by Sarah Burton
All conversation had ceased. It was too quiet even for me to make my exit, as I now dearly wished to, before matters could get any worse. But a hand on my arm detained me.
“What a long time it’s been, Miss H!” said Dr Rookham kindly, and shook me warmly by the hand. “Mr Fluke is keen to see you too.”
“I fear my being here is an embarrassment to everyone,” I said quietly.
“Nonsense, dear girl,” he replied, but Clarissa and Diana continued to look as though there was a bad smell in the room, such as a dead rat under the floorboards (which in a way, of course, there was). By contrast Diana’s husband, Lord A, Charlie and Jasper were engaged in an animated and friendly conversation – “I had only gone to borrow a book!” exclaimed Mr Pincher, to much laughter – when Clarissa, learning that there were titles in the room fairly fell over Diana in her haste to get to them first. She clasped hold of her brother-in-law as though he were a very large unruly puppy and bade him effect the introductions.
She then asked Lord A whether he knew Lords X and Y, who were “very dear friends”, but dropped him like a hot coal when she realised Jasper outranked him and was soon all over him like a swarm of bees.
“’Tis a plaguey day, a most unlucky day,” sighed Jasper.
“Did you know dear Aunt Margaret long, my lord?” Clarissa fluttered.
“Never met the old girl, sorry to say. Sounds a proper peach, though.”
“So, may I ask your lordship,” asked Clarissa’s husband, “why you have honoured us with your presence today?”
“Me? Oh, friend of H,” said Jasper simply.
“Friend of H?” Clarissa exclaimed. “H?”
“But I must pay my compliments to that lady,” said Jasper, indicating Diana, sitting with only a large plate of custard tarts for company.
“So must I,” added Charlie hastily, and they abandoned the astonished couple. Diana regarded their approach with horror, and looked about to see where her husband was.
“Madam, I feel sure we have met before – ” began Jasper.
“No, no, I am quite sure I have never seen either of you gentlemen before,” she said, looking quite terrified.
“But surely you recall our dancing lesson?” asked Charlie.
“No, I assure you!” Diana insisted. Then, seeing her husband approach, she hissed: “I have never been at H’s house. Please do not talk to me.”
Somewhat baffled, Jasper and Charlie retired to recharge their glasses.
“Bit of a puzzle, what?” mused Jasper. “She don’t know H, she don’t know us. Do you think she lacks it up here, poor girl?” he tapped his forehead.
At that moment Godfrey appeared with a drink for me and I took the opportunity to ask him why Lord A, Charlie and Jasper were present.
“Frederick asked them,” he said.
“Why?” I asked, wondering what further humiliation Frederick had in store for me.
“Lord A came to see Frederick the day after the intervention in the wedding. He was extremely grateful for it. He has since been making enquiries about Sylvia and has discovered everything he had told him was true. Moreover, she has vanished, and there is no more clue as to whither she has gone, than to whence she came, compounding her guilt. He asked whether there was anything he could do for Frederick in return for helping his family make such a narrow escape from that witch, and Frederick said it was all your doing, and any thanks were due to you, and if he wanted to help you, he and Charlie should come here today and support you. So here they are.”
“But why should Frederick care about me?” I asked.
“H! You are his cousin! He knew you feared the family would give you a rough ride and he wanted you to have friends here. So I asked Jasper as well.”
I still did not understand.
“But if all this is true, why does Frederick try to humiliate me? Why did he so publicly invite Clarissa to address me, knowing that she wouldn’t?”
“He didn’t know she wouldn’t, I’d guess,” said Godfrey. “I think he hoped he could press her into it, by asking her publicly. In his eyes I believe her refusal humiliated no one but herself.”
“But he has been so cold towards me ever since I came to Lincoln’s Inn! I confess I cannot credit this change of heart.” I could not puzzle it out at all. Then, just as suddenly as this little flame of hope that Frederick did not hate me had ignited, it was extinguished as an awful explanation dawned on me. “It is because he knows I know,” I said.
“It is because he knows you know what?” sighed Godfrey, not a little exasperated.
