by Michael Cox
Oh, those transfixing eyes, black as pansy petals, like the eyes of some Byzantine icon gazing steadfastly into eternity! So beautiful, so captivating, so infinitely mysterious! I felt myself sinking into their shifting, treacherous depths, succumbing helplessly to their power, as so many others had done. Her words had alarmed me at first, until it was clear that they contained no suggestion of menace. On the contrary, they had a tender sincerity that I had never heard her give voice to before and it was bewitching.
You will find it strange, she went on, that I should speak so after all, I have known you for only a short time. It is strange to me, I confess, this inexplicable affinity that I feel exists between us. I have struggled to resist it, being naturally conscious of the disparity of our conditions in the world; and I have tried so very hard! to maintain the relations that ought properly to exist between mistress and maid, as I attempted to do earlier, over your acceptance of Mr Wraxalls invitation. But I can resist no longer.
You may not believe it, but I am beset with troubles, and have no one in whom to confide. I see your disbelieving look, but it is only too true. Of course I have my dear son, Perseus; but there are some things a mother cannot say even to her children and others, perhaps, that must be kept from them, for their own sakes.
The consequence is that I feel utterly alone in the world. I confess that I can no longer bear the prospect of living out my days bereft of an attachment to someone of my own sex, an attachment of the kind I once enjoyed with my former friend, and for which I daily yearn.
And so: will you be such a friend to me, Alice, as well as my paid companion, from this day forth? My true, devoted friend?
I do not know what to say, my Lady, I said, affecting a look of gratified confusion, although inwardly exultant. This is so unexpected so undeserved
Oh, Alice, you dear little goose! she laughed. You must say yes, of course; and then you must stop addressing me as my Lady I mean when we are together like this. My name is Emily Grace Duport; and so except when we are in company, or in the presence of my sons from henceforth you must call me Emily.
But, I protested, you and your former friend were of an age. I am so young, so ignorant of the world. Surely you need a friend of your own age?
Nonsense! she cried. You are young in years, of course, but you have an uncommonly wise head on your shoulders. And why should I not have a younger friend, especially one in whom I truly feel there exists such reciprocity of outlook? You feel it, too, I know that our lives were meant to become entwined. Say you feel it!
I could not deny it, for it was no more than the truth the reason, indeed, why I had been sent to this place. Whereupon, on hearing my whispered admission, she fell to her knees in front of me, threw her arms around my neck, and kissed me.
There! she said. Sealed with a kiss!
My amazement, on finding my mistress kneeling before me in an attitude of ardent supplication, and speaking to me in such a demonstrative manner, may be readily imagined. It brought to mind the sight of her, overcome by grief, kneeling before the tomb of Phoebus Daunt; but now her face was bright with hopeful entreaty, and to my further astonishment I found myself returning her embrace, and sinking into a curious state of willing submission, from which I roused myself only with the greatest difficulty.
I could not conceive what had wrought such a startling change in her a transformation so sudden and complete that it seemed, even to my suspicious eye, to be wholly untainted by subterfuge. I own that I was in a perfect daze, knowing that I must not trust her, and yet feeling flattered and touched by this effusive offer of friendship from the one person in the whole wide world whom I could never call my friend.
My Lady sat back in her chair once more with a contented sigh.
Do you remember, she asked, when you first stood before me, and I asked you whether you thought we would become friends?
I said that I remembered it very well, but had never dared to hope that such a thing could ever come about although, of course, I added, I wished it very much.
Its Fate, you see. I am certain as I have been certain of few other things in my life and I am truly, truly glad of it.
As I am also, say I, reaching out and taking her hand. Truly.
We sit for several moments, saying nothing, each preoccupied with our own thoughts.
Naturally, it will not be easy for you, Alice, she observes after a while. Youll feel awkward and constrained, no doubt, by this sudden change in our relations. But I wish you to be as happy in my company as I know I shall be in yours; and so you must strive to overcome your natural delicacy, which does you the greatest credit, and try to treat me as if I were your equal I mean of course in our private moments, away from the worlds gaze, and never in front of the servants. In public we must be more circumspect. Youll then appear as my paid companion, and we must take care to temper our conduct accordingly.
Ah, yes, I say, compliant as you like, the proprieties must be observed, of course. Friends in private, mistress and companion in public.
Exactly! she cries. You always understand, dear Alice.
Oh yes, my Lady, I think. I understand perfectly.
We talked on for half an hour or more; or, rather, I was content to let my new friend talk away, which she appeared most eager to do, whilst I smiled and nodded in a gratefully accommodating manner, until the darkness began to gather, and it was time to light the lamps.
Do you know, Alice, she said, standing up and reaching out her hands towards the fire, I think I should like to spend some time in London again after all. It will be quite different now, having you to keep me company. Im sure I shall not hate it if you are with me. Well go to the theatre, and to concerts. Oh yes, to concerts! I have not been to one since well, for such a long time. Youll like that, wont you, dear?
Rain was now beating against the windows, driven in by a howling wind.
