Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall

by Luccia Gray

  “Perhaps Mrs. Mason is tired.”

  He watched me carefully and waited for my answer before approaching the bench.

  “I would very much like to hear about your new life at sea, Lieutenant.”

  He sat down beside Nell.

  “Well, there’s a lot to do on a frigate every day. We have to keep watch, reef the sails, knot and splice ropes, clean the decks, plan navigation, and steer the ship. Some of the sailors fish, others cook, and in the evenings we all play games of dice and cards.”

  Nell started coughing. “Nell darling, you’re coughing again. Thank goodness Dr. Carter will be coming this morning. Make sure he sees to your cough. Why don’t you go down to the kitchen? Have some warm milk and some of Cook’s delicious jam biscuits.”

  She jumped up. “Shall I tell her to bring you some tea, Mrs. Mason?”

  “No, thank you, Nell, not now. Perhaps when we go back inside. Take this letter and leave it on my desk in the library.”

  We watched her rush off and turned to each other awkwardly, neither of us daring to break the tense silence. Eventually, Michael stood and extended his elbow. “Would you like to go for a walk, Mrs. Mason?”

  I stood and slipped my hand through his arm. “Thank you, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick.”

  “I preferred it when you called me Michael.”

  “So did I, but you are not my valet anymore, are you?”

  “I am not your valet, but I will always be your servant, and you my mistress.”

  I blushed and tripped on a branch. He gripped my arm and pulled me closer. I felt comfortable walking alongside his tall, sturdy figure. “Shall we walk to the brooklet?” I asked and he nodded.

  “I had a bridge built and some benches installed last summer. It is such a lovely place to sit and listen to the water.”

  We walked on in silence, feeling the leaves and twigs crunch beneath our feet and smelling the damp, chill air. I was feeling warm and tranquil, as I used to feel by his side.

  “I missed Eyre Hall while I was at sea,” he told me when we sat on the bench. “I longed to see a tree, some grass, a leaf, a twig even.”

  “I have never travelled by boat. I cannot imagine what it is like. Tell me the truth, not what you told Nell.”

  He sighed. “A frigate is big, dirty and smelly. However much it is cleaned, and the decks are scrubbed every day, the smell of coal and tar is always present. There are vicious hungry rats who seem to thrive on arsenic, food is often infested with maggots, and there are plenty of dangerous criminals aboard, but they’re whipped into submission soon enough. Men die on board frequently, because the surgeon will not waste his time or his medicine on drunkards who have brawled. When there are storms, our ship is shaken like a pebble in the stream, and more men are lost. Their mutilated bodies are buried at sea. It is sometimes hell on Earth.”

  I stared at him in dismay, but he smiled. “Other times, it is a quiet and peaceful island in the middle of a vast ocean, where there is plenty of time to reflect on life’s mysteries and wonders.”

  The tinkling of the stream and the chirping of the birds filled some peaceful moments. It was my turn to break the silence this time. “I wish time would stop and we could just sit and watch life go by, like the water.” I sighed. “I was heartless and inconsiderate in our last conversation. I never gave a thought to where you had been or how you had fared. I am still trying to understand your reasons for leaving. In any case, I am very proud of you, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick. ”

  “Would you call me Michael?”

  I hesitated.

  “Only when we are alone,” he added at once.

  “Of course, if you call me Jane again, when we are alone. I wish we could always be alone, just Jane and Michael.”

  He pulled his arm across my back and held my shoulder, and I leant my head on his chest. I heard his heart beat, as I had done many times before, and closed my eyes. I was lost again, but this time I would not struggle against my feelings, or regret the passing of time. Lord Tennyson’s lines came to my mind: “‘I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all.’”

  “You never lost me, Jane. You were always in my thoughts. Look where I carried you.”

  He pulled something out of his inner pocket and slipped it into my hand. “You gave me your heart, remember? I was selfish, so I took it with me. Do you want it back?”

  I looked at the red button I had given him, and then closed my hand around it tightly and shivered. No wonder I could not forget him. He had indeed taken my heart with him.

