‘But what did the note say? And where did Sir George find it?’
‘He must have been watching me for some time.’
‘I’ve warned you often that he’s a jealous man. But tell me the contents of the note and where he discovered it.’
She pointed towards the door which linked her cabin to the Admiral’s stateroom. ‘You see that little aperture there, in the middle of the door? On Harry’s side is a small box. If you insert your fingers, it’s just possible to pick up a paper deposited there.’
‘And you were in the habit of leaving notes in there for each other?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘And tonight?’
‘It was the greatest ill luck. As I was slipping in the note, my husband entered, gave a great bellow of rage, and seized the paper from my hand. I tried to snatch it back but he was too quick for me.’
‘And the note said?’
She did not look at me. ‘It was a reply to Harry. There were two messages on the one paper. He wrote … he wrote …’
‘Go on.’
‘I … I hope and expect to see my own darling. I am too deaf to hear.’
‘And you replied?’
She hung her head. ‘You must clear the door, dearest, and leave me to come when I think it safe. Lucy.’
My darling. My dearest. And she had signed it Lucy, not Eliza. What utter foolishness. ‘Have you been to Sir Harry’s room before?’
‘Twice … three times only. He has boxes stacked against his door but he puts them to one side to allow me freedom of entry.’
I could think of nothing to say, nothing to do, that might in the smallest degree alleviate the situation. ‘There is one piece of advice you must heed absolutely,’ I said. ‘After what has happened tonight, if you wish to protect yourself, and the Admiral, you must never again in any company but mine refer to him as Harry.’
‘I must see him, Fanny. I have to speak to him, whatever the cost. Since he’s going to command the Cape Station, he’ll be from time to time in Cape Town, and we’ve agreed we’ll ride together. He’s a keen horseman, you know.’
Great weariness engulfed me; I felt anger welling. ‘Don’t you understand what forces you’ve unleashed against yourself?’ I cried. ‘And the Admiral? And me?’
She stared at me. ‘Against you? How so?’
‘Sir George has just been confined against his will in a strait-jacket such as is generally employed for lunatics. In this mortifying condition he has been seen by the surgeon and the Captain, by his friends Mr Speke and Mr Grant, some of the ship’s crew, and by the man he now hates more than any other in the world — Sir Harry Keppel. And by me. As they carried him to the doctor’s cabin, he accused me of being complicit in your deception. He said I encouraged you and was the instrument of your downfall.’
‘But that’s wholly untrue. You knew nothing of it and I’ll tell him so.’
‘Do you think he will listen to you? I’m a witness to his utter humiliation. Don’t you see that he’ll detest me forever?’
Lucy began to move agitatedly about the stateroom. Though I wished more than anything to escape to my own cabin and sleep, I dared not leave her alone.
‘Why doesn’t Harry come?’
‘He can’t, you stupid goose.’
‘Then I’ll pass quietly into his room by this door. I must speak with him.’
As she placed her hand on the knob, I caught her arm and pulled her away roughly, forcing her to sink onto her bunk.
‘No,’ I said. ‘You can’t. You mustn’t.’
She rolled onto her front and, sinking her face in the bedcovers, began to weep loudly. ‘You don’t understand, Fanny,’ she choked through her sobs. ‘I have no wish to be selfish. It’s Harry … the Admiral … he’s kind, you know. He speaks to me so gently. He tells me I have a fine intelligence …’
‘Which you are in no way employing at this moment.’
‘He saw … he couldn’t help but notice the manner in which my husband addresses me, his coldness to me … the … Ah, Fanny, just the smallest modicum of tenderness from Sir George would have sufficed, but it has never been forthcoming. I don’t know how it happened.’
‘What happened?’
‘No, no, not that. You’re mistaken. I found myself … Harry’s so sympathetic, you see. I told him of what had transpired in Cape Town between my husband and Makareta. Fanny, since I’ve been in the company of the Admiral, I haven’t once suffered one of my nervous attacks.’
There was a tapping at the door.
