Portrait of Jonathan

by Margaret Dickinson

  Lavinia’s favourite room was the library: its high ceiling with pictures painted on it: the walls lined with books and the comfortable couch where she would curl up with a book and lose herself among its pages forgetting for a time the world of reality.

  Lavinia was happier at ‘Avonridge’ than she had ever been in her life and only one thing was missing to complete her happiness, but at the beginning of May even that was to be remedied, it seemed, for least for an all-too-short weekend.

  The Eldon family were coming to stay at ‘Avonridge’.

  Lavinia’s joy at the thought of seeing Jonathan once more was, however, tinged with fear and dread. She felt so gauche and awkward with him. How she wished she could see him but not be seen by him—but such a thought was ridiculous.

  The time since she had come to ‘Avonridge’ had been the happiest she had ever known. In the company of her grandfather, she had blossomed into a normal, healthy young girl—still very shy, still lacking self-confidence, but her new-found happiness was reflected in her gentle smile and even her brown eyes had lost some of their sadness. Lord Rowan found that Lavinia—though her education had been sadly neglected as she herself had told him—had, nevertheless, a lively and active mind and under his guidance her general education improved rapidly. He himself gave her lessons each morning, and during the afternoon they drove or walked or occasionally rode, though the latter could be considered ‘lessons’ at first, for Lavinia knew not even the rudiments of horsemanship. However, Lord Rowan found her a willing and able pupil, though, unknown to him, her eagerness stemmed from her desire to become a person more worthy of Jonathan’s notice. Whilst she could never seriously think that he could fall in love with her, still there was the unquenchable wish within her to become the sort of woman he would not be ashamed to accompany. Always in her mind’s eye floated the picture of the beautiful Lady Anthea Thorwald whom Giles said Jonathan had once loved.

  During Lavinia’s moments of solitude, when Lord Rowan was engaged in business, she would return to her favourite pastime of sketching. Her grandfather knew of this interest, but she had never, even yet, dared to show him her efforts. Lavinia herself, considered them of little importance or interest to anyone else, though she gained much pleasure from the execution of her little pictures. She kept her work in a green folder, but she never felt the need to hide the folder as she had done in her parents’ house, safe in the knowledge that her grandfather respected her need and wish for privacy in this respect. He would not, she knew, look upon her work unless she herself desired him to do so.

  Increasingly often, she found herself sketching Jonathan. She drew his face from all angles—so well had she absorbed every expression of the face she loved. Occasionally she drew Giles, Lady Melmoth, Lord Melmoth and her grandfather.

  Never did she recall the faces of her parents or brother on paper.

  Only the faces of people she loved had she committed to memory so perfectly as to be able to reproduce them from memory: and the face her pencil sketched the most was Jonathan’s.

  On the day the Eldons were expected, Lord Rowan said at breakfast.

  ‘No lessons today, my dear. I have some business to attend to before Melmoth arrives. Amuse yourself but don’t stray far from the house.’

  ‘No, Grandfather. What time will I … will they be here?’

  ‘Late afternoon, I should think, in good time for dinner.’

  The day was sunny and warm for early May. The garden was peaceful, save for the twittering and singing of birds. Lavinia was seated on a white-painted garden seat near a pool in the centre of which was a fountain springing from an urn held by a white marble figure—a woman of ancient times carrying the urn on her shoulder.

  The fountain cascaded in silver drops all round the figure into the round pool below, the borders of which were covered with water-lilies, and if she bent forward, Lavinia could see goldfish darting to and fro beneath the dark green circular leaves of the lilies. The fountain—Lavinia’s favourite spot—was in a small enclosed garden which she learnt from Mrs Matthews, had been her grandmother’s favourite spot too. It seemed natural for the lonely child to find herself drawn to this place, drawn to the garden beloved by the woman who, had she lived, would have loved Lavinia too.

