The Circle of Sappho

by David Lassman

  Swann turned to his two erstwhile companions.

  ‘A most satisfactory outcome to the evening, gentlemen,’ said Swann. ‘Now, let us repair to the Fountain for some well-deserved drinks.’

  George and Bridges grinned.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Leaving George and Bridges at the Fountain Inn, Swann returned to his Gay Street office. He decided to go straight to his rooms rather than return to the warehouse to remove his disguise as he did not wish to receive unwanted attention which walking back through the Avon Street district at that time of night in gentleman’s clothing would undoubtedly bring. He was not so foolhardy.

  The developments of the evening had been dramatic; not only had Lockhart’s involvement in the blackmail scheme been uncovered, but a thought had occurred to him in regard to the coded entries in the diary which had prevented him from reading any further that afternoon.

  On reaching his office he sat down, opened the diary and immediately began to copy the page out on to a piece of paper. Grace had used what Swann knew as a mono-alphabetic substitution cipher, which, despite its highly convoluted-sounding title was, in fact, one of the more basic codes. The cipher simply required each letter in the alphabet to be replaced by another; these replacements had to remain consistent throughout all the text. Therefore ‘N’ might be replaced by ‘X’, ‘A’ by ‘D’ and so on. The objective for Swann was to find which letters appeared most frequently. This would allow him to ‘break’ the code and read the remaining diary entries. He began with the top five letters, in order of their most frequently occurring, which in the English alphabet were ‘E’, ‘T’, ‘A’, ‘O’ and ‘I’. These letters would then become known as the ‘first’, ‘second’, ‘third’, ‘fourth’ and ‘fifth’. After the equivalent letters, in terms of most frequency, had been found within the coded text, they could be substituted back – for example if ‘D’ had been substituted for ‘A’, then ‘D’ would have appeared as the third most frequently appearing letter in the coded text, therefore proving itself to be equivalent to ‘A’, the ‘third’ most frequently occurring letter in the English alphabet. A table containing all the equivalent letters and their respective counterparts could then begin to be assembled. Once this table was completed, the previously unreadable entries could then easily be reverted back to English.

  It took Swann several diary pages and as many hours to complete this table of ‘equivalents’, but once finished, the entries became legible again. During the process he poured himself several glasses of red wine, all of Portuguese origin. He would have preferred to have finished the ’98 Lafite he had opened the previous night, and of which half a bottle remained, but he would have to be content with what he had, as the Lafite was at the house in Great Pulteney Street and he did not want to return there in disguise. With the war still raging and the French ban on wine, the bottles from that country he did possess were kept in the wine cellar at the house. The Portuguese wine was kept at his office for any clients who required fortification or situations such as this one.

  He decided he would read the diary entries at the office and then, at first light, return to the warehouse to remove his disguise. He had sent a message to Mary to say he would not be home that night, but would return the following morning in time to accompany her on the walk to Swainswick, to visit Mrs Gardiner’s grave.

  He lit another candle, poured another glass and brought his chair nearer to the table upon which the diary lay open, ready to divulge its secrets. The first entry described the evening after Grace’s first ceremony, where she had been invited to Miss Leigh’s room.

  The room was cold. There was a single candle, which Miss Leigh had lit and put on a small table. It gave out light but no warmth, at least not where I was sitting on the edge of the bed. Miss Leigh saw I was shivering a little – this was partly from being cold but also from being alone in the room with her – and brought a bottle down from a shelf. She poured some of its contents into a glass and handed it to me.

  ‘This will warm you,’ she said.

  I hesitated, but she gave me a reassuring smile. I drank it and it indeed warmed me.