“About you and him!” I said.
Godfrey laughed.
“Ah, yes, your little goodbye note. That was very naughty of you, H.”
“So that is why he has changed his tune and now is kind to me. He thinks I am so low as to raise a fuss – to blackmail him, even.”
“Hold, hold!” said Godfrey, and it was one of the few times I ever saw him angry with me. “You do him wrong. He does not know you know. I got rid of the note before he saw it. He would not know it would make no difference to your opinion of him. His mother had just died. I didn’t want to add to his cares. I will tell him by and by.” At that moment Joe came and kissed me and said the will was about to be read and I asked him to summon those who had gone below. Seeing I was alone at last, Jasper pounced.
“Stand and deliver!” he exclaimed, pointing two invisible pistols at me. “I demand the price of one broken heart, madam, payable immediately! Well if it ain’t… Miss H!” he remembered himself just in time, dropping a low bow.
“Thank you for coming, Jasper,” I said, surprised at how touched I was to see his smiling stupid self.
“Oh the pleasure’s all mine – anything to be of service. Gadzooks! You don’t look half bad when you’re done up a bit, H! You should wear black more – suits your shape – doesn’t make your arse look half so big.” And with such endearments Jasper led me to a seat as the family assembled before Mr Fluke, the lawyer. Janey and Thomas returned and told us that Grace and Frankie had gone home for the child’s sake, but that we were welcome to join them at The Mermaid afterwards, and bring what friends we liked and they would treat us to a dinner.
77
As expected, the bulk of Aunt Madge’s fortune passed directly to Frederick, but she also left ten guineas to each of her sister’s children, that is to say, me and my sisters. From Clarissa’s expression I divined that the cost of the trip to London had been more than worthwhile. Then came a great surprise in three separate legacies, each of five thousand pounds, to Godfrey, to Joe, and, to my utmost amazement, to myself, should I be found yet living. What touched me more than the money itself (though I freely confess money always touched me), was the idea that for all those years Aunt Madge had never given up hope that I might yet have survived. This seemed to me as great a demonstration of the power of love, in the face of such overwhelming odds, as any.
Clarissa and company were in disarray. They would have been quite happy with their ten guineas, I knew, had not, in their eyes, far greater riches gone to such dubious beneficiaries. Joe they had treated all day as a servant, despite being informed he was Aunt Madge’s ward; Godfrey they had mocked and sneered at; and myself they had done their best to shun and humiliate. Why them and not us? I could see them thinking.
Diana’s husband rose to his feet, and I do not pretend to recall the legal terms he used but, in short, he contested the will. Rather than feel in any sense inhibited, he seemed provoked by the immediate flurry of gasps around the room.
“Who, exactly, are these people? I should like very much to know.” Mr Pincher had adopted the tone of the courtroom advocate. “It is my deep suspicion that this blackamoor, this so-called secretary, and this… what shall we call her before ladies? … inveigled their way into Mrs Hardcastle’s affections when she was incapacitated both in body and in mind.”
This brought cries of support and protestation on all sides.
“Gad, now my bl
ood’s up, I am a dangerous person!” exclaimed Jasper, leaping to his feet and laying his hand on his sword. I was aware of a banging sound, and as everyone else became aware of it, I saw that it was Dr Rookham, precariously balancing on one stick while he rapped repeatedly on the table with the other. One by one they all fell silent.
“If there is to be debate,” he began, “and I, for one, intend to contribute to it, then let it be conducted through the good offices of Mr Fluke.”
Mr Fluke, who I think had never seen such a reaction to the reading of a will, seemed flummoxed, and reluctantly agreed to act as chair as long as it was generally understood that the proceedings had no legal weight.
“Then, Mr Fluke, may I speak?” asked Dr Rookham.
Mr Fluke nodded.
“You all know I was the dear departed lady’s family doctor and, I may say, honoured also to count myself her friend.” Dr Rookham paused and cleared his throat. “What I have to say concerns young Joseph.” Then he looked across at Frederick and asked: “Do I have your permission, sir?”