  “You’re cold.” He took off his cape and wrapped it over my shawl. It was warm and heavy and smelt like home and safety, and something else that made my head feel light. I turned up to his face and he lowered his lips to mine, brushing them softly, waiting for permission to kiss me, but I moved away, back to his chest where I buried my tears.

  “Please forgive me, Jane. I behaved in a cowardly and disrespectful way to the most generous person I have ever met. I love you. I never stopped loving you.”

  I put my arms around him, turned back to his face, and let him kiss me the way he used to, the way I needed him to, making my mind oblivious to anything else except his warmth.

  He broke away too soon. “Perhaps we should go back to the house. They will be wondering where we are. Did you find Mrs. Banks’ letter?”

  “Yes, I did. Are you sure about going to London, Michael?”

  “Of course I am. I promise that if Helen is alive, I shall find her, and I have a feeling she is alive, Jane, don’t you?”

  “I am afraid to hope. I don’t know if I can bear to hear you tell me she’s dead.”

  We walked back, arms entwined. I stopped to look at him. “Michael, I wonder if you are wasting your time loving me. You should find a nice young girl to marry.”

  “I shall never love anyone else. I shall wait for you, Jane. I shall wait until you are ready or until you are free again. However long it takes, I shall wait.”

  He had to know. “Michael, Dr. Carter told me I would have no more children after the last miscarriage.”

  “If you think I care about that, you are wrong. I have no wish to have children, unless you wish to.”

  “But you are a young man, Michael, you…”

  “I will obey all your commands except one. Do not ask me not to love you, because that is not possible.”

  As we approached the house, we broke away from each other. I returned his cape. “Could I have my button back, please?” he asked.

  I rubbed it with my thumb. “Of course you can. When you come back from London.”

  We sat by the hearth in the library as he read the letter repeatedly with a furrowed brow.

  Dear Mrs. Rochester,

  In order to save you an unnecessary journey all the way down to London, to visit our humble abode, I would like to offer you the unfortunate information I have regarding the child you asked about in your letter.

  The baby girl arrived in London with a wet nurse and a letter from my brother–in–law asking me to find a suitable family, as she belonged to an unmarried lady whose family wished to avoid a scandal.

  I used to receive many such children for whom my husband and I found suitable, well–accommodated families who desired a child. We are no longer engaged in this unhappy business.

  Unfortunately, on the occasion you enquire about, the child died shortly after arriving. She was not suited to city life and contracted whooping cough. We brought in a doctor, but to no avail. She was not the only one. Several babies perished that week. It was a sad event for us and for the families who were expecting the babies. I will never forget it.

  I never mentioned the death to my brother–in–law because he never asked. I had supposed that the wet nurse might have informed him on her return. In any case, we have never seen each other again due to a family dispute. Sad as it is, the rift cannot be repaired. I never wish to see Dr. Carter or any
of his family again.

  I regret not being able to offer you better news, madam, but I am sure the little angel is in heaven, looking after her poor unfortunate mother, whoever she may be.

  Yours,

  Mrs. Emily Banks.

  “What is the matter, Michael?”

  “I am not sure why, but there is something that bothers me.”

  “What is it?”

  He was silent, avoiding eye contact. “Michael, tell me.”

  He sighed and stroked my face. “I promise I will find Helen. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, and I should be back by Twelfth Night.”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Mason,” Simon stood at the door. “Dr. Carter has arrived. He is with Nell, madam. What time would you like me to serve lunch?”

  “As soon as Doctor Carter is ready. Dr. Carter and Lieutenant Kirkpatrick will be staying for lunch too, Simon.”

  He nodded. “Yes, madam,” he said, and left.

  “Perhaps I should leave, Jane.”

  “Please stay, Michael. I want to speak to Dante, Annette, and Susan; you should be present, too. I would also like you to meet young Dr. Carter. You will like him. He is most unlike his father.”

  ***

  Chapter X – Saint Stephen’s Day Lunch

  I was surprised to see my brother walk into the dining room with Mrs. Mason and another young man I had never met.