  When Lord Rowan had for the first time found Lavinia seated in exactly the same place as his wife had so often sat, the pain of remembrance was sharp, and yet at the same moment he was filled with a quiet happiness at seeing the young girl growing towards the woman her grandmother had been, even to finding affinity with her in her garden.

  The garden was situated at the back and some distance away from the house and so Lavinia did not hear the carriage and did not know of the Eldons’ arrival until Giles’ voice broke into her day-dreaming.

  ‘Why, there you are, Vinny, hiding yourself away. Come and greet your guests.’

  ‘Oh!’ She jumped up, startled from her reverie. The folder of sketches slipped to the ground, scattering the papers on to the slabbed pathway round the pool.

  ‘Careful,’ cried Giles hurrying forward. ‘You’ll lose your papers in the water.’

  He bent to help her gather the sheets of paper together.

  ‘It’s all right—really,’ she said in confusion and fear that he would see the drawings.

  ‘Hey, Vinny. These are marvellous. Why, there’s one of Jonathan. My, my, that’s wonderful—so lifelike. And here’s one of Papa and Mama together. Vinny, you’ve talent, great talent. Here’s one of me. Ha-ha,’ he laughed delightedly to see his beaming face staring back at him from the paper. ‘And another of old Jonathan, and another, and another, and …’

  ‘Please, Giles, give them back to me.’

  He looked up then from the pictures and saw her face suffused with hot embarrassment.

  ‘Why, Vinny, don’t be shy of these. They’re superb. You shouldn’t be hiding all this away. We must show the others.’

  ‘No—no, Giles. I beg you,’ she cried in anguished tones.

  ‘But why ever not?’

  ‘I’d rather you d-didn’t. Even Grandfather—he’s never seen my sketches. I prefer no one to see them.’

  ‘But Vinny, why? These should be framed and hanging on a wall. You should be provided with paints and try portraiture in oils—really you should. These of old Jonathan are really something, it’s as if you …’

  He stopped and regarded her closely. She avoided his penetrating gaze.

  ‘Please give them back to me,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Vinny, tell me something,’ Giles said in his impetuous way. ‘Have you fallen for old Jonathan?’

  ‘I—no, no of course not,’ she said swiftly—too swiftly—her colour rising again.

  ‘You’re not a very good liar, Vinny dear,’ Giles said softly.

  ‘Giles Eldon—how dare you call me a l-liar,’ she said, near to tears.

  ‘There, there, Vinny. I promise your secret is safe with me. Both the drawings and Jonathan.’

  ‘Giles—oh Giles,’ her voice broke on a sob. ‘Don’t tell him, don’t ever tell him. He’d hate me.’

  ‘Never, Vinny, he could never do that. Come now, dry your tears.’

  ‘But do you promise?’ she asked earnestly.

  ‘Yes—yes, I promise. Poor Vinny, you do have some bad luck. Now why,’ he continued in a lighter, teasing vein, trying to win a smile back to her face, ‘didn’t you fall in love with a handsome chap like me?—I’m really quite jealous.’

  ‘Oh Giles—I do l-love you,’ she blushed even more at her boldness, ‘but …’

  ‘But you love Jonathan more and not as a brother, eh?’

  She nodded.

  Giles sighed. He could never be anything but completely honest, and he could not, therefore, lie now to Lavinia, not even to give her hope as so many would have done, for he knew it would be a false hope.

  ‘Vinny, try to forget him. He doesn’t seem to be the marrying kind—now, and …’

  ‘Oh Giles, I
know he’d never want to marry me. Good heavens after loving Lady Anthea …’ Her voice faded into silence and though Giles gave her a look of complete and sympathetic understanding, and tucked her small hand in his arm, he could not, in truth, disagree with her.

  They returned to the house and were there greeted by the rest of the Eldon family—Lady Melmoth with her charming smile, Lord Melmoth with his robust chuckle and Jonathan with his quiet, half-smile and brown eyes which regarded Lavinia so steadily, making her heart pound and her hands tremble.

