Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall

by Luccia Gray

  “Interesting theory, but I can’t think right now. I need to rest. I wish I could go to sleep and wake up in six months’ time.”

  “I’m afraid that if you don’t do anything about it except sleep, when you wake up, the problem will still be there waiting for you, probably having increased in proportion.”

  She smiled. “You are right, of course.”

  “I do not think, if I may say so, that Phoebe is the right person for John.”

  “Perhaps you are right. Elizabeth was so perfect, but Phoebe, well, she is a spoilt child; her parents were too busy making Elizabeth into the perfect daughter to pay much attention to her younger sister, and perhaps, she ran wild. Now she is getting all the attention she never had, she is too immature, and John is unhappy. I can see that. He has been unhappy since his father died. So unsettled and distant. He was never like that before. What can I do?”

  “Ask him what the matter is. You may not like what he has to say, but at least you will know.”

  “Annette, where does your wisdom come from?”

  “My father, obviously. My poor mother was very unwise. Although the sisters at the convent were wonderful teachers; I miss them dearly.”

  “Perhaps you could return to Jamaica to visit them?”

  “I should very much like to return to Jamaica, one day.”

  ***

  Chapter VIII – Captain Carrington’s Advice

  Michael slipped out of the drawing room shortly after dinner, and a good while later, Mrs. Mason followed suit. Adele, Mr. Greenwood and Dante retired, making excuses related to Miss Adele’s headache, and the admiral and his wife wished us goodnight, too. Not long afterwards, a storm struck Eyre Hall. Mr. Mason, who was drunk, dashed out of the room. When he returned, making improper comments about his extraordinary wife, Master John stormed off with the stunning Miss Mason at his heels. Phoebe rushed out after her almost betrothed while her ridiculous sister waited excitedly for Michael’s return, brazenly telling us how he had enraptured her with his navy uniform and good looks. Master John returned with Phoebe, looking mad as a dog with rabies, and Mrs. Carrington wisely complained of tiredness, so we returned to the inn.

  I waited for Michael at the bar. He greeted me glumly and wished me good night, but I was not letting him off that easily.

  “Just a moment, Kirkpatrick. I want a word with you.”

  He hesitated, “I’m tired, Captain.”

  “Stay, Kirkpatrick. Have a brandy with me. I hate to drink alone.”

  Michael nodded. “Very well, sir.”

  “Good. Let us sit here, by the fireplace, and don’t you dare get up to poke it. You are not a servant any more. Next time you go to Eyre Hall, do not behave like a valet. Remember you are a lieutenant of Her Majesty’s Navy. Do not forget that. Do not poke the fire or offer anyone a drink.”

  “I was a servant at Eyre Hall for many years.”

  “You’re not a servant anymore, nor will you ever be one again. Is that understood?”

  Kirkpatrick looked like a broken man, instead of an admired naval officer.

  “Yes, sir. It is hard for me to be there, to see her, to watch him touch her. I thought I could be near her and not be affected, but my feelings are even stronger than before.”

  He paused looking into the fire, then turned to me. “I want her back.”

  “Easy my boy, she’s a married woman, at the moment. Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

  “I challenged Mason to a duel, but he backed out.”

  “Good grief, man! You will have to control your temper. A duel could ruin your military career.”

  “I wanted to kill him.”

  “I bet you did.”

  I remembered the mutineers he had slain without hesitation in face to face combat on board. Of course that was different. It was self–defence, but if he viewed Mason as a threat he could make the mistake of killing him too, and he’d be ruined.

  “He’s not a threat, although he’s putting his dirty paws on the woman you love.”

  “He has not touched her! Theirs is a marriage of convenience.”

  “Perhaps.” I needed to make him express all his anger and channel it into a more useful weapon. “Two husbands and a young lover…”

  He jumped up and grabbed the mantel. “Be careful, Captain.”

  “Well, I can see she’s very good at doing what’s expected, and putting up a damned good show.”