Lucy started up. ‘He’s come. I knew he would.’
But it was the surgeon who entered. ‘I’ve come to enquire after your state of health, Ma’am, and yours, Miss Thompson. I’ve brought something to help you both to sleep.’
I did not return to my cabin but lay down beside Lucy and endeavoured to rest. Some time later, I heard a scrabbling, and a man appeared in the connecting doorway. I was awake in an instant and, having ascertained it was not Sir George bent on vengeance but the Admiral, I made to arouse Lucy who had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
‘Leave her to rest, I beg you,’ said Sir Harry. ‘I was apprised of your being with her, Miss Thompson, and I ask to speak briefly with you about the events of tonight. First, I give you my word as a gentleman that nothing criminal has occurred between us.’
‘I understand how the situation between you came about but—’
‘The fault is entirely mine. You know of her sad situation so you’ll understand that I felt — I feel — the greatest pity for her. She’s treated by her husband as less than his horse. I don’t consider Sir George a gentleman. My greatest error has been that, in sympathising with the misery of a wronged wife, I’ve allowed myself to expose her to harm.’
‘Sir George is not in his right mind.’
‘On the contrary, I believe him to be entirely in his right mind. For his own ends, he’s playing very cleverly the part of the wronged husband. I greatly fear he’s seen his chance to cast off his lady while appearing in the eyes of the world to be the injured party. No madman is capable of the arguments he’s advanced to us tonight. He claims that if he is forced to carry on to Cape Town on the Forte, he will murder Lu— Lady Grey or shoot himself. I don’t believe for an instant that he’ll do either, but Captain Turnour and the surgeon certainly take him at his word, so, under the most extreme pressure from them both, I’ve instructed the Captain to return the ship to Rio.’
‘And Sir George remains confined?’
‘Yes, and must be so for the two or three days it will take us to get there. What will happen then, I simply don’t know. The Governor will speak to me now only through the agency of a third party.’
‘But he may murder Lucy in Rio …’
‘He’s a wily fox. He won’t place himself in jeopardy by murder. I assure you that if I believed for one second he would harm a hair of her head, I’d shoot him myself.’
13th June 1860
In a dark silence, accompanied only by young Harry Stephenson, Sir George, Lucy and I were disembarked from the Forte in Rio. A trap deposited us at the Rio Hotel.
‘Midshipman Stephenson,’ said Sir George, ‘you are to tell Lady Grey I shall organise new passages for her and Miss Thompson. She will be informed of the arrangements in due course. Meanwhile, they are to remain in the hotel unless told otherwise.’
‘Aye, aye, Sir. M’Lady, His Excellency requires you to remain here until such time as he has procured new passages.’
Lucy merely looked at the midshipman, expressionless.
‘Thank you, Harry,’ I said.
‘Since this message was not intended for you, Miss Thompson,’ said Sir George, ‘there is no cause for you to respond.’
I felt a hand press into mine, and the cut of a scrap of paper. With the most imperceptible of movements, Harry Stephenson nodded towards Lucy. I slid my hand into my reticule, lodging the note safely out of sight.
15th June 1860
No a
mount of effort will rouse Lucy from her listlessness and I have begun to fear for her health. She spent most of today and yesterday occupied at her writing case.
Young Harry Stephenson has just appeared, begging leave to send his uncle’s kindest regards to the ladies and to bid them be strong. I have not yet dared to pass the note he gave me to Lucy for fear of some unquenchable outburst, but for the first time in many hours, she spoke. ‘Please to tell your kind uncle I will never forget him.’
‘I shall, Ma’am.’ He hesitated. ‘Ma’am, I’ve been instructed to inform you that the Governor is re-embarking on the Forte. She sails again for the Cape tonight.’
‘Rejoining the ship! But it was he who ordered her turned back, who swore he would kill the Admiral if he was obliged to—’
‘My uncle says they’ve come to an arrangement in which each will entirely avoid the company of the other. Any essential orders will be conveyed through Captain Turnour.’