And then, she continued, in a rapt, musing sort of way, not waiting for a reply from me, but walking over to the window-seat to look out across the rain-swept Park, we can make expeditions to the Zoological Gardens, perhaps, or to the Tower. Of course there are also people you should meet, to whom I can introduce you, and so bring you out into the best society, as I told you I wished to do.
She looked magnificent in her trailing dark-grey gown, which hugged her tall figure, and set off her pale skin to perfection. Who would not admire her, and wish to be her friend?
Seeing her standing there, so mysteriously alluring in the fires glow, I knew that I could never admit to Madame what I could hardly admit to myself: that I was becoming captivated by this woman, whose still unrevealed iniquities I had come here to expose to the world. What a contradictory and perplexing thing is the human heart, that it can be at once attracted to and repelled by the same object, and drawn, despite itself, to what it seeks to destroy!
Thus it was, just three months after my first coming to the great house of Evenwood, that I ceased my employment as maid to the 26th Baroness Tansor, and became the chosen friend of Emily Grace Duport, née Carteret the woman whom my guardian angel, Madame de lOrme, had assured me was my sworn enemy.
18
Thirty at Table, and What Followed
I
Dressing for Dinner
MY LADY and I continued talking by the fire until it was time to dress for dinner.
Will you object to helping me dress, Alice? she asked. I mean as a friend would do, of course, not as my maid? Theres a girl coming for interview next week a relation of Pococks. If she answers, then I shall not trouble to see anyone else. Until then
I eagerly assured her that I was very happy to go on assisting her with her toilet until the new maid came, at which she clapped her hands, and gave me another kiss.
She had been recalling once again, in t
he most animated terms, her former friend, and the happy times they had enjoyed together.
How sad that such times had to come to an end, I remarked. You mentioned certain circumstances
Forgive me, Alice. She had grown suddenly serious. I cannot speak of these things.
Well, then, of course I shant press you, I replied, deciding that I would show a little crossness at her refusal. I only made the remark because I thought you wished to have someone in whom you could confide. But even friends, I suppose, must have their secrets.
This is not a secret, Alice, she said, gently, but insistently. The circumstances to which I alluded involve confidences that I simply cannot on any account break, even for a friend.
Her voice had hardened, and the old imperious light flashed in her eyes. For a moment I feared that I had been too forward; then she seemed suddenly to recollect herself.
But these things are all in the past, she said. Let us leave them there. This is a new beginning, for us both, and I hope that we shall feel able to share our secrets with each other, like true friends.
I marvelled again at her hypocrisy, knowing full well that she would never willingly reveal the secret places of her heart to me.
As I finished helping her dress, she told me that she wished me to join the company for dinner that evening, and that I would henceforth take all my meals with the family.
I suppose tongues will wag, she sighed, and heads will shake, and people will think that I have run quite mad, to raise my former maid in this way; but that should not concern us in the least, dear Alice. Everyone will soon see that you were not born to service, and then they will applaud my good sense in liberating you from it.
On she chattered, until I had finished dressing her hair and had handed her the box containing the precious locket, on its black velvet band, in which she kept the strand of hair that she had cut from the head of Phoebus Daunt.
Oh, yes, she said, placing the locket round her throat; I have asked Barrington to take your things to the Tower Room tomorrow morning, so that you may wake on Christmas Day in your new bed. Now, what shall you wear tonight? You must make a good impression on our guests, you know. And Christmas Day is also dear Perseuss coming of age. What a day it will be!
Jumping up from her chair, she runs over to one of the great wardrobes, like some excitable young Miss on the eve of her first ball, and begins taking out several gowns, which she first holds up for inspection, and then throws impatiently down in a growing heap on the floor.
Ah! she exclaims at last, taking out an elegant dress of silver-grey silk, cut low over the shoulders, the skirt looped round with frills and bows of darker grey silk trimmed with red roses.
Just the thing! It will do very well, I think. Come, let me see you in it. I shall help you.
So saying, she eagerly begins to unbutton the drab black dress that was my usual daily apparel, and then holds open the gown for me to step into.
It was most unsettling, to find myself being dressed by my Lady, as if she were the maid and I the mistress; but she appeared insensible to the incongruity of the situation. Indeed, she seemed rather to relish it, and prattled on gaily as she buttoned up the gown, fixed a circlet of pearls and paper flowers in my hair, and then took me over to the cheval-glass.
There! she cried, admiringly. Quite transformed!
She stood behind me, hands placed protectively on my bare shoulders, as we both looked at my reflection in the glass.
The gown fitted to perfection, for we were much of a height, and, despite the disparity in our ages, my Ladys figure had remained almost as trim as mine. With our dark hair, and the not dissimilar cast of our features, it struck me forcibly that we might almost have been mistaken for mother and daughter. Perhaps the same thought had struck my Lady, for she suddenly started, and removed her hands from my shoulders.
Good heavens! she exclaimed, more to herself than to me. Then, under her breath: I was right!
Is anything wrong, my Lady? I asked, mystified by her words.
Wrong? What could be wrong? It is just that in this light you look so like someone I once knew. You have always reminded me of this person; but tonight here, now the resemblance is especially strong. It took me a little by surprise.
