‘If I may say so, Aunt Tattie,’ Portia ventured, ‘I am not altogether sure as to why Mr Wilde is on trial, other than to say I have heard it is to do with something unnatural.’
Aunt Tattie took one of her dangerously deep breaths which she held for a good long while, causing Portia no little concern, before much to her niece’s relief she exhaled long and slowly. ‘I do not feel this is something we may discuss, dearest,’ she said. ‘Not because you are too young because you are no longer too young to discuss things with but because this is not a matter which ladies may discuss together. It is to do with things which are not altogether deemed natural and proper. All I may say is that because of Mr Wilde’s insistence on proving his innocence, as I understand it, a great many people’s lives may be affected by the outcome. It is for this reason that your uncle feels there is only one verdict which may inevitably be reached at the end of this new trial, which is why he has decided to go away for a quite long holiday in foreign parts. There is certainly no need for us to worry unduly about him because many of his friends are going with him. They plan on a nice long holiday in Italy, Florence perhaps, and then on to Capri which they tell me is perfectly magical at all times. As you get older, dearest girl, you will find it much the best thing to take a good long vacation if and when anything should arise which bothers you unduly. Things then blow over and one comes back feeling much refreshed. Yes, yes,’ she concluded. ‘Much the best thing, dearest.’
After which little speech Aunt Tattie got up and hurried from the dining room.
* * *
Of course Emily too was aware of the scandal which was the talk of Society, although it was not a subject which could be aired in mixed company. Even so oblique references to the topic were constantly being made by Emily’s patron in front of her, but whenever Emily pressed her for more detail she was told that such matters were not for the ears of young ladies.
‘Do you have even the slightest idea what these matters might be?’ she asked Portia when they were out riding one day. ‘For I most certainly do not, not even the vaguest of notions. Although I hear it rumoured that it is all to do with quite improper and unnatural things and that Mr Wilde faces almost certain imprisonment. I mean can you imagine such a thing? Oscar Wilde of all people in prison – why, it would be like putting Lady Evesham to work in a kitchen!’
They rode on for a while in thoughtful silence, for once unaware of the appreciative looks they were receiving from most of the officers and gentlemen out exercising their horses.
‘Do you think it might have something to do with the facts of life?’ Emily finally ventured, in a stage whisper once she was sure they were out of anyone’s earshot. ‘The more I hear of it the more I am convinced that it has something to do with what my mother always calls the unhappy business of proliferating.’
‘I really could not say,’ Portia replied, laughing in order to conceal her embarrassment. ‘You see having spent so much time with our servants I understand the theory well enough but I must confess as far as the practice is concerned I cannot even begin to comprehend it.’
‘Oh lordy,’ Emily exclaimed, having long since abandoned any pretence at an English accent while riding out with her friend. ‘I am the very opposite, do you see? What with my father being Master of the Blazers for so long and devoted to the breeding of hounds and horses, I know well enough where babies comes from and that it is all to do with something my father – as opposed to my mother – what my father calls the peculiar business of coupling. Which I imagine is why when a man and a woman are married they are always known as a couple.’
‘Is that really so, do you think?’ Portia wondered. ‘Because they couple? I thought only railway carriages and suchlike did that.’
At this they both burst into a fit of helpless laughter, as Emily said, just like a couple of schoolgirls who have come across a Natural Science book.
‘No, but seriously,’ Portia said, regaining control of her mirth. ‘It is all terribly confusing. My Aunt Tattie always refers to whatever it is that men and women do as the Marriage Act, making it sound as though it was something which had been passed by Parliament.’
‘Hegh, that is amusing, Portia Tradescant! There’s not a bit of doubt about that! I just love the idea of a Marriage Act! Like something out of a play!’ Emily’s laughter was becoming so uncontrollable that at one stage Portia was afraid her friend might fall off her horse, as well as which they were now attracting some extremely bemused looks from their fellow riders.
‘What on earth does hegh mean?’ Portia wondered, trying to steer the conversation slightly away from the topic which was causing them both so much amusement.
‘It’s Gaelic. For sort of – well – it’s a kind of mild expletive. Like the English crikey I imagine.’
‘Actually it’s not that funny when you come to think of it,’ Portia said, suddenly sobering down. ‘Not the end result, because however it comes about, which I imagine someone is going to tell us sooner or later—’
‘At all events I only hope it is sooner rather than later, Portia Tradescant,’ Emily said with a certain amount of passion. ‘I have to tell you that I have heard some simply terrible things about women passing out on their wedding night and such like, and what is worse that it makes the opposite sex laugh to see them faint – they find it terribly amusing don’t-cher-know, and that the mashers – you know, the young bloods – they even take bets on it beforehand.’
‘Yes – that’s what I mean,’ Portia agreed thoughtfully. ‘And worse, too. Because so many women die having babies, it must be purely dreadful. So I wish someone would tell us so that we could prepare ourselves for what happens. It’s all wrong for us to be kept in this sort of suspenseful ignorance.’