  Miss Leigh then talked about Sappho and her love for the girls at her school and how she prepared them for their future lives; not only through her teaching in the classroom but in the bedroom. I felt a little embarrassed at first, at such talk, but Miss Leigh poured another glass for me and I found myself listening intently to what she was saying. After I finished this second drink, Miss Leigh came over and sat on the bed next to me. She gently stroked my arms and, after a few moments, as if half-playing, pulled me in close and kissed my forehead. She told me what a wonderfully delicate forehead I had and then kissed it again. My head became hot from the sensation. She held me for a while, as she stroked my arms, and then slowly laid me back onto the bed. I gave no resistance.

  I no longer felt cold. As I lay on the bed, Miss Leigh continued to rub me, but now other parts of my body as well: my shoulders, putting her fingers underneath the straps of my cotton nightdress; my knees, at the spot the material of the garment ended; my ankles, where her thumbs massaged the hard part of the bone; and my feet, which she took great care over, gently squeezing each toe individually between her forefinger and thumb. As she did all this, I felt as if a thousand candles had been lit within me.

  Her hands ran down the length of my legs and then back up again several times. On one occasion, however, as her hands travelled upwards they carried on, stopping at my chest. As Miss Leigh cupped her hands, I felt my cheeks start to burn but instinctively, involuntarily, those parts of my body under which her hands now rested, rose to meet them. After a while of this caressing, her focus moved back downwards and I admit I did cry out a little as she touched me more intimately. The next moment, my nightdress started to be slowly rolled up – I did nothing to stop it – with each roll exposing more of my body, until it was turned up all the way to my neck, becoming like a cotton necklace, as the rest of my body below lay exposed. As if wishing to preserve my modesty, Miss Leigh blew out the candle.

  And then a strange feeling, I felt myself leave my body and rise upward to where I could look back down on the unfolding scene; my vision nocturnal, my awareness heightened. I saw myself laying there, my eyes closed and the cotton nightdress still around my neck. I saw my body exposed to the night, my chest, my stomach, my hips, my legs. And then I saw Miss Leigh, attentive, considerate and caring, seeing and experiencing what she was doing at one and the same time.

  Believing I could feel no greater satisfaction, I suddenly found myself brought back into my body with a jolt. Something foreign, something unknown had entered me. I did not know what it was, but I did not want it gone. A feeling now began to build, unlike anything I had experienced before, an overwhelming sensation which began to make me shudder inside. I wanted to cry out in happiness, scream with delight, but knew I could not; I did not want to alert anyone nearby and I did not want to abandon myself so completely in front of Miss Leigh. Perhaps sensing what was happening, she clasped her hand over my mouth and gently whispered in my ear, ‘Let yourself go, my love, everything will be fine.’ That was all I needed as I let out a long, guttural moan of pleasure.

  I lay there exhausted but exhilarated, my feelings in turmoil, yet with a great peace descending over me. Miss Leigh bent forward and kissed my forehead once more. That is all I remember, as I must have fallen into a deep and satisfying sleep.

  When I awoke it was to the harsh cold of morning and Miss Leigh shaking me.

  ‘Wake up, you have to leave now.’ She said it kindly but there was urgency in her voice. ‘You have to go back to your own bed. You cannot be found here.’

  I crossed the hallway to the dormitory and slipped between the cold sheets trying to assimilate the previous night’s experience. It must have been around 5.30 a.m., as I was only in bed for about fifteen minutes before Miss Leigh herself, on duty for our dormitory that week, entered the room and announced it was time for u
s all to wake up. The room was cast in semi-light and as the other girls began to get up around me, I noticed Miss Leigh briefly glance at me, and at that moment I longed for the time we might find ourselves alone again.

  Swann read for a further few pages, and as the relationship between student and teacher developed, so too did the intimacy between them. Perhaps the deaths had been a crime passionelle after all – with the teacher unable to relinquish her charge, or perhaps an argument had ensued – but Swann wanted to be certain. Something was not right, something which did not make sense.

  As he continued to read though, scanning the subsequent entries, he felt his eyelids become heavy and begin to close. He willed himself to stay awake, but after a few moments the diary slipped from his hands and hit the floor, closing once more on any secrets that might still lie within it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Jack? Jack, are you in there? Jack! It’s Mary.’

