The Girl who was a Gentleman (Victorian Romance, History)

by Anna Jane Greenville

  Among the numerous statues, and vases, and other pieces of exotic art, an oil painting, reaching from the marble mantelpiece to the ceiling, caught my attention. A young boy held himself proudly in a suit from another century. Warm brown eyes looked tenderly down on the red arm chair in the room. Guided by the gaze, I realised with a start that there was a man sitting in it. He had dosed off with a board of chess in front of him. His head heaved back and forth, going lower each time. Soon his nose would touch the queen. I inhaled sharply bracing myself for the encounter.

  I cleared my throat.

  'Good afternoon, sir,' I said thrice, going louder each time, until finally the silver haired head yanked up.

  A wild sound broke from his lungs and he pounced at me. I stumbled back with a start, into the many arms of an Indian statue. In the spur of the moment, and with my heart pounding like thunder, I mumbled an incomprehensible explanation, and started to curtsey but remembered I was a boy, and clumsily turned the movement into a bow. My feet got confused, and caught on the much too long trousers. My arms flew to the sides for balance and knocked over a vase. Before the ancient piece of some foreign history or other could scatter, I dived after it, and caught it. Holding it up over my head, I kissed the magnificent Persian carpet.

  Trembling laughter shook the air. The old man slumped back into his seat, and laughed, and laughed. When I was back on my feet and the vase back on its pedestal, he still heaved from the force of the humour he found in my performance.

  'I am here for the position,' I said timidly. 'My sister was here before me, but she was kindly informed that-'

  'Indeed!' he exclaimed. 'What a darling girl your sister is and handsome, too. It is a shame I am such a stubborn, old mule,' he smiled joyously, as if it was something he was proud of.

  I did not know how to answer such a confession and decided it was safest to keep staring at him like an idiot, which I mastered handsomely.

  'Ah! Well, well,' the gentleman muttered. 'Come here, child, come to me. Let me have a look.'

  There was not much distance between us but I stepped forward, nonetheless.

  His soft, big hand scratched the fluffy beard of finest silver, then a frown formed on his round, wrinkled face.

  A large, polished clock, carved from dark wood, stood behind the gentleman. With every tick-tock it seemed to become louder. His scrutiny made me frightfully nervous.

  Finally, the corners of the gentleman's mouth twitched into a smile, making his eyes become two big semicircles. He leaned back into the deep, red armchair, which had unfamiliar ornaments impregnated onto the rich, silky fabric, and raised one hand.

  'Sit down, my boy,' he motioned towards the other armchair opposite him. Stiffly, I moved to my assigned position, and sat on the edge of the velvet cushions, afraid of being devoured by them, like a pathetic insect by a magnificent, exotic flower.

  'How old are you, child?'

  'I am just turned seventeen, Sir.'

  'No, no. That won't do. You cannot be older than twelve, thirteen at best.'

  'Now that you mention it. I am just turned thirteen.'

  He laughed heartily and I very nearly smiled but thought better of it.

  'Do you care for a game of chess?'

  'Very much, sir,' I answered, then paused and added, 'yet, I have never played.'

  'Then I shall teach you,' he declared with so much enthusiasm, that I dared to believe my disguise had fooled him. Allowing myself to relax only a little bit, I focused on the explanation of the chess rules. With a child like gleam in his old eyes, that resembled the boy in the massive painting, the gentleman pointed out the movements of the pawns. One peculiarity angered me. The queen was very powerful while the king was weak, yet, the game depended entirely upon him. I tried to make my frown look like uttermost concentration.

  At the end of an hour long game, which he had played more against himself than against me, having amended every move I had made with great delight, he said he was tired.

  'It was a pleasure meeting you,' said he with brisk politeness.

  I understood it was time for me to leave. Afraid to ask whether my position was secured, I hesitantly turned my hat in my hands.

