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

by Anna Jane Greenville

  'They can go on like this for hours,' Sofia appeared suddenly beside me or perhaps she had been there all along without me noticing. She did not look as upset as I thought she would be upon hearing such phrases about herself. I did not know if I should be happy that it was not me they were arguing about.

  'How do you feel?'

  'Good,' I lied to the two Sofias I suddenly saw. Luckily, they melted into one after I blinked several times.

  'I am glad. Charles should have taken better care of you when you have been visiting all of those poor, sickly families and you should have dressed warmer, you go out without buttoning your coat and you don't wear a scarf. No wonder you got sick!'

  'Well, Dr Hanson's old coat is a little too small for me and I cannot button it,' I said trying not to sound ungrateful. I had missed the transition that had shifted the focus from the argument in the office to my dressing habits, and was surprised it had happened so quickly.

  The door to the office opened, again, and out came a flushed Hanson. He was breathing just a tiny bit heavily, his eyes were just a tiny bit wider than normal, surely wider than when he squinted them.

  'Why are you out of bed?' the words came out fiercer than he must have meant them because he was still under the influence of the fight with his father.

  'Jo feels a lot better and she is ready to have dinner with all of us. Cook has truly outdone herself this time,' she manoeuvred her chair past Hanson who was too deep in thought to object or comment any further on me.

  'Papa, do make haste. The most delicious Sunday roast is waiting for us, we cannot allow it to grow cold,' she announced cheerfully.

  The grim antagonist of my nightmare came through the door and for a short moment the ground beneath my feet felt like jelly. Hanson steadied me by the arm and asked if I was sure about dinner. I nodded for my voice had deserted me.

  'We have not been introduced,' said Mr Hanson and crossed his hands behind his back.

  It was a strange observation as I felt like we were very closely acquainted. Myself, Mr Hanson, and his pistol. I had his murderous glare before my inner eye and the sound of the shots he had fired in my ear constantly.

  I curtsied stiffly with Hanson continuing to hold my arm.

  'Jonathan Ryde, George Hanson,' said Hanson.

  'And what would be the real name?' said the big man with the closely trimmed, dark blond beard and the thick brows which met in a frown.

  'Joanna,' I said voicelessly.

  'Joanna who?'

  'Joanna Ryde, sir,' I put more weight on Hanson.

  'I prefer Jo,' cheered Sofia happily.

  'Do join us for dinner Miss Ryde in something more becoming for a young woman, if you please,' said Mr Hanson dryly, and following Sofia into the dining room, left Hanson and myself behind

  With him gone from my sight the air around us became lighter.

  'What you are wearing is fine, do not be intimidated by him,' said Hanson with his father still in ear shot. For a moment I feared he would come back to state an objection but he did not.

  Hanson lowered his voice, 'are you sure you feel strong enough already?'

  'Yes.'

  The dining room with the elegant, long table on thin, curved legs, that stood on a green and brown carpet appeared a lot less friendly and welcoming than when I had dined here last, because the wrong Hanson sat at the head of it. The temperature seemed to have dropped, too.

  Even though, his face was hidden behind a vase with a thick belly that did not only contain a vast bouquet of flowers but had one painted on, as well, I felt his intense, disapproving glare. When I sat down I was forced to look up at Hanson's father who was scrutinising me. Wrinkles of judgement creased his forehead. He cleared his throat.

  'Sofia has told me a great deal about you. What you are doing is truly...'

  'Father,' Hanson warned.

  Mr Hanson dismissed his son with a short and swift movement of a hand but did not pursue his train of thought further. Instead he said: 'I must apologise for our... misunderstanding.'

  Mr Hanson was a big and important-looking man to whom apology must be the equivalent of a foreign language.

  'It was not your fault, sir,' I returned avoiding his eyes.

  'It surely was yours,' he stated. 'Nevertheless, an apology is due.'

  'It is nothing worth mentioning, sir,' I whispered feeling the remains of the bruise he had put on my face itch.

