Roaring laughter that sounded like the growl of a lion filled the room. I made a step back.
'Bled to death?' his body heaved with laughter, 'from a small cut?'
There were tears on his eyes while my body progressively heated.
'But why then?' I asked in a small voice.
'Why what?'
'Why have you been so... protective and watchful all the while?'
There he stopped laughing and his face became an impenetrable mask.
'You mean to ask why I made sure the third years did not beat you up?'
'Beat me?' I almost laughed myself now.
'Yes, beat you due to the same reason due to which I made sure they did not,' he sighed and there was a remote trace of human emotion somewhere. 'Because you are Hanson's lover.'
His words were like two hands that wrung me like a wet cloth. He knew. He knew I was a girl and from the sound of it, not only did he know, but everyone else did, too. And they were going to kill me for it. A little carelessness. A little reckless behaviour. I was such a stupid, stupid fool. Dear Elizabeth, dear Eleanor, please forgive me. I ruined us all like I was destined to. How could I have ever taken such a risk? But maybe I could still deny it? If I never came home? If I admitted to another name? Yes, I would have to lie for their sake and go on to live somewhere far away. Maybe I could find work and live my life to repent for my idiocy without causing harm to my loved ones. All these thoughts and many more entered my mind at once.
'But why would you take my side?' I asked.
'I do not care about you. It is Dr Hanson I owe a great deal to. He lent me those two hundred fifty quid I owed Shivvy's boss – surely, you remember him, pleasant fellow with a broken bottle? And it was not the first time Dr Hanson offered help in a difficult situation. Of course, I have always paid him back and I will this time. Nevertheless, it means that if he asks a favour of me, it is a matter of honour to do my best to oblige.'
'He asked you to look after me?'
'Indeed he did. Although I do not share his sentiments or even understand his preferences I have to do what he asks of me. I have to admit however, that I am surprised he picked you when he quite firmly refused Greenfield.'
Now my thoughts went truly wild.
'Refused Greenfield? In what way?'
'At first, I did not understand the lengths Greenfield went to to be rid of you. He is a man of high standards. It was strange to watch him resort to such petty means just to make you suffer. Jealousy explains a great deal, of course. He knew from the start you were a rival. I don't know how. He must have felt a like-mindedness.'
The mental exertion and futile attempt to grasp what Richard was saying almost pressed the tears from my eyes.
'What do you mean?'
'Do not pretend like you don't know!' he sighed and spelled it out for me: 'Rajesh Greenfield prefers to lie with men rather than women – and so do you.'
'I-I-'
'Oh, don't act all surprised and innocent! It is who should be surprised that Dr Hanson is that way – I always thought him to be quite taken with Abigail. Although, one does not stand in the way of the other I suppose.'
I remembered how nice and friendly Greenfield had been to me when everyone else either made fun of me or ignored me. Greenfield had introduced me to Larry and Terry. He had been patient with me during fencing. He had helped me out a great many times. Maybe that like-mindedness was what made him do it. Perhaps he knew I loved Hanson because he did too? And though he hated me for it, he also understood better than anyone else – the difficulty, the impossibility of it. It was my turn now to understand him. He felt towards me the way I felt towards Abigail. Poor Rajesh. He could not be more wrong in his assumptions. I was not Hanson's lover. To establish this was my first and foremost concern. Whatever follies Greenfield and I had created in our minds – they could not stain Hanson's reputation. He was not a man to entertain scandal and affairs with anyone.
I made my voice as deep and as angry as it would go and tried to make Redford understand that he had made a mistake.
Redford scoffed at my denial and started listing the facts which he thought proved his point: 'you regularly remain in his chambers, you even spend the night there, he rushes to your aid whenever the chance arises, and most interestingly you have spent Christmas with him. Have I forgotten anything?'
I wanted to punch Redford and cry at the same time. It was not on account of my virtue that I felt this overwhelming urge but on account of Hanson's. He was such a good man and for anyone to discredit him through gossip was wrong. Suddenly, I remembered how Mr Hanson Senior had said I would cause a scandal and involve the Hanson family name in it. I felt awful.
'Do not worry, Ryde. The other boys do not have a very clear understanding of what is going on between the two of you. I doubt their imagination goes quite as far. The only reason I know, is because Greenfield was not careful enough in hiding his intentions from me. Just like you I was anxious not to have a scandal form around Dr Hanson. I punched that half-breed in the face hoping to discourage him thus, but it merely gave him a reason to turn to Dr Hanson.'
When Redford paused I gulped hoping he would not punch me now for he sure looked like he was considering it.
'As I had expected,' continued Redford looking more angry, 'Dr Hanson had no regard for Greenfield and his funny ideas. But then you came and he seemed to have changed his mind. I find it hard to accept, I have to admit, but my respect for Dr Hanson runs deep, therefore I have no other choice.'
'There is nothing between us,' I cried ferociously.
Redford startled with the severity of my claim.
Suddenly I realised how to prove to him that I was both a man and not Hanson's lover. There was but one language he spoke and understood.
'It is you who is in love with Hanson and now you try to accuse everyone else you can think of.'