‘I quite agree,’ Emily said firmly. ‘But then does the thought ever occur to you that they might be doing this quite deliberately? That our so-called elders and betters might not be telling us precisely what happens in case we get put off the very thing they’re steering us into? In case we might actually get put off the Marriage Act?’
* * *
Shortly after this, as predicted by his sister, Sir Lampard Tradescant left suddenly for abroad. When Portia came down for breakfast one weekday morning her uncle had already packed and gone, without even saying goodbye to her.
‘He was too upset to make his farewells,’ Aunt Tattie explained later, white-faced but dry-eyed. ‘That and the fact that one or two of his friends were forced to leave for the Continent a little earlier than they had apparently first planned.’
‘I wish he could have stayed until at least after I had been presented,’ Portia replied. ‘I know Uncle Lampard didn’t consider it a matter of any real importance, but I would still have liked him to be there.’
‘It is hard for you to understand, dearest,’ Aunt Tattie sighed. ‘But it was really with your presentation in mind that – no, no—’ Aunt Tattie stopped herself as she realized she was going too far. ‘It is no matter after all, none at all.’
‘But I think it is,’ Portia insisted, sensing something hidden in the shadows of their conversation. ‘Uncle Lampard thought it clement to leave before my presentation? But why? Uncle Lampard has done nothing wrong, has he? Uncle Lampard is not the one on trial. Uncle Lampard does not even know Mr Wilde. So why did he leave before the appointed date if as you say it was because he had my presentation in mind?’
‘Forgive me, I was not thinking clearly, Portia dearest, in fact one was not really thinking at all about what one was saying,’ Aunt Tattie offered as her excuse. ‘One is at sixes and sevens I promise you, what with one thing and another. With your presentation coming up and with Lampard deciding to take himself off abroad. As you know it is difficult to be at one’s best when faced with decisions and dilemmas, you surely know that well enough by now, dearest, so please forgive me. What one meant was that your uncle thought it better to make his exit before your presentation. One never knows, you know, and dear Lampard was so very anxious n
ot to let anything mar it, not to let anything spoil it. It would have been too awful in his opinion if something had happened to take the attention off your all-important day.’
‘That does not sound at all like Uncle Lampard, Aunt Tattie,’ Portia replied with a smile, although her meaning was perfectly serious. ‘There would be nothing Uncle Lampard would have enjoyed more than being around to make some of his famous bons mots about what he would surely consider to be the fatuity of a Society event. So I know there really has to be another reason.’
For once Aunt Tattie’s hands were still and she regarded her niece steadily, wondering how best to explain a matter which she herself found inexplicable, and also whether or not her scant understanding of the affair would be of any real value even if she were to make an attempt at illumination. Deciding against it because she guessed it would leave her niece none the wiser but undoubtedly a lot more perplexed instead, she took Portia’s hand in hers and looking her in the eyes told her that one day when she was a little older or perhaps when she was married the reason for all this brouhaha would be made absolutely plain to her and being the kind, Christian person that she knew Portia to be in her heart she would find nothing but forbearance and compassion. Of course it would have been better had Aunt Tattie attempted there and then to explain the circumstances which had led to her brother’s finding it necessary to flee the country even though her explanation would have certainly been far from adequate, because in truth she was somewhat in the dark about the exact reasons behind the trial of Mr Oscar Wilde. But at least it would have given her niece a purchase on the situation, however small and precarious that purchase might have been. Instead, without her aunt’s realizing it, it simply added to Portia’s growing fear that the undertaking of wedlock was an infinitely more hazardous proceeding than she had ever previously or possibly imagined, particularly if matters of a natural nature, as her late tutor Miss Collins had described the essence of biology, could only be explained when a person was of a certain maturity by one’s partner in marriage.
Not only that, but it seemed that as a result of the practice of some of these matters of a so-called natural nature famous people could end up on trial and other apparently perfectly innocent people of previously unblemished virtue could be forced to take extended holidays abroad.
Aunt Tattie, judging from the look of deep bewilderment and concern on her niece’s face, sensed that the delivery of her bromide had not been altogether successful and so made one last attempt before leaving the room to put Portia’s mind at ease.
‘It is a very difficult situation, dearest,’ she said, ‘but it must be said as indeed it most surely will be said in future that your uncle is doing the right thing. If only certain other people would follow suit or indeed if only they might have done earlier what Uncle Lampard and his friends have done now and simply disappeared from the scene for a while, instead of being so resolutely determined to make martyrs of themselves, then there would have been no cause for any unhappiness, none whatsoever, I feel sure of it. So please do not alarm or concern yourself, dearest girl. We must be sure, knowing dearest Uncle Lampard as we do, that he has done the right thing. And while we shall all undoubtedly miss him, we should admire his courage and his fortitude. There now.’ Aunt Tattie gave Portia’s hand one more squeeze and arose, to her mind there being nothing more to say on the matter. ‘There,’ she said. ‘Now we must put all further thoughts of the matter out of our minds and turn our entire attentions to your presentation at court.’