  “I warn you, Captain…” He tugged at the mantel as if he intended to tear it apart. He was close to breaking down, but I thought it would do him some good to express his frustration, so I pushed him further.

  “I bet she’s had her share of men chasing her. I can easily see why; flawless complexion, porcelain neck, stunning eyes, magnificent hair, a slight waist, and slim and shapely figure. She is a beauty. I bet you have tasted her. It is driving you mad to be near her and not have her again, isn’t it? Perhaps someone else might beat you to it.”

  “I could kill you for saying that!” He turned to me with blazing eyes and fisted hands.

  “I’m sure you could, Kirkpatrick. You could kill me or anyone who stands in your way, but you had better not take that road. It will keep you away from her forever.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Mason’s old and looks pretty sick to me. I can’t see him holding up much longer.”

  “His death wouldn’t guarantee anything. She may not have feelings for me. I behaved dishonourably. In any case, John is right, I am not worthy of her.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself. She cannot keep her eyes off you.”

  “I was a heartless fool to leave her.”

  “I don’t know if she loves you. I’ve never understood women, and never will, but I am damn sure she still wants you. I could almost hear her shiver every time you spoke, and she looked at that young girl, what is her name? Claire, no Clarissa, fiercely every time she touched your arm. She is a flirt, probably an innocent flirt, at the moment, but once she has sunk her teeth in a man’s flesh, she will never have enough with one, same as the sister, Frances, no Phoebe. Do you think young Mr. Rochester will marry the filly?”

  “He will do whatever his mother asks him to do. He is devoted to her.”

  “Fascinating woman, Mrs. Mason. She seems to have many people devoted to her, and her money and power.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about women, Captain.”

  “As much as any man can know. Fifty–five years teaches a man plenty. I have had my share. Still do when I can. I love my wife, but months at sea and battles, never knowing which day may be your last, make every minute precious.”

  “Every minute I’m near Jane is precious to me because I don’t deserve it. I should not have come back to Eyre Hall. I’m trapped again and it is hopeless.” He held his head in his hands. I let him think about her for a few minutes. We drank our brandy in silence until I finally spoke.

  “Make sure she knows you still love her.”

  “She must know I love her.”

  “Women are strange creatures; they need a great deal of reassurance. Make sure she gets it.”

  “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

  “Will you be able to wait for her?”

  “I think not.”

  He could have any woman he desired, but he wanted the unattainable yet fascinating mistress of Eyre Hall, and he was crazy enough to get her.

  “Don’t do anything foolish.”

  He swallowed his brandy. I hoped he would be wise enough to control his rage.

  “So, what are you doing tomorrow when we’re in York?”

  “First I’m returning to Eyre Hall for a letter, and then I’m leaving for London. I need to do something for Jane.”

  “Good. She trusts you. Is it a difficult mission?”

  He watched the fire and shook his head. “It’s almost impossible. I must locate the whereabouts of someone who disappeared over ten years ago.”

  “Any clues?”

  “A letter a
nd an address in London where the person was last seen.”

  “Can I help?”

  “I am afraid not. It’s not a matter I am at liberty to discuss.”

  “Any malpractice involved?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Would law enforcement be of any help?”

  “Probably.”

  “My wife has a cousin who works at Scotland Yard; name is Wilson, Sergeant Stanley Wilson. They share the same grandfather, a wine merchant in Covent Garden. I’ll write you a letter for him. Use it if you need it.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Mr. Raven refilled our glasses and I asked him for a cigar. “Now, tell me about your sister.”

  “Susan says Dante is willing to marry her, but he may not be able to do so.”

  “Did you have to threaten him?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No, not at all. They are in love, and although they were too hasty, Dante is prepared to marry Susan of his own accord, but Mr. Greenwood is aiming for Miss Mason’s dowry for his son.”

  “The stunning Miss Mason, indeed. What a wild, Caribbean beauty and so tamed to polite society. I noticed she had no inclination towards young Dante. Avoided him, more like. He is too artistic for her, perhaps? A woman like that needs another type of man. I fancied her eyes fixed on fiery young John’s, who seemed to return her lustful glances.”