  Swann awoke suddenly, still in his disguise, in his office chair.

  ‘What … hello? Mary?’ It took a few seconds to gather his thoughts, but then he stood up and made his way across to his office door. He opened it and saw his sister, with another young woman behind her.

  ‘Jack, you did not return home this morning, although dressed as you are now, perhaps it was just as well. You know Miss Austen? She will be accompanying us on the walk to Swainswick.’

  ‘Good day Miss Austen,’ said Swann. ‘As you observe, I have been caught completely unprepared.’

  ‘I assumed from your message that you would be here, when you did not return this morning,’ said Mary.

  ‘What is the time?’ asked Swann

  ‘It is a quarter to ten. We had intended to set off by ten, but Edmund has sent a communication this morning suggesting we make our start at eleven.’

  ‘I will change and be with you within the hour, then,’ said Swann.

  ‘We shall meet you at Molland’s tea shop. It is in Milsom Street.’ She turned to her companion, ‘If that is agreeable, Jane?’

  ‘Most agreeable, Mary, their Marzipan is divine.’

  The two women left and Swann set about the business of returning himself to an appropriate state of dress. As he did so, he thought back to the diary entries he had read the previous evening. He would aim to read the remaining pages that evening, but the likelihood there had not, after all, been another person on the island was becoming increasingly likely.

  As is the generally accepted opinion when organising excursions such as a walk, the organiser has always to expect the unexpected or, at the very least, that the numerous details of the excursion are likely to change not once, but several times before its actual commencement. The walk to Swainswick had been no different; not only had the time of departure been changed, but also the number of actual walkers themselves had increased and decreased several times throughout the preceding few days. There had, at one particular moment, been a total of seven people intending to undertake the excursion, but one by one, for various reasons, the number gradually decreased to four: Fitzpatrick was unexpectedly required to preside over a court case, replacing another magistrate that had become too ill to adjudicate; Jane’s sister, Cassandra, felt she had the makings of a cold and therefore did not wish to risk the physical exertion the walk would entail; and Isabella Thorpe, who had somehow learned about the outing and approached Mary in a shop in Bond Street to say how much she was looking forward to accompanying the party, suddenly had to render her apologies when she realised a new delivery of hats, at the aforementioned store, was taking place on the very same day.

  Even two of the remaining four participants had been in danger of not being in attendance; Lockhart through his nocturnal activities, and Swann, through failing to wake up in time without the intervention of Mary. Nevertheless, at eleven o’clock precisely, after Swann had met the two ladies at the tea shop, the trio met Lockhart in the middle of the King’s Circus. He had his back to them on their arrival, but as he turned to greet them, Mary let out an involuntary gasp.

  ‘Edmund, whatever has happened to your face? It is all swollen and bruised!’

  ‘I was set upon by robbers last evening, my dearest.’

  ‘Where did this happened, Edmund, not in the Upper Town?’

  ‘No, my business took me into a rather notorious area of the city I’m afraid. Thankfully, some passers-by lent their assistance and saw my attackers off.’

  Lockhart acknowledged Swann with a furtive glance.

  ‘Oh my love, perhaps you should be resting and not come on the walk.’

  ‘My dear Mary, I would not miss it for the world.’

  ‘Well, as long as you are certain.’

  With Lockhart’s presence confirmed, Mary introduced him to Miss Austen and, along with Swann, the small group headed out of the King’s Circus and towards Lansdown Road; the walk having now officially begun.

  The route which had been agreed upon saw the quartet make their way up the lower reaches of Lansdown to a junction that took them to the village of Charlcombe. Its church, a fine example of medieval construction, had been the location of author Henry Fielding’s wedding seventy years earlier.

  ‘Are you familiar with Mr Fielding’s work, Mr Swann?’ asked Miss Austen, as they left the church at Charlcombe.

