saw on the other side of the road that there were several small boys staring with admiration at the horses.
He beckoned the tallest of them who crossed the road eagerly.
“I want you to hold my horse,” the Marquis said. “Do you understand horses and how to be quiet and gentle with them?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Just take him by the bridle and if he becomes restless you can walk him a little way up the road as far as the Church and back again. Do you understand?”
“Aye, sir.”
Seeing what the Marquis was doing, Anthony did the same and the two boys, pink with excitement were patting the horses and making a fuss of them as the Marquis and Anthony walked up the small flagged path of the black and white painted cottage.
The door was opened by a buxom young woman of about thirty who was overwhelmed by their appearance and curtseyed awkwardly, being for the moment obviously too tongue-tied to be able to say anything.
“I am the Marquis of Veryan and I would like to see Bateman. Are you his daughter?”
“N-no, my Lord – his niece. I give up me position up at the ’ouse to look after ’im.”
“You were at Heathcliffe?”
“Aye, my Lord.”
“I have missed your uncle since I returned. May I talk to him?
The woman hesitated for a moment.
“Your Lordship might find ’im somewhat changed.”
“I understand,” the Marquis said. “Where will he be?”
In answer the woman crossed the small kitchen and opened the door at the back of it. It led into a small but clean bedroom in which the old butler, wearing a red flannel nightshirt, was lying.
It was hard to recognise the man who he had always thought had the somewhat pontifical look of an Archbishop.
His face was now red and puffed, his nose swollen and both his hands and his head seemed to shake as the Marquis moved into the room.
“’Ere’s ’is Lordship to see you, Uncle,” the woman said.
She returned to the kitchen, leaving the Marquis and Anthony alone with Bateman.
There were two chairs and, as the Marquis brought his nearer to the bed, he saw that the old butler’s eyes were bloodshot and was quite certain that, although he was bedridden, he had not given up his drinking habits.
“I am sorry to see you in such a state, Bateman,” he said. “I missed you when I returned to Heathcliffe. The house does not seem the same without you.”
“It’s kind of your Lordship to say so, my Lord,” Bateman replied. “I used to plan how I’d have everythin’ ready for your Lordship when you paid us a visit, but I were taken ill and Mr. Markham gave me this cottage.”
He paused for a moment and then said in a resentful tone,
“Not that it didn’t suit him to be rid of me!”
He slurred his words slightly and the Marquis was aware that early though it was in the morning, he must have already been drinking unless it was a hangover from the night before.
It seemed extraordinary that his niece should allow him to drink to excess when he was in fact an invalid, but the Marquis was more interested at the moment in what he had just said.
“Why should it suit Mr. Markham to retire you?” He asked.
“That’s somethin’ your Lordship’ll have to find out for yourself,” Bateman replied.
“I have known you long enough, Bateman,” the Marquis said, “to know that my father trusted you as I do and I always believed that you were devoted to Heathcliffe.”
“I thought of it as me home, my Lord,” Bateman replied, “and his late Lordship were a grand gentleman, no one can deny that.”
“I agree with you,” the Marquis said quietly. “But what I am trying to find out is if anything went wrong after he died and why you are no longer serving me as I would like you to do.”
“It weren’t fair, my Lord. After Cobbler and Wilkins and the other two footmen went to the war, they weren’t replaced. For a while I managed on me own, but it wasn’t easy to keep things as your Lordships have wanted.”
“Cobbler and Wilkins were not
He beckoned the tallest of them who crossed the road eagerly.
“I want you to hold my horse,” the Marquis said. “Do you understand horses and how to be quiet and gentle with them?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Just take him by the bridle and if he becomes restless you can walk him a little way up the road as far as the Church and back again. Do you understand?”
“Aye, sir.”
Seeing what the Marquis was doing, Anthony did the same and the two boys, pink with excitement were patting the horses and making a fuss of them as the Marquis and Anthony walked up the small flagged path of the black and white painted cottage.
The door was opened by a buxom young woman of about thirty who was overwhelmed by their appearance and curtseyed awkwardly, being for the moment obviously too tongue-tied to be able to say anything.
“I am the Marquis of Veryan and I would like to see Bateman. Are you his daughter?”
“N-no, my Lord – his niece. I give up me position up at the ’ouse to look after ’im.”
“You were at Heathcliffe?”
“Aye, my Lord.”
“I have missed your uncle since I returned. May I talk to him?
The woman hesitated for a moment.
“Your Lordship might find ’im somewhat changed.”
“I understand,” the Marquis said. “Where will he be?”
In answer the woman crossed the small kitchen and opened the door at the back of it. It led into a small but clean bedroom in which the old butler, wearing a red flannel nightshirt, was lying.
It was hard to recognise the man who he had always thought had the somewhat pontifical look of an Archbishop.
His face was now red and puffed, his nose swollen and both his hands and his head seemed to shake as the Marquis moved into the room.
“’Ere’s ’is Lordship to see you, Uncle,” the woman said.
She returned to the kitchen, leaving the Marquis and Anthony alone with Bateman.
There were two chairs and, as the Marquis brought his nearer to the bed, he saw that the old butler’s eyes were bloodshot and was quite certain that, although he was bedridden, he had not given up his drinking habits.
“I am sorry to see you in such a state, Bateman,” he said. “I missed you when I returned to Heathcliffe. The house does not seem the same without you.”
“It’s kind of your Lordship to say so, my Lord,” Bateman replied. “I used to plan how I’d have everythin’ ready for your Lordship when you paid us a visit, but I were taken ill and Mr. Markham gave me this cottage.”
He paused for a moment and then said in a resentful tone,
“Not that it didn’t suit him to be rid of me!”
He slurred his words slightly and the Marquis was aware that early though it was in the morning, he must have already been drinking unless it was a hangover from the night before.
It seemed extraordinary that his niece should allow him to drink to excess when he was in fact an invalid, but the Marquis was more interested at the moment in what he had just said.
“Why should it suit Mr. Markham to retire you?” He asked.
“That’s somethin’ your Lordship’ll have to find out for yourself,” Bateman replied.
“I have known you long enough, Bateman,” the Marquis said, “to know that my father trusted you as I do and I always believed that you were devoted to Heathcliffe.”
“I thought of it as me home, my Lord,” Bateman replied, “and his late Lordship were a grand gentleman, no one can deny that.”
“I agree with you,” the Marquis said quietly. “But what I am trying to find out is if anything went wrong after he died and why you are no longer serving me as I would like you to do.”
“It weren’t fair, my Lord. After Cobbler and Wilkins and the other two footmen went to the war, they weren’t replaced. For a while I managed on me own, but it wasn’t easy to keep things as your Lordships have wanted.”
“Cobbler and Wilkins were not
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