  'Ah,' he remembered pointing a finger in the air. With some difficulty he rose from his throne and slowly walked to a white cupboard, which might as well have been crafted to grace a chamber in Versailles. Paper rustled in his hands and when he turned to me, I was presented with a twenty pound note. I stared at it blankly.

  'Would you like me to run an errand?' I asked dazzled to be trusted with such a large sum so soon after our first meeting.

  'Your sister mentioned one thing or another which led me to believe you might find a suitable use for it.'

  'No, sir, I-' I waved my hands before me.

  'None of that,' he said sternly.

  'But-'

  'Take it, or you won't have to come back,' all traces of friendliness left his voice and a coldness ran down my back.

  I took the money and stuffed it into my pocket. The valuable piece of paper burned a hole of guilt into my trousers.

  'Until tomorrow, then, be here at ten,' he said.

  A bright summer evening sky lay overhead as I made for my way home.

  Chapter 3

  WILL AND WISH

  Upon my return, my sisters were in the sitting room. It seemed even tinier and more run-down after the eccentric extravagance of the old man's parlour. But even the most exotic art piece was nothing compared to Elizabeth's beauty, particularly when she was angry. My sister sat as straight as a candle, with her brows arched up, and her lips pursed. All of her attention was consumed by the needle work she was occupied with.

  'I am back,' I said standing in the doorway, and turning my hat in my hands as was becoming my wont.

  Eleanor looked at me sharply and imitated our older sister by arching her brows, pursing her lips, and straightening her back. Only unlike Elizabeth, she overdid it and looked like she was in pain.

  'Would you care for a cup of tea?' I asked.

  My mouth was dry and I sure needed one. No one answered. Before I left for the kitchen, I glanced at Elizabeth. She looked like an elegant, cold statue from the old man's collection.

  'It went well,' I told the empty kitchen.

  'I am glad to hear it,' I heard father's reply, even though I could not see him.

  'Was she very angry after I left,' I asked him.

  'Dear me, she raved on and on for as long as you were gone, I can tell you. Her choice of vocabulary made me turn in my grave like a whirlwind,' he joked and I laughed.

  'Have you lost your mind completely now?' asked Elizabeth in a hoarse voice which only confirmed father's observation.

  I did not want to answer her question in the affirmative and I did not want to lie to her, so I merely repeated that it had went well.

  'We played chess,' I told her, 'and then,' I paused as a lump rose in my throat, 'he gave me twenty pounds.”

  'Twenty pounds?' Elizabeth exclaimed with such a high pitch that I could see the crack in my cup extend. 'You refused it, I hope.'

  I looked at her and then away.

  'Jo,' she said with more force, and rested one of her palms on the table, which leaned towards her nearly catapulting my tea cup against the wall, 'Jo, you refused it, didn't you?'

  'I tried, but,' I caught the teacup with both hands, as Elizabeth put her other hand on the table, and leaned further towards me.

  'How dare you?' her voice quivered.

  I stared at my hands. The fact that my benefactor was her enemy did not help the situation.

  'We are a respectable family. We do not need charity, we are no beggars, Jo.'

  'Not yet,' I mumbled.

  Two circles of fire emerged from her pupils.

  'I have not raised you to accept... tokens,' it took all her disgust to pronounce that word. 'If you receive money then it is for hard and honest work and nothing else.'

  Trying to escape her furious gaze
, that was about to scorch me, I looked down at myself. The large shirt, which was almost slipping from my shoulders, the braces, which would not stay in place for the world, the trousers, that looked on me, like a saddle would look on a cow – though not entirely honest, it was most definitely hard work.

  'You will give it back tomorrow, is this understood?'

  'I will keep it and there is nothing you can do about it,' I retorted and pushed past her. My heart raced dreadfully when I mounted the steps in quick strides. I slammed the door shut behind me. There was 'Little Dorrit' still faithfully lying on my bed, it was the last book my father had given me – even Little Dorrit would want me to give that money back. But no one could persuade me to part with it now, as it was nothing to the old man, yet everything to us. Surely, Little Dorrit would understand. I hugged the book close to me when the door jumped open. I was charged like a gun with angry words for bullets, but it was only Eleanor who entered.