Another friend? I asked.
This time she did not answer, but turned away, walked over to the dressing-table, and opened an ivory jewellery box.
One more thing, to make all complete, she said, bringing out from the box an exquisite opal-and-diamond necklace, which she made to place around my neck.
Oh, no! I protested, pulling away. I cannot possibly really, I cannot.
Nonsense! she said, securing the clasp, and then stepping back to contemplate the effect. You were born to wear such things. See how well you carry it.
It was true. My reflection gave back the very picture of a well-born lady, perfectly at ease with expense and luxury. Where now, I thought to myself, was the lowly maid?
I happened then to glance down at the ivory jewellery box, which still lay open on the dressing-table. Amongst several rings and bracelets jumbled together on the dark-red plush lining, I noticed a small key tied to a piece of black silk. This immediately aroused my curiosity; for where there is a key, there must also be a lock.
Come, Alice, said my Lady, taking my arm. We must go down. Our guests are waiting.
II
Mr Shillitos Bad Memory
THE COMPANY OF Christmas guests has already assembled in the Chinese Salon thirty persons in all. As my Lady and I enter, every head turns to observe us.
We move slowly about the extravagantly appointed and suddenly hushed room, and my Lady introduces me to each guest in turn as Miss Gorst, my new companion.
I am pleased to find that Mr Wraxall has been invited, and as my Lady turns away to speak to Sir Lionel Voysey, we exchange a few brief words concerning my impending visit to North Lodge.
As I am being presented to my Ladys cousin, Major Hunt-Graham, we are joined by Mr Randolph.
Good-evening, Miss Gorst. I hope you are well, are his first words to me. He then compliments me on how charming I look, and asks what I have been doing since he has been away in Wales. All the usual enquiries are made, all the usual bland answers given; but his eyes seem to speak another language. For him, it seems, absence has done its proverbial work. There is no doubt in my mind. I had sensed how it might be, from his first words to me, from his confession on our walk back from Easton, and from other signs and portents. I am now sure of it. For good or ill, amidst the hubbub and chatter, and the coming and going of servants, I am suddenly certain extraordinary though it seems that Mr Randolph Duport has fallen in love with me.
I am flattered, but also alarmed, for any gratification that I allow myself to feel is immediately tempered by the certainty that I can never return his feelings for me. I like Mr Randolph almost more than I have liked anyone in my life; indeed, I had felt drawn to his unaffected, open-hearted charm from the very moment of our first meeting outside the Library. I could once have imagined loving him, but no longer. I had not given my heart to him at first sight, as I might so easily have done, and know now that I never will.
The man I married might be handsome, or he might not; he might be young or old; he must return my love to the utmost, be kind and caring, and treat me as his equal in all things (a high ambition, but I believed such men existed). Above all, he must be someone from whom I could learn, as I had learned from Mr Thornhaugh, and in whose mental life I could share. Mr Randolph as I had come to know him, and from the reports of others was good-natured and sympathetic, liked by all; but it was also plain to me, from my own observations, that he lacked those qualities of mind that I was determined the man I loved would possess.
Mr Perseus, by contrast, matched my ideal far more closely: a poet, a cultivated man of taste
and discernment, with the additional material attractions of one day inheriting an ancient peerage, and becoming as rich as Croesus. He had, besides, that element of mystery about him that is naturally alluring to someone of my romantic disposition. He had intrigued me from the first, although I had barely acknowledged the fact to myself. As the weeks had passed, however, my fascination had increased. I had felt that there was so much in him to be discovered. His brother seems always to wear his heart on his sleeve, presenting himself to the world as he appears really to be open, frank, and uncomplicated. Mr Perseus, by contrast, is secretive, reticent, continually on his guard. But I do not see Mr Perseus as others appear to do. He is proud, of course: proud of who he is, proud of his ancient family and its lofty position in the world, proud of his own abilities. Yet although I could wish he were less conscious of his own worth, I do not believe that his habitual reserve, or the attitude of arrogant disdain that he is wont to assume towards others less fortunate, or less accomplished, than himself, reflect an inflexible and constricted nature, devoid of the capacity to feel for others. My heart tells me otherwise: that, unlike his brother, Mr Perseus is more much more than he seems to be, or than he allows himself to be.
As these thoughts run helter-skelter through my mind, they are interrupted by the arrival of Mr Perseus himself, bowing stiffly, and wishing me good-evening.
Well, Miss Gorst, he remarks, sweeping his eye over my borrowed gown, and bringing it to rest on the necklace his mother had insisted on my wearing, you have shed your old skin, I see. You stand before us quite new born.
Now, dear, you mustnt tease, reproves my Lady, gently patting her eldest sons arm.
Oh, I dont tease, I assure you, replies Mr Perseus, without taking his eyes from me. I never tease, as I have told you before. I am perfectly serious. I see nothing but good in the change. Youve blossomed, Miss Gorst, most remarkably, in a matter of hours. What next, I wonder? Youll soon be queen of us all.