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

by Anna Jane Greenville

  In my haste I slammed against the wall in the hallway. The wall grabbed me by the shoulders. It was Hanson.

  'Run,' I shouted at him. He was the last person I wanted to be murdered along with me. But Hanson did not move holding me firmly. 'Please, run,' I begged. He looked with serious determination to where I had come from.

  'What is the meaning of this, father?' Hanson's voice was ferocious and trembled in accord with my heart.

  'Hold him, Charles, I must kill him for he has attempted to disgrace your sister,' the other man growled.

  I pushed deeper into Hanson's embrace knowing now that he would protect me from the other man's blood lust.

  'Whatever do you mean?' he asked hugging me closer.

  'I found him lying in your sister's bed,' the man screamed as if in pain. I winced. I had completely forgotten. A man could not be alone with a lady in her room at night. That explained why Hanson had looked disapprovingly at me last night, when I had walked nonchalantly out of Sofia's room. It was highly indecent. Yet, he had not said anything then. Hanson looked down on me, now. I saw the same enraged green eyes that had tried to murder me moments ago.

  'This is a misunderstanding,' I hissed, my voice failing. Shacking like a dry leaf in the freezing winter air I grabbed onto him with all my might unable to form another word in my senseless mind.

  'I must disabuse you of your notion, father. Jo did not do what you are implying,' Hanson said considerably calmer this time. I dug my fingers into his shirt.

  'He was in her bed,' Mr Hanson cried as if it was he who had been shot at.

  'Nevertheless, Jo would not,' Hanson persisted. I did not know why he was so sure of me when I had acted so carelessly but I hoped he would not change his mind.

  'Hand him to me,' Mr Hanson demanded.

  'I will do no such thing.'

  'How can you betray your own sister?'

  'No one betrayed me, papa, and Jo certainly did nothing that would justify your accusations,' Sofia was by the balustrade. Like a princess she sat in her wheelchair – calm and composed.

  'Sofia, angel, please go back to your room. Charles, explain yourself,' addressing Sofia Mr. Hanson's voice was soft but talking to his son it was as hard as stone.

  Hanson did not speak, it was Sofia who said it.

  'Papa, Jo is a girl.'

  My head spun even faster now. The dizziness that had subsided while I was struggling to survive was back. My hands trembled and stiffened as the blood drew away from them. My throat felt like I was being strangled with a thick noose. I was scared and confused. I looked up at Hanson who stood unmoved. His expression was firm. His grip on me also. I could not believe he and his sister had known my secret all along. I felt betrayed and humiliated even though it was I who had tried to trick everyone.

  Over my shoulder, I could see the surprised look on Mr Hanson's face.

  'But he is dressed as a boy and has short hair and...' Mr Hanson protested.

  'If I wore a dress, father, would you think I was a girl?' I heard Hanson say and then my vision went blank. For a moment I could hear distant voices and a scream but all that soon disappeared. I was embraced by blackness.

  Chapter 19

  CONFIDENCE AND CONSCIENCE

  I was lying in a soft bed frozen with fear. My eyes fluttered open from a horrid nightmare, the terrors of my vivid dream had drained my body of all its strength, worse than the images that flashed before my inner eye was only the incredible thirst in my throat.

  Somebody said my name softly.

  The light streaming from the window was bright which made it hard to focus my vision, nevertheless I knew who had spoken, for I would recognise his voice among hundreds.

  'How do you feel?' he asked and touched my forehead with a pleasantly cool hand.

  I felt miserable and was drenched in sweat, the blanket was hot and heavy, and I tried to kick free of it but my movements were slow and mismanaged. He helped me, and I looked at his blurry face and was about to mouth 'water' when the glass was already before me. The blanket rustled gently and he propped my head up so I could drink, some water went down my neck and dripped onto the pillows. Settling with my temple in the cool patch was all I remembered. The next time I woke, my nightgown and pillows were dry, the windows were pitch black and the only light in the room was a dying candle.

  'What time is it?'

  'A few minutes past one.'

  'A.m.?'

  'Yes.'

  I nodded and closed my eyes.

  The third time I woke my head, back, and limbs were throbbing from unbearable pain, I needed to turn around or I would die from discomfort. Again, he helped me and as soon as my position had shifted I slept again.

  The forth time I woke from a slow recognition of my surroundings. My ears started to distinguish noises, the chirping of a lonely bird on a branch that caressed the window sill, the crackling of fresh wood in the fireplace, the soft turn of the page in a well-read book, the quiet presence of another person beside me in a chair. My nose started to take in the smells about me, the dusty blanket, burned wood, fresh winter air from an opened window. My eyes saw my fingers lying on the pillow beside my face. Although my body felt weak and strange I tried to push myself up on a wobbly elbow.

  Hanson put the book, that had been hiding his face, on the bedside table and looked a mixture of relief and renewed worry. He made a move to help me but I breathed a 'no' and sat up and leaned against the headboard all by myself. It felt like a tremendous accomplishment.

  'Thank you,' I said and he frowned and smiled – all at once. 'I am sorry.'

