by Helen Magee
It was a pleasant enough game if a little childish, but it gave me the opportunity to observe these people who were, except for Charles, strangers to me. There was much hilarity as Charles refused to take it seriously and insisted that ‘Araminta’ meant ‘manly’ and was then quite delighted when told that that was what ‘Charles’ meant. I remember thinking that Alison’s name was appropriate enough.
‘Noble,’ said Araminta, ‘or kind, except that I don’t know if it’s one or the other or both.’
‘Oh, Araminta,’ said Alison smiling, and I decided that it was probably both.
I was to find during my time at Dryford that it was a constant cry – ‘Oh, Araminta!’
‘Felicia means ‘happy’,’ said Douglas from his corner by the fire.
‘Why how clever,’ said Araminta. ‘How did you know that, Douglas?’
Douglas smiled gently, ‘The benefits of a classical education,’ he said.
Araminta shook her head.
‘At school we had to guess and guess before we got any right.’
Charles touched my hand. ‘Let’s go and see the Keep before it gets too dark,’ he said softly.
I nodded. ‘I’d like to do that,’ I said and we rose to go. He turned at the door.
‘By the way, what does ‘Lachlan’ mean?’
‘Warlike,’ said Araminta with a grimace.
Charles laughed. ‘I might have known.’
And so I had my first sight of Keep Dryford against the setting sun and it never looked more beautiful. Standing there, Charles took my hand and slipped it through his arm.
‘Does it measure up to your expectations?’
‘It’s wonderful,’ I said. ‘How fortunate you are to live here.’
‘Even more fortunate now that you’re here,’ he said softly. I turned to him and out of the corner of my eye caught the glow of a cigar.
‘I hate to interrupt, but when you’re ready, Miss Grainger,’ said Lachlan Grant, as he turned and walked back towards the house.
He was waiting for me in the library, standing by the window which gave onto the lawns. It was not yet entirely dark and there was no light in the room apart from the soft twilight which seemed to linger so much longer here than in the South. He turned as I entered.
‘Please, Miss Grainger, be seated.’
I sat but he did not. He seemed to be having some difficulty over what he wanted to say. He picked up a heavy paperweight from the desk and regarded it thoughtfully.
‘I believe you have already met my son.’
I assented.
‘What did you think of him?’
I hesitated, somewhat taken aback by his directness. How could I say ‘I did not know your son was blind’?
‘Our meeting was brief,’ I said, ‘but I found him extremely polite and seemingly mature for his years.’
He fingered the paperweight.
‘Seemingly mature,’ he repeated and the emphasis was on the first word. Then he put the paperweight back on the desk with great deliberation and thrust his hands deep in his pockets, turning away from me as he did so.
‘You too are very polite. Miss Grainger. The truth is my son is not like normal children and has not been so for over a year now and
I do not refer merely to his blindness.’
He turned to me almost accusingly.
‘You will have heard of the accident?’ His voice had the faint burr of the Scot and was oddly clear. I found myself hesitating again.
‘Araminta did say . . . ’ I began.
He turned sharply away once again.
‘In that case perhaps it would be better if I told you the story. My ward is apt to be inaccurate as well as over-dramatic’
I smiled to myself as I thought of Araminta’s extravagance of speech but he was speaking again, his voice matter-of-fact to the point of remoteness.
‘Until a year ago my son was as normal children, happy, carefree, mischievous. He was no saint but neither was he the withdrawn and ‘seemingly mature’ child that you saw today.’ His voice dwelt on my words. ‘At the time of the accident he was staying at my wife’s family home in the North of Italy. She was in the habit of making yearly visits home but this was the first time Alexander had accompanied her. My wife, her sister and Alexander went on a picnic. It was a beautiful day and Alexander and his aunt had tethered their horses. My wife was about to dismount. Alexander had run down to the lakeside as children will. Vida was a very fine rider and her mount was a spirited animal.’ He was speaking now as if in a dream, looking out of the window as if it were all happening there in the gathering dusk. ‘There was a shot, someone on the lake after geese. The horse bolted, became uncontrollable and Alexander saw his aunt crushed to death beneath the hooves of her sister’s horse.’
There was silence in the room. It was almost dark now and I struggled to find words to express my sorrow while in my mind I could see the scene; the bright day, the picnic tea laid out on the grass and the rearing, frightened animal, its hooves flailing above the body of a young woman while the child watched from the lakeside. But Alexander was blind. Lachlan was speaking again quietly in the darkness.
‘Alexander was in shock for days. The shooting party heard his screams from across the lake and got there as quickly as they could but it took some time. The hunters spoke no English. They found him alone with the body. The horse had bolted. It was some time before it could be brought under control. Both rider and horse were found some time later wandering lost in the hills. Alexander was taken to my wife’s family home. He was in such distress that it was only when the doctor arrived that they found out he was blind. There is no medical reason for it. He suffered no injury, no physical injury that is. The doctors say that his blindness is a direct result of the shock. There is nothing wrong with his eyes. He merely does not want to see. It is not usual but I am assured that such cases have been known. He may recover spontaneously, he may not. In any case there is nothing to be done. So you see, Miss Grainger, why Alexander is not like other children?’
