Lamentation

Philip nodded sadly. Edward had heard me, despite my lowered voice, and looked up, still with that expression of despair. ‘Yes, I killed him, a man who was guilty of nothing, and I must answer to God for it. I have hidden the truth from myself and the world for forty years, blamed Isabel for everything, but now the secret is discovered I must answer for it along with her. Somewhere in my heart I always knew this time would come.’

‘What happened, Master Cotterstoke, all those years ago?’ I needed to try and reach this shocked and devastated man.

He was silent a moment, then said quietly, ‘Our father was a good man. Isabel and I were always quarrelling, but though it merely annoyed our mother, our dear father would always settle things between us, bring us round. He was our rock. When he died, the sorrow, for Isabel and me — ’ He shook his head, fell silent.

‘And then your mother married again?’ I prompted.

‘When our father had not been in his grave a year.’ I heard a touch of the old anger in his voice now. ‘Another few months and her belly was swelling with a new child. She fawned on Peter Cotterstoke, ignoring Isabel and me. How we hated him.’ He looked at me. ‘Have you brothers or sisters, sir?’

‘No, but I have seen families broken by hatreds before. Too many times.’

Edward shook his head sadly. ‘Children — their minds can encompass such wickedness, such depravity. We were sure Peter Cotterstoke would give everything to his new child and disinherit us. Though we had no evidence.’ He shook his head. ‘We started by doing little things, stealing possessions of his and destroying them. Sometimes the idea was mine, more often Isabel’s.’ He shook his head. ‘We got bolder; we burnt a book he valued — in a field, dancing round the little fire we made, tossing in the illuminated pages one by one. We were wicked, wicked.’

‘You were but children,’ I said.

He looked back at me bleakly. ‘We tried to poison him. Not to kill him, not then; just to make him sick. But he was ill, very ill. We thought we would be discovered, but he never suspected us.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. But your mother did, I thought, and watched for her husband. But not close enough.

Edward went on in that flat, toneless voice. ‘Always Isabel and I kept a mask of loving childishness before him, and he did not see through it. We used to giggle at his innocence. And then Isabel had the idea of killing him. To secure that inheritance, and gain vengeance. For depriving us — as we had persuaded ourselves — of our inheritance.’ He closed his eyes. ‘And for not being our dear father, whose place no man could take.’ A tear coursed down Edward’s lined cheek. In that house, I thought, there was no reminder of their real father save that wall painting, no one left whom they trusted, whom they could talk to. Some children make friends among the servants, but I guessed neither Edward nor Isabel had been that sort of child. They had driven each other slowly but steadily into a kind of madness.

Edward continued, ‘We talked of all sorts of plans to kill him secretly, but could not think of one that might work. I truly believe I never intended to match the word to the deed, though perhaps Isabel did. Then that day on the wharf — Peter Cotterstoke looking out over the river, right on the edge of the wharf; Isabel whispering in my ear that now was our chance. The tide was full and the water cold, he would not be able to climb out. It took only one push from behind, and I was a big boy, tall for my age.’ He lowered his head. ‘Strange, it was only afterwards that we realized what we had done. Murder. Isabel took charge, decided we must say we had left our stepfather at the wharf.’

Philip said, ‘And no one could prove otherwise.’

‘And then — then we learned he had not planned to disinherit us at all.’ Edward hid his face in his hands, his voice scarcely audible. ‘Mother suspected, somehow. Afterwards she could not stand the sight of us, got both of us out of the house as soon as she could. She had no interest in my family, her grandchildren. And that Will she made — ’ He broke off.

I said, ‘Her revenge.’

He shook his head. ‘Yes. I see it now. I never thought Vowell had guessed, even on the day of the inspection when he was so upset. I have been blind, blind for so long.’ He made a fist of his hand and banged it against his forehead.

I said quietly, ‘All these years, you and Isabel have blamed each other, because it was easier than facing the truth.’

Edward nodded dumbly. ‘A truth too terrible to bear.’

‘In a way all this time, you have still been conspiring together, each determined to avoid your share of the blame.’ It was a strange, turnabout thought.

‘After it was done, I blamed her for pressing me to do it, while she said she never intended me to actually push him, it was just playacting. We ceased speaking. But, in truth, it was both our sin. Though I hid it even from the sight of the Lord when I came to true faith. But He knew, and now He has His just vengeance.’