‘But I don’t understand why Sir George leaves us here …’
‘Lady Grey, you’ve been so kind. All the middies are most warmly disposed towards your ladyship, and I would that some other, not I, had been sent with this intelligence. Ma’am, it is my … painful duty to … Ma’am, you and Miss Thompson will not be embarking on another ship for Cape Town. You are going Home.’
LONDON, 1860
Upon our arrival, I took lodgings for us in London. ‘And, next month, when my tenants have vacated,’ I said, ‘we will go to Lyme.’
‘It’s very dear of you, Fanny, but I can’t possibly retire to Lyme. If I do, all the world will believe me guilty of what Sir George claims. No, I must go directly to Oxford and lay my case before Bishop Wilberforce. He’s Papa’s cousin; he’s certain to exonerate me from my husband’s charges.’
‘But if you see the Bishop and become … upset or … emotional, you might very well undermine your own position. Wouldn’t it be better to write to him?’
She brightened a little. ‘Yes, you’re right. Will you help me with the letter?’
‘We’ll compose it together tonight.’ I hesitated. ‘Have you heard anything yet from Sir George?’
‘Not a word. It seems he feels no duty to maintain his wife. Without your charity, I’d be entirely destitute.’ She clung to me. ‘Oh, Fanny, I’m so afraid he may be intending to divorce me.’
‘He has no grounds for a divorce.’
‘He has the note.’
‘But even if he tries to use the note to show you intended … criminal conversation … that’s not the same as proof of such an act. He cannot divorce you.’
‘I most sincerely pray that’s so.’
Lucy ran into my room, waving a letter. ‘A reply from Bishop Wilberforce. And so quickly. I’m vindicated! With him as my supporter, my honour is safe.’
‘This is excellent news.’ I looked at the letter. ‘But, Lucy, the seal hasn’t yet been broken. How can you know what he’s written?’
‘A bishop is God’s minister on earth, and, as God Himself knows I’ve done no wrong, how can Bishop Wilberforce fail me?’
‘Open it,’ I said. ‘At once. Let’s set our minds at rest.’
She left it to me to break the large red seal, revealing the letter and two others enclosed within it. I passed them to her, but she handed the Bishop’s letter back to me, indicating I should read it aloud to her.
‘Cuddesdon Palace,’ I began.
‘But what does he say?’
‘Patience, I’m coming to that. ‘My dear Lady Grey, it is not without great hesitation that I write to you. It is so painful to write what must give you pain’ —I paused — ‘especially to one in many ways so crushed already. Yet if I am to do you any good I must speak to you with entire openness. I have received two letters from Sir George — one sent to me by the Bishop of Cape Town—’
‘That odious man.’
‘—the other an answer to the Bishop of Cape Town on his repeating to Sir George some remarks of mine as to his present duty towards you.’
Lucy clapped her hands. ‘He means to have my husband take me back.’
‘You have wished me to advise you … but before doing it I ought to say One; that whilst I do not admit for an instant that the Sin of infidelity in the wife is altered by the want of chastity in the husband, I do not believe the charges you have brought against Sir George.’
She stared at me. ‘What? The Bishop doesn’t believe me?’
‘Lucy, I’m truly sorry. He says, That you were second in Sir George’s house, that he with cruel neglect of you maintained a mistress in the house etc. I am bound to say I do not believe.’
‘But, Fanny, I swear it’s the truth.’
‘Hush,’ I said. ‘There’s more, much more. He writes, You named Dr Bickersteth as one who knew the evil rumour—’
‘He did! Indeed, he did.’
‘I sought out the Doctor … and so far from confirming your statement he distinctly affirmed that had such a state of things existed he must have known it and that he never, amongst the scandals of the small Cape community which made free with Sir George riding with young ladies and so on, he never heard a whisper imputing to him infidelity to you.’
At this, Lucy broke into loud sobs. ‘He lies,’ she cried.
I placed an arm about her shoulders. ‘He’s protecting Sir George. And himself. How could he say now to the Bishop what he knows in his heart he should have said months before? He’d be accountable for the sin of complicity.’