  Giles, true to his word, put the folder of drawings on a side table and made no further reference to it, but immediately complimented Lord Rowan on the appearance of the grounds.

  ‘Really, sir, I thought there was no finer place than our own country house, but I begin to have doubts. ‘Avonbridge’ looks better than ever.’

  The family laughed. There was one thing about Giles, Lavinia thought fondly, his readiness to defend anyone not only led him into trouble but also led him to perform acts of kindness, such as at this moment, when she knew he was deliberately drawing the attention away from her to himself in an effort to help her combat her shyness.

  The Eldons’ visit was all too short. The following morning the gentlemen went riding and although they invited Lavinia to accompany them—and she would dearly have loved to have gone so that she might be a little longer in Jonathan’s company—she had to decline for her riding ability she knew was not proficient enough to enable her to keep pace with their speed. Nevertheless, she spent a pleasant morning with Lady Melmoth.

  ‘Lavinia, my dear, you look so much happier. Do you like it here?’

  ‘Oh so much, Lady Melmoth. I’m so grateful to you for all you did in bringing my grandfather and me together.’

  ‘Nonsense, dear child. We were only too glad to be of some use. But Lavinia, whilst we have a moment to ourselves, I want a quiet talk with you. It may be none of my business, but knowing your grandfather would never discuss such matters with you—well—I think you should know.’

  ‘Know what, Lady Melmoth?’

  The good lady sighed. ‘Your father has caused your grandfather a great deal of unhappiness in the past.’

  ‘Oh, I can guess he has, for they have been estranged for years—and I can see now that it could not have been Grandfather’s fault.’

  ‘Quite so. But you are now making up for all his past unhappiness. Lord Rowan loves you dearly and you will be a great comfort to him.’

  ‘I’ll try, r-really I will.’

  ‘Of course you will, child. But I think you should be warned. Your father may try to use you for his own ends, he may try to get you to intercede for him with your grandfather.’

  The girl nodded, understanding quickly.

  ‘But,’ Lady Melmoth continued, ‘you should have nothing to do with them, your father, your mother, or your brother.’

  Lavinia looked surprised, but not shocked.

  ‘I know this is a terrible thing to be telling a young girl, but Lord Melmoth and Jonathan have now found beyond doubt that your father and your brother are still engaged in business with Lord Thorwald and Lord Myron, who, as you know, are rivals of the Keldon Line—and such rivals who would stop at nothing, absolutely nothings to put the Keldon Line out of business and rain us. Do you understand, Lavinia?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘So it would be wiser if you severed all connections with the rest of your family, as indeed your grandfather has done. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘No—no. In time I would probably have forgiven them for their treatment of me, but if they are working against Grandfather and Lord Melmoth and—and J-Jonathan, then I can see you are right.’

  ‘It goes against my nature, I must admit,’ sighed Lady Melmoth, ‘to preach non-forgiveness. I have always believed that life is too short to quarrel, especially with one’s family, but your parents have been given more than one chance to rectify the mistakes they have made and be reconciled with your grandfather—but their treatment of you, my dear, has put an end to any possibility of reconciliation in the future, I know.’

  ‘Why did they invite you to dine and at the same time send me to Lord Myron?’

  Lady Melmoth glanced at the girl shrewdly. Lavinia was not the simpleton one could have once supposed when they had first met her.

  ‘Ah—now this is getting a little involved with business intrigue, my dear. If I tell you, you must promise never to tell anyone for it could have serious repercussions upon your grandfather and on all of us.’

  ‘Of course, I won’t say a word,’ Lavinia breathed.

  ‘You know of Jonathan’s steamship?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Lady Melmoth smiled. ‘We call it “Jonathan’s” although, of course, it is the Company’s but he centres all his hopes upon it. He says it is the ship of the future, that one day the clipper ships—dependent upon the elements as they are—will be obsolete eventually.’