  'You are very stubborn indeed, Joanna Ryde,' she said and sat down next to me on my bed.

  'It seems to run in the family.'

  'It certainly does,' she paused, and I tried to estimate in which direction this conversation was going. It was surprising that she had not yet strangled me with accusations that were copies of Elizabeth's language.

  'Can I see it, Jo?'

  I looked at her.

  'The... money,' she whispered conspiratorially.

  I pulled it out of my pocket. It was no longer as smooth as it had been. She took it, and her cheeks gained in colour. The eyes sparkled.

  'How pretty it is! Is it not pretty Jo,' her gaze was captured by the wrinkled piece of paper. 'Have numbers ever looked this beautiful?'

  'I do not know that they have,' I said mildly fascinated with my sister's fascination.

  'Can you imagine how many dresses we could buy? And how many oranges?'

  'It is not to be spent idly,' I grabbed it from her.

  'Oh, let me look at it a little longer,' she whimpered.

  I held it up but did not let go when she tried to take it, because I was afraid she could spend it if I blinked.

  'I am not proud you took the money,' Eleanor stated, 'yet, I am glad it is in our possession.'

  'You are?' I said sceptically, and with the readiness to jump her, should she criticise me.

  She smiled and her features became very pretty.

  'Nonetheless, I do not like this whole scheme. It feels awfully dangerous somehow. And, Elizabeth certainly disapproves,' she admitted, and I remembered how clever she was when she tried. 'I hope you won't need to keep it up for long.'

  'I do not mind it quite so much.'

  She ruffled my hair, smiled even brighter, and said that she loved me. My shoulders relaxed for the first time today, and I suddenly felt very tired. With my head on my sister's lap, I dosed off while she patted my head and hummed a melody that mother used to sing.

  Elizabeth and I were much more alike, than any of us would admit. Although, I did not expect I could be as composed as she was, or ever as elegant and handsome. I admired her just as much as she disliked my unconventional manner of dealing with problems. During breakfast she went back to ignoring me, and raising her brows, pursing her lips, and straightening her back.

  It did not keep me from going to my new workplace. The old man welcomed me, as though I had been in his service for years.

  He had no servants. His meals were brought by the son of the only public house owner in the area. I knew him and hid each time he came. Somebody else was employed once a fortnight to do his laundry and another person cleaned the house every now and then. Apart from that, the old man was very independent, and liked to do everything himself and his way.

  From the very first day onward, he treated me with nothing but kindness and devotion. He never allowed my teacup to remain empty – and what an excellent tea he made for his storages were filled with the most exquisite herbs from Japan and China. During dinner, I had to have a good reason to refuse a second serving. And, there was always fruit on the table because the old man was of the firm belief it might mend the meagreness of my countenance. More importantly however, the old man had many fields of interest and was determined to teach me in all of them. Being a scholar, he had spent his entire life investing both time and fortune in his own education, rather than wasting money on idle riches – although, his rooms were stuffed with the strangest things. When I pointed it out, he laughed, and said his house was the beauty of the world in a nutshell. Having been to every continent he would know. How I envied him for his luxury of knowledge and freedom.

  Father, and after him, Elizabeth had taught me Arithmetic Mathematics, French and Latin but through my new occupation as companion, or rather student, I gained much deeper insights into those, and other, subject matters. The education the old man gave me was one I would have never dared to dream of. I learned about Philosophy, improved my notions of History and Politics, broadened my scientific horizon particularly with regard to Darwin's findings, gained an excellent understanding of the British Law, found myself capable of navigating a frigate (in theory, at least), and read brilliant novels from the old man's huge private library, which took up most of the first floor. All this inspired me and gave me the impression I could conquer the world with the powers of my mind. The idea of becoming a lawyer grew on me. The old man approved greatly of it, and nodded his head eagerly every time I mentioned it.