“Of course,” said Frederick. This vastly intrigued everyone, although I knew what was coming.
“Joseph has loyally served Mrs Hardcastle from early childhood. Long before she was ill she declared her intention of making generous provision for his future. And if these proofs of love and devotion are not enough to satisfy you, I and Mr Fluke himself can attest that Joseph is the natural son of her late husband.”
Diana squeaked in shock. Clarissa stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth in horror. Her reverend husband turned as white as Joseph was black.
“Ods bodikins, this is better than a play!” I heard Jasper say to Charlie. The pair were sitting directly in front of me and appeared to be becoming fast friends.
“I’ll say!” agreed Charlie, and Lord A told them to be quiet.
“May we consider the matter of this young man’s right to his inheritance closed?” asked Mr Fluke.
A nervous voice piped up from the back of the room.
“Mr Fluke, me and my brother should like to speak in favour of Mr Godfrey.” It was Ted Potter, standing awkwardly, with his brother Reg, equally uncomfortable, beside him. “We were Mrs Hardcastle’s footmen, Mr Fluke.”
“Servants should be seen and not heard,” declared Mr Pincher.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” said Ted and promptly sat down. Reg pulled him to his feet again.
“We want to say, your worship,” he began, even more nervous than his brother, “that we have seen with our own eyes, if it please your honour, the excellent service Mr Godfrey gave to our mistress. Your lordship could not find a better servant nor a truer friend than she had in him.”
“As I said, he took advantage of a witless old woman! He is a filcher, a cadger, a jack-in-the-box, a Captain Sharp!” interrupted Mr Pincher, to cries of “hear, hear” from his faction.
“Sit down Mr Pincher!” ordered Mr Fluke. Diana gasped, I sensed half-admiringly.
“Mr Godfrey gave our mistress a home – gave me and my brother a home – when she lost hers in the great fire,” continued Reg.
“All part of his plot! It’s plain as day, he had her in his sights, and gained her trust only to gain her money! This man’s a fool,” cried Mr Pincher.
“Take that back, sir!” cried Ted, surprising everyone, including himself.
“Sit down, Mr Pincher!” shouted Janey, but then had the goodness to blush when all heads turned towards her.
Reg continued: “He showed the same kindness as Mrs Hardcastle herself, God rest her.” He turned his gaze on Clarissa and Diana and their husbands as he added, “And I would take this opportunity to add that that good lady would feel ashamed – most bitterly ashamed – to be part of a family that can demonstrate such meanness of spirit as some of them have shown today.” He was almost in tears by the time he sat down, to most touching applause.
“Outrageous!” spluttered Mr Pincher.
“May we move on?” asked Mr Fluke. “Before we do so, I should caution everyone here that to impugn the good name of a lady is a most serious matter and should not be lightly entered into.”
I knew that no one could give such a good account of me as had been given to defend my friends, and that everything was now bound to come out. Accordingly, I stood up, and though Clarissa’s and Diana’s husbands pointedly remained in their chairs, all the other gentlemen rose.
“Please be seated gentlemen,” I said in a voice that sounded far more assured than I felt. “To save the feelings of my family and friends,” I began, “I am quite prepared to renounce my claim on my inheritance and have the sum divided between my sisters.”
Above the murmurs of surprise which ensued, Mr Pincher’s voice rose triumphantly. “There! That is legal!” he cried. “She has said it before witnesses!” Diana stopped clapping her hands in glee the instant she realised she was doing it, and Clarissa stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth once again in excitement. By his expression of supreme concentration, I guessed Clarissa’s husband was calculating five thousand pounds divided by four.
“Mr Fluke!” Frederick was on his feet. What on earth was he going to say? I prayed and prayed he would sit down and gestured to Godfrey to make him. But Godfrey chose not to see me. “I would not have my dear mother’s wishes, as expressed in her will – which was made, incidentally, as Mr Fluke here will attest, when she was perfectly sound in mind and body, so let’s have no more of those scurrilous imputations – as I say, I would not have her wishes over-ruled by anyone, for any reason.” General applause broke out to the dismay of Clarissa and company. “Moreover, I would not have my cousin bullied out of what is rightfully hers for fear of what might be said about her character.” Stop now, I thought. Please stop now. But he continued. “I should like us all to take a minute or so to examine our feelings and consciences.”