  I could hardly eat anything and I did not hear much of Sofia's chatting although I did make an effort to smile every time she addressed me.

  After the table was cleared Mr Hanson retired to his study and wished not to be disturbed. I could finally breath again.

  Hanson motioned with his head for Sofia to leave, which she did begrudgingly, and sat down in the chair beside me.

  'You look very pale, and your fever...,' he touched my forehead, 'is still high. I will ask Cook to prepare a light soup for you as you have hardly touched your meal. I suppose your throat is still sore and you probably still feel dizzy which, of course, you won't admit.'

  'I thought you were fighting over me,' I changed the subject because I had not listened to him.

  'Very shortly,' he said, 'most had been discussed directly after you had lost conscience, none of which I would like to repeat. You do not have to worry, Sofia has spoken so highly of you in father's presence that he has no choice but to be civil towards you and stay out of your business. His love for her won't allow him to do otherwise. Sofia can be very clever sometimes.'

  'I am always clever,' Sofia corrected from behind the closed door.

  'And she loves to eavesdrop,' explained Hanson not the least bit surprised.

  'Only because you treat me like a child.'

  'Only because you behave like one.'

  'A coincidence indeed, Miss Durdle says the same about you.'

  The conversation was continuing through a closed door which made neither of them seem very mature.

  'I think I should return to the Isle of Wight,' I whispered.

  'Oh no!' squeaked the door.

  'I agree with you,' said Hanson ignoring the talking door. 'Is it not the reason why you got dressed and came downstairs in the first place? Shall I sent Arthur for a ticket for the next train?'

  It was a reaction I had not expected and it hurt to hear him be so nonchalant about it, for I thought he would try to convince me to stay, I thought he wanted me near him – more than that, I wanted to continue my studies and to be at Kenwood and to have hopes and dreams about the future. On the Isle of Wight you could only content yourself with the small things in life, I had no illusions about my home. It would be a place to run away to, but it did not solve any problems, at all.

  'Or stay and see what the future brings, it might not be as glum as it seems at the moment.'

  I looked up to see a sly look in his eyes and realised that Sofia was not the only one who was clever. From behind the door her voice sounded: 'Can you whisper a little louder, please?'

  Chapter 20

  WORDS AND WRONGS

  On the 24th of December the first snow of the season sailed lazily to the earth. The white pureness stood in stark contrast to the dark city. Small icicles formed on the window pane during the morning and dripped away before the early evening came. The air was ice cold and the chimneys steamed more than they ever had. Orange windows guided the way and dim oil lamps turned the few people in the streets to black shadows.

  The house was warm and bright and smelled of cake and roast, and gravy, and pudding, and baked apples, and chocolate, it was a big and marvellous house, bigger and more marvellous even than the Hanson mansion.

  Candles were lit wherever there was space to place them, despite the tremendous gas-lit chandelier which was made entirely of crystal. The formidable piece of craftsmanship hung above the dining room table and threatened close to one hundred and fifty lives with its thousand shimmering diamond-shaped glass pieces. No one seemed to notice, for the dinner was so very splendid
that it consumed all the attention, which was not yet exhausted by the even more splendid company.

  Big men with big bellies and their wives, who were dressed like the Christmas tree in the parlour, sat at the tremendously long mahogany table. The silk cloth, spreading from one end to the other, was white with silver flowers woven around the food and wine stains - collateral from the hungry crème de la crème of society.

  The noise in the vast dining room drowned every thought in my brain but one – the fear of the chandelier. It swung just a tiny bit when the bald man next to me stomped on the floor with his enormous foot, after the other bald man opposite him had said something funny. They both laughed with their mouths wide open displaying half-chewed turkey in all its glory.

  'If it falls at least it will put us out of our misery,' whispered Hanson under his breath and smiled when I did.

  'What are they saying I can't hear from where I sit,' Sofia leaned towards Hanson who sat between us.

