A Sister's Secret

by Mary Jane Staples

  Captain Burnside looked at her as she opened the door. ‘I hope you bring reasonable news,’ he said.

  ‘Sir, I hope myself you will be reasonable and go away,’ said Helene.

  ‘Yours is a vain hope, Helene, for at the moment I ain’t a reasonable man.’

  ‘I regret that won’t help,’ said Helene. ‘Lady Caroline will not see you under any circumstances, whether you are reasonable or not. Nor am I sure if it would profit you if she did see you. She is making plans to return to America.’

  ‘Oh, ye gods,’ said Captain Burnside. ‘Well, tell her to unmake them.’

  ‘Captain Burnside,’ said Helene gently, ‘it will be more than my life is worth even to tell her I’ve been talking to you.’

  ‘Oh, the devil,’ he said, ‘is she so out of sorts?’

  Helene looked quite sadly at him. She had hoped Her Ladyship would find enough integrity and character in Captain Burnside to marry him. ‘Sir, what have you done to her?’ she asked quietly. ‘She is more than out of sorts, far more. She is suffering. She endured her bad days with – oh, I should not say so, but Lord Clarence caused her much unhappiness. She bore it all with pride. What have you done to her to make her say she wishes she were dead?’

  ‘Let me see her,’ said Captain Burnside.

  ‘I beg you won’t force yourself on her,’ said Helene. She hesitated, then whispered, ‘I am breaking a confidence, which I never have before, but tomorrow she is going to Great Wivenden, to spend her time there until she sails for America. I can speak no more with you now.’ And Helene closed the door.

  Caroline saw him. She saw him from the window of her bedroom in the manor house. The August day was glorious, laying gold on the wheatfields and brightly defining his figure as he rode up the long sandy drive to the forecourt of the house. His demeanour seemed thoughtful, his back slightly bent, eyes downcast, and his horse was only ambling. It was a slow, deliberate ride to the great front doors of her country residence.

  The freezing sensations returned to her body. She watched him, hating him, and she felt disgust that he should have come here, to the place she loved most. In such a place, he was an obscenity. She turned and pulled on the bell cord.

  Helene came in. ‘Milady?’

  ‘That man is here.’

  ‘Your pardon?’ said Helene, although she guessed.

  ‘Captain Burnside. I am out, do you hear? I have gone to Brighton.’

  ‘He will ask—’

  ‘Do as I say. Tell him. Answer no questions.’ Caroline was pale, shadows around her eyes. Whenever she was able to sleep, it was only fitfully, and for the last few hours, exhaustedly. ‘Send him away.’

  The front door bell sprang its peal.

  Helene hurried down, intercepting Mr Frederick Jarvis, the head servant of the household. ‘I will answer it, Mr Jarvis, I know who it is,’ she said.

  It was Helene whom Captain Burnside saw again when one of the double doors opened. He seemed calm but determined. He raised his beaver hat to her. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said. ‘I wish to see Lady Clarence Percival.’

  ‘I am so sorry,’ said Helene, making an effort to look him in the eye, ‘but Her Ladyship is in Brighton.’

  ‘No, she ain’t.’

  ‘Captain Burnside—’

  ‘It won’t do,’ he said. ‘Be so kind as to advise her that I’m here, and that I ain’t going to depart until I’ve seen her. Further advise her that if she don’t give me a chance to talk to her, she ain’t as sweet-natured as I thought she was. Nor is she fair.’

  ‘Oh, Captain Burnside,’ gasped Helene, ‘I can’t tell her that. She is sweet-natured, and fair …’

  ‘She ain’t. Not if she won’t allow me a hearing. Advise her so.’

  ‘Sir, I simply cannot. And she’s in Brighton.’

  ‘Oh, you insist, do you, Helene?’ Captain Burnside was grim. Helene quivered, certain he was in a mood to sweep her aside and force his way into the presence of Her Ladyship. ‘Very well. Where in Brighton?’

  ‘I really don’t know,’ said Helene, a little desperate.

  ‘Quite so. Why should you know? Why should anyone know? She ain’t in Brighton. She’s here.’

  ‘Captain Burnside, you must go about things in your own way, but I cannot let you in, and beg you won’t have me side with you against Her Ladyship, only tell you that I wish you well, which I truly do.’

  ‘Then at least acquaint Her Ladyship with the fact that I ain’t going to depart until she sees me. Also tell her she ain’t going back to America except over my dead body.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Helene. The faintest smile came. ‘You love her.’