  He was as grateful for a devoted student, as I was for a passionate teacher. I learned to love him dearly as the closest friend I had ever had, though no one of us ever addressed the subject I was sure he felt the same about me, and before long the old man's house became my second home.

  Even though my sisters could not fathom my enthusiasm, they came to terms with my cross-dressing double-life over the course of a year. Gradually, I talked to father less and less, but not a day went by without me thinking of him and mother.

  'Elizabeth, have you heard? Jo wants to become a lawyer,' mocked Eleanor as we were having Sunday dinner – one that was made possible by the generosity of my benefactor and teacher. The salary he paid me was ridiculously high. Elizabeth even wanted to hire a maid to which I severely objected, claiming it was better to save as much as we could, while we could.

  'I am not saying that my decision is made. The profession of engineer is just as tempting. A career in medical science is also under consideration. I do not want to be too hasty, of course,' I shared these thoughts with her under the illusion that she might be as interested in my career as I was.

  'You cannot be a lawyer or medical engineer or whatever it is,' Eleanor spelled out. 'Just because you are fooling an old, blind, and deaf man it does not mean you will fool the rest of the Empire. Besides, do you honestly consider living your life as a man?' she snickered.

  How I wanted to pull her hair which was neatly tied by a new lace the spoilt girl had acquired only recently. She had not even considered the possibilities I was laying out.

  'First of all, he is neither blind nor deaf. Not yet, at least. And secondly, you do seem to like the advantages of my dress-up judging by the tut you drape yourself with.'

  Elizabeth allowed her to spend too much money on unnecessary things, and her view of the world was so limited that she did not seem to want to widen her horizon beyond French fashion.

  'If you would rather go back to being as poor as a church mouse, I will wear a dress tomorrow.'

  Eleanor pouted her lips. She would not want to be poor again, just as I would not want to endanger my relationship with my mentor.

  As a precaution I wore trousers at all hours. Even if the old man stayed indoors, mostly, and I hardly left our house, either, other than to go to him. I did not want to become confused, although Elizabeth claimed I was exactly that. It was her wish that I should limit my walks to the periphery of our cottage and his – so as not to embarrass the family. It was all the same to me, for I looked forward to going over to his house more than I did to returning home. Wi
th him, I could speak about all the things in the world. Even mundane things turned to profound conversations with him. Without ever interrupting whatever I was saying, he would take in every word I voiced and deliberate on the answer for a long time before giving a response, making sure, he dealt with the subject in the most respectful manner. At home, I would not be heard until I started yelling and fuming, which drastically decreased in frequency. Somehow, I felt it was no longer important to prove my point to my sisters. But then, my family loved me more than I imagined anybody else could ever love me. And I knew to appreciate that.

  ***

  One day the old man and I had a very different topic from those we usually attended. It started with me asking him whether he would care to join us for dinner that day. Elizabeth was the one who had imposed this invitation upon me to deliver, as her opinions of the old man increased in favour proportionally to the growth of our finances. All of a sudden, she felt awfully rude for not having invited him sooner. She was eagerly preparing the most splendid meal – a much too expensive meal – and cleaning the house all day, and doing all sorts of unnecessary things for I knew he would refuse to come.

  The old man did not leave his house, unless there was absolutely no way to avoid it. It was in part because he preferred the sheltered comfort of his own home, and in part because there was no one, or nothing worth going out for. On this small island, there were no intelligent conversations to be had, and no exceptional sights to be seen by a man who had travelled the world. It was the quiet he liked, and being invisible to the small society that lived here. I could only imagine, how he must have had his fair share of balls and businesses in the old days. At his age there were few pleasures to be had from such activities. Admiring him for his self-sufficiency, I was infinitely thankful he had singled me out to have the privilege of knowing him.