  'Something about Jolene's husband who hanged himself after she presented him with the dressmaker's bill. He only survived due to the two butlers he could not afford to hire but Jolene insisted upon. Apparently they held on to a leg each until the grand piano, which he could not afford either, was manoeuvred under him so he could stand on it. The grand piano however broke from the weight. It must have been quite a scene according to the two gentlemen.'

  'Oh, that's old news, the two ladies over there discussed it an hour ago and I must say your two gentleman forgot quite a vital detail. Apparently the dog, a Yorkshire Terrier - very expensive breed, was caught under the piano and Jolene, who is very fond of it, flipped the piano upside down along with her husband and the two butlers.'

  'No!'

  'Yes, indeed.'

  'Ladies,' whispered Hanson shoving both of us gently with his elbows as we had leaned all the way over him from each side. 'You are both mistaken for I know from a reliable source that it was the maid who flipped the piano for it was her dog. At this Jolene threw the maid and the two butlers out and single-handedly saved her husband's life and retained the piano and the dog. They now live happily without servants and Jolene spends all, that is saved by not employing anyone, on dresses,' he pointed his fork almost unnoticeably towards the other end of the table where a woman sat with a Yorkshire Terrier on her lap and a man with a red mark around his neck beside her.

  Sofia and I stared at them, then at each other, and finally at Hanson who was evidently gloating.

  'How do you of all people arrive at such knowledge?' demanded Sofia suspiciously. 'I thought you had absolutely no regard for gossip.'

  Hanson wiped his mouth with the red silk handkerchief on his lap and smiled challengingly at his sister.

  'If you refuse to give up your source I shall think you to be no more than a fraud and dismiss what you have said as a pitiful lie which serves the sole purpose of making you look important,' she said raising her nose in the air.

  'It so happens that the man himself told me, for I,' he paused enjoying his moment of triumph, 'am his doctor.'

  'Oh, you are such a tease. Why have you not told us sooner?'

  'I am sorry to say, I am bound to my patients by confidentiality.'

  'Yet you just blurted out everything?'

  'I merely prevented false rumours from being spread.'

  'By spreading the right ones,' I offered unable to let this opportunity to join the conversation pass.

  We all laughed so much that the chandelier started swinging again. What made us stop laughing was not the crystal executioner though, but the appearance of a much greater threat by the name of Abigail.

  'Abigail,' cheered Hanson just a small tiny bit too enthusiastically.

  Sofia rolled her eyes in anguish.

  'Charles, my dear, Sofia, darling, do you enjoy my small and cosy Christmas party? I hope you do not find it very dull.'

  'Not at all, Abigail, darling,' said Sofia mockingly but Abigail did not notice the mockery. She took the hand Sofia offered into her own with what looked like heartfelt gratitude towards Sofia's benevolent - if not entirely honest – answer. I wiped my mouth with the silk handkerchief to hide a grin.

  'We enjoy ourselves greatly,' added Hanson giving Sofia a warning look because she had leaned her head to the side and was flapping her eye lashes at Abigail – mimicking the latter.

  'Have you been introduced to everyone?'

  'Yes,' said Hanson politely.

  'Yes,' said Sofia, 'I have never been introduced to so many strangers, in fact. It was the best way to avoid the people one really wanted to talk to.'

  'I am glad,' said Abigail because she had either not listened or refused to acknowledge criticism. 'We must talk more later, and Charles, I have saved the first two dances for you so don't you dare ask anyone else, or it will make me look rather silly before all the many men whom I have turned down.'

  'I would not dream of it,' said Hanson making me wonder if his exaggerated enthusiasm was only a way to hide the annoyance. If so, he was the worst liar I had ever come across.

  'Very well. I must go now and greet every one of my one hundred and forty eight guests,' said Abigail and I could not tell whether she was showing off or complaining or both.

  When she left I realised that I had been ignored throughout the whole conversation. How exceptionally marvellous.