  ‘Of course I love her,’ said Captain Burnside. ‘Who couldn’t? But if it comes to putting her over my knees, damned if I won’t do it.’

  ‘Oh, dear Lord,’ gasped Helene, and hastily closed the door. Captain Burnside, his horse tethered, sat down on the step.

  ‘Your Ladyship?’ Helene was tentative.

  ‘Well?’ Caroline, at her window again, swung round, eyes glittering.

  ‘He—’

  ‘He hasn’t gone,’ said Caroline, ‘for I haven’t seen him ride away.’

  ‘I beg Your Ladyship’s forbearance, but he was so determined.’

  ‘Really?’ Lady Caroline was icy. ‘His determination does not match mine. Did you not tell him I was in Brighton?’

  ‘Indeed, yes, I did. Twice.’ Helene took the plunge. ‘I am afraid he did not believe me.’

  ‘That would be amusing if it weren’t so wretched. How dare a man like that give the lie to anyone?’

  ‘Milady, what has he done?’ asked Helene bravely.

  ‘What does that matter? It is enough for you to know him an utterly worthless creature. When Mr Forbes returns to his office, ask him to come and see me. If you are unable to persuade Captain Burnside to go away, I shall ask Mr Forbes to intercede.’

  ‘Your Ladyship,’ said Helene, brave again, ‘Captain Burnside asked me to advise you he won’t depart until you consent to see him.’

  ‘Oh, I declare myself ravaged and racked by his importunities!’ Caroline was fierce, tearing herself apart in her bitterness. ‘Let us discover just how importunate he will be when Mr Forbes and the gardeners have locked him in the stocks.’

  ‘Oh, Lady Caroline, no, you cannot!’ gasped Helene. ‘Not Captain Burnside.’

  Caroline’s glittering eyes transfixed her. ‘Well,’ she breathed, ‘is this what it has come to? You, whom I trust more than any other, are making sheep’s eyes at Captain Burnside like an infatuated wench or a covetous trollop?’

  ‘Your Ladyship,’ said Helene quietly, ‘you know that is not true.’

  Caroline shivered. ‘Oh, I am sorry, Helene. Forgive me. But I won’t see Captain Burnside, ever. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Helene. But her next words were forced from her because of Captain Burnside. ‘He said if you won’t give him the chance to talk to you, you – you aren’t as sweet-natured and as fair as he thought you were.’

  ‘Oh, I vow that man’s arrogance unbearable, and he himself despicable!’

  Drawing breath, Helene said, ‘He also assured me you are not going back to America except over his dead body.’

  ‘Oh!’ Caroline put her fingertips to her eyelids and pressed them in anguish. ‘Go away! Please go away!’

  ‘Ah, Sammy,’ said Captain Burnside.

  Sammy was in the stables, about to shoe a horse. He looked young but workmanlike, and his eyes lit up to see the captain, whom he considered a rare dab hand at dealing with life. ‘Why, it’s you yourself, guv’nor. I’m that pleased to see you, sir. You’ve come to stay a bit?’

  ‘I’m staying, yes, you can say that,’ said the captain, and gave Sammy a friendly pat on the arm. ‘Here’s my horse. Can you rub her down and stable her?’

  ‘Willingly,’ said Sammy. ‘And oats, Cap’n Burnside?’

  ‘I’ll rely on you, but let me know how much she’s taken betwe
en now and the time I go. I’ll need to reimburse Her Ladyship.’

  ‘D’you mean pay, sir?’ asked Sammy, askance. ‘Lady Caroline won’t go much on that, guests paying for their ’osses’ oats.’

  ‘It’s a question of principle, d’you see,’ said the captain in pleasant and confiding fashion. ‘Her Ladyship and yours truly are presently in argument.’

  ‘Oh, Lor’,’ said Sammy, ‘that’s a stiff one to take, sir, you and Her Ladyship on an up-and-downer. And her being such a fine lady, and all. But it ain’t too serious, guv’nor?’

  ‘Well, critical at the moment, I must confess,’ said Captain Burnside. ‘In fact, I ain’t actually allowed into the house.’

  ‘Lord help us, that’s a blinder, sir,’ said Sammy, shaking his head and dislodging a stray straw from his hair.

