by Wendy Bayne
I was beginning to feel stifled and isolated… Aunt Mary and Emilie along with mother were busy shopping and sewing for the baby and life seemed to have settled into a pattern of predictable domesticity. However, I was still not allowed to venture out on my own as I had in Northumberland, so I was limited to the garden when unsupervised. Otherwise I was required to be in the presence of a family member or groom even then I could only go riding or walking in the Park at prescribed times of the day. My lessons had become disjointed with the frequent absence of some of my instructors. And the only contact I had with my father and Uncle Samuel was at meal times when they were home.
Even Meg had become distant. She had formed an attachment for Robert who had come to London with us to train as my father’s valet. She was love struck even though Robert seemed to ignore her for the most part while concentrating on learning his trade. My mother’s maid Beth assured me that the attachment was mutual but that the young man was taking his training very seriously and throwing all his time and energy into it, even Dalton felt he’d make a good valet.
Then one day I heard that Ramsey Clarke and his family had come to London during a school holiday. I rejoiced when I was told that they had been invited to dinner! Now I would really have some interesting conversation. But the discussion at the table for the most part was about horses and Ramsey’s time at Oxford with much teasing by my uncle and father, who were both Cambridge men. Father tactfully tried to find out about their life in the Indies without mentioning slavery but didn’t have any success.
Charity was not at all chatty and when the ladies adjourned to the drawing room her mother talked nonstop about Charity’s success in Oxford. But whenever Aunt Mary or Mother addressed either lady about the Indies, they merely gave them a blank look then changed the subject as if they had never heard the question. Mother tried to press Mrs Clarke once and was met with cool reserve.
When the men finally joined us, I felt the tension in the room lighten a bit. I tried more than once to engage Ramsey’s attention but without success. I noticed that he was in conversation with my uncle who was quizzing him about his Latin studies, but Ramsey looked decidedly irritated. It took me some time before I could speak to him and his response to my overtures when I finally had a moment alone with him was blunt and almost rude. “I must say that I was rather surprised to see you at table tonight, Miss Turner.”
I was puzzled by his coolness, the Clarkes I had thought were friends, our dinners with them had always been informal. Yet I sensed that something was different now, that university had changed Ramsey. So, I asked him just as bluntly, “And why would you be surprised?” I tried to not let him see that I had been insulted.
His ears reddened, and he rolled his tongue around his mouth looking over my head…at least he had the good grace to be embarrassed or at least I thought he was. He took a sip from the glass he was holding and thus fortified, he regained his bravado saying, “Your parents do seem to be rather progressive and I suppose this gathering is a small informal affair, hardly what I would call a proper dinner party.” He looked around the room while I tried not to clench my fists. Then he made eye contact with me and very pointedly remarked, “However, it is my understanding that in most households where young ladies have not come out, they are consigned to the nursery for dinner parties.”
I felt like I had just been slapped in the face. I looked to see if anyone else had heard what had been said. Charity was the closest, but she turned away when I looked at her. Aunt Emilie was close by and she had obviously heard him, she was glaring at him and was starting to move towards us when I shook my head for her not to bother. I was barely able to hold back my tears, but I managed to look Ramsey in the eye and flung a retort in his face without malice. “Yes, Mr Clarke, my parents are progressive. But unlike some I earned my place at the table because of my ability to conduct myself civilly and with maturity.” His mouth fell open and I was somewhat mollified by his shocked expression. Aunt Emilie kept her eyes on me as she told my uncle what had just transpired. He frowned and made a move as if to come over, but she grabbed his arm and whispered to him. I took a deep breath, nodded at her then smiled at Ramsey before I walked away from him and out the door.
