The Serpentine Garden Path

by Edeana Malcolm

  “Fitzwilliam was right. I did not understand, but now I do. I think I understand better than anyone how vastly money is overrated and how unimportant it is in the grand scheme of things, and yet, paradoxically, how necessary to life in this evil society in which we live.”

  “It is a just and apt description. A Presbyterian preacher could not have expressed it better. Seen in that light, I have been most sinful in pinching every penny as if there would never be another.”

  “Well, I forgive you, and I understand. I have always behaved as if money did not even exist, but now that I am aware of its usefulness, I will never make that mistake again.”

  “Does that not contradict your earlier statement that money is unimportant?”

  “I said ‘unimportant in the grand scheme of things,’ and it is not. I would never trade you for a stomacher pin, for I know the value of human life is beyond price. No matter what the pin was worth to the captain, it was worthless to me except in its use as an instrument of redemption. You see what I mean; money is worthless in and of itself; its worth is only evident in its use; thus it must be spent and should never be hoarded.”

  “Oh, I dinna like the sound of that. The only means of becoming a wealthy man is to save what money you can.”

  “I will not have you wealthy. I will have you just as you are.”

  “And I accept you just as you are.”

  It was impossible to resist the attraction any longer, and being alone in the coach, they kissed. It had been a long time since their last kiss. She had almost forgotten the feeling of being suspended, being outside of time and space, being so alive in this moment that nothing else existed except the two of them. For a long time they kissed, a kiss that seemed to reach into the future with a promise of so much more that was deep and lasting.

  At the end of their long, soul-refreshing kiss, they looked at each other, and Dean broke out laughing.

  “What is so amusing?” Susan felt annoyed.

  “I have never kissed a man before. It feels quite odd.”

  “Oh.” Susan reddened. “I do not suppose it would be safe for me to change into my wedding dress yet?”

  “I think you ought to wait until tomorrow, in case the butler overtakes us.”

  Chapter 26

  The next day, at about the same hour, Susan awoke when the coach in which they traveled stopped at the inn in Dundee. She heard Dean call out the window. “William, ‘tis good to see you.” Then he opened the door and jumped down, embracing this William almost immediately upon alighting.

  “John. How’s a’ wi’ ye? And where is your bonny lassie?”

  Susan resisted the urge to alight on her own as she had become accustomed to on her long voyage and enjoyed playing the lady, waiting patiently for John to take her hand and help her out. “Susan Kirke,” he said. “May I present to you my brother William Dean. William, my fiancée Miss Kirke.”

  William took her hand and shook it warmly. “I am so pleased to meet you. John has written such a glowing description of you, but I am afraid it does not do you justice.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “But I thought you said that your brothers were in America, John?” Susan asked.

  “Two of them are in America and two of them are here.”

  “Four brothers! And are there any sisters as well?”

  “But one.”

  “Yes, poor little Esther,” William injected. “Let us go now, John. Do you have any bags? Only one? Mother is anxious to see you, and to meet you, as well, Miss Kirke, especially as we expected you yesterday. We have had to postpone the service until tomorrow, and Mother has been cooking these last two days, since we first had word you were coming. There will be such a splendid feast. You will see.” William did not cease talking until they were safely installed on the chaise he had brought to convey them to the Deans’ humble abode, and even then he kept up a running commentary on the sights that were to be seen in the neighbourhood. Susan attempted to listen and absorb it all but she was busy looking about for any sign of Sutton the butler, and she was weary.

  There was an equally enthusiastic clamour upon arrival at the aforementioned home. Mrs. Margaret Dean opened her arms wide to embrace first her son and then Susan.

  Dean asked his mother and brother if an Englishman had been about asking for them.

  “No one has come to the door to make enquiries, but Mother mentioned that a man was seen skulking about the house yesterday,” William replied.

  “Aye, ‘twas a cowering, timorous knave, and I fetched William to confront him, but the coward slunk away before we returned.”

