‘Then tell it to me again,’ I said, in hopes of deflecting her a little from her low state.
‘He wrote, Would that I might have spared you the agony of what has transpired and that I could rescue you from the wretched state into which I have unwittingly plunged you. I believe you know the true nature of my feelings towards you; it would be folly to state them here, but be assured that I pray for you and that you are ever in my thoughts. Until we meet again, may the Lord keep you. H.K.’
‘There. It’s scarcely likely that he’s forgotten you.’
A few days after this conversation, out alone on an errand, I was accosted by a well-dressed stranger. ‘Excuse me, Ma’am, I believe you are Miss Frances Thompson.’
Taken aback, I did not immediately answer.
‘I beg you to excuse my forwardness in speaking to you, but please be assured I mean you no harm. Are you Miss Thompson?’
‘I am.’
‘And are you cognisant of the whereabouts of Lady Grey?’
Though something in his manner made me feel I might trust him, I hesitated. ‘Before I answer, you must tell me the reason for your question.’
‘Ma’am, I know where you are lodging but I dare not risk calling on you. Sir George has set spies to report upon his wife.’
‘I have no trouble in believing that. But what is your interest in this matter? ‘
‘Ma’am, I am Arthur Stephenson, the older brother of Harry, the young middy on the Forte.’
‘The Admiral’s nephew?’
‘Yes, and I am charged by my uncle with the delicate matter of passing correspondence to Lady Grey.’
‘That may be very dangerous for her. If Sir George becomes aware of any communication between them, it will exacerbate her position.’
‘My uncle is all too aware of that. Are you privy to the fact that Lady Grey sent him a letter from Rio?’
‘I have no knowledge of any such letter.’
‘By some means, Sir George learned of it. It was the greatest misfortune. So I imagine you have no idea either of how things stand at the present time?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘Regrettably, the incident aboard the Forte has now reached the newspapers, which are fuelling the scandal daily. Miss Thompson, I’ve been entrusted with communiqués for you and Lady Grey but I am known in London. If I’m seen to deliver anything to your lodgings it will arouse immediate suspicion. I have already had to wait several days for this opportunity to speak with you. Is it possible that you could pass exactly this way again tomorrow and at this time?’
I nodded.
‘Excellent. As you reach this spot, a woman carrying a basket of apples will bump into you. Her apples will fall, she will apologise to you profusely and, as she brushes down your cloak, she will slip into your pocket a small bulky packet containing correspondence from my uncle and others.’
‘And if Lady Grey should wish to reply to this correspondence?’
‘It would be far too unwise to do so. She must protect what remains of her reputation.’
‘Which appears to be even less than we presumed.’
‘I fear so. Sir George is a relentless enemy. He wishes to damage both my uncle’s character and his wife’s.’
‘But Lady Grey has none of your uncle’s powerful friends and connections.’
‘My uncle is not concerned for himself. He wishes only to preserve what he can of the lady’s honour. It is not he but her own husband who has spoken publicly of events aboard the Forte and has set out to ruin her.’
I retraced my steps of the previous day but saw no woman, only a man, loitering opposite our lodgings. Remembering Arthur Stephenson’s talk of spies, I recalled I had seen this same fellow several times, always apparently idling nearby. Could he have been set by Sir George or his agents to witness our movements? I passed to the shop where I had completed my errands the day before and set about for home. Then, as I turned the corner before the lodging-house, a woman darted across the street between two hansoms, colliding with me as she gained the pavement. Apples flew from her basket. While she helped me to my feet and brushed down my cape, I felt the thrust of something into my pocket.
‘I beg your forgiveness, Ma’am,’ she said loudly, as concerned passers-by began to gather. ‘I pray you’re not hurt.’
‘No. Just a little shaken.’
‘Be careful,’ she whispered, apparently smoothing my bonnet. ‘We are watched.’
And, as I made to walk away, I saw that the loiterer had joined the small knot of people forming around us.
In the privacy of my bedroom, I sat before the fire and undid the package. Wrapped about its contents was a letter:
My Dear Miss Thompson,
I thank you for being the bearer of this package. May I beg you to read the contents and pass to Lady Grey only those to which you feel she should be privy? It grieves my uncle greatly that, in order to try to preserve her honour, he must eschew all contact at the present time. His fervent wish is that it had been possible to spare her the cruel injustice of what has transpired.
I remain, Miss Thompson,
Your obed. Servant,
Arthur Stephenson.
Unfolding the contents, which included newspaper clippings and copies of letters, I began to read.