In the hallway, I encountered Murphy and Lettie in quiet conversation and when they saw me they jumped apart. I tried to smile at them but didn’t succeed so I waved to them and made my way up the stairs. I didn’t go to my room where I knew Meg would be waiting. Instead I went to the nursery where Ramsey said I belonged. The ladies in my family had been hard at work making the space into a child’s wonderland for my brother or sister. I sat down on the window seat looking out at the dark garden. Leaning back against the pillows piled there, and cried. My life had changed so much yet it was obvious that I had not adapted to sophisticated city life. I often dreamed of riding Jewel on the moor, sitting on a branch in the orchard eating sun warmed apples or just reading in the tall grass. I missed the freedom to come and go as I pleased, I even missed the village and all its familiar inhabitants.
I must have fallen asleep since it was a knock at the door that brought me back to reality. My throat was dry from my crying, but I managed to croak “Come in.” To my utter astonishment, Mr Johnson walked in, dressed in full evening kit. He immediately noticed my tear-stained face and looked mildly distressed. I prevented him from asking me if I was alright by asking him, “How did you know I would be here?”
He smiled and pulled up a chair to sit by my seat. I sat up straighter and faced him. He looked at his hands interlaced in front of him, “I’m sorry that I was delayed and have only just arrived, but I met your Aunt Emilie in the foyer. She told me what had happened, she was on her way up to speak with you, so I asked her to let me talk to you instead. You see you and I have a great deal in common in some ways.” He looked up at me with soft grey eyes. “I have had a great deal of experience with rejection and being on my own. I assumed this was where you went based on Clarke’s comment.”
I tried to reclaim my dignity but was a bit harsh, “I do not require any consoling, Mr Johnson!”
He tipped his head to the side looking at me with a smile, “I can see that, Miss Hughes. Would you then perhaps grant me the favour of letting me thrash young Ramsey on your behalf instead?”
I giggled and shook my head no, “That won’t be necessary but thank you for the offer, I can manage quite well without Mr Ramsey Clarke in my life.” I took a breath and waited for the jab of pain from the realization of Ramsey’s rejection, but it didn’t come. I wiped at my face with the handkerchief that Mr Johnson handed me and continued, “Other than my family I have been alone my whole life, Mr Johnson, it’s not so bad. I will get used to it again.”
His smile faded and was replaced with a wistful expression. “I suppose I should say that you are far too young to be so cynical. Except that I know exactly what you mean.” He cleared his throat and quietly without irony said, “Miss Hughes, you are an inspiration to a reprobate such as myself.” He hesitated then reached out and took my hand, “I would very much like to be your friend if you will let me. The seven years difference in our ages should not be an impediment to being friends and our life experiences I would say have made us sympathetic to each other. If I may paraphrase, someone that I sincerely admire, I think that we are both far too cynical and intelligent for the company of our average acquaintance.”
I smiled at him and a sudden warmth invaded my heart as he took my hand in his warm and strong one. “I would be honoured to be your friend, Mr Johnson,” knowing in my heart that he truly was my friend. “Perhaps you can help me with another dilemma.” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a half smile, encouraging me to continue. “Can you tell me what it’s like to be an older and more mature sibling?”
He laughed out loud then let go of my hand as he stood up, “Indeed, I can, Miss Hughes. Now would you care to join me and your family for some tea and cakes? I seemed to have missed dinner by arriving so late.” I wanted to ask him who
had sent him an invitation as I was not aware of him being on the original guest list, but I decided that it was none of my business, he was here and that’s what was important.
He offered me his hand again as I stood up. “I believe that cook would be happy to put a tray together for you, Mr Johnson. After all, I’ve heard her say many times…” and I recited in my best imitation of cook, “I’ve a fondness for that Mr Johnson, a right gentleman he is. He knows how to appreciate fine cooking.” I laughed and so did he.
“That sounds wonderful, Miss Turner.” We left the nursery and proceeded downstairs talking about his place in Dorset and how the Dawsons were faring.
We were met at the foot of the stairs by my father and uncle. The Clarkes had apparently left in a flurry of high indignation after my father had heard about what had transpired between Ramsey and me.
Mother had already bespoke dinner for Mr Johnson, so he went to the dining room with my father and uncle, though he seemed genuinely reluctant to lose my company.
