'You are rather popular with the ladies, are you not?'
A deep and throaty voice sounded behind me and I turned to face Richard Redford. The jolliness abruptly ended and I had to enforce all my willpower not to step away from the ice-cold eyes that pierced me with a mixture of hatred and amusement.
He greeted me with a handshake and pressed my hand so hard that I thought it would become a diamond.
'I did not know you were acquainted with the Johnsons.'
'Only very fleetingly.'
'Yet, you are here.'
'Just like the rest of London, it seems.'
'Is Mr Jonathan Ryde one of your schoolmates, brother?' asked the red-headed lady.
As a man of few words, Redford had probably exhausted his lingual resources and therefore merely nodded. A slow regretful nod.
'You are related to a lot of people,' I said in an attempt to break his stare.
At this he surprised me by introducing formally his sister and his cousin, the chubby girl, who was also Terence Barclay's sister. Terry had been left at home for he still needed crutches to walk, a condition that his sister regarded as an embarrassment, and I was relieved because I knew that Terry would not have enjoyed a party such as this, although, I would have liked to see him, for he was the only one whose friendship I did not need to doubt.
'Richard how good to see you,' Sofia suddenly appeared beside me leaning on her walking stick. There was no mockery in her voice. She was truly happy to see him and smiled fondly at him, a smile which he returned. I was confused.
'Sofia, how do you do?'
'Oh, very well, thanks to Jo, he is such a pleasure to have around, one cannot possibly suffer from low spirits, but what am I saying, you two go to school together therefore you must know better than I do.'
'Indeed, Jo is very special to have around,' he gave me a short and accusing look.
He behaved very differently from how I had gotten to know him. It almost seemed like he was an ordinary human being, he smiled, he made polite conversation, I had not seen him at the dinner table, but found it difficult to imagine this man eat like a civilised gentleman rather than like a starving beast – even the beastly appearance had vanished from his countenance. His beard was combed and trimmed, his hair too, his suit might be criticised for a lack of extravagance, but it was impeccable in every other respect, he even wore an Ascot tie. I could not believe him to be the same person I had shared a room with over the duration of several months.
'I was about to go outside into the garden for some fresh air, would anyone care to join me?' asked Sofia sweetly.
As a matter of course, I volunteered immediately, the other three ladies declined immediately. It was plain to me that their reason's were of a vain nature, being seen with Sofia meant being compared to he, a comparison which would not be in their favour, even though she walked on a stick.
She reacted politely but I could tell she would have liked their company.
Richard was very keen to come, too, even though it meant he had to endure me, his sister and cousin convinced him however that it was better to stay with them, they surrounded him, and pushed in a less than subtle way towards the fish-lady. He had an air of forced composure and slight despair about him and suddenly remembered that he had urgent business to attend to, hence he excused himself and he took his leave. The disappointment was vivid in the fish lady's face.
Outside, the air had a chill to it and the cold crept under my skin. Only when I sensed the night air did I realise how hot and sweltering it had been in the ballroom. The noises had left a humming in my ears to which the present peacefulness stood in stark contrast. Our footsteps crunched gently on the frozen ground, as we descended the stone stairs, the garden was breathtakingly beautiful in the moonlight, a small bridge with an elegant but bulky balustrade led over a small lake, the shallow waters had become ice and glistened like the crystal in the chandelier.
'It is perfect for skating,' I said and stepped onto it.
Sofia watched me curiously as my soles glided over the ice in V-shaped forms, when I reached the end of the lake, I turned around and dashed towards the bridge, Sofia gasped, I ducked and glided safely underneath it, then reappeared on the other side. After skating another semicircle, I looked up at Sofia, who stood on the bridge and giggled.
'I wish more people were like you,' she said.
'Why? Did you not enjoy the company of the gentleman whom you have talked to? If I had known I would have saved you from them.'
'I am sure you would have,' she laughed, probably imagining the clumsiness with which I would have performed the saving. 'It is not that,' she continued to smile but suddenly there was sadness in her features. 'I enjoyed their company and attention, indeed I did, which is probably why I was punished for my vanity.'
'But you are not vain, at all.'
'We are all vain when it comes to dressing up and showing off in society, some of us do it less obviously than others but no one is free of charge,' she leaned over the balustrade of the bridge and looked at her shadow on the ice, while I looked down on myself and wondered if I was vain, too. Hanson's dark blue jacket from when he was thirteen hung loosely on my shoulders, it was a beautiful colour and made of wonderfully soft and rich fabric, the beige trousers made me walk straighter and in longer strides, the brown waistcoat and perfect white shirt made my breast swell. Perhaps, I was just the tiniest bit vain, too.
For a short moment I wondered what I would look like in a dress such as Sofia's. Would the light blue silk accentuate my rosy cheeks like it did hers? Would the pearls make me look elegant? Could my hair be as long, and curly, and pretty as hers? It was a silly notion that had arisen from a lack of oxygen in my brain after having been in one room with a million people for too many hours.
'I saw the other girls standing aside from the gentlemen I had talked to and I should have probably invited them to join us. But I preferred not to share the attention.'