… an unfortunate incident that took place on the Forte between Sir H. Keppel and Lady Grey …; the honour of an English gentleman, who had the misfortune to be the guest of … a dishonourable English Admiral …; the greatest injury a man can suffer … inflicted before his eyes …
Horrified, I consigned The Times to my bedroom fire. The next item was a copy of a letter from Sir Harry to his brother:
5th July 1860
Last evening, we anchored at 8-00 PM in Simon’s Bay intending to put ashore next morning when … the Governor would have been welcomed under a salute with manned yards. But His Excellency was in such a hurry to convey to Sir Frederick the fact of his arrival that, unseen, he dropped himself into a short boat and landed at Admiralty House …
I did not pay my own respects to Sir Frederick until July 5th when he received me distantly and informed me that Sir George had apprised him of my ‘dishonourable conduct towards his wife aboard the Forte’ … The Governor is a very devil, wily and conniving …
10th Nov.1860
I now know that, three days after I had sailed in July, Sir George wrote to the Duke of Newcastle, claiming that, as Secretary of State, it was imperative he be apprised of what had transpired!! Need I say more about the character of the man! It will go some little way towards explaining how the whole sad business was spread so quickly and to such highest levels in England.
Filled with revulsion at Sir George’s duplicity and cunning in the spreading of malice and gossip against his own wife, I nonetheless resumed reading.
In his letter to Newcastle, not only did that wretch enclose copies of the letters between us, further, he enclosed copies of the notes the Lady and I had so foolishly exchanged and his own — much-embellished — account of the incident with no mention of his own threats of murder and suicide … He went on to state that he had ‘hoped the subject might not become a matter of public notoriety but I found that the matter had obtained entire publicity here at the Cape; moreover, I believe, upon evidence I cannot doubt, that this is, in a great degree, to be attributed to conversations of Sir H. Keppel, and to remarks of the most painful, and embarrassing kind, which he had made to other persons.’ Such calumny! The sole person to whom I spoke at Cape Town was Sir Frederick so it evident that either he or the Governor alone can be responsible for the spreading of rumour and innuendo … That the Bishop of Cape Town felt it his ‘duty’ to intervene in a matter of which he had knowledge only from one party to the affair is not merely a matter for speculation as to his (the Bishop’s) motives but has been the regrettable cause of the further spread of damaging gossip and defamation in regard to Lady Grey …
I felt such a surge of anger that, for a moment,
I could not carry on reading. The next sheet was a clipping from a newspaper:
The Keppel Scandal
… It may turn out that Sir George Grey acted with unbecoming and causeless impetuosity, and that a British Admiral was removed from a valuable appointment at the request of the Home Secretary, because an irascible civilian Governor chose to pick a quarrel.
This was more encouraging. I looked at the next item.
From the Journal of Admiral Sir Henry Keppel, I read.
Nov, 1860
To Lady Grey.
If I say that I am and have been afraid to write it is not from anything that may befall me, but the further harm that my doing so may inflict on your comparatively innocent head. You are surrounded by spies. What Sir G’s intentions are with regard to you it is impossible to guess, and although he believes in his heart (heart he has none) that you are innocent, he would sacrifice you to gratify his revenge on me. Would to Heaven that I could by any amount of suffering or misery on my part clear you from that which I have led you into. How painfully true is the simile with which you compare yourself to a climbing plant and in your ignorance clung to a support unable to uphold you. I dare not say what I feel for you, the injury my unfortunate feelings have already led you into is too painful to bear … For a long time I kept a diary for you but that you may never see … May God forgive me and help you. I will not trust myself to add more.
(Signed) H.K.
Is there a scar left on that poor little head?
So Lucy had written to the Admiral from Rio. How else could he have known of the injury to her temple she had suffered in a fainting fit there?
The next letter was marked Secret.
Lavington House,
Petworth.
Sep 3 1860
Sir:
I trust that I am not doing wrong in asking Your Royal Highness …
Your Royal Highness? To what lengths was Sir George not prepared to go?
… to read the accompanying most painful letter from the Bishop of Cape Town. I have two motives in venturing to take this step. First a sense of Justice to that great man Sir George Grey: and secondly; a desire that all the circumstances of Admiral Keppel’s shameful conduct should be known to Your Royal Highness: because I believe that your possessing that knowledge will greatly tend to enable in this Instance Her Majesty to maintain at the Cape the High Tone of Morals which through the Goodness of God to us She has been enabled to maintain at home.
I am, Sir,
Your Royal Highness’s
dutiful & affectionate,
S Oxon.
Perhaps I may ask for the return of the letter here at the convenience of Your Royal Highness.
Bishop Wilberforce! No wonder, I thought in fury, as I tossed it onto the fire, that he is known to everyone in England as ‘Soapy Sam’. I snatched up the document that had lain below it.
My dear Bishop
I return the Bishop of Capetown’s letter which you have thought it your duty to communicate to me. It relates to a most melancholy affair, on which I had also seen reports from Sir Harry Keppel’s friends.
Here are two of the most distinguished public Servants, within different branches, placed in antagonism where the Country had so much to expect from their united action; the one deeply offended and injured in his domestic life; the other exposed to public ruin.
I cannot conceive anything more painful.
As to the case itself, it appears to me that, if there be presumption of a crime having been committed, the legal tribunals ought to be left to adjudicate; if there has been only indiscretion, nothing more hurtful to the real interests of Sir G. Grey, & particularly to Lady Grey, could be devised, than by blind zeal for her welfare to make the Scandal of her shame more public in attracting general notice to it, nor could anything injure both men more than to encourage two parties to fight, each for their respective friend, in throwing most dirt on the other.