Aunt Mary had gone home with Mr Spencer so that left Aunt Emilie, Mother and I in the drawing room. Mother came and sat beside me. Thankfully she did not try to assuage my feelings with platitudes. Instead she tucked a few tendrils of hair behind my ears and looked at me as if with new eyes. “You’ve had to grow up very quickly, haven’t you, my darling.” She looked sad as she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Lissa. I feel like I’ve failed you. Perhaps—”
I interrupted her before she could go on about what she might have done differently. “Mama, I am very satisfied with the person that I am. In fact, I like who I am. I owe that to you and Uncle Samuel and to Father. I know that I’m loved that I have always been loved, that means a great deal to me! So please don’t regret anything. I’ve had advantages, affection and liberties that most people my age have never had and that’s because you sacrificed so much for me.” As I was saying this to her, I realised that I meant it with all my heart.
She hugged me and leaned back in the seat with a heavy sigh, her back had been sore for days but today it was even worse. Dr Jefferson assured us that it was nothing to worry about and that he had never seen a healthier, expectant mother.
Aunt Emilie was smiling and came over to sit closer to us. But in a voice of that was full of innuendo said, “So, Lissa, Mr Johnson was some comfort to you?”
I looked towards her, smiling, but she wasn’t smiling back. I felt like I had missed something, that she wasn’t saying exactly what she meant so I stated with full confidence, “Aunt Emilie, Mr Johnson is my friend. He is a gentleman and an honourable man. I don’t know what you are insinuating.” Then I remembered the circumstances or her own life after she lost her family, so I assumed that she was thinking the worst. “Actually, I do know what you mean but this is not France nor Belgium at war time and I am not you.”
She sat back quickly clasping her hands to her chest, her eyes glistened with tears, she reached out and took my hand. “You’re right, Lissa, I’m sorry. He is a good man, I know it in my heart, please forgive me.”
My mother grimaced placing her hands on her belly then she took a deep breath. “I think Mr Johnson is very much like your father, Lissa.” She smiled weakly. “And you’re right, he is an honourable man.”
The gentlemen joined us and announced that we had been invited to Mr Johnson’s home in Dorset for a short holiday at our convenience. Mother started to thank him then suddenly she braced both her hands on the seat and took sharp deep breath, calling out to my father, “Colin?”
Father looked at her calmly, “Yes, my dear?”
Her breath was coming in short gasps now. “I think you had better send for Dr Jefferson.” And with that she gave a grunt and the seat beside me was instantly wet. I quickly stood up, my father’s eyes were focused on my mother, but his only response was “oh!”
Mr Johnson looked in our direction, he placed a hand on my father’s back, “I’ll go, Colin, you stay with Irene.” Then he turned and was gone.
Mama gave birth to a healthy baby boy that night and a month later he was christened James Thomas Ryerson Turner. The occasion of his christening should have been grand except we were still technically in mourning for my late grandfather. James and I got on very well, he seemed to either delight in my presence with smiles and giggles or found me boring and would fall asleep, Mama told me that I was a god-send.
Mr Johnson did not return to us after the night of James’ birth and our holiday to his home did not materialize. It seemed that there was always some emergency on his property that required his attention, or he was away on business for Sir Thomas. But I did receive a Christmas gift from him. It was a silver locket that was etched with ivy and violets but when I opened it, it was empty except for the inscription ‘Regarde Avec Ton Coeur’ the translation was ‘Look with Your Heart’. Father offered to have a miniature of the family painted to insert in it, but I declined. I felt that there wasn’t any need to fill it at the present. Mother thought it was too lovely to wear every day, so it resided in my jewellery box beside the string of pearls that papa had given me on my seventeenth birthday.
Meg still had not made any progress with Robert except that he had admitted a deep affection for her. He asked her to wait since he was determined to supplant everything until he had learned his trade. My father’s coming and goings along with my uncle’s had kept both Robert and Dalton very busy which he enjoyed immensely but Meg was distraught every time he was absent.
