined to have his way. The very manner in which he took her by the shoulders was brutal.

His eyes blazed and she flinched before the passion in them. He kissed her hard on the lips and his kisses were a burning prophecy; he was going to kiss her whether she wanted him to or not.

All her old fear rose within her and, with it, came her passionate hatred.

‘Release me at once.'

But he kept his hands on her shoulders and looked into her face.

‘Did you know,' he said, ‘that that man, Humility Brown . . .
Humility
Brown! . . . dared to hold meetings at a hut on my father's lands?'

She felt a flutter in her stomach.

‘Oh yes,' he went on; ‘that sly creature dares to collect his flock together in a hut there. The meek man is a sinner; he is breaking the law. There are some fine new penalties imposed for such law-breakers.'

‘Why do you tell
me
this?'

‘Wait and you will hear. One of my grooms has become a temporary Puritan at my request, and he has told me when the next meeting is to be; so you see I am in the secret.'

‘I asked you what this has to do with me. What are you threatening to do?'

‘As a good servant of my country, what do you expect me to do?'

‘You could not do it, Bartle!' she cried. ‘All those people who have lived among us . . . our friends!'

‘Law-breakers! And Humility Brown the biggest one among them. He'll be thrown into gaol. I heard some tales of what they are doing to these people. They leave them to rot in prison. They starve them and beat them. It might even be the rope for such a hardened criminal as Humility Brown! Who knows? Perhaps even the faggots . . .'

‘You shall not do this!'

‘Why not?'

‘I shall stop you. I shall warn him.'

‘I'll have him taken up in any case. He could not deny what he had been up to.'

‘Are you really as cruel as you would have me believe?'

He shook her and his eyes blazed forth their passion . . . a passion of hate for Humility Brown, a passion of desire for herself.

‘I do not like your feeling for this man,' he said.

‘You are mad.'

‘I have seen you together.'

‘He is a humble gardener. What should I want with him?'

‘I am not blind. He is a man of learning. He works in the garden because he lost everything on a ship bound for Virginia. He is biding his time until he can set out again . . . then doubtless he plans to take you with him. Richard invites him to his study. He talks with him. Theirs is not the relationship of master and servant.'

‘Could not Richard be interested in a servant?'

‘Does he invite other servants to talk with him? Nay! Richard and his daughter have an interest in the fellow which I do not like.'

‘I hate you, Bartle.'

‘Is that because you love him?'

She brought up her hand to strike him, but he caught it.

‘You are hurting me,' she said.

‘I intend to. You will learn how I can hurt those who insult me by preferring a meek-tongued preacher to a man. When they hang him, I will take you to see the spectacle. I'll warrant there'll be a goodly crowd to cheer him on to hell.'

‘Bartle,' she pleaded, ‘you don't mean that you will really do this cruel and dastardly thing?'

‘You will see what I can do for my country.'

He watched her slyly and she should have been warned. When he released her and began to walk away, she ran after him.

‘I beg of you not to do this, Bartle.'

He turned and smiled slowly, and his smile made her tremble, for she was reminded of another occasion.

He said, ‘Sweetheart, I can refuse you nothing. If you were to beg of me . . . prettily enough . . . I might reconsider my decision.'

He put his arms about her and held her in a grip so tight that she felt as though the blood were being squeezed out of her body.

‘For a consideration,' he went on, ‘there is nothing on earth that I would not do for you.'

‘What? . . .' she began weakly.

‘Leave your window open tonight, and I'll swear by God and my fathers that the Puritans shall meet wherever and as often as they like without interference from me.'

She looked at him scornfully. ‘Do you think I would be deceived again and by the same trick?'

‘The other
was
a trick, I grant you. I would not have betrayed a friend like Richard. I am fond of Richard. But Humility Brown? Why, I loathe the man; I despise him; and the way in which you smile at him alone would make him my enemy!'

‘Are you determined to make my hatred burn more fiercely?'

He answered: ‘If I cannot have you in love, then will I have you in hate; for have you I will, one way or the other.'

‘Then it is no use my pleading with you?'

‘There is only one way.'

She tossed her head angrily and walked into the house.

She lay waiting for him.

There was, she told herself, nothing else she could so. He had tricked her before, but this time he meant what he said. He was brutal; he was callous; he was lecherous. How could she ever have thought of marriage with him?

‘I would rather die!' she said into her pillow.

What else could I do but this? How could I let Humility Brown be betrayed? Others would be involved too.

She closed her eyes and tried to see Humility standing in one of the pits of the prisons, knee-deep in water, fighting the rats which tried to attack his starving body. But she could only see Bartle coming towards her, whispering her name.

I hate him! she insisted. This is terrible and shameful. But it is better that this should happen to me than that my friends should lie neglected in prison and then perhaps be taken out to violent death.

He was coming now. It was happening as it had happened before. The curtains parted and she heard his light laugh in the darkness.

His hands were caressing her.

He said: ‘So, sweetheart, once more you are waiting for me.'

‘I hate you! I hate you!' she told him. ‘I shall hate you for ever for what you have done to me.'

He mocked her as he had done before.

‘How you longed for me! Do you think you hid your feelings from me? I am too clever for you. Tamar, I know too much of women. Why do you persist in telling me you hate me? You long for me. You burn for me. You knew I cared nothing for Puritans. A plague and a pox on them! I care naught. Let them meet every day. Let them pray till they are hoarse. I'd never betray them. Do I look like a man who would bestir himself to betray miserable Puritans?'

‘I believe you would be capable of the utmost cruelty.'