  “Maybe you are right. However, if Mr. Browning insists, Mrs. Mason may have to press his suit.”

  “Surely Mrs. Mason would not force Miss Mason to marry Dante against her wishes?”

  “She might have to. It could be part of the negotiation for Mr. Greenwood’s marriage to Miss Adele, which is long overdue.”

  “But Miss Adele and Mr. Greenwood are already engaged, aren’t they?”

  “Not officially. Mr. Greenwood’s finances are in need of assistance and Adele’s dowry may not be enough.”

  “Surely Mrs. Mason could make a complimentary settlement which would help Greenwood’s finances.”

  “Mrs. Mason has told me she will discuss the matter with Mr. Greenwood.”

  “What about Mr. Mason?”

  “I understand Miss Mason’s marriage is in Mrs. Mason’s hands.”

  “So, if you are successful in the matter you are to deal with in London, Mrs. Mason would be more inclined to help Susan?”

  “Not exactly. I think she will help Susan because she understands her plight, and knows that they are in love. Annette has informed me that she has no wish to marry Dante. The matter in London is something I had promised Jane I would do before I left a year ago. However, I have little hope of any satisfactory advance in the matter.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, Kirkpatrick.”

  We were silent for a long time, until the flames died down and all the customers had gone home or to their rooms. The innkeeper asked us if we wanted anything else before he retired.

  “Thank you, Mr. Raven. Another brandy. We’ll be going to our rooms shortly.”

  He poured us another round and left. We drank in silence, staring into the embers.

  “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

  Michael looked like death warmed up; dark circles under his bloodshot, lifeless eyes, hunched shoulders, and his feet dragged as he walked.

  I turned to him with my hand on his shoulder. “Tell her you love her again tomorrow.” His eyes shone and his face twisted in pain.

  “That woman loves you, Kirkpatrick, as much as you love her. Fight for her, but be patient. Mr. Mason is not a young man or a healthy man, and he has many enemies. Mark my words; she’ll be a widow again very soon, my boy.”

  I had seen men cry often in pain or in fear of death, but never for love. His eyes shone and he wiped his tears away. “I hate myself for failing her, hurting her, and not being able to protect her.”

  “Sleep on it, my boy. You’ll have her almost to yourself tomorrow; it seems we’re all leaving Eyre Hall for a few days.”

  I watched him stoop into his chamber and hoped he would regain his strength and his sight and put it to good use on the morrow, or I would have to retire as captain.

  ***

  Chapter IX – Mrs. Banks’ Letter

  I had thought I would never see Michael again. I had tried unsuccessfully to expel him from of my thoughts, but he was always there, haunting my dreams and slipping into my mind during the day. When he left Eyre Hall, I did not ask Susan where he had gone. I realised she would have told me if he had wanted me to know. I had been possessed by an irrational madness, which I imagined had been brought about by Edward’s death and the dramatic revelations, which had destroyed my tranquil existence.

  The arrival of Bertha’s daughter, Annette, Edward’s death, and the certainty of his betrayals and unforgivable removal of our daughter from my side, disrupted my mind. I was unbalanced and lost. Michael took advantage of my weakness, and when he left me, I fell to pieces. Months later, I gathered my damaged remains and understood that his departure had been a blessing in disguise.

  They had all left me. Michael was the first to go. He had rocked my mind and it was leading me to an abyss, so although his departure was a blow, it was inevitable. It was a relief when Adele and Susan journeyed to Venice, and then John resumed student life at Oxford. Thankfully, Richard returned to Jamaica, and Annette moved to Brussels, but the last person to abandon me was my unborn child who gushed from my womb with blood and entrails like a shooting star in the middle of a moonless night. I felt my own life abandon my torn body. Fortunately, when Beth found me in the morning I was still breathing, and young Dr. Carter, who had come to visit his ailing father, managed to repair part of the damage and bring me back to life.

