The Serpentine Garden Path

by Edeana Malcolm

  By then, she had completely lost the thread of the preacher’s discourse and spent the next hours trying to imagine standing at the front of the church before all the congregation on her wedding day. Would she have the courage to refuse to marry Dean before all his family and friends? She could not think so. It was too unkind. So she prayed earnestly that her father would arrive to rescue her before that eventuality. However, she had not even written the letter yet, never mind posted it. God did not perform such miracles in her experience. Perhaps she had better pray for the courage to refuse Dean. She watched the preacher standing behind the pulpit and was amazed that he was still speaking so eloquently. It seemed as though half the day had passed. When would the sermon end so that she could go back to her apartment and compose her letter?

  At long last, the service was over and they walked out into the High Street in silence until they reached the Cowgate.

  “Was it not an eloquent sermon, sir?” Dean asked her.

  “Indeed.”

  “Superior by far than any I have heard preached in England.”

  “Was it not a little long, sir?”

  “Not at all. Only three hours. Some would consider that a trifling short homily. No, I found I was transported by his words and inspired to improve my life. I have not been a good Christian these last few days, I confess it openly. Were you not moved also, Master Gardiner?”

  “Aye, and I shall be transformed also in these two days in Edinburgh, shall I not, Mr. Dean?”

  He laughed. “Aye, you shall.”

  That afternoon Susan composed herself in front of a fresh sheet of paper that she had acquired from the innkeeper. It was her last chance to write her cry for help. It was now or never. She would have to choke down all her pride and find the words to admit that she had made a grave error and was ready to return home and play the dutiful daughter. She had no greater luck finding the words than she had had the day before. Something, she could not say what it was, perhaps her obdurate pride, would not allow her to confess her mistake. She decided she would have to resign herself to going through with this charade. Her father could never rescue her in time now, and she could never stand in a church and deny Dean. Perhaps she could find the courage to speak to him this evening or tomorrow or some time before they arrived in Dundee and admit to him her severe misgivings. With that thought, she abandoned her efforts to write and prepared herself for supper.

  Chapter 22

  The next day dawned grey still, but at least the rain had stopped so that it would be less onerous to walk about the Royal Mile from shop to shop. Susan and John decided to pretend to shop for a gown for John’s wife as a surprise gift on his homecoming. Each gown could be surreptitiously measured against Gardiner’s figure to determine if it would fit.

  Dean escorted his master to a shop that sold ready-made gowns. The shopkeeper proposed a French gown made of Spitalfields silk with pink stripes and flower patterns, gold and silver lace decorations and double-flounced cuffs. Susan especially loved the engageantes, intended to decorate the cuffs, which were made of a triple layer of Brussels lace. The gauzy silk apron was adorned with chenille flowers that reminded her of the Kent garden that she had left so far behind.

  Susan looked at the gown longingly and then at John. “I believe that your wife would love this gown, Mr. Dean.”

  “I am quite certain that she would, but my pocket book does not love it at all. We shall see a more practical, everyday gown, if you will, sir,” Dean addressed the shopkeeper, who scurried off to search for a gown with these specifications. Turning to Susan, Dean said quietly, “Consider that this gown will not only be used for special occasions, but also for every day. I am not so rich that I can afford many gowns for my wife, and I maun be more practical in my choice, and the expense of lace is out of the question.”

  The shopkeeper returned with a similar silk gown festooned with blue stripes, red flowers and double-flounced cuffs, but without the gold and silver lace decoration. The engageantes were made of linen white work rather than silk. It was the kind of gown that Susan might have worn on any given day back home, and not at all what she would consider appropriate for a wedding, even as a guest.

  “How is this one?” the shopkeeper asked, placing it in front of her.