I can personally do nothing in the matter. Sir George Grey seems to have appealed to his chief the Duke of Newcastle. Sir Harry is under the command of the Admiralty; both Authorities are responsible in their departments.
Ever &c,
A.
If Prince Albert had been present I might have flung my arms about him, so exultant was I at the thought of Bishop Wilberforce’s humiliation at this summary dismissal of his letter. But the growing evidence of the magnitude of the scandal appalled me.
I approached Lucy that same evening.
‘From Harry! I knew he’d write, that he hadn’t forgotten me.’
‘Listen very carefully,’ I said. ‘Your entire future hangs in the balance. You cannot afford to be swept away by sentimental notions. If Sir George refuses you a settlement, what will you do? He won’t want the scandal of divorce, but he will attempt to retain control over you. The Admiral knows that. His nephew was adamant that he wishes only for your honour to be protected insofar as that may be possible.’
‘But why didn’t his nephew call on us? It seems a little ungracious.’
‘The Admiral believes Sir George has set spies to watch us and I’m certain he’s right. There’s a man constantly lounging opposite in the street.’
‘Spies? What possible intelligence could be conveyed to my husband that could injure me more?’
‘He suspects that the liaison between you and the Admiral continues.’
‘Harry loves me, Fanny. I know it.’
For her own protection, I deemed it essential to show Lucy at least some of the cuttings and letters. Even with the worst of them kept from her, she was horrified at what she read. She was silent for some time, then she said, ‘Why couldn’t my husband have loved me just a little, Fanny? A small amount of kindness, affection — that was all I asked of him.’
‘That he cannot give. Not to any wife.’
‘Makareta …’
‘Is dead, and she was his mistress, not his wife.’
LYME REGIS, 1864
I understood now that Maud Colville had been right. Woman is purely her husband’s chattel and he may do with her what he will. Had Lucy been a widow she might at last have found happiness with the Admiral, whose concerns were all for her welfare and her honour. Sir George, however, was angered not by the alienation of his wife’s affections but by the loss of his property; he did not want her yet nor he did he want any other to have her. But I was aware of my own double standards in this. What of Te Toa’s wives? Were they any better off than Lucy? It was I, not they, whom he had treated as his equal, I in whom he had confided opinions and beliefs he would not have shared with even another man. And yet, I told myself, Te Toa has not written to me, has not kept a journal for me. He has forgotten me. I was merely a novelty, a Pakeha woman, of interest only for my difference.
In this way, I see now, I suppressed the pain of loss and made it possible for myself to continue living.
Lucy wrote regularly. Aunt Julia Martin had never alluded to her situation, and was so kind and attentive she fancied herself treated as a daughter. They were now at the Martins’ country house in Herefordshire; a mount had been provided for her and she spent much of her time riding in the surrounding countryside, so beautiful and tranquil, you cannot imagine, Fanny … And, in a month or two, I shall come to Lyme for an extended visit … I long to see you again.
And then, I received a letter. I opened it unsuspectingly.
My Dear Miss Thompson,
Acting as his Solicitor and Agent, I write on behalf of His Excellency, Sir George Grey, Her Majesty’s Governor at the Cape Colony. Following the unhappy separation of Sir George and Lady Grey, in conformity with his wishes, she currently resides with his Aunt but it has come to his attention that she intends to visit you at Lyme. Desiring that she should remain at all times under his Aunt’s supervision, he has forbidden her to do so. Should she defy him in this, he will take steps to assert his authority over her, including the justifiable cessation of those funds he now supplies for her material wellbeing.
I feel certain, Madam, that you would not wish to oppose the wishes of His Excellency. Accordingly, I ask you, on Sir George’s behalf, to desist heretofore from any further contact or correspondence with the Lady.
I remain,
Yr. obed. Servant,
Josiah Unwin, Esq.
I cannot recall at any time in my life feeling such rage as I did upon reading that letter. Not content with ruining his wife, Sir George was now set upon separating her from those few friends who still remained to her.
By the afternoon post, I received a communiqué from Lucy.
My dearest, dearest Fanny,
I write in haste. I dare not now dispatch further letters from here. I have been sent a copy of Sir G.’s solicitor’s letter to you forbidding us contact. He knows how very dear you are to me and in this he seeks, as you envisaged, to punish us both. I may write now only to Gussie, and Aunt Julia is to have the reading of those letters, so I cannot even communicate with you by that circuitous route. I must tell you that with the solicitor’s letter was an enclosure, a cutting of the announcement of the marriage of Admiral Keppel at the end of last month. My heart is entirely broken …
VIII
LONDON, 1867
21st March, 1867
My Dearest Fanny,
It is now almost seven years since last we were together and not a day has passed without my thinking of you and mourning our separation. I dared not write before but we have returned to Eaton Terrace and I have slipped out to the post while Aunt Julia is seeing her physician.
I am tolerably well and pass my days happily enough, in the circumstances. Aunt is very good to me, though her health is a cause for concern. I long to see your dear face again and pray that we may somehow, one day, be reunited.
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