  Sooner than I would have wished, the dinner was over. The servants moved the massive table noiselessly to the wall and took most of the chairs away. The piano player who had been solitarily playing in the corner, was joined by half an orchestra. With the centre cleared and the music gaining in dominance, the dining room was transformed into a ballroom. Sofia was surrounded by suitors as soon as she sat down by the window to play cards, and Hanson was kidnapped by Abigail.

  Sofia had left her wheelchair at home and walked on her own two feet with only a walking cane as aid. When she had first told Hanson that she would not take her wheelchair he had refused to allow it without even letting her finish the sentence. They had fought all day, paused shortly during afternoon tea, and then continued throughout the evening until finally Hanson gave in. His one condition was that she would not dance but sit as much as possible. He was afraid that she would fall and break her limbs and take years to heal. I could understand them both but of course I had been on Sofia's side, and therefore particularly glad about her success. It was my opinion that had made Hanson finally agree to Sofia's wish and I was a tiny bit proud of it.

  I had promised to look after Sofia but she seemed well taken care of and I felt more like I was the one who needed looking after. In the vast ballroom surrounded by strangers and abandoned by the only two people I knew, a sensation of loneliness settled and I thought of my sisters, Eleanor and Elizabeth would have enjoyed this ball very much, I missed them.

  I positioned myself by a window with my arms crossed behind my back, same as another gentleman, whom I had taken the liberty to copy. From my position I observed the ongoings. Hanson danced three dances with Abigail after which five ladies surrounded them, and insisted Abigail had to give-up her monopoly over him. Said monopoly was hence interrupted for one dance. As soon as it ended, Abigail was by Hanson's side and clung to his arm like a monkey. He did not seem to mind at all. In fact, they looked rather natural together. None of the other ladies stood a chance.

  Sofia was the centre of attention in her own respect. She sat in a white chair with golden cushions and the four young gentleman she had been playing cards with for the past hour all bend down keenly to hear her every word. Now and again they laughed, made their comments, and became perfectly quiet once she resumed speaking. Surely they had been drawn towards her due to her beauty, but it was her wit that had made them stay.

  Only a few metres away was a party of young ladies – entirely neglected by the gentlemen. They looked enviously at Sofia and flapped their fans in front of their flushed faces. They were dressed in what must be the newest fashion. Silk, jewels, frill, feathers, the prettier t
he dresses were the more obvious their owners' deficiencies became

  One of them had a very slender face with very big eyes that made her look like a fish, an association which was enforced by her blue and green shimmering dress – the many layers of skirts looked like fish scales. Another had red hair and was wearing an orange dress that had a rim of yellow-coloured feathers, it was a beautiful dress of glowing colours but it made her look like she was on fire. The third of them was small and chubby and wore a white dress with white pearls which accentuated the redness of her face, that last one reminded me of someone.

  I was bored, and my feet hurt from mere standing, and since the ladies seemed to be around my age and I usually did not have much opportunity to talk to members of my own sex (not including Sofia), I decided to try forming new acquaintances. As it was neither my looks nor reputation that attracted masses of people maybe I could at least charm myself into company however, the fact that they stiffened and turned away upon my approach did very little to build my confidence, as a result, I did what every man in my situation would do: I cleared my throat.

  The red-haired girl glanced my way and then gave her friends a look of annoyance, she had broad shoulders and was a lot taller than me. Usually I would be intimidated by people who surpassed me in social standing, height, and number, but today I was willing to regard the situation with humour – if only to tell Sofia about it later and make her laugh.

  'Dear madams, my name is Jonathan Ryde,' I said.

  They ignored me.

  'Would one of you care to dance?'

  One of them began fanning her fan more vehemently.

  In a last desperate attempt I said: 'Have you heard about Jolene's husband?'

  I thought there would be another silence but instead the small chubby lady with the red face started to whisper something with regard to the mentioned topic, she was corrected by the tall red-head and the fish-lady – a fierce argument ensued. When I told them what had really occurred they were left in awe, and, just like Sofia previously, they were not willing to believe it unless I betrayed my source. No sooner had they learned of my connection to the Hansons as my position in their hearts was secured.