  She looked down and saw the flowers on the gown. As simple as it was, it still reminded her of her home in Kent and the garden from which she had been expelled and which she might never see again. The thought brought a wave of homesickness over her. She would have the gown as a reminder of all that she had lost with her impetuous decision to follow Dean. She took a deep breath to keep from crying, and her voice was so low as to sound masculine without any feigning. “I believe it will do quite nicely.”

  “Do you think my wife will like it?”

  “Yes, but what about shoes and jewelry?”

  “I am sure that my wife already has those. Dinna fash, sir.”

  Susan looked at him frostily.

  Dean enquired the price, swallowed hard when told, and went to settle accounts with the shopkeeper.

  On the way back to the inn in the Cowgate, Dean asked Susan if she was ready to resume their trip the next day.

  “Well,” she said, “I am as ready as I can be. Two days of rest have been most welcome, but I do not happily anticipate returning to the coach.”

  “I hae been giving that matter some consideration. I too am tired by the constant jostling of the coach. I hae decided to go down to the harbour of Leith this afternoon to see if there are any ships bound for Dundee tomorrow on which we might book passage. Do you approve of this plan?”

  “Oh, yes. May I come with you?”

  “I dinna think so. You should stay here and rest this afternoon in case we maun continue by coach tomorrow.”

  “But I must walk. I cannot sit all day.”

  “I shall be taking a coach to Leith as it is too far to walk. Do you still wish to accompany me? Would you not prefer to take a walk in the New Town along Princes Street?”

  “All right. I see your point,” she conceded, not altogether graciously.

  As she watched Dean climb aboard a coach that afternoon and set out for Leith, she remembered that she had meant to approach him about her misgivings regarding the wedding. Ah well, it would have to wait now until this evening, or perhaps tomorrow.

  Chapter 23

  The next morning Susan arose early and put on her austere blue gown. As she examined her disappointing likeness in the mirror, she was struck by the thought that she would never in all her life have imagined being married in such a plain gown. Even her everyday gowns had had lace engageantes. This was as ordinary as one of Mary’s gowns—at least she did not have to wear stays with this gown. With the thought of Mary, she felt a familiar tug around the ribs and a similar tug of guilt at her heart. She had not given one passing thought to Mary in a long time. She wondered what Mary might be doing now and if they might somehow be able to reengage her when they returned to London. Susan would find some other occupation for her than tying stays. If she went through with this marriage, as it seemed more and more likely she would in spite of herself, Mary would be the only servant and would find herself very well occupied.

  Concluding that she was as presentable as she could make herself in this gown, especially wearing a pair of men’s shoes on her feet, Susan sat down to wait for Dean to come and escort her to breakfast. She had not seen him the previous evening. She thought he must have been delayed at a tavern in Leith. She had not waited up for his return but rather had gone to bed and fallen asleep angry that he was again out drinking. Now she waited, growing more and more impatient. Where could he be? Perhaps he was ill this morning as he deserved to be. Perhaps he was sleeping late. Susan was hungry, but it would not be appropriate for a young lady to descend to breakfast alone. At any rate, she did not dare to call attention to herself in that way. This was her first morning as a woman, and no one in the tavern knew her as such.

  Finally, when she
could bear it no longer, Susan went to Dean’s apartment and knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again and called his name, but there was still no response. She tried the door but it was locked fast.

  A sense of foreboding came over her. Surely he had not abandoned her! Such a thought was not possible. Had he gone down to the tavern alone, expecting to meet her and forgetting that she would be dressed as a woman today? She would have to return to her dressing room and change into the male garments that she had thought never to don again, so that she could go down and find him.

  Dressed again as Andrew Gardiner, Susan paused at the tavern door and looked over the guests to see if Dean was among them. Seeing an unwelcome, familiar face, she gasped and stepped back to hide herself behind the door. Pray God that he had not seen her! It took a few minutes for her to regain some sense of composure. What on earth was the butler Sutton doing here in Edinburgh? But of course, he was looking for her. He must have been sent by her parents to find her. She would have to keep out of his way.