“Yes, let us do that,” said Mr Fluke. My sisters and their husbands conferred most earnestly in a huddle.
“How do you think it will end?” Charlie whispered to Jasper.
“Like all good tragedies, in a pile of dead bodies if anyone says anything about H,” Jasper said ominously. I laid my hand on his shoulder and he looked at me with a rueful look which I hoped meant he understood I strictly forbade him killing anyone.
The conference broke up, and by the looks on their faces I guessed the prosecution was to continue.
“We are not at all sure, Mr Fluke,” Mr Pincher said, and I sensed a courtroom flourish approaching, “whether that woman actually is our sister H!” In the uproar that followed, in which even Dr Rookham rose to his feet protesting, I detected that Mr Pincher had pursued a line of argument not altogether approved by his clients. Defeated, he gave way to Reverend Grimwade, and the furore died down.
“The question to which we should all like an answer,” Reverend Grimwade intoned, as though invested with the authority of an invisible pulpit around him, “is: where has our sister been, and how has she supported herself, since she left our aunt’s house in Cheapside in the plague summer?”
As Janey later observed, you could have heard a mouse fart in the silence that followed this question; the question I had been dreading since I first sold myself to Pinky in a room above a coffee-house. I shut my eyes and gathered my strength and was about to rise to speak when I heard Frederick’s voice.
“Because an explanation is demanded, it does not follow that one should be given,” he began. “However, it is meet that the truth be known. Mr Pincher has been an admirable representative for the prosecution, and I now appoint myself counsel for the defence.” You would have thought that Frederick had studied for the bar, rather than the clergy, as he now addressed the assembly with the ease of the practiced lawyer. He turned to me: “With your permission, of course, cousin.”
I realised I was gaping like everyone else, and nodded in submission and resigned myself to my fate.
“The facts I lay before you I have learned over a period of time from eye-witnesses whom I wh
olly trust. As a result of inhuman treatment by my late brother and infamous sister-in-law, and in the absence of her protector, my aunt, my cousin here was turned out of the home she had made in Cheapside. Friendless and penniless, alone in the plague-ridden city, what was she to do?” He paused, allowing this to sink in. “What indeed could she do?” He allowed it to sink in even more.
“Is it better to die with a blameless reputation or to survive at any rate? Is a good reputation worth starving for?” He fixed his gaze on Mr Pincher: “Is a good name worth half-killing your wife?” Then on Diana: “Is a good name worth being beaten half to death?” Then on Clarissa: “Is the good opinion of the neighbours worth abandoning a sister to the workhouse?” (He referred, of course, to Grace.) “Is the good opinion of the world worth abandoning that sister’s defenceless child to the parish?” Then to Clarissa’s husband: “What is a good name worth when it is purchased on such terms? When you arrive at St Peter’s gates, do you think he will ask you whether you have kept a good name? Or will you be asked whether you treated your brothers and sisters on Earth with kindness and compassion? And do you think God would have wished H to die of starvation when her life had barely begun, rather than preserve the life that He gave her, and go on to do the best she could?”
“How dare you speak to me of God!” growled Reverend Grimwade, his face now almost purple with rage.
“Over-ruled,” barked Mr Fluke, forgetting he was not a real judge in a real court, and as entranced as everyone else by Frederick’s performance.
“Had H starved to death, as some of you would presumably have preferred, to keep her precious good name, Joe here might yet remain in the miserable condition she found him, a slave to a villainous brute. Mr Godfrey is here today because she did not die, but lived to find him, fainted away in the street for pure hunger, and helped him. My dear mother should have died before this, in the great fire, had H not saved her. Weigh a good name in the balance against these actions, and which will be the lighter, do you think?”
Here Jasper went to put his hand up like a good schoolboy who knows the answer, but Charlie gently restrained him. Lord A rose to his feet.