'Which was your right,' I assured her.
'You are much too kind, Jo. I doubt they share your opinion.'
'Who cares what they think?'
She shrugged, 'I care, I think.'
Her eyes glistened with loneliness, I had never seen her so sad, and it made me cross with the people who had taken away her cheerfulness.
'In the end, neither the gentlemen nor the ladies wanted anything to do with me. I suppose I deserve it.'
'Deserve it?' I exclaimed. She, the sweetest and kindest creature on earth, deserved nothing but happiness and loving.
'The moment I stood up and those gentlemen saw that I need a walking stick, and that I walk strangely even with that, their interest in me faded. Who would want to court a cripple?'
'No, do not say that,' the heat came to my face despite the cold temperature
'Let me finish,' she uttered and her eyes locked in a wistful gaze. 'When I realised I was no longer wanted, I searched you out even though I had neglected you for two hours, knowing perfectly well how uncomfortable you must have felt alone among so many strangers – selfish girl that I am – I only thought of myself, and when I came to you, you were as friendly and open as ever and talked to the girls whose company I had not wanted and who in turn refused me.'
She rested her elbows against the cold stone balustrade of the bridge and lay her head in her hands, her big eyes sparkled moistly, the lower lip quivered slightly.
How could she torment herself with such thoughts when she looked so pretty in the soft light of a foggy full moon? Standing on the white stone bridge of a frozen lake she looked like a fairy. Fairies were not meant to be sad.
Trying with all my might to think of anything to say at all, I realised what really bothered her. It was not her selfishness but that she was rejected for being an invalid. One could mend selfishness, one could apologise for it, but there was nothing one could do about a disease such as hers, and even less could be done about the opinions of people. Suddenly, I understood why Hanson worried so much, surely ther
e were physical threats, but the social threats, the ones that caused unseen harm, were the more dangerous ones. He probably considered things Sofia had not yet realised herself.
'I', I began still searching for words, 'I do not have many friends myself, you and Hanson are my closest friends, in fact. And as for suitors, I have even less than you, and the prospect is not too promising,' she looked at me with wet eyes that pierced right through me. 'You only need one good man,' I said thinking of Hanson. 'He will come to you one day, or if he won't I am sure your devoted brother will drag him to you by the poor fellow's ears.'
That made her laugh and I seized the opportunity to walk up the bridge without fear of her bursting into tears.
'Do not worry too much about those gentlemen at the ball. They are fools who will be stuck with wives such as Abigail which is punishment enough,' I wiped her eyes with the sleeve of my tremendously marvellous jacket upon which she laughed more, she hugged and thanked me, and then I insisted she had to try ice skating if only to distract her further.
She was very unsure about it, but I promised not to let her go, I held both her arms as she abandoned her walking stick and stepped onto the frozen surface. It was slippery and she squeaked with joy when her feet started gliding. We were giggling from one side of the lake to the other until my attention was caught by a rapidly approaching figure.
'What are you doing?' Hanson shouted exasperatedly.
He was in front of me in a heartbeat and scooped up Sofia in his arms. His breath came heavily and he gave me the most evil glare I had gotten that day, and I had gotten many.
'I can't believe you two,' he uttered looking only at me.
'There was nothing to it. I was perfectly safe,' reasoned Sofia.
'Be quiet,' he hissed at her. 'You and I will talk at home,' he hissed at me.
My heart sank and chills ran down my spine. This was when I saw Abigail standing by the bridge. Arrogantly she looked down on me. My heart sank further.
Chapter 21
DISCOURAGEMENT AND DISAPPOINTMENT
The air in the carriage was colder than outside. Hanson looked out of the window even though there was nothing to see but the perspiration on the glass. Every now and then he sighed a heavy and long sigh. And every time he did, I cringed.
Sofia fell asleep on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. The same arm that had been in Abigail's possession all evening. It was silly of me, but I was angry at him for it. As I had no way of expressing my anger it changed into envy and self-pity, and when we arrived at the Hanson mansion it had become self-reproach.
I held the carriage door open for Hanson who carried Sofia. He was relieved of her by Arthur, the butler. Arthur and Miss Durdle who had got out of bed to welcome us home, carried her to her room. Hanson and I were left alone in the entrance hall. I watched his back as he slowly took off his scarf and coat. I dreaded the moment he would turn to express his disappointment in me. But he did not turn. Instead, he sighed another deep and heavy sigh and walked into the parlour. I followed, but stayed by the door. Watching him walk the room deep in thought I felt like an invader.
He poured himself a glass of Brandy from the carafe that stood in a dark, polished, wooden cabinet. The golden brown liquid shimmered as he raised the glass to his lips. I wondered what horrors were circling in his mind that required him to dull his senses with alcohol. Without a word he offered a glass to me. It was an offer I seemed to be unable to refuse judging by his look. I took a sip and coughed from the fire it sent down my throat and into my belly.
'What a gruesome evening it was,' he finally said and sighed another deep and heavy sigh.
'Did you find it so?'
'Did you not?'
I mumbled something but as it made no sense I shut my mouth.