  She went to find the innkeeper to see if he could answer some of the mystery with which this morning had presented her. “Sir,” she said. “Could you tell me who that Englishman is in the tavern and what his business is here?”

  “You do not know him, sir? He enquired after your friend Mr. Dean yesterday.”

  “And did you give him any information?”

  “Aye. That I did. I told him Mr. Dean had gone to Leith to book passage on a ship to Dundee. But you say you do not know the man in the tavern? I thought you might since he is a fellow countryman. He was also looking for a young lady, a Miss Susan Kirke.”

  Susan’s heart rate increased. She was glad they had given her name as Andrew Gardiner and not Andrew Kirke. “No, sir. I do not know him.” She changed the subject. “Can you tell me if you have seen Mr. Dean this morning? We were supposed to meet for breakfast, and I cannot find him.”

  “Nae, I havena. Did you try his room?”

  “Yes sir, but there is no response. Would you mind opening the door? I fear that he might be ill.”

  “What reason have you to fear that?”

  “Nothing in particular, though perhaps he may have visited too many taverns in Leith yesterday.”

  “Come with me,” the innkeeper said, taking a key and walking up the stairs.

  At Dean’s apartment, he unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a bed that had not been slept in.

  “It looks as though he did not return from Leith last night,” the innkeeper said.

  “Oh, my!” Susan felt faint all of a sudden, but she could not grab hold of this greasy innkeeper. She could not swoon like a lady. She must stand firm like a man. She waited until the ringing in her ears had ceased and the brightness at the corner of her eyes had dissipated before speaking. “Where can he be?”

  “Where, indeed?” the innkeeper repeated. “I have to know, sir, if you will pay for Mr. Dean’s room since he seems to have absconded.”

  Susan was suddenly just as angry now as she had been faint a moment before. “Mr. Dean would never abscond, as you put it, and he would never abandon me.”

  “Why do you say ‘abandon you’? Do you not have any money of your own, sir?”

  She realized that she had inadvertently spoken as a woman again. She must be more careful and guard her tongue. She attempted to laugh. “Of course I have money. Of course I shall pay if it becomes necessary. However, I have not altogether given up the possibility of finding Mr. Dean at this moment. I shall go to Leith to look for him. Pray do not mention this to that Englishman in the tavern. I fear he may have something to do with Mr. Dean’s disappearance.”

  “I need to have some surety for the payment of the rooms before you go off looking for the man and disappear as he did.”

  Susan did not have a penny to her name. Dean had always looked after her and paid for everything out of his pocket as her father had before that. She had little or no knowledge of financial dealings, and now she felt keenly the lack of both knowledge and coin.

  “Yes, sir. I have told you I shall pay. You may rely on me,” she said, hoping he believed her bluff.

  “And these rooms maun be cleared before you flee, so that I may rent them,” the innkeeper said.

  That was it. Perhaps while gathering his possessions together she might find some coins so that she could pay the innkeeper. “How much do we owe you for the apartments, sir?”

  “A shilling apiece per night. That’s six shillings.”

  It seemed a great deal to her, considering that the king offered only one shilling for the life of a soldier. In fact, she remembered six shillings was the same amount as Mrs. Hardwick earned in a year pulling weeds. “Thank you,” she said. “You may go.”

  “You will not leave without at least a surety that you will return to pay.”

  “What do you mean by a surety, sir?”

  “By that I mean something of value that you could leave with me. Then if you do not return, I can redeem it for money.”

  Susan saw some sign of hope. She doubted that Dean had left any money in the room—after all, he would need his coin to book a ship—but perhaps he owned something, a pocket watch or some such item. It was certain that she had nothing. She cursed her own foolhardiness in running away from home without any possessions at all. She had been so naïve. Then she thought of the gown that Dean had purchased for her. She wondered if it might do as surety if she could find nothing here. First, she should search the apartment. “Of course, sir, before I leave I shall either pay you or provide a surety.”

