by Sarah Burton
“I should like to add that Miss H did my own family a great service, for which we will always be in her debt,” he said, and turned and bowed to me before resuming his seat.
Jasper then got up and said, “And I want to say… Damn and blast it all, she won’t say she’ll marry me—”
“And he’s an owl!” chipped in Janey.
“That’s right, Janey,” rejoined Jasper. “And I’d say that makes her standards pretty high! I haven’t the faintest idea why you’ve all got it in for H, but I’m sure she don’t deserve it. That’s all.” And he sat down.
“And, your honour,” Janey piped up again, “she saved my baby’s life.” Thankfully she did not go into further details.
Clarissa’s party saw that they risked being vanquished from the moral high ground and now could barely even look each other in the eye, let alone face the rest of the company.
“Well,” said Mr Fluke after a few moments. “Am I to understand that this will is not now to be contested?”
“I have not done, sir.” Reverend Grimwade rose to his feet again. “The Church,” he intoned, “is not to be dishonoured thus with talk of weights and balances. You, sir, are no St Peter. It is not for you to judge.”
“I do not judge,” rejoined Frederick. “I merely ask that others also refrain from judging.”
“I perceive you are an honest man, cousin,” said the vicar, “for I may call you that, may I not?”
“We are closer, sir. Brothers, in God’s eyes,” said Frederick.
“Indeed. And Cain and Abel were brothers, were they not?” and here for the first time I discerned my brother-in-law’s vanity, as I saw – only momentarily and fleetingly – that he looked to the rest of his cabal for approval of the effect he hoped to produce. At that second I began not to be afraid of him. He was a man, like other men. And other men was a subject on which I was comprehensively well-versed. “These testimonials regarding our sister’s charitable actions are touching indeed. But they do not address the main question. Are you, an honest man, giving us to understand that our sister was never... ” and here he paused for what he must have presumed to be dramatic effect, “… an actress?”
Here the cabal gasped, as though the very word could contaminate. Frederick looked as astonished as I felt.
“An actress?” he repeated.
“Playhouse trash. The sweepings of the stage. A player. Call it what you will, it is all the same. We have heard the rumours.”
Frederick looked at me, nonplussed. I decided to speak for myself.
“Brother, I may honestly say I have never been upon the stage, since it matters so much to you. But I am proud to have known players and counted them my friends. I think there are far worse things than being an actress.” I sat down.
“I think there are not,” said Reverend Grimwade. And that was that. He sat down, somewhat deflated.
“Is that all?” asked Mr Fluke. “Am I now to understand that this will is not to be contested?”
“Yes, you are, Mr Fluke,” said Frederick firmly, and no one raised a murmur against him.
“Good. Then I bid you all good day.”
78
Clarissa, Diana, and their husbands were the first to leave the Lamb and Flag and we doubted we should see them at The Mermaid. We all followed them downstairs where Lord A’s coach was waiting at the door.
“I did you wrong, H,” he said as we parted, “and I am truly sorry for it.”
“Oh, all water under the bridge, I assure you,” I said.
He embraced me, and as he did so, whispered in my ear: “Marry Jasper.”
It seemed my friends had been talking. Then he stepped into the carriage and waited for Charlie, who had been deep in conversation with Jasper.
“Dear H,” said Charlie, taking my hands in his. “How can I thank you? For everything?”
“Dear Charlie,” I said. “Just be happy.”
“May I kiss you?” he asked.
“I think better not,” I said. And with his dear little bow he was into the coach and away.
Jasper appeared.
“Well if it ain’t… I say, H, you ain’t crying are you old girl? Come, come, now, or your paint will run.”
“I’m not wearing paint!” I said, taking his proffered handkerchief.
“Well, you should. Your nose has gone red and your eyes are sort of… piggish,” he decided. “Come inside,” and he led me back into the tap room, where I said my farewells to Mr Fluke and Dr Rookham, and finally fell into a chair by the fire. I felt utterly exhausted. All who remained, I considered, were those very dearest to me: Janey and Thomas, Godfrey and Frederick, Joe and, after today, Jasper finished up the list.
“I propose,” said Godfrey, filling us each a glass, “a toast to dear Aunt Madge followed by dinner at The Mermaid.”
We all agreed. And after we had toasted Aunt Madge, Jasper toasted me, then I toasted all my friends, and we poured ourselves into a coach (though the newlyweds chose to ride atop, for the sun had come out) and made a very merry party down to Wapping.
“Have you given up your campaign to make H marry you, Jasper?” teased Frederick, a little drunk by now.
“Hang a wife!” exclaimed Jasper, at least as drunk as Frederick. “What is she, but a lawful kind of manslayer? Every little hug in bed is a degree of murder.”
We all stared at him.
“Jasper!” Godfrey exclaimed.
“It’s the claret talking,” said Frederick, amused.