By then so thorough were both Portia’s confusion and her concern that she would have been only too happy to put everything else out of her mind and concentrate entirely on the next and most important stage of her social debut, that of being presented to the Queen at a private Drawing Room at Buckingham Palace. Without her knowing it, however, and before that could happen, Portia’s life was about to suffer yet another interruption, this one as far as Portia was concerned a very major one, the first news of such tidings coming in a letter from a firm of lawyers housed in Gray’s Inn who requested a meeting with Miss Tatiana Tradescant and her niece Miss Portia Tradescant at both ladies’ earliest possible convenience.
* * *
‘It is a somewhat unusual bequest,’ Mr Feverfew informed them when Aunt Tattie and Portia had arrived at his firm’s offices the following morning. ‘Unusual that is in that the trust fund stands until the recipients are come of age, yet the specific instruction is for them both to be informed of the existence of the bequest when reaching the age of eighteen. The reason you were not informed precisely on the anniversary of your birth date, Miss Tradescant, was I regret to say an adminstrative error made by this office. For some reason your birth date was annotated incorrectly on our records, and it was only when one of the partners was reviewing the instructions that quite by chance he noticed the contradiction in the two dates. I do hope you will forgive this inexcusable lapse, and I sincerely hope it will do nothing to spoil the breaking of such good news.’
‘I knew nothing of such a thing,’ Aunt Tattie said for the third time since she had learned of her niece’s good fortune, and once again Mr Feverfew shook his head as if he could not understand how this could possibly be so.
‘I do assure you, Miss Tradescant,’ he began, only to be saved the repetition by Aunt Tattie’s holding up one gloved hand.
‘Yes of course, Mr Feverfew, I well understand your own diligence,’ she said. ‘Alas this is a lack of mine, but then I really hardly ever read letters, particularly of a business nature. I have no head for it, d’you see? My brother always dealt with any of our correspondence which pertained to business matters, and now that for reasons of ill health he has gone to live abroad I am only just coming around to the practice of opening letters addressed to me.’
‘Would that mean that Uncle Lampard would have known about my inheritance?’ Portia said. ‘If as Mr Feverfew says he wrote about the matter to you both shortly after Mamma died and her wishes became known, then Uncle Lampard would have known all the time.’
‘Yes, Miss Tradescant,’ the lawyer agreed, carefully smoothing back the few hairs he had left on his shiny pate with the palm of one hand. ‘Indeed your uncle would have had full knowledge of this matter some time ago, but then he had to give an undertaking not to discuss it with you until either I myself or one of my partners had broken the news. Such were your mother’s wishes. It seems she designed her legacy in this fashion so that you and your brother should both know your worth in advance of coming of age. In the case of yourself your late mother considered it most important lest you felt it incumbent upon you to make a good marriage in terms of financial security, shall we say? Rather than a marriage you might want to make for other more traditionally romantic reasons. Particularly in the event of anything’s happening to either of your guardians which thank the Lord it has not.’
‘I see,’ Portia said, still quite unable to believe the news she had just heard, particularly in view of the fact that she had somehow imagined that their visit to the lawyers was to do with Uncle Lampard and his somewhat hasty departure from England.
If it was really indeed true and she had as much independence as Mr Feverfew had hinted then after the Season was over she could perhaps begin to set about buying herself first a good-sized yacht in which she would gain the experience necessary to stand her in good stead when it came to finding and crewing the proper craft to take her on her longed-for, still dreamt-of sea travels. ‘Then am I right in supposing, Mr Feverfew, that besides yourself and your partners no-one else knows of my fortune?’
‘No-one else outside the family is aware of it other than your absent father of course, no, Miss Tradescant,’ the lawyer replied. ‘Neither will your brother Edward be told of his bequest until he too has reached eighteen. No no, you may rest assured that no-one else knows of your inheritance besides ourselves and of course your other trustee, Lady Medlar.’
Both Portia and her aunt sat in silence for a long while before their carria
ge began the return journey to Curzon Street. Portia knew that they must both be thinking the self-same thought, namely that if Augustine Medlar knew of Portia’s really very substantial inheritance then so too would a great many other people.
‘Yes,’ Portia finally said as their carriage approached Ludgate Circus. ‘Well, that would explain a great deal about the attentions one has been attracting among the young bloods, one must suppose, do you not agree, Aunt Tattie?’
‘Oh, such as?’ Aunt Tattie replied dismissively. ‘If you are thinking what I think you are thinking you can put such silly ideas quite from your head. The reason you are proving so popular is entirely due to yourself and your character and intelligence, dearest, and has nothing whatsoever to do with some rumour of an inheritance.’
Portia stared out of the carriage window at the suddenly grey afternoon and thought that it was in truth a lesson in humility, for she had indeed believed as her aunt would have her believe, that in fact her popularity was based on something other than a rumoured inheritance. That belief would now appear to have been a totally mistaken one and had she not been carried away by all the excitement she should have suspected as much, since in her heart of hearts she knew she was no beauty. As she came to remember it her popularity at all the balls had in fact taken her quite by surprise, but now, however, she knew the reason for it.
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