'What?' he was about to make a step back but changed his mind and came closer instead. He repeated his question but this time he shouted it in my face and grabbed me by the collar.
He was not the only one who was angry. I was so angry, in fact, that there was steam coming from my nose. I grabbed his collar until his throat reddened.
'You heard what I said!' I yelled at him and tried to kick him but he pushed me against the wall.
'You disgusting little gnome. You are completely twisted,' he thundered and pushed me up the wall so my feet were two inches off the floor.
This time I kicked him in the stomach and he whined and threw me to the ground.
'You little...' he jumped on top of me and I watched him raise his fist to punch me.
Because he was so much bigger than me his fist had to travel a long way and I managed to dodge it by turning sideways like a shrimp. He slammed his fist with full force into the floorboards.
If I scored at least one punch that would leave a visible bruise no one else in the whole school would dare bother me. For no one would dare provoke the boy who punched Richard Redford and survived. All I had to do was survive.
He cried out from the pain and I exploited the moment and his proximity to shove my forehead against his nose. Blood spluttered from it instantly. He prepared his left fist for another punch and this time he did not miss. My ear rang from the impact I suffered to the right cheekbone. If I stayed pinned to the floor any longer there would be little left of me. I tried to scramble away from him using both my arms and legs, but he was quick to react and slammed his bleeding right fist into my ribcage. So much was his wish to hurt me that he did not mind suffering himself. I freed a knee and kicked his chin. It appeared I had the upper hand but not for long. Redford's long arm shot out from underneath and he shoved it in my stomach so that I rolled on the floor with pain. Now he could take his time standing up and I heard his feet step close to my face. I curled up as tightly as I could. This was it. Now I only hoped to loose conscience quickly and, if I was very lucky, then I might even wake up in a few days. Or if I died, then at least I did so tryi
ng to protect the honour of the man I loved. Just then I realised how much I did not want to die. I prayed for Hanson to come through the door and save me like he had done so many times.
Richard kicked me once, twice. Then he grabbed me and pulled me up towards him and through wet eyes I looked at his fist that would soon connect with my face. I was not quite as heroic as I had hoped I would be, and I was still conscious, and everything hurt, and I felt sorry for myself.
'What concern is it of yours whether or not Greenfield is in love with Hanson?' I began and the tears started rolling down my face. 'Love is a beautiful thing and should be cherished. Some love will never unfold and it is painful enough to know that. There is no need for people like you to judge me or Greenfield on top of the misery we already feel. You are right in the respect that I am in love with Hanson. I love him from the bottom of my heart, and because of that I wish him nothing but happiness. I know there is no way he and I can be together not because we are of the same sex, mind you, but because I am not good enough to be his bride. Redford, I will never marry. Because I am poor and a fraud. No decent man will want me so I shall live like a man myself to at least have control over my own life.'
I finally put into words the pain that had been haunting me for weeks. It was much worse than the physical pain I felt. I gave way to it and somehow I felt better even if it was just for a moment because I had done something horrible. I had made Richard Redford understand who I was.
He looked me over and tried to look through me. The raised fist began shaking.
'What are you suggesting?' his eyes grew in horror.
I did not quite manage to arrive at a reason for it. But then my mind began to wander. I was no longer thinking clearly for everything was becoming foggy. I was finally loosing conscience. Why had it not happened just a moment sooner then I would not have had to betray my secret to this horrible, horrible person whom I had helped when he was hurt and who now hurt me just because he thought I had not the right to love a man who could rightfully be loved by everyone. Hanson never judged anyone and he always felt other people's pain as keenly as he felt his own. He was always ready to help with whatever means he had. How could one not love him and strive to be like him? My last thought revolved around the regret that it was Redford's arms I had to sink into.
Blackness.
I woke to a very strong, very bad stench. When I opened my eyes there was a small bottle of smelling salts in front of me, and Hanson's concerned face, and another face that left an impression which was even worse than that of the smelling salts.
Hanson gave a little sigh of relief when I shifted to a sitting position on the green sofa in his study. My cheekbone, my ribs, my shin, and my shoulder ached. My throat felt sore and my knees weak. Hanson handed a cup of tea to me and squeezed my hand as he placed it into mine. Then he turned his attention to Redford who was sitting desolately in a chair in the other corner of the room – as far away from me as possible.
The sky was still red from the setting sun and the sun was still visible above the roof tops although it was reduced to a glowing strip. It meant I could not have been unconscious for long. Five, maybe ten minutes, I estimated. Redford had not had time to explain anything to Hanson, and I was glad of it, for I could tell my side of the story to unprejudiced ears.
'I congratulate you, Richard,' said Hanson, 'you have finally managed to make me want to call you out to a fencing duel.'
In the squint of his eyes glistered so much anger that I thought perhaps I had better not say anything for the time being.
'I did not know,' said Redford pathetically.
'You did not know that beating someone who is a lot smaller and weaker than you is wrong?' asked Hanson. The tremor in his voice made me sink deeper into the cushions.
'He... she provoked me. If I had known Ryde was a woman, I would have never...' Redford's voice trembled. It almost sounded like he might start crying.