  'It is not you who should be sorry,' he said and although his voice was calm I could hear the bitterness.

  'Did it really happen,' I asked, 'all of it?'

  He clenched his fists on his knees, 'I am afraid so.'

  'I am sorry,' I lowered my head.

  'Stop.'

  Then I asked the hardest question I had ever had to ask anybody in my entire life: 'Since when?'

  He looked away and after watching a log turn white from the unscrupulous heat of the fire, he said: 'Richard Redford hurt your throat and I examined it and there was no Adam's apple,' he said composedly and added in a much more glum tone, 'although I should have realised from the first moment.'

  'Sofia?'

  'I told her about you when you first arrived at Oliver Kenwood. She grew an incredible fascination for the stories I told her. She had always liked to know everything about everything but with you it was different. She always listened with a sparkle in her eye and never dared to interrupt or glared at anyone who did. When I told her that I thought you were a girl, she squealed excitedly and said she had suspected all along. She has wanted to meet you ever since.'

  'Why did you not end it?'

  He paused for a moment in surprise, as if he had anticipated all the other questions but not this one.

  'To my great shame, it was indeed my very first thought. I was angry at you for fooling everybody, for making fun of them and me, for invading our space. But when I asked you for your reasons you simply said that you were good enough. It was so plain, so true, and who was I to decide your future based on my arrogance and pride? It has never been your intention to anger anyone, you just want to take part in something that you are passionate about, and you have done your best in everything no matter how hard it was,' he stopped talking and was lost in thought. I felt he had more to say and remained quiet until he spoke again.

  'You are so much like Sofia, so much like what she could have been. I would prefer her to beat up boys and climb wells. It would be a nice change from all the pity that is thrown her way if she is not ignored altogether that is.'

  The hurt in his voice and face was painful to look at but impossible to look away from, thus I merely stared with my heart cringing.

  He looked me straight in the eye.

  'That is why I never ended it and neither should you if it is what you are thinking of now.'

  This time it was I
who was taken by surprise.

  'I will take care of my father. If you choose to come back to Kenwood you are free to do so.'

  I looked down on myself. My nightgown smelled of soap and had bow folds. It looked like I had not been wearing it for long. In my exhaustion I merely took in the information and did not dare to ponder on who had changed my clothes when I had fainted, and who had kept on changing them every time they were soaked wet with sweat. If I went back to school I would have to come to terms with the fact that Hanson knew all there was to know. Every time I would have a fight with another boy, every time I would have to take a bath, every time I would have to behave like a barbarian to uphold my facade, he would know that there was a gentleman's daughter disgracing herself and her family.

  His sigh called me back to the present.

  'Is it really so utterly impossible for you to trust in me? I have kept your secret to this day and I will continue keeping it.'

  'If Sofia had not said it,' I said, 'would you have?'

  It was not fair to ask but I felt I could get away with it due to the state I was in, although I was feeling better every minute. Mentally at least.

  'No, I would not have. But I am glad she did because it was making me insane to keep from you that I knew.'

  'I am sorry.'

  'I do not believe you.'

  Our eyes met.

  'What a cruel thing to say,' I hissed.

  'Is it really?' he hissed back.

  It brought the colour to my face. Since I was probably pale with dark shadows around the eyes, the flush might have made me look a tiny bit closer to my usual self. However, the sudden change in my blood circulation made me dizzy. I made an effort not to show it, otherwise Hanson would worry again and I much preferred making him angry than worry.

  'If you are sorry, at all, then it is for allowing me to find out, is it not?' he was building a temper fast, 'what have I done to earn your distrust? Please do tell me I would love to understand.'

  'First of all,' I said and then paused in an effort to steady the dizziness which became stronger as I spoke, 'you disliked me. I was late and I was not skilled at fencing but you did not simply scold me, you made fun of me and deduced from my lack of physical fitness that I was dumb besides. You were as prejudiced against me as everybody else and always assumed everything was my fault before listening to my side, although you did listen eventually. And, every time I thought you had become kinder you suddenly turned around and proved the opposite,' I had worked myself into a temper, too, and thus had to stop and lean against the bed column to avoid fainting again.

  He was stunned by the honesty because I would not usually say this much but my defences were down and I blurted out everything without thinking and regardless of whether my accusations were of an emotional nature or had actual grounds.

  'Well,' he smiled that poisonous smile of his complete with squinted eyes, folded arms and all that went with it, 'you are not entirely wrong... only mostly. You were arrogant and self-assured in class but pathetic in the fencing hall. I knew instantly the others would bully you for it and at first I thought you had it coming. But when I found you on the green between the buildings drenched to the bone and scared I could not help but feel sorry and I gradually grew fond of you despite myself. And then I learned you were a fraud and a liar and remembered all the reasons for which I had not liked and trusted you at first, thinking I had been right from the start because it was easier to accept that the fault lay in you. But I am a grown man, and as such, reasonable enough to see my mistake, therefore I have taken your side ever since. I helped you wherever I could without being too obvious in my actions as I am sure you would have disapproved otherwise. Nonetheless, you must have noticed. When Terry broke his leg the headmaster had already written your letter of expulsion but I convinced him that you had behaved as decently and gentlemanly as was possible under the circumstances, which I truly did believe and still do, and urged him to take a closer look at the case which luckily he agreed to. More importantly than everything else though, I have introduced you to my sister which is the highest level of trust I can betray towards someone and I have - are you all right?'