  The innkeeper finally left Susan to search the apartment for the few belongings that Dean might have left there. She remembered he carried a canvas bag and found it under his bed. There was nothing inside but a few rolled shirts and some toiletries. Susan looked closely and noticed that one of the shirts was bulkier than the others. She removed it, unrolled it, and was surprised to find a pair of high-heeled shoes made of white silk with silver embroidery. They were her wedding shoes! Perhaps they would suffice as surety.

  When she picked one up to examine it more closely, something heavy fell out of the shoe onto the floor. Susan was astonished to see a piece of jewelry dazzling with white innumerable sapphires and pearls. It was the brooch that Fitzwilliam had bought for her. How had Dean acquired it? But of course, when they had met on the night before they left London, Fitzwilliam must have given the items to Dean. She did not have time to wonder why. Even little as she knew about the cost of things, she could was quite sure it was worth more than six shillings. It would be too valuable to be used as surety.

  For now, she realized, she must hide it. Pinning it inside her pocket, she examined the other shoe, hoping for another rich discovery. She was not disappointed for, wrapped in a cloth, she found two silver shoe buckles covered in glittering paste. She was quite certain they would cover the entire cost of the apartments. The innkeeper might accept them for the full amount she owed him and she would be quit of the unpleasant man for good. She wrapped the shoes in her gown and placed them in Dean’s carpet bag beside his shirts. Then she descended, stealthily keeping her eye out for the butler Sutton.

  She gave the shoe buckles to the innkeeper and watched his eyes alight with greed. So, it was not only women who liked shiny, sparkly things. “Will this cover the expense of the apartments, sir?”

  “Aye. ‘Twill do,” he replied.

  “Now, do you know where Mr. Dean would have gone in Leith?”

  The innkeeper gave the name of a coffeehouse.

  “And can you give me directions to Leith?”

  “You will need to hire a coach, Mr. Gardiner. It would take you all day to walk there.”

  Susan’s shoulders sank. She never realized before how difficult it was to look after everything without a guardian. The innkeeper seemed to recognize her trouble and take pity on her.

  “I can see you have no money, sir, or you would have paid me instead of giving me these buckles.” He handed Su
san a few pennies, which she gratefully accepted, and then went to look for a coach.

  Chapter 24

  As Susan settled in to the cab she had hired a cab for the drive to the neighboring town, she realized that she could have turned herself over to the butler and returned with him to Kent. Only the day before, she had attempted to compose a letter to her father asking him to come and retrieve her. Somehow, the sight of Sutton had filled her with such revulsion that she had acted without hesitation to track down her lover and rescue him from whatever predicament the butler had left him in. The moment she saw Sutton, she knew that he must be responsible for Dean’s disappearance. She could not imagine how he had managed it, but she would discover the truth of it. She shuddered at a passing thought that occurred to her, but surely the butler, even wicked as he was, was not capable of murder? She would not entertain the possibility.

  She pictured Dean as she had first seen him, labouring in her father’s garden, and a tear came to her eye. How could she have been so unloving and uncaring in the last few days, expecting his unquestioning support of her and giving him none in return? It was only her wretched doubt that was in error. Even if they did not marry after this misadventure, she would never be able to live with herself if she abandoned him. No, she was doing the right thing in going to find him.

  Susan entered the coffeehouse the innkeeper had suggested and asked the barmaid if she could speak to the proprietor. The barmaid looked her over and told her that the proprietor was not present that day.

  “Were you working here yesterday evening, madam?” Susan asked.

  “Aye, I was. Why do you want to know that?”

  “My name is Andrew Gardiner.” She attempted to speak at her lowest register without sounding artificial. “I am traveling with my servant, John Dean. Unfortunately, I have lost him. Yesterday he was here enquiring about passage to Dundee, but he did not return last night. I have come to enquire if you have seen him, or if you might know what has happened to him. I am much afraid what my father will do to me if I do not return with his servant.”