When there were no lessons, I passed the time reading, drawing and practicing all that I had already learned. My drawing had improved considerably under Lettie’s direction. So, I did a pencil sketch of every member of the family, staff, even Dr Jefferson and Mr Johnson. It was these sketches that I gave out as Christmas gifts. I didn’t show the finished work to anyone, I felt that they were pieces that should be personal between me and the recipient. For the married couples, each received the picture of their spouse. Since I did the wrapping and labelling it was a surprise to all of them and in all cases, I’m pleased to say it had been a pleasant one. I also did one of James and me together to give to our parents from both of us. It was difficult and had to be done quickly by looking in a mirror while having James propped on a pillow beside me, but it turned out to be very handsome. Mr Johnson’s portrait was the most difficult since I didn’t have the actual person at hand to study. Instead I drew him from memory. As it came to life he materialised with the wistful expression from that night in the nursery. Lettie was the only one who saw it and was astounded at the likeness. I held onto it hoping that he would join us but by New Year’s there was no news from him, so I sent it by post to Dorset.
We had been in London over a year since I had last seen Mr Johnson and my Aunt Mary and mother were busy planning for my first season, a fact that did not excite my interest at all. I missed my friend even though we wrote to each other frequently, sharing our day to day stories with each other. But the last letter that I had received from him had been almost four months ago, when he said that he had been important assignment from Sir Thomas and that he would not be able to write me for some time.
Christmas of had come and gone again as well as my eighteenth birthday and still no word from him. I knew my father was concerned about him though he tried not to show it. I devoted much time to eavesdropping on my father and uncle and was finally rewarded one day when I heard them saying that one of them would have to journey to Paris and look for him. That was also the day I was caught listening at the door for the first time. I had tried to scoot away when the study door suddenly opened and I heard my name “Lissa?” I raised my eyes and grimaced at my father who was standing before me with his arms crossed. Uncle Samuel was behind him obviously trying not to laugh.
I straightened up and tried to bluster my way through. “Hello, Papa! I lost a button and I’m just looking for it.” I looked down at my feet and scanned the floor with great intensity.
Father relaxed his stance giving me a half smile.
“A button, really?” He looked at me sceptically “You’ll have to do much better than that, my dear, but not bad for your first time being caught.” He leaned towards me. “However, when you hear news about someone you care about, you can’t let it affect you to the point that you aren’t aware of what is happening around you. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “Yes, Papa. But about Mr Johnson, what’s happened to him?”
“We don’t know, Lissa, but it looks like we’ll have to go after him. Unfortunately, your uncle and I are well known by the French and no one from our staff would be admitted to the circles in which Miles was supposed to circulate.”
Without thinking I blurted out, “Why can’t we all go? No one knows that Mr Johnson works with you, just that he is a family friend. Besides you promised Mama a holiday and James is two years old now so he’s old enough to travel. I can even practise my French. And while we’re there we can look for Mr Johnson. Perhaps we can even ask Dr Jefferson to come with us and…and—” I realised that I had started to ramble, so I stopped in mid-sentence.
Father was shaking his head, I knew he was dismissing the idea, so I turned to walk away disgruntled. I was despairing that I would ever see Mr Johnson again. I looked up to see my mother coming down the stairs. She was smiling and had her head cocked to one side, giving my father a look like he had been a bad boy. “She’s right, you know. Colin, you did promise me a holiday after James was born and Aunt Mary has been talking about wanting to go the continent soon now that Mr Spencer has retired from Bow Street. He could assist you in your search. I’m sure even Dr Jefferson would agree to come along, after all he’s been working very hard lately and mentioned at dinner the other night that he’s been looking to take some time off from his practice.” She walked up and linked her arm with my father’s, gazing up into his eyes. “And it would be most agreeable for me, darling. I’ve never been to Paris and you and Samuel know it so well.”