  ‘I understand, but why should Lord Thorwald be opposed to it?’

  ‘They don’t believe in steam, neither do they have the capital, from what we hear, to risk building a steamship which after all might be a failure. It has not been proved yet.’

  ‘But if Jonathan believes in it, then it must be all right.’

  Lady Melmoth smiled at the implicit faith Lavinia placed in Jonathan.

  ‘Well, we all hope so, naturally.’

  ‘But I still don’t see …’

  ‘Thorwald and Myron, as I said, would stop at nothing. We fear they may try sabotage of the ship or other ways to discredit our name and harm our Company. And as your father is now involved with them, we think he invited us to dine to try and join the Keldon Line so that, if he was allowed to do so, he could then relay confidential information to Thorwald and Myron.’

  The girl was silent for a moment as if unable to comprehend such a startling piece of knowledge about her own father.

  ‘I understand,’ she said quietly, at last.

  The matter was not referred to again, but Lavinia thought of their conversation often and worried for Jonathan’s safety.

  During the Eldons’ stay at ‘Avonbridge’ Lavinia never once found herself alone with Jonathan and after they had left she could not decide whether she was pleased or sorry, for whilst it would have been a pleasure, at the same time she would have been fearful of appearing foolish in his eyes because of her shyness.

  He had, of course, exchanged the usual idle conversation with her, but always during the presence of another member of the family. So Lavinia watched their carriage depart with sadness and wondered how long it would be before she would see Jonathan—or any of them—again.

  ‘Come and sit down, my child,’ Lord Rowan said. ‘I have something to tell you.’

  Lavinia took one last glance at the disappearing carriage and turned from the window.

  ‘I have been talking with Lord and Lady Melmoth this week-end, and asking their advice about you.’

  ‘About m-me?’

  ‘Yes. You see, my dear, I cannot teach you all a young lady of your position ought to know.’

  ‘M-my position?’

  ‘Yes—you see I shall make you my sole heiress. You will one day be a lady of considerable standing and make a good marriage. But to do all this you must be educated properly. I could, of course, get a governess for you, but that would not give you a wider knowledge. You ought to travel, to see a bit of the world before you settle down with a husband and family.’

  Lavinia did not know what her grandfather’s conversation was leading up to but she feared it all the same.

  ‘So I think you should go away to school for a year.’

  ‘G-go away,’ her voice was little more than a whisper.

  ‘Lavinia, I don’t want you to go—I’ll miss you more than I can say,’ he took her hands in his and looked into hers. ‘But it is for your own sake, do you understand?’

  Dully, she nodded. Though her heart was breaking, she would have t
o do as her grandfather wished.

  ‘We think the best place is a finishing school in France.’

  ‘Abroad!’ She looked up, startled to retort. ‘So far away?’

  ‘France was your grandmother’s county. I want you to learn something of her people and nowhere else in the world will you learn the intricacies of social etiquette any better.’

  ‘A whole year away in France,’ she whispered.

  ‘It will soon go. Believe me, child, it will be far longer for me than for you.’

  But Lavinia could not agree. A year away from Jonathan. A year in which so much could happen. He could be married by the time she returned.

  Lavinia felt her heart breaking over Jonathan for the second time, even though this time he was not directly the cause of it.

  Chapter Six

  The arrangements for Lavinia’s departure for France were completed, it seemed to Lavinia, with frightening swiftness. She was to start at the school in September and the following weeks seemed to disappear and it was August before she realised it. Much to her chagrin she found she would have to leave without seeing the Eldons again, and although Lady Melmoth wrote her a kind letter of affectionate good wishes and Giles penned a scribbled note, no word came from Jonathan. Not that she expected it, but she had hoped that in some way she might see him again—just once more—before she went away for a whole year. Naturally, too, she would miss her grandfather of whom she was very fond, and the other three members of the Eldon family, but it was Jonathan who remained uppermost in her thoughts.