I could not speak. There seemed nothing to say. He had turned towards me again but the room was in darkness now and his face was only a pale blur.
‘But surely when his mother returns . . . ’
He interrupted me smoothly.
‘Alexander has not spoken to his mother except by way of polite conversation since that day.’
I gasped. ‘But he cannot blame her?’
‘Nevertheless that is how the matter stands. There have been other governesses in the past year, Miss Grainger, but none have stayed longer than a few weeks. The longest I recall was three months.’ Lachlan sounded bitter, as well he might, as he continued, ‘That is why I have asked you to see me this evening. Had I had the opportunity of interviewing you myself I would of course have explained the circumstances to you. As it is you are quite free to decline the position if you so wish. It is not the best situation for a young person in her first post as governess. My brother is apt to be somewhat hasty in his actions and if you do not feel up to the task no doubt he will wish you to stay on for a few weeks as his guest. You are, I understand, a friend of his?’
It was on the tip of my tongue to explain to him what I believed to be the truth about my appointment as governess but I did not judge it to be the right time. It seemed just at that moment to be supremely unimportant. All I could think of was the poor unhappy child and the horror he had experienced.
‘I shall be glad to stay as governess,’ I heard myself say, ‘and I assure you I shall do everything in my power to make Alexander forget that tragic day.’
I could not see his face, standing as he was with his back to the faint light from the window, but I sensed a new warmth in his voice as he said,
‘I believe you will, Miss Grainger, and I hope you succeed. I very much fear that it is a friend that Alexander needs more than a governess.’
I rose to take my leave but his voice stayed me.
‘One thing you should know
, Miss Grainger. Alexander has never spoken of the events of that day. The doctors think that it is quite possible he remembers nothing of it, that he has closed his mind to what happened that day just as he has closed his eyes to the world around him.’
‘I understand,’ I said, ‘and I repeat that I will do my best for Alexander.’
He nodded his dismissal and I left him in the darkness, looking out on the moonlit garden.
It was a long time before I could sleep that night, my emotions were aroused to such a pitch. One moment I was furious with Charles for not telling me the truth about my charge, the next I was overcome with pity for the child; and under it all lay the feeling that I had come to a house of secrets. Charles who in his charming insouciance had already deceived me on two counts; Araminta who could be so amusing and yet so uncaring; Lachlan Grant who had seemed so cold and remote even when speaking of his little son. The faces whirled across my mind like dancers in a tableau but it was not of any of these that I dreamed when eventually I fell asleep. Instead the faces I saw were those of Dorcas, her bright eyes burning into mine, and a shadowy figure that I knew was Vida though the face was Alison Sutherland’s.
3
I found Alexander in the schoolroom next morning at ten o’clock as he had promised I should. I was nervous of my ability to teach a blind child and I think he sensed this for, going towards a cupboard, he began to pull out some large heavy looking books. I moved to help him but he said clearly enough,
‘Please do not trouble, I can manage. You will find that I manage very well in the circumstances.’
He put the books on the table, saying as he did so,
‘These are my school books. They are in Braille. Do you know about Braille?’
I found myself answering him as I would have done an adult. He really did have a very mature manner.
‘I have heard of it of course, but I have never seen a Braille book.’
He continued to speak as he lugged the books one by one out of the cupboard and piled them on the table. I was surprised at the confidence of his movements.
‘It was invented by a blind Frenchman called Louis Braille,’ he said, ‘about fifty years ago. The Braille alphabet consists of one to five raised dots embossed in the paper and arranged differently for different letters.’ He paused, momentarily out of breath.
‘It seems, Miss Grainger, that I shall have something to teach you.’
He sounded so like his father that I smiled and then remembered that he could not see me so I put out my hand and covered his. He did not move his hand away, nor did he make any sign that he had noticed the gesture.
‘I hope we shall have a great deal to teach each other,’ I said.
He nodded but went on as if I had not spoken.
‘Father has had my school books printed in Braille for me but you can use the ordinary text books at the same time. I also have some story books in Braille. Perhaps I shall read you a story from them one day.’
I was made to feel that it would be a signal honour if he ever did.
That first morning in the schoolroom was more of a lesson for me than for him. I learned the Braille alphabet though I was unable to read as he did with his fingers. I found that it required a degree of sensitivity that I did not possess. I also discovered just how capable Alexander was. Not only was he an intelligent boy but he seemed to have overcome his handicap to a remarkable degree. Seeing him move around the schoolroom one would not have thought him blind, and I told myself that he must know the layout of the schoolroom very well. I was to find, however, that he moved just as confidently through every part of the house. It was only when I looked at his eyes, at the emptiness there, that I knew for certain that he could not see. I also was to discover what a retentive memory he had for the spoken word. Touch, hearing, all his other senses seemed to be heightened as if to compensate for his blindness. I discovered how sensitive his hearing was when he looked up and said,
‘We have a visitor.’