  ‘We shall arrive in calmer waters eventually, though it’s stormy today. Young fellow, I ain’t proposing you should be disloyal, and I know you won’t be, but you can tell me, I hope, if Her Ladyship is regularly out and about.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Sammy, and examined his loyalties. Captain Burnside, he reckoned, had taken a fancy to Her Ladyship, and Her Ladyship, being in the kind of mood she’d never been in before, wasn’t making it easy for him. And she was talking about going back to America. ‘Well, guv’nor, I can tell you she ain’t one for sitting indoors when she’s here, that she ain’t. She’s been out riding several times, and bringing her ’oss back lathered.’

  ‘I’d like to be tipped the wink when she next rides out. Can I rely on you, Sammy?’

  ‘You can rely on me if she don’t tell me not to tell you,’ said Sammy. ‘If she says I ain’t to, then I ain’t a-going to, begging your pardon and all, sir.’

  ‘Quite right, Sammy. What she tells you you mustn’t do, you won’t do. What she doesn’t tell you to do, you can do. Excellent. You’re a capital young fellow.’

  ‘Guv’nor, I think you’ve just put me on the ropes,’ said Sammy.

  ‘It will help the calmer seas to arrive,’ said the captain. ‘I shall be within hearing distance.’

  He took a stroll in the gardens below the terrace. From a drawing room, Caroline saw him again. She clenched her hands and gritted her teeth. There he was, meandering, in his beaver hat, and idly swinging his cane, as if all was well with his world. His presence was confining her. She would not, could not, go out while he was here. To meet him, to come face to face with him, would do her no good at all. Oh, how dare he put himself back in her life, how dared he have the effrontery to come and to stay? She had fared very badly. First Clarence, wholly decadent, and now this man, wholly spurious.

  John Forbes appeared, walking in his deliberate way. He came up from the parkland, and she saw him turn and advance on Captain Burnside.

  ‘Captain Burnside?’ said Mr Forbes.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Forbes,’ said the captain.

  ‘You’re visiting?’ asked the steward.

  ‘I arrived an hour ago. I’m now taking in the tranquil effect of these gardens.’

  ‘You must thank George Cutts for that. He’s head gardener. Good afternoon to you, sir.’ Mr Forbes had no idea Captain Burnside was presently in argument with Her Ladyship, though he was well aware Her Ladyship was not at her best. He had no sooner reached his office a minute or so later than she appeared.

  ‘John,’ she said, ‘you have just been speaking to Captain Burnside. What did he say to you?’

  Mr Forbes, thinking she looked unwell, said, ‘He remarked he was taking in the tranquil effect of your gardens.’

  ‘He has arrived uninvited,’ said Caroline coldly. ‘He has refused to go. Will you please prevail on him to take himself off? I am receiving no visitors, none.’

  ‘Your Ladyship, he’s refused to go?’

  ‘He has. I declare him unwelcome. Therefore, please see to it that he departs.’

  Mr Forbes, a grave man, gave himself time to reflect. ‘Your Ladyship,’ he said, ‘am I being asked to intervene because you’ve quarrelled with Captain Burnside?’

  ‘How dare you!’ said Caroline.

  ‘It was put respectfully,’ said Mr Forbes.

  ‘Ask him to leave, please. Call the gardeners if he proves objectionable, and have them carry him off the estate.’ And Caroline turned and swept away.

  She watched again from the drawing room. She saw Mr Forbes speaking to the captain. The captain nodded, cut off a dead rose bloom with a swish of his cane, lifted his hat to the steward, and strolled away. She lost sight of him as he made for the stables. Mr Forbes returned to the house, and reported that Captain Burnside had consented to go.

  ‘Thank you, John,’ said Caroline, ‘and forgive me if I was too demanding of you.’

  So, he had come and he had gone. The ice around her heart turned leaden.

  Captain Burnside rode back to the house under cover of darkness that night. He stabled his horse, removed his hat and coat, made a bed of a great mound of dry straw, settled himself down, composed his thoughts, and went to sleep.

  ‘Oh, save my soul,’ said Sammy. Captain Burnside was at the pump, shirtsleeves rolled up. He was dousing his head in the cold water. ‘Sir, you’re a hot potato, that you are. The word’s out. You ain’t permitted nowhere near the place. I’ll get stoned if I don’t see you off.’

  Captain Burnside shook the water from his hair. ‘Well, there it is, Sammy, stormy as a raging south-wester,’ he said. ‘Be a good young fellow and find me a razor. I ain’t half my usual self when I’m unshaven. And a crust or two would be very welcome.’