Curious to see his face, I craned my neck a little and indeed his expression was full of sorrow and regret. How strange that he would make such a difference between man and woman. I had not thought that being a girl might actually be in my favour.
'I asked you to keep an eye on her,' Hanson said through gritted teeth. He turned to me. He looked as though he blamed himself for it. I wanted to object but Redford's voice cut through the silence and drowned the first syllable I uttered.
'Please, do not tell anyone,' he implored us. 'If my creditors hear I beat a woman they will withdraw their investments and-'
'Is that your only concern? Is money and reputation all that matters to you?' Hanson's fists clenched and unclenched, and clenched again. If it had not been against his nature he would have beaten Redford's rotten values out of him. But Hanson was a doctor through and through. He could not do harm to another person.
'Money and reputation are not what they are defined as in the encyclopedia,' Redford motioned around the room at Hanson's many books, 'they bring with them the definition of who has food on their table and who does not. You are acquainted with my sister and my mother, doctor. They expect me to provide a certain living standard. If you tell anyone about what happened they will end up on the street and starve to death.'
'There are many people living on the streets,' I heard myself say, 'what makes you better than them?'
'The fact that I run a business that provides many more of such people with a wage and a roof over their heads. If I go bankrupt so will many others. I do not expect a woman to understand that, though,' Redford became very passionate in his speech.
I looked to Hanson to find if it was true. He gave me a short nod and immediately contradicted Redford's condescending manner towards me: 'Miss Ryde understands a great deal more than you think, Richard. Perhaps if you did not think yourself to be quite so privileged and entitled you might find a more stable way to run your brewery like your father did before you, instead of speculating at high risk.'
'Do not speak of my father, Hanson,' Redford rose from his chair, 'he passed away suddenly and I had no time to grief for I drowned in business that I had not the slightest notion how to handle. Yet, I had to convince the creditors that the business was stable and that I could run it. You helped me a great deal through that time and I will always remember it but do not assume for a moment that it gives you the right to speak of my father.'
'Very well. If I have no right to point out a very obvious mistake to you then please do not ask me for help any more,' Hanson said trying to sound indifferent but I knew this was hard on him. He was not a man who could easily abandon a friend and he only did it to show the young boy with the great responsibility how much was at stake and how easily people could turn away from him. I had no doubt that if Redford should need help the very next day Hanson would be the first one to offer it.
No wonder Redford looked so much older than the other students, no wonder he missed school so often, no wonder he was always on the verge of madness. It did not justify his behaviour yet it, at least, explained it.
'I shall not come to school any more. The only reason I did was because you advised me to, doctor, and it was precious time which I should have spent at the brewery. I won't betray your secret if you keep mine. If you please excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to. I doubt we will meet again soon,' said Redford formally. His face lost all emotion and the ice-blue eyes turned grey.
He crossed the room and paused at the door. Before he pushed the handle, he added: 'Miss Ryde, I hope you can find it within you to forgive me. I shall try to compensate you for it but I can't promise you anything immediate.'
'I do not need compensation,' I said. The best compensation was never having to see him again. It was cruel to think so but I could not be as forgiving as Hanson. He had hurt me, he had hurt Hanson, and he had said bad things about people I was fond of. Under the given circumstances I had a right to be cross with him for as long as I found appropriate which might be forever.
'Very well,' he pushed the door open and
stepped into the hall. His foot steps echoed loudly through the thick walls. With them becoming fainter in the distance, came a sense of relief. He was not going to tell on me. I was still safe – though bruised and badly beaten, both literally and metaphorically. No one at Kenwood but Hanson knew that I was a girl. The fact that I had almost ruined everything – destroyed what little prospects I had – weighted heavy on my heart. My conduct had been as bad as ever, I needed to act in a smarter way if I wanted to survive in this male-dominant world. Why was it so hard to keep the upper hand? Why could I not make people respect me like Hanson did? I did not want to fight or argue any more – I wanted to be able to avert battles, just like Hanson had said, but how was I supposed to manage that when nearly everyone's first instinct was to either ignore or hate me? No. That was not true. Hanson did not hate me. Sofia never hated me and Larry and Terry have been my friends from the very beginning. Who cared what Redford thought? Who cared what any of the third years thought? When the most important people in my life returned my sentiments.
Hanson sat down next to me. He looked like he needed consolation more than I did.
'Foolish girl, what were you thinking?' he touched my hurting cheek gently.
Could I really tell him? Was I allowed to bring up the subject concerning Greenfield? And how should I explain the connection between him and me? I could not tell Hanson that Redford had accused me of being in love with him because I would have to deny it, which was something I could never do credibly enough. But I had to ask about Greenfield because if Redford's tale was true, Greenfield and I needed to have a serious conversation. I became very nervous.
'Is it true that Greenfield... confessed to you?'
Hanson stiffened and remained silent long enough for an answer to become obsolete.
'Did Redford...?'
'Yes.'
'Why?'
'Because...,' I had not come up with an answer although I knew he would ask and I knew he would be irritated. 'Because Redford is a bastard,' I finally mustered.
The Girl who was a Gentleman (Victorian Romance, History) Page 20