It was some moments before I heard the footsteps on the stairs and I stood up as Lachlan Grant came in. He smiled at his son though he did not touch him and before he spoke Alexander said,
‘Good morning, Father,’ and his smile was a transformation. Gone was the small adult and in its place an eight-year-old boy at a schoolroom table. I found myself wishing he would smile like that for me.
‘Good morning, Alexander,’ said his father, ‘I hope you are being helpful to your new governess.’
The smile disappeared and at once Alexander’s face resumed its accustomed gravity. He did not speak.
‘Alexander has been showing me his Braille books.’ I said. ‘I find them fascinating.’
‘Not daunting?’ There was a hint of a smile in his eyes and I smiled in return,
‘A little perhaps and I’m afraid I shall never be able to read from them. But interesting nonetheless.’
‘Then I hope that you continue to find it interesting, Miss Grainger. Older women than you have found the task too great. Is that not true, Alexander?’
The boy still said nothing and his father continued,
‘But perhaps Miss Grainger is different?’
Alexander raised his head and appeared to stare out of the window. It was uncanny how difficult it was at times to believe he was blind.
‘We shall see,’ he said.
I was left to wonder why those other governesses had indeed left. Was it because the duties were so difficult or the child so remote, or was it as Araminta had said and they fell victim to the charms of Charles or his brother? Looking at him I could not imagine anyone falling in love with Lachlan Grant. Oh, he was handsome enough but there was a coldness about him that I found unattractive. My feelings for Charles I put from my mind for the moment. I was recalled to myself by my employer’s voice. He asked if I had everything I needed to which I replied that I found the schoolroom extremely well-equipped and after some discussion of Alexander’s hours of work and leisure he left with a brief word to his son which again produced that brilliant and fleeting smile.
The rest of the morning passed without incident and though I could not pretend that I had made any great progress with my charge I was not entirely dissatisfied with my morning’s work. Alexander was to lunch with his father that day and I arranged to meet him in the rose garden after the rest that Dorcas insisted on him taking in the early afternoon. After a solitary luncheon in my sitting room I went in search of Charles. I found him in the library poring over some papers and looking unutterably bored.
‘Felicia!’ he cried, his face lighting up. ‘Have you come to take me away from all this?’ And he indicated a jumbled mass of papers on the desk and ran a hand through his hair as he did so.
I smiled in spite of myself. ‘All what?’ I asked.
‘This,’ he said and swept his arm in an arc over the papers dislodging a pile of them so that they floated to the floor like leaves in autumn. He groaned and sank back in his chair whilst I began to pick them up.
‘What are they?’ I said, glancing through them as I did so.
‘They are millstones round my neck,’ he said solemnly and I laughed.
‘Accounts,’ he continued, ‘receipts, estate papers, I don’t know. All I know is I have to get them in some kind of order for Lachlan. Don’t you feel sorry for me?’ He got up and started to walk towards me, his face a picture of misery. I suddenly saw exactly how he must have looked as a small boy.
‘If they are duties then they must be done,’ I said.
He staggered back in mock amazement.
‘Spoken like a true governess. Oh, Felicia, beautiful Felicia, have I brought you here only to turn you into a dull school marm? Say it is not true.’
He reached for my hands but I avoided him. ‘If it were it would be no more than you deserve,’ I said.
He looked so forlorn that I relented.
‘Oh, come along,’ I said, ‘we’ll get them sorted out.’
It took the best part of an hour to
sort the papers into their various groupings and enter the relevant figures in the ledger, and by the time we’d finished Charles was looking at me in admiration.
‘You are the most extraordinary person,’ he said, ‘I had no idea you were such a business-woman.’
‘I’ve always had a head for figures,’ I said, ‘and I enjoy organising things.’
‘Better and better,’ he said. ‘From now on you can be my assistant.’
I looked at him severely and he immediately became woeful.
‘I’m no good at it. I can calculate odds with no trouble at all but when it comes to rows of figures and accounts . . . ’
I shook my head in despair.
‘I don’t understand why you’re doing it,’ I said. ‘You don’t seem to be the type to be handling things like this.’
He got up and strode towards the window, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets.
‘Because Lachlan says I must,’ he said, ‘and in this house what Lachlan says is law.’
He sounded unlike himself, bitter, and I went on, ‘But why must you do as he says?’
He ruffled his hair once more and when he turned back he was his old self again.
‘Because Lachlan holds the purse-strings,’ he said, ‘and all you see around you is his. I am only the poor relation.’
I was puzzled. ‘But you are his brother.’
‘His half brother,’ he corrected me, coming closer.
‘But surely . . . ’ I began.
‘Oh, it is all too complicated,’ he said, ‘dull legal business about entails and suchlike. I don’t understand it myself. All I know is that I am dependent on him and must work for my keep.’
I was indignant.
‘But surely, Charles, it is most unbusinesslike of you not to know or even care about your position. It does not seem possible that one brother can have all this and the other nothing.’
He was standing over me and his eyes were smiling into mine.
‘But I am not in the least businesslike, am I Felicia, or I would not have abducted you and brought you home with me? Do you mind so much that I have not a penny in the world?’