  ‘Yes, I very much enjoy his factual and theatrical output, but must confess I derive the most pleasure from his literary creations, especially Joseph Andrews, and, of course, Tom Jones.’

  ‘It is so refreshing to find a gentleman who enjoys the novel form; I usually have to invent them.’

  ‘Of course, Mary has told me you are a writer. And what do your fictitious gentlemen enjoy reading?’

  ‘A great variety: Fielding, Johnson, Cowper, Richardson, and one character thoroughly enjoys the work of Mrs Radcliffe.’

  ‘Ah yes, The Mysteries of Udolpho.’

  ‘You know it?’

  ‘And indeed have read it, Miss Austen, along with The Italian and another one, whose title escapes me at this moment. As we are discussing gothic novels, I have read all of Gregor-Smith’s books.’

  Miss Austen was silent.

  ‘Is something wrong, Miss Austen?’

  ‘It is the name you have mentioned. I would suggest a most impolite gentleman, irrespective of his skill as a writer.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well, on the insistence of a mutual friend I posted a copy of the manuscript of a novel I had a written – a parody of the gothic form – to Mr Gregor-Smith for his comments. I never heard a word from him. Of course, he is now abroad and my manuscript has not been returned.’

  ‘Was your manuscript entitled with a feminine name?’

  ‘Yes – Susan. Why?’

  ‘I had the opportunity of visiting him at his residence before he left England and I saw your novel on his table. He had read it and was meaning to return it; obviously he was unable to do so. If I remember, he was most impressed with it and commented on how you should continue writing, as you might have a great career.’

  Miss Austen blushed slightly.

  ‘Then it appears it was most presumptuous of me to condemn him without a proper trial.’

  ‘You are not the first, Miss Austen, but are you working on something else at present?’

  ‘Yes, another novel. I have yet to find a suitable title for it, but it concerns four daughters who find their world turned upside down on the death of their father. I have written about seventeen thousand words so far.’

  Their conversation continued as they descended across fields and lanes to the lowest point of the valley, before ascending into the parish of Swainswick. It was in this hamlet that Mrs Gardiner, Mary’s mother, had grown up alongside her sister Harriet. It had been her wish to be buried in the family vault at the stone church dedicated to St Mary the Virgin and, when she died, she had been reunited with her husband, who had agreed to be interned there as well.

  After paying their respects, the party of walkers tra
versed the nearby fields to an ancient hill-fort known as Little Solsbury. The site was associated with King Arthur as it was here, or so it was said, that one of his greatest victories against the Saxons, the Battle of Badon, had taken place.

  ‘What an incredible view,’ said Lockhart as they reached the summit. ‘What is this place called again, Solsbury Hill?’

  ‘I am thankful my grandfather cannot hear you say that, my love,’ smiled Mary. ‘According to Mother, he took an instant dislike to anyone who did not call it by what he considered its “correct name”; that of Little Solsbury. But yes, it is a wonderful view and on a clear day you can see as far as Salisbury Plain.’

  They made their way across the top of the hill to where a carriage had arrived with their picnic. The carriage driver, along with a male servant, had driven as far as they were able up the narrow track on the western slopes and then carried the hampers on foot up the remaining steep incline. When the party arrived, now famished from their exertions, the fare laid out on blankets was a welcome sight and they sat down immediately to eat.

  After they had finished the picnic, Swann stood and walked over to the edge of the summit to admire the panoramic view. The other six hills which surrounded the city could be seen from this seventh; but it was towards one specific hill that Swann’s attention was focussed. Bathampton Down, across the other side of the river, was where he would find himself in less than forty-eight hours and where his life might end.

  As he stood watching, a bird of prey appeared in the sky. It circled nearby, in search of food. After several circuits it suddenly swooped to the ground and as it soared up again, Swann saw in amazement a snake dangling from its talons. As he continued to watch, the snake began to attack its captor and after several moments the bird let go its grip and the snake dropped to the ground.