“Actually, it’s Mr Dryden,” said Joe. “It’s in a play.”
“Yes, sir,” said Jasper. “Mr Dryden has it all worked out. Marriage is poor folks’ pleasure, that cannot go to the cost of variety, that’s what he says. Damned clever fellow.”
“And do you really mean it, Jasper?” asked Joe.
Jasper looked out of the window.
“Not a word of it, dear heart. But it consoles a fellow.”
“Oh, poor Jasper!” I said and kissed him on the cheek, and the others laughed, but not unkindly.
“You know, H, if you wanted to be married, but did not want a husband, you could marry one of us,” said Godfrey, meaning him or Frederick. Frederick blushed deeply.
“I don’t know that Fred is so keen on the idea,” I said.
“Oh no, I just… actually… that’s a rather good idea Godfrey. We could all live together… ”
“… And it would look well in the eyes of the world… ” added Godfrey.
“Damn and blast the eyes of the world!” said Jasper. “And what about me?”
“You could visit!” I said. “We could revive Aunt Madge’s monthly dinners.”
“Weekly,” said Jasper. “Daily. What do you think, Joe?”
“I think I would like us all to be together better than anything in the world,” said Joe, looking steadily out of the window, “and I think Aunt Madge would too.” And I realised he did not jerk as he used to, and then recollected that I had not seen him twitch for some time. Perhaps everything was mending now.
79
Our party was given the warmest possible reception at The Mermaid, and Grace placed us at a table at a large window affording a fine prospect of the Thames. To tell you all Grace and Frankie’s adventures since we last met, and how they had found each other at the last, would make a whole book in itself, and moreover one that only they could write, but suffice it to say that they had built a fine business together and it was easy to see had gained the respect and affection of their salty customers, who regarded their special visitors with open and bemused curiosity.
I cannot say whether I was surprised to see my old friend the sea captain enjoying a pipe with his jug of ale, as I had known he frequented the inn, but I was certainly pleased. Being a man of surprisingly delicate sensibilities, seeing I was with friends, and gentlemen among them, he did not immediately approach me, but when I went to him he greeted me warmly and was delighted to learn that Frankie and Grace were my sisters and said they were might
y fine women and he would do anything in the world for them. He then fell easily into conversation with Jasper and Joe. I used to feel a deal uncomfortable when customers of mine got their heads together but realised that I no longer thought of either Jasper or the captain in that way, which perhaps meant I had ceased to think of myself in that way. In my mind I had quit the game already, it seemed. But I did not have time to dwell on this now as I had much to catch up with my long-lost sisters.
When we had eaten, and everyone was most affable, and I saw my friends were in conference in the corner with the captain about something, I took the opportunity to put a question I had been burning to ask to Grace and Frankie.
“I do not wish to revisit all the past,” said I, “but satisfy me on one point. Do you have any idea what my real name was? I mean my full name? The name that H stood for?”
Frankie laughed.
“Don’t you know?” she said. “No, of course you don’t, you’re the youngest, how could you?”
I was still none the wiser and indicated as much.
“Who taught you your alphabet?” asked Frankie.
“Evelyn, I think,” I said.
“And how did she teach it?” asked Frankie. “D’you recall?”
This seemed an extraordinary odd question until I began to consider the answer. It was a sort of a rhyme which began with the names of our brother and sister who had died before I was born and then ran through ours.
“A is for Abraham,” I began, remembering, “B is for Belinda,
C is for Clarissa, D is for Diana,
E is for Evelyn, F is for Frances,
G is for Grace and H is for me,
then I, J, K, L, M, N, O, and P,
Q is a question, the answers it’s said
R: S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z.
But I still don’t understand. ‘H is for me.’ What does it mean?”
“Father was nothing if not methodical,” said Frankie. “We were named alphabetically, and when they got to H, Mother and Father could not agree. Father wanted Hannah and Mother wanted Harriet, or Mother chose Hermione and Father chose Hephzibah, I can’t recall now, but they never could agree. Probably for the only time in her life, Mother refused to back down for some reason – remember she was dying – and so, due to their combined stubbornness, you remained ‘H’.”
There it was. I was, after all, really H, merely H; it was my name. It didn’t stand for anything else, it was itself. I really was uniquely, completely, H. And after all this time, considering this name had served me well enough, I wondered whether I really needed to add another to it.
“Godfrey,” I called. “Guess what – my name is really H, nothing else, just H.”
“Does this mean your Halcyon days are over?” quipped Godfrey.
“When you were green in judgement?” chipped in Frederick.
“Green as a gooseberry,” I answered, considering the pair of them.
But before either had a chance to respond to my teasing, the captain, who had been talking quietly with Grace, and seemed to have gained her approval, approached me and said, “As this is a rare visit to my neck of the woods, I wonder whether you would honour me by a tour of my vessel?” This odd offer was made more curious by the looks passing between Janey, Jasper, Frederick and Godfrey, evidently meaningful to them, but inscrutable to me.