  I was bed–bound and mindless for months. When I finally recovered my senses, everything that had happened sunk in and I fell into a brooding phase. I was alone, my life was completely out of control, and I was destined to become a sullen and bitter old maid. I hated everyone and everything around me, and I enjoyed being alone, wallowing pitifully in my anguish. The days were unending and boring, and although young Dr. Carter visited often, he refused to administer any medicine, saying I only needed rest and four square meals a day. At first I hated what I thought was his incompetence, but I soon understood that he had saved my life, twice. If he had recommended laudanum, as his father would have, I would have taken every last drop of the bottle and sunk to the bottom of the sea of misery. Instead, I gradually grew stronger.

  I realised that I had to pull myself together for John’s sake, so I started reading and writing my unfinished novel, but my eyes were sore and my mind wandered, so I asked Leah to find someone who could read to me. She told me the only person at Eyre Hall who was not busy and could read was Nell. Leah suggested she read to me instead of going to school; however I insisted that she should go to school in the mornings and read to me in the afternoons. She stumbled often at first, not having read much of the Bible before, but she was a clever girl who learnt very quickly.

  Dr. Carter saved my life, and Nell saved my soul. Her merry laughter, loquacious chatter, and patient reading pacified my spirit. She was a warm and caring companion. In spite of her age – she was not yet ten – she always seemed to know when to speak and when to listen or be quiet. She had adapted to my quiet moods, silent sadness, and restless pain.

  Today, I was in one of my dreadful moods. I was sullen and distant, ignoring her reading, but insisting on hearing her voice. She was patient and obedient, and I wished I could be kinder to her, but my mind was elsewhere. I was tormented by Michael’s return, hopelessly under his spell once more.

  Most of our visitors had left Eyre Hall. Adele and Mr. Greenwood, Diana and Charles, and Captain and Mrs. Carrington had all departed to visit York. Richard had returned to London, and Phoebe and Clarissa had been invited to stay at Lord Ingram’s estate. Annette, Susan, and Dante had remained at Eyre Hall, and I had asked them to have lunch with me so that we could discuss their quandary.

  The sun was shi
ning again, and Nell had begged to sit outside, in spite of the cold breeze. We were comfortably seated on some blankets on a marble bench, just outside the north wall. Nell was rubbing leaves with a crayon and I was reading a letter I had received from Mr. Dickens, who was visiting Millcote for a public reading of A Christmas Carol. My eye caught something sparkling in the windows, bouncing on sunrays. I wondered what it was. Shortly after, Michael appeared in his bright uniform, the gilded buttons reflecting the sun’s playful rays.

  He looked so handsome that I was speechless. Nell jumped up to greet him, shouting his name and asking too many questions.

  “Michael! Where have you been? When did you come back? Why are you wearing those clothes? Are you going to fight in the war?”

  She hugged his waist, which was as far as her arms could reach. He looked at me over her head, his jaw set, and his eyes expressionless. Then he pulled her away gently.

  “I’m an officer in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, Nell.”

  “Like Captain Wentworth or Lord Nelson?”

  He laughed and his face relaxed. “I see you have been reading Jane Austen.”

  “And The History of England, too!”

  “Well, perhaps you should know that Lord Nelson was a real admiral who died at sea defending our country, and Captain Wentworth is a fictional character.”

  She looked puzzled and he laughed again. “I suppose it’s the same to you, but believe me, reality and fiction are two different things, young lady.”

  “Is your ship like Lord Nelson’s?”

  “Yes, it’s a frigate called H.M.S. Princess Helena.”

  “Who is Princess Helena? Helen of Troy?”

  “No, she is Queen Victoria’s third daughter and fifth child.”

  “Have you met her?”

  “No, but I have seen pictures of her. She is a pretty young lady, like you.”

  She pulled him towards our bench. “Michael, sit with us and tell us about your life on board the Princess Helena.”