‘And, as a result, I am to play the guilty part.’
‘Tear up this letter,’ I said. ‘It’s clear the Bishop won’t plead your cause.’
‘No, I must hear in full what he has to say.’
‘If you insist. He goes on, I believe you then …’I stopped. ‘Lucy, I beg you, let’s not continue. Its contents will only distress you further.’
She shook her head. ‘No, read it all. I must know how the world intends to view me now.’
‘I believe you then, under the influence of jealousy first and recrimination since, to have allowed yourself to exaggerate (to say the least) so as to really state untruths in this matter.’
‘He says I’m bearing false witness.’
‘I fear so.’
She clutched my arm. ‘Tell me, Fanny, please. Do you believe I am lying?’
‘No.’
‘Then I am satisfied. Please to read on.’
‘Now the light that this throws on the reality of your penitence before God is very fearful and if there be not penitence what security is there for the future if guilty sympathy is offered to you? I do beseech you for your Soul’s sake to think and pray this deeply over. And now for the rest. The letters I enclose show, first, the depth of Sir G’s affection for you …’
Lucy spread her hands in a gesture of despair and resignation.
‘The Bishop of Cape Town says, “He will talk to me for hours of Lady G, weeping as an heartbroken man.”’
‘I told you he was a hypocrite.’
‘And you were right.’ I resumed reading. ‘They show secondly that’ — I paused — ‘his mind is made up as to a permanent separation.’
‘No!’
‘You should write to him — fully — freely — affectionately — penitently. The Bishop of Cape Town says in his letter, “Sir G. would be glad if she went to live near his Aunt and Uncle; they are very fond of her.” This should be your first course. But the root of your peace must be in deep real true penitence — and oh, my dear Lady Grey, does God see in you a penitent? Or an angry self-justifying, self-deceiving Spirit? What more can I add? Do not let this post go without its bearing to Sir George the wail of a penitent heart and self-reproaching wife. I am ever most sincerely yours. S. Oxon.’
I laid down the letter. Lucy, her face blotched with weeping, crossed silently to the shelf, took up the blue vase which had been given to her by Sir George’s mother, and smashed it to the floor. Then she took down her bound volume of Sir George’s handwritten
Australian journal, tore it into pieces and threw them onto the fire. A stray sheet fell next to me. Picking it up, I flung it into the flames after its fellows.
‘There is only one good aspect to this whole dreadful affair.’
I frowned. ‘Which is …?’
‘I always believed that some day I should see poor Mama again, and it has been the greatest source of sorrow to me that I was never able to do so. But now I feel it’s a mercy she has not lived to have to endure my public shame.’
‘Aunt would never have believed ill of you.’
‘No, but she would have had to suffer knowing I shall be ostracised by everyone in England and be the butt of gossip everywhere. And so will you, Fanny, if you associate with me.’
‘What nonsense.’
‘And unless Sir George agrees a settlement on me, I’m utterly destitute.’
‘Come back with me to Lyme. I have more than enough for us both.’
‘I can’t run away to hide in Lyme. Everyone would believe it was a sign of my guilt.’
‘We can face that together. After a time, people will lose interest.’
She shook her head.
‘Well, you could certainly go to Aunt Julia Martin. It would be impossible for Sir George to refuse you an allowance if you were under her protection.’
‘That’s true.’ She sighed.
‘Is something else troubling you?’
‘No — well, perhaps …’
‘Yes?’
‘I thought that possibly, by now, I—’
‘—would have had some communication from Sir Harry?’
She nodded.
‘But, Lucy, how can he write to you? He can’t afford to arouse Sir George’s venom and spite.’
‘Do you believe he ever thinks of me?’
‘I’m sure of it. He’s a good, just man, and it’s clear from the note he asked young Harry to pass to you in Rio that he’s very troubled by your situation.’
‘Ah, his dear note. It’s my only keepsake of him. I have it by heart.’
A Crooked Rib Page 33