“What are you up to?” I asked, somewhat suspicious.
“Oh do say yes, H,” said Joe. “I should love to go on a ship.”
“Humour me, my dear. For old time’s sake. She’s just alongside,” said the captain, taking my arm, and leading me and my entourage out onto the quay. Now I do not pretend to know much about ships, and the Now Or Never looked much like any other, but I allowed the dear old captain to lead me onto the deck, where he stood expectantly. What he was expecting I did not know, so I said it was a very nice ship. Turning back to the quayside I saw that all the sailors were turning out of The Mermaid and joining my friends and family gazing towards me and the captain. I wondered whether there was something behind us they were looking at, but looked and saw there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Am I missing something, sir?” I asked the captain.
“I must confess I have got you here under false pretences,” he said. And I thought he said, “I mean to marry you.” My head spun, and the slight movement of the ship combined with the wine I had drunk was making me feel powerful queasy now. Had I heard aright? Was he mad? Was he going to cut us adrift and carry me off to foreign parts? Or was it all this talk of marriage in the coach that had confused my poor mithered brains?
“But I don’t want to marry you,” I murmured.
I must have staggered as the captain caught me by the arm and supported me. “Oh not to me, my heart. To him.” And I felt a strong arm round me, and saw Jasper had caught me. The captain seemed to drift away.
Jasper held me by the waist with his unmerciful grip and cried, “Alone at last! Marry me, H! Just say it! Just say it now! You can learn to love me later!”
“Jasper!” I exclaimed, coming to my senses, highly embarrassed, turning away from the gaze of the crowd of sailors which seemed to be growing horribly, as they recruited their friends to observe the spectacle.
“What are you waiting for, H?” shouted Janey.
“Yes, what are you waiting for, H?” asked Jasper, pulling me close to him and kissing me powerful hard. “Am I not,” and I saw his lip tremble, “yet good enough for you?” I felt a great rush of warmth for Jasper at that moment, and suspected to my considerable discomfort that I had begun learning to love him already.
“Oh Jasper,” I cried, turning away, and happening to look upriver to my beloved bridge. “If I married you,” I found myself saying, “could we live in a house on the bridge?” What had possessed me? I knew not.
Jasper sounded as though he would explode with joy.
“If you married me, we could live on the Moon for all I care!” he said, and as he gripped me even harder I felt that he was trembling and saw that there were tears in his dear eyes. “I would be the best husband, H. I promise. I will try to deserve you. Damn it all, H, say yes.”
“And could I keep my own money?”
“Of course. Mine too.”
“You know I can’t have children,” I added.
“We shall get a little dog,” said Jasper. “Like the one you used to have.”
And then I saw that there was no other remedy, for him or for me.
“Then yes!” I heard myself cry.
“Yes!” he shouted, throwing his hat in the air. “She said yes!” Then he danced me in a most undignified jig around the deck and the sailors all cheered and even the old captain wiped his eyes, before stepping forward and gesturing for quiet.
“Who gives this woman away?” he asked.
“We do,” called Frederick, as he, Godfrey and Joe scrambled aboard, with somewhat indecent haste to be rid of me, as I later pretended to protest.
“But we cannot be married now!” I cried. “Not here! We must have a priest, and a church!”
“On a long voyage, where there is no priest, the captain is sometimes obliged – and authorised, I may say – to act in his place,” said the cunning old sea dog. “Have you not been, as I am given to understand by your friends, on a long journey?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye. “And am I not a captain? And is this not a ship? And are you not willing?” He winked conspiratorially at Jasper. And I realised that for once in my life I had been utterly outmanoeuvred.
And so Jasper and I were wed on the Now Or Never, and I became the Countess of Tewkesbury. As I write, he has been far more than a good enough husband, and I have come to discover that happiness may be more than merely the state of things not going wrong, and that, as Aunt Madge said, it is good to love.
And though we could not have children of our own, Grace was later kind enough to give us the care of one of hers. So there is a little Jasper to inherit the title, and Grace has recently intimated sh
e may be kind enough to supply another. We strongly suspect we may grow to be quite a large family on the basis of Grace’s well-known kindness. And I do not yet know whether that is the end of my story, for the truth is, as I have before observed, that real life, unlike fiction, is untidy, and you do not know what is the beginning, or the middle, or the end, until it is all far too late.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Sarah Hosking and the Hosking Houses Trust, who gave me space and time to write, and Jacky Bratton, without whom the book would probably never have been written at all. Thanks to the book’s champions and author’s supporters, Matthew Burton, Midge Gillies, Kate Penning, Jem Poster, Ian Shircore, Leslie Stewart, everyone at Legend Press and, last but not least, my wonderful agent, Eli Keren.