'What do you think of Abigail and myself? Do you think us a suitable couple?' he asked looking at me with an unreadable expression.
The fire came back up into my throat and burned down the words before I could say them.
'My father certainly thinks her to be a marvellous match for me. Ha!' he took another gulp from his glass.
'Do you court her because of your father?' I asked carefully.
'Dear God, no.' he took another smaller gulp and I pretended to take a small sip not to seem impolite. He snorted, 'I do not court her. She courts herself with me. I merely put up with it.'
'Do you mean to say that you do not like her?' My heart skipped a beat.
'Like her?' he smiled wickedly. 'Are you jealous, Joanna?'
My heart skipped another beat and then stopped very shortly. I thought I had died.
He came closer waving the Brandy in his hand.
'You have a dream, do you not, Joanna? What is your dream exactly? Living as a man for the rest of your life? Marrying a nice girl and then fathering her children?'
'I-' I bumped into the cupboard behind me.
'What do you want in life?'
I wanted to study, to learn a profession, to provide for my sisters. I listed a million things in my mind but none of them would come out of my mouth.
Hanson leaned closer to me and the squinting started.
'Tell me,' he said.
And I blurted out some random vowels until I finally managed to say, 'pursue a career.'
'In what?'
'I am not sure. Something that will make me feel useful and needed...'
'You do not know what you want yet you go to extreme lengths to achieve it? Well, imagine you had an actual aim. You would do anything, would you not?'
'I believe I would,' I said and he shortened the distance between us even more.
'Well, I have a dream myself, you see, but to achieve it I depend on people like Abigail. I need her money in fact.'
I looked at him with wide and stunned eyes.
'Would you marry Abigail for money?' I asked and I felt not just fire in my throat but also the Hounds of Hell.
'If I have to.'
He smiled again. But this time I saw his smile for what it was. An effort to hide the hurt in his pride. He was as trapped in his role as I was in mine and none of us had the means to break free from it, thus both of us swam with the strong current, choking on loads of water.
'Are you disappointed?' he asked.
I could not reply. He looked at me for a long moment, then sighed again.
He tossed the remaining Brandy into the fireplace and put the glass back into the cabinet and walked past me.
'I should not have interfered with you and Sofia,' he suddenly said, 'life without joy is nothing.'
Hanson walked out the door and I heard his footsteps on the stairs. They were slow and sad. The wood cried underneath them.
Chapter 22
SENSE AND SOLIDITY
The moon illuminated the guest room so beautifully through the six-pane window that I dared not light a candle. Everything appeared strangely different at night, the dark wooden wardrobe turned pale under the white light, the red canopy bed was graced by silver streaks that flowed like waves through the tender silk fabric, all the shapes gained in contrast and their shadows ran deep.
My own shadow, as I leaned with my back against the window, drew across the flower-print on the carpet, and climbed the ornament-adorned wallpaper until it reached an oil painting which depicted a frigate of the Royal Navy caught between two big and strong waves. The vessel leaned dangerously close to the dark blue water whence it was pushed by the wind, and gale, and heavy rain, despite its unfavourable position the ship fought the forces of nature, and the tiny crew ran about the deck and worked hard not to let the majestic piece of superior craftsmanship on which their lives depended succumb to the furious sea.
The sea. With a pang I missed its waves that crashed upon the shore in a sometimes idle, sometimes ferocious manner. In the eighteen years of my life I had witnessed all its moods, the beauty of storms and the soothing power of calms. How I missed the noise of water splashing about the beach and cliffs.
When I went
to bed that night I was determined to fall asleep right away, but instead of giving in to the soft embrace of the pillows my mind began racing. Back and forth it went between scenes of tonight with nauseating speed, bits of dialogue echoed out of order and out of context. I opened my eyes to stop the whirlwind of images and voices but I could not bring myself to think of nothing and at the same time I could not focus on any one thought, if I stayed in the room I would be mad by morning.
The air had become warmer or maybe I was just flushed from exasperation. A gust of wind made the trees rustle and one of the street lamps go out, rather quickly a man with a long stick melted from a shadow and re-lit it. He touched his old, shabby hat and wished a 'Good night to you, sir.'
A toothless smile turned his features into a grimace that was accentuated by the light of the newly re-lit oil lamp, I gasped a quick response and accelerated my pace to an extent that would put a reasonable distance between the man and me, but did not give away my fear. When I inclined my head to look back the street behind me was deserted, the lamp had gone out again and there was no sign of the man with the long stick, however I felt he was watching me from the shadows and walked even quicker yet.
I knew not for sure whether the direction I had chosen led to the destination I hoped for, and my only navigation point was the crest atop St. Paul's Cathedral which rose above the roofs of London. St. Paul's was so very big that when you stood near it, you had to crane your neck as far as it would go, to see the top, if you walked around it, you needed at least fifteen minutes to make a full circle. Made of white stone it was adorned with statues and columns about the facade, the cathedral was truly magnificent.
St. Paul's was not far from Thames, which was were I was headed. It was not the sea, but it was the closest thing to it, watching its waves just for a moment would soothe me.
The Girl who was a Gentleman (Victorian Romance, History) Page 17