  The dizziness had subsided but now my head was spinning from all the new information. I held my head in my hands in shame. Hanson was a good man and I was ungrateful, mean, and childish. I was about to tell him so but there was a knock on the door and Miss Durdle was asked to come in.

  'So sorry to bother you,' the massive woman said, 'but I heard voices and- Oh joy! You have woken up Mr Ryde!'

  'My name is...' I began, embarrassed to be addressed as a man still.

  'None of that Mr Ryde. You see, I am a plain, not very well educated woman. If I am presented with a fact I will take it as a fact until the presenter of the fact chooses to mend his previous declaration of that fact. To all other notions I must declare myself ignorant. Therefore, you remain Mr Ryde in my books,' she smiled broadly and proudly after having formed such a complicated sentence.

  My emotions pressed against my heart.

  'Thank you,' I smiled.

  'Now, what I came here to ask is whether Master Charles will attend dinner.'

  'Has his Royal Highness sent you?' Hanson asked cheekily and just as cheekily Miss Durdle nodded.

  'Let my father know that I will take dinner here along with Mr Ryde and Sofia if she pleases.'

  Miss Durlde pulled a face as if that answer would not do.

  'You can't have your father dine alone,' I interposed more afraid of Mr Hanson's wrath than his loneliness, 'don't worry on my behalf, pray, do dine downstairs. I feel much better already.'

  He looked at me briefly then turned back to Miss Durdle, 'whether Sofia chooses to dine with us is up to her but I shall remain here.'

  Miss Durdle nodded and looked concerned, she did not seem too keen on delivering the message, it did not take long for her to return.

  'So sorry again, but Master-'

  'Good Gracious,' Hanson exclaimed and rose from his chair. The back of his suit was wrinkled, he must have sat by my side a long while.

  Miss Durdle fidgeted awkwardly with her apron as Hanson stormed past her. She was not as much in control of the house as she usually tried to be, as a door slammed downstairs, Miss Durdle became even more nervous.

  'I think they might need you,' I said smiling encouragingly.

  'Oh, do you think? No, I should not leave y-,' a loud thud echoed from downstairs and she was gone.

  In her hurry, Miss Durdle had left the door open and with the window open as well there was a very strong draft which angered the fire and and made it reach high, afraid it might jump onto the carpet I slid from bed and slowly walked to the window to close it. It was early evening and the sky was as grey as it had been on my first day in London, I had gotten used to the sea of roofs and chimneys, the Isle of Wight seemed many years away. Perhaps it was time to go back.

  By the urgency with which Miss Durdle had left, I could guess at the severity of the argument ensuing below and Mr Hanson did seem like the man with whom one should avoid arguments. Without a doubt my presence in this house was what raised father against son.

  In the wardrobe were my things among all the clothes Miss Durdle had given me. I picked out the first piece I came upon and started to struggle with the night gown, I could not find its buttons, thus I merely slid out of it and put on a dark shirt, green trousers, and a light brown jacket, in its stead. It was not the best match but adequate enough, I was still a little unsteady and therefore glad not to have fainted half-naked on the floor – what a sight that would have made.

  It was Hanson's old clothes I wore and they were so much nicer than my own. Sadly, I would no longer need men's clothing back on the Isle of Wight.

  I held on to the wall while descending the stairs. The distance to my room and the distance to the office were approximately the same but in my state, both seemed incredibly far away.

  The door to the office opened and closed quietly and Miss Durd
le walked out pale as a ghost, she was so very upset that she walked past me without paying me any notice. Suddenly, somebody slammed their palms on the table and suddenly I heard an incredibly harsh and angry Hanson: 'I am afraid that if you do not come to your senses, father, you will loose your heir.'

  'A greater loss for you than me, no doubt,' trembled the other, 'who has paid for your education and supported you all your life, providing for you and your foolish notions?'

  'Paid?' exclaimed Hanson with infuriated amusement, 'you have loaned me the money and I have repaid you with every Pence I have earned in the past five years. But the debt and its ridiculous interest is almost cleared and I shall be a free man!'

  'Free? You shall ruin yourself soon and if I postponed the moment of your downfall by five years then I am very much glad of it.'

  'It will be none of your business very soon.'

  'Very well.'

  'Very well, indeed.'

  'And I suppose you won't want to see your sister any more?'

  A brief silence followed. Mr Hanson served a fatal blow to his son's most vulnerable weakness.

  'You cannot come between me and Sofia. Even if you wanted to, you only come to London during Christmas.'

  'Unless I took her with me to the North, of course.'

  'Yes, and by doing so ruin her health. Who will tend to her then? Strangers? Practitioners who have never had a case such as hers? Would you like them to touch your daughter with their inexperienced hands? Have you forgotten how it used to be, father, before I started looking after her? Will you place your egoism over her well-being?'