  After supper, Mrs. Dean took hold of Susan’s arm and led her to the parlour. She commanded her son to stay without the room, which was filled with women only.

  “Miss Kirke,” Mrs. Dean spoke her name with the same rolling lilt as her son. “I am pleased to introduce you to the women of the family and our friends and neighbours.” She proceeded to name all the smiling women who greeted Susan warmly.

  “We have a tradition in our country, madam, that is performed before the wedding.” She gestured to move the women aside so that Susan could see the tub of water in the middle of the room. “’Tis a foot washing.” Mrs. Dean brought Susan to the tub. “I do not hold with many of the old pagan traditions of my country, but this one I approve of, since our Lord Jesus Christ saw fit to wash the feet of his followers in the Holy Book. You maun sit down and remove your shoes and stockings while the good women of Dundee scrub your feet.”

  Susan responded. “Thank you, madam. It will do them good, I assure you, for my feet are weary. They have come a long journey.”

  “And maun be washed clean before they take another step.”

  When Susan was seated, Mrs. Dean knelt down to remove her shoes and stockings. “They are such fine shoes, Miss Kirke.” She held them in her hands a moment examining them before she passed them to her daughter. All the women passed the shoes around and admired them as Susan placed her feet in the warm water. One of her sisters-in-law knelt down with a bar of sweet-smelling soap to scrub them. Then another sister-in-law rinsed them clean. Finally, Dean’s sister knelt down and massaged Susan’s feet for a moment. When she had finished, she rooted around in the soapy water with her hand. Susan was wondering what she was doing, when she took out her empty hand, shrugged, and stood up.

  “I have nae found it,” she said. “Let all the other single ladies have a go.”

  At that, the youngest ladies chattered excitedly and, surrounding the tub, all began to plunge their hands into it, alarming Susan. “What are they doing?”

  Mrs. Dean answered, “Dinna fash yourself. It is just another part of the tradition. I have put my wedding ring in the water and the one who finds it will be the next woman to marry.”

  With that knowledge, Susan moved her feet a little in the water, imperceptibly with all the hands moving about in it, groping with her toes to find the ring herself. When her toes found it, she placed her foot firmly over it, so that the other girls could not find it.

  “Are you sure ‘tis here, madam?” one of the young ladies asked.

  “Yes, I am sure. But that is enough,” she said. “Anymore jirbling about in the water, and you will upset the tub. Let me look to find it now.”

  With that, the young ladies took out their dripping hands and wiped them on their towels. Mrs. Dean moved to place her hand in the tub, but Susan stopped her. “It is not necessary, madam. I am the one who has found the ring. I wanted to be sure that I would be the next one to marry. I could not risk that anyone else should find it, so I made it secure under my foot. I hope I have not upset your tradition.”

  Everyone laughed and Susan reached down, put her hand in the water and, removing the ring from under her foot, held it up high for all to see it.

  Mrs. Dean looked surprised for a moment, and then her face broke out in a smile. “Well, ‘tis na usually done in that manner, but I am glad that you are such an eager bride because you will ha
ve the best husband in the world.”

  Susan handed the ring to her future mother-in-law, who took it, and a tear came to her eye. “Now that my William is dead…” She could not continue for a moment. They waited patiently while she regained her composure. “I have no more need of this ring.” She looked at it fondly. “I want you to have it, my dear.” She looked at Susan. “So I will give it to John that he might give it to you in the ceremony tomorrow.”

  Susan was so moved that she could not speak. She could see how much the ring meant to Mrs. Dean. It was more precious to her than the most expensive ring that could have been purchased at a London jewelry shop. Susan wanted to refuse it, but she knew that would be insulting. She must accept it gracefully as soon as she could gather the strength to speak the words. “Mrs. Dean, I will be honoured to accept the ring from your son. Thank you for your great kindness.”

  Mrs. Dean smiled as if she were satisfied with Susan’s response.

  “Mother, may we get John now?” her daughter asked.

  “Ye may as soon as Miss Kirke’s toes have been dried.”