  ‘Oh, Lor’, that’s another blinder,’ said Sammy. ‘Guv’nor, you’ll get me topped.’

  ‘Sammy, I ain’t as much in need of a few crusts as I am of a friend. Just a razor, then, how will that do?’

  Sammy gave a huge grin. ‘Seeing you ain’t short of nerve, guv’nor, I’ll risk getting topped.’

  ‘In that case,’ said the captain, freshened by the cold water, ‘you won’t lack a consoling companion. We’ll get topped together. But not a word out of place; can I rely on that?’

  ‘Her Ladyship ain’t yet told me what I mustn’t do today,’ said Sammy, and sidled off.

  The warm breeze blew in her face, and the sunlight danced ahead of her. The side-saddle was firm, and she was expertly at home in it, her black gelding a flyer. She galloped to take out of her heart and mind everything except the glory of the August morning. The speed of the gallop was an antidote to cold, crushing anguish. And it helped her to reject the persistent intrusion into her mind: the thought that she was in blind, obsessive martyrdom of herself.

  The boundary brick wall of the estate appeared in the distance. She turned her horse, continuing her reckless gallop as she made for Wivenden Wood, its trees profuse with summer leaf. She heard a sound behind her. She looked back. A horseman, fifty yards away, his head bare, was racing up on her. She went rigid in her saddle, and her frisky gelding pulled on the bit. Her body shivered and she clenched her teeth, digging with a spur.

  He had come back, he was behind her, and the suffering was a torment. She raced over the thick grass alongside the wood, heading back to the house. He raced after her. He did not attempt to catch her up. He knew that at the pace she was going, and had been going, she would run her mount to a standstill long before she reached the house. He stayed within twenty yards of her, watching her ride like a madwoman. He did not call, or shout. He let her gallop on. She looked back, more than once, and she did not utter a sound, either.

  Her gelding began to flounder, to falter, at which point Captain Burnside came up beside her.

  ‘Kindly stop,’ he said.

  ‘Never! Never for you!’

  ‘Gently, marm, gently,’ he said.

  ‘Oh!’ she raged, and struck at him with her riding crop. It caught him across his jaw. Her gelding, blown and lathered, stopped, head hanging, flanks heaving. Captain Burnside pulled up and dismounted. She slapped wildly at her horse, but it was too winded to respond. The ca
ptain reached for her with long arms. She struck him again. He pulled her from her saddle, her fury almost hysterical as she tumbled into his arms, her top hat falling off. He held her, and she kicked in his arms.

  ‘It won’t do, marm, it won’t do at all,’ he said.

  ‘Let me go!’

  He set her on her feet. Bitter, glittering and utterly outraged, she struck at him yet again. His arm came up, warding off the blow. He shook his head at her.

  ‘I ain’t ever put a woman over my knees before,’ he said, ‘but I fancy if I don’t do it now, you’ll never come to your senses.’

  He bent low, he wound an arm around her, and he straightened up. Caroline screamed as she found herself hanging over his shoulder, his right arm wrapped around her skirted legs. Her hair came loose. Frenziedly, she beat at his back. He carried her into the shelter of the wood. In a clearing, he found an ideal tree stump. He seated himself, and Caroline screamed again as he brought her down over his knees. The indignity was paralysing, and horror rushed to suffuse her with fiery colour as her riding skirt and underskirt were whirled upwards over her back, uncovering her pantaloons. Oh, dear God, he really was going to do it!

  ‘No,’ she gasped, ‘no!’

  ‘Shall we talk, then, Your Ladyship?’

  ‘Yes – yes.’

  He released her. She escaped her indignity, her skirts falling into place, her brown coat awry, her hair disordered, her face burning.

  ‘This ain’t an inconsequential matter, marm,’ he said, ‘it’s life and death.’

  ‘Your death,’ she said, but her bitter look was gone, and so was the misery of feeling locked in numbing ice. In its place was a swamping, surging tide of reborn gladness at simply being alive. What had happened to her that she had become a grey, cold, self-pitying and unproud shadow of herself? Why, here he was, the torment of her being, and she could not be called a true woman if she did not stand up and fight him. ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘before I catalogue your infamies, I must congratulate you on your bravery in dragging a helpless woman from her horse and assaulting her.’

  ‘Helpless?’ he said, fingering his tender jaw.