  “I have asked Lieutenant Kirkpatrick and Dr. Carter to stay to lunch. I hope you don’t mind. Lieutenant Kirkpatrick is Susan’s only relative. I would like to introduce you to the young Dr. Carter, son of the late Dr. Carter with whom you were all acquainted. I hope you will all feel safe and at ease in his presence. Our conversations today are confidential. I trust Dr. Carter, completely. He has saved my life, more than once so far.”

  “I was glad to be of service and do my job, Mrs. Mason. I am very pleased to meet you all, except Miss Mason whom I have already had the pleasure of meeting.”

  We all shook hands and exchanged pleasantries before sitting down to the meal, which was served by Simon and Beth.

  When we finished Cook’s delicious mushroom soup, Jane said we could start the discussion before the roast pheasant was brought up.

  “Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, would you like to address Mr. Greenwood?”

  “I would like to ask Mr. Dante Greenwood about his intentions regarding my sister.”

  “Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, I am honoured and delighted to make your acquaintance at last, although I almost feel I know you. Susan has spoken so much and so highly of you. I would like to ask you, as her only male relative, for permission to marry Susan as soon as possible.”

  “I have no objections if Susan agrees.”

  All eyes faced me and I suddenly felt uncomfortable and ashamed of my condition. “I would very much like to be married to Dante Greenwood.”

  “Have you any objection, Annette?” asked Jane, and my heart skipped a beat.

  “I wish Susan and Dante a blessed union and happiness.” She looked at us both smugly, as if she had given us permission to marry. I looked at her exquisite face, her thick ebony hair and perfect ivory skin, her rich satin robe that covered her slender figure, and her lavish, colourful jewellery, which highlighted her wealth and beauty. I wondered if Dante would have married me if I were not with child. I had nothing to offer, save my baby. All the good looks had gone to Michael. I was shorter and slighter. My mousey brown hair and sallow skin were unremarkable, and my clothes were plain.

  I was sitting on Jane’s right with my hands firmly on my lap. She moved towards me, clasping my hands and said, “Congratulations, Susan. This must be a very happy moment for you.” Then she turned to Dante. “And you Dante, are a very lucky man. I hope you will be an honest and caring husband.”

  “I will strive to make Susan the happiest wife in England, Mrs. Mason.”

  Simon served the carved pheasant and we passed around the gravy boat with rich brown sauce, which was Cook’s speciality. Beth served the carrots, peas and beans in butter sauce. It was indeed a feast, and I was feeling unusually hungry. We all dug into the meal and silence ensued. Michael was sitting at the end of the table facing Mrs. Mason. He looked so handsome in his navy blue uniform, epaulettes and buttons glittering across the table. The deceitful Mrs. Mason could not keep her eyes off my youthful, fine–looking brother. I hoped he would not fall under her spell again, but it seemed inevitable.

  “Simon, please tell Cook that the pheasant was delicious and wait a few minutes before you bring up the apple pie.”

  Jane addressed my betrothed. “Dante, may I ask you where you plan to live and how you plan to keep your new family?”

  “We would like to move to London. I have a house I inherited from my mother, in Camberwell, although my father refuses to accept my grandfather’s legacy, but I am determined to approach him and claim my birthright. I have sent a collection of paintings to the Royal Academy in the hope that they will be exhibited. I would wish for an apprenticeship.”

  “That sounds like a very good idea, Dante. My editor, Mr. Spencer, is a member of the Arts Club, which has some influence with The Royal Academy's governing council. I shall make sure he is informed of our support for your application.”

  “I am honoured, Mrs. Mason. Thank you.”

  The apple pie was so delicious that I had two helpings with hot creamy custard. I wondered dismally how I would manage my household with a meagre income and hardly any knowledge of cooking or housekeeping.

  “Do you think I could work in London, Mrs. Mason?” I asked.

  “I should think you will have enough work looking after your new house and family on your own, Susan. You may not be able to employ any servants at first, unless Adele and Mr. Greenwood could offer you one of their maids, at least a few days a week.”