  That done, John was dragged into the room in order to perform the next part of the tradition which was much less tender and sweet. For this the women stepped aside and his brothers and friends entered, and while two of them held him, a third roughly daubed his feet and legs with cinders, soot, and ashes from the hearth. When they had done, they dumped the whole tub of water on his head while all the women stood around laughing, with the exception of Mrs. Dean who left the room, evidently no longer so well-pleased with the pagan tradition.

  Chapter 27

  After so many days of rain, the clouds finally lifted on the morning of Susan’s wedding day. After the darkness and gloom of the last few days, she cherished the blue sky and bright sunshine that smiled on her from out the window. When she emerged from her apartment dressed in her blue gown, her new sister and sisters-in-law were already there to add their finishing touches to her apparel, lending her a ribbon to tie around her neck, some bracelets, a lace mantelet, and a veil so that she might more resemble a bride. Mrs. Dean gave her a small nosegay of bright flowers with which she pinned the mantelet at Susan’s bosom. Then she went to the cupboard to pour a glass of whiskey, and she handed a small coin to Susan.

  “What is this, madam?” Susan asked her.

  Esther laughed. “Mother claims to abhor the old Scots’ customs, Miss Kirke, but she upholds them for a’ that. On our walk to the kirk, the first person we encounter, we call ‘the first foot,’ and you maun gie him a wee dram of the whiskey and a coin. Then he maun walk a mile to the kirk with us.”

  Then the good ladies of the family set off to the kirk where John was waiting. As they walked, the young nieces scattered petals on the path in front of her. To pass the time, Susan asked if there were any other customs unknown to her that were likely to creep up upon her unawares.

  Esther amused herself recounting as many as she could remember. “Well, if we encounter a funeral or a pig on the gate to the kirk, we maun go back to the house and begin again.”

  Susan laughed. “And after the wedding, will there be any other surprises for me?”

  William’s wife laughed at that. “I do hope so,” she said.

  Mrs. Dean shook her head disapprovingly.

  Esther continued. “A hen maun be thrown in the door of your house. And a burning peat. And you maun be carried over the step or there’ll be no luck for you.”

  “Dinna forget the oatcakes, Esther.”

  “What of the oatcakes?”

  “They’ll be crumbled over your head.”

  “And Esther will tak ain hame to put under her pillow and dream of a husband.”

  “I’ll nae do that,” she said, but her comment was drowned out by the children crying out, “First foot, first foot,” when they espied a man coming toward them on the other side of the road.

  Susan looked up to see to whom she must now give the coin and drink of whiskey, but when she saw who it was, she dropped both items in the dirt at her feet.

  “What?” Esther cried, seeing the spilled whiskey soaking in the ground.

  “Why ‘tis the cowering, timorous knave.” Mrs. Dean stood in front of Susan to protect her. “And what would you be wanting, Mr. Butler?” She confronted the man.

  Sutton had on his usual sour face as he looked past the old woman at Susan.

  Susan returned his stare. She had faced down a “pirate” captain, so she could face the likes of a skulking, cowardly butler.

  “I want the young lady there—or at least her parents want her. She can go to the devil for all I care—but her parents have charged me with the task of bringing her back to England, will she or not.”

  “She will not,” Susan responded.

  “There,” said Mrs. Dean. “You have the young lady’s word on’t. She will not.”

  “As I have said, her will is not required. Her parents do not consent to her wedding and she must come home. She is subject to the laws of England, being an Englishwoman.”

  “Not while she is on the soil of Scotland. Here she doesna need her parents’ consent to marry. I have given my consent. Susan is my daughter now.”

  Susan felt warmed by the words. “Thank you, Mother.”

  “Now be off with ye, ye knave. And come no more to spoil our happy day.”

  “Susan should know that if she does not return with me, her parents will cut her off. She will no longer be their daughter. She will no longer receive a penny from them. She will not have an inheritance. She should consider those things well before she refuses to return to England.”