  She must have noticed my distress, because she quickly added, “Don’t worry, Susan. I have no doubt Adele will be of great assistance to you, once she overcomes the initial surprise. A grandchild is such a cherished addition to any family. Mr. Greenwood will eventually be impatient to dote on his grandson or granddaughter, I am sure.”

  After lunch, Mrs. Mason asked us to continue our conversation in the drawing room. Simon served brandy to the men and Madeira to the ladies, and we all sat around the fireplace.

  “We are very fortunate to have you here on the Rochester Estate, Dr. Carter. Are you employed by any medical institution?” asked Annette.

  “I have some private patients to whom I make house calls, and on Mondays I have a small private surgery in Hay, where local villagers pay a small fee, if they can afford it. I am also Assistant Physician at Millcote Hospital two days a week.”

  “Would you like to stay in the area?”

  “I cannot leave my mother alone at Ferndean, the manor house Mrs. Mason so generously leased to my father, but in the future, I may move back to London to practice at a large hospital.”

  “Would you not like to make your living in this area?” Annette seemed unusually curious.

  “Initially, I returned to help my mother look after my father who passed away last winter. I have taken over many of his patients, but not all. It is not always easy to persuade patients of new methods. My father was a great believer in the virtues of mercury, opiates, leeching, and liquid diets, for example, and my methods, as Mrs. Mason is aware, are more modern. Some patients are adverse to my suggestions and prefer other practitioners, some of whom are often unlicensed.”

  “Did you not agree with your father’s methods, Dr. Carter?” I asked.

  “My father was a respectable and hard–working doctor all his life, Miss Kirkpatrick. He had been apprenticed to an apothecary, thus his belief in the power of drugs in curing disease. He nevertheless instilled in me a love of biology and an interest in science, and I was fortunate enough to have started my medical education at Oxford, although I moved to London to complete my studies at St. Thomas’s Hospital Medical School. When I was awarded my licence, I had the privilege of workin
g as dresser to Dr. Jansen, a reputable surgeon at the hospital.”

  “Are doctors at the hospital in Millcote not as well trained as Dr. Jansen?” asked Annette.

  “Dr. Jansen has worked extensively in France. Parisian hospitals are the most modern in the world, mainly due to post–mortem examinations of diseased patients. Many physicians in Britain are opposed to these kinds of practices because they are considered sacrilegious, however, nowadays corpses are legally available for dissection.”

  “Surely it cannot be considered Christian, although it is legal, Dr. Carter? Our bodies are sacred, even after death. They belong to our Lord.” I was unable to accept any justification for the mutilation of a Christian body.

  “I believe our Lord would like to help doctors save as many patients as possible. Medical professionals respectfully carry out post–mortem examinations, and the bodies are later buried, as their families would wish. I assure you as a man of science, Miss Kirkpatrick, that it is the only way to understand disease and pave the way to find new remedies, which will help those who are still alive. If we are to convert hospitals from places of dying to places of healing, we must investigate with human bodies.”

  “I am in favour of your more modern methods, Dr. Carter,” said Mrs. Mason. “I have experienced myself how rest and four square meals a day are better than opiates and liquid diets. I was never in favour of leeching, although your father often carried out this practice on Mr. Rochester. I am sure our Lord would not be adverse to doctors respectfully dissecting corpses, which will later be buried. We are indeed fortunate to have Dr. Carter practising in this area.”

  “Although I am now working as a general practitioner, my aim is to specialise in one area of medicine.”

  “Which area would you like to specialise in, Dr. Carter?” Mrs. Mason asked.

  “I am interested in two areas of specialisation; forensics and obstetrics.”

  “Please tell us why.”

  “Obstetrics because I should like to contribute to the reduction in childbirth mortality of both children and mothers, which is too high in our country. On the other hand, while I was at St. Thomas’ an unfortunate criminal investigation took place, with the intervention of forensics from Scotland Yard. It was a fascinating experience.”