  Mrs. Dean looked at Susan. “You’ve heard the man. Have you aught to say to him?”

  “I have but one word to say to him, Mother, and that is ‘goodbye.’”

  “Have you heard enow? Be off with ye.”

  Sutton gave Susan one last evil glare and then began to slink away. She watched him leave, her heart lifting as he faded.

  “Are ye certain, Miss Kirke? “Tis a lot to give up. There’s still time to go after the man if you have any doubts. I will explain to my son.”

  “Are you mad? I would not leave with that wretched man if he offered me the throne of Great Britain itself. I have given my heart to your son and we are to be married. That is all that I have to say.”

  Mrs. Dean’s eyes filled with tears and she enfolded Susan against her ample bosom. “It does my heart good to hear you say it, lass.”

  “Do you think we ought to go back to the house and begin again?” Esther asked.

  “What do you mean, child?” her mother said.

  “Well, the custom says if we meet a pig, we must begin again.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Not at all, child. The man is not that kind of a beastie at all.”

  “What kind of beastie is he then, Mama?”

  “Why, he’s a rat. That’s what he is. He’s far too thin to be a pig.”

  Again the whole group of women laughed all the rest of the way to the kirk.

  The wedding was beautiful. Susan felt as if she were in a dream through the ceremony. She understood almost nothing of the words that were spoken but gave herself over to the sentiment. At the church door, the bride and groom were escorted to the Dean home by all their friends, family, and neighbours. There were so many people that the party spilled over into the garden. Everyone enjoyed the feast that Mrs. Dean (that is the elder Mrs. Dean, as there were now two) had prepared. Susan was disappointed that there was no music and dancing, but no one else seemed to expect it. John explained to her that they were strict Presbyterians and as such disapproved of dancing. She did her best to understand all the people who came to greet her in the Scots dialect, but in the end, gave up and understood only the general spirit of good will. She smiled so long and hard that her jaws were sore at the end of the day.

  John drank the many cups to his health with well-watered whiskey. He had made a promise to Susan, and to himself, never again to come
to their bed in a drunken state, and he wanted to be in a fit shape to perform his marital duties. Through all the joy and excitement of the day, he was nervous about the conclusion of it. At twenty, he was still a virgin and about to embark on a journey into unknown territory.

  At last all the others had gone home. John’s mother went to stay with her son William’s family and left them alone with her marital bed, which she had sprinkled with fresh herbs, whose tantalizing aromas would be released under the pressure of the newlyweds bodies.

  ***

  In the first moments of the morning, Susan woke to the astonishing feeling that all was right with her world. She turned over, saw John, and realized why. His eyes opened and he smiled at her.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Gude morning, lassie.”

  She smiled. If one could die of happiness, she felt that surely she would at this moment.

  “Well,” he said. “Should we lie abed for two days or should we be off now as quickly as possible to start our new life? What say you?”

  “I should like to lie abed. What do you say?”

  “Surely you’re not serious, Susan!” He looked shocked.

  She laughed.

  “You are having fun at my expense, are you? Is that any way to treat a husband, I ask you?” He looked only a little peeved. “Then we shall ride in a coach side by side all the way back to London. What say you?”

  “I can think of only one thing that I would like better,” she replied, “and that would be to lie abed with you alone for all that time.”

  He kissed her, long and hard, and they stayed in bed just a little while longer before beginning the long coach ride back home.

  The End

  About the Author

  Edeana Malcolm discovered the story of Susan Kirke and John Dean while researching the genealogy of her maternal grandfather Everett Dean and his family in Nova Scotia. The couple’s scandalous love story and subsequent journey to Nova Scotia inspired her not only to write this romance novel, but also to continue the series about their later life together in Scotland, Ireland and Nova Scotia. The final book in the series A Garden in the Wilderness is available through Borealis Press at https://www.borealispress.com

  Edeana has previously published six short stories and is an active member of Victoria Writers’ Society. She lives in Victoria, British Columbia with her husband David Bray. Visit her website at https://www.edeana.com