'I would never tell on a friend,' I said finally emphasising friend distinctly and looking at Larry who refused to meet my eye. He did not appear particularly happy being made part of Greenfield's gang but he did not oppose him to stand by me either. I was disappointed in him once more.
'Exactly,' agreed Greenfield, 'and we are friends, are we not?'
'Yes,' I said unable to withstand the pressure his stare bestowed on me and proved that I was as much a coward as Larry.
Chapter 14
FEASTS AND FEARS
When Mr Chester came for his shamed son the whole school was at the windows watching. No one came to help him carry his chest and suitcase. No one said goodbye or wished him a safe journey.
The weekend took William Chester away and brought in the very first letter from my dear family in his stead.
I was reading it in Hanson's classroom for it was his own personal punishment for me that I had to dust books, again. In reality, it felt like he wanted me to be away from the boys who might think I told on them for he already knew that books did not scare me. The strange thing was however that Hanson remained with me in the classroom, sat behind his desk marking papers.
'You do not visit the lady today, sir?'
'Not this weekend,' he said, 'Christmas holidays are but two weeks away and I shall spend a lot of time with her then.' He was more talkative than usual and continued to converse merrily, 'are you going home for Christmas, Ryde?'
'It does not seem so, sir,' I said trying to sound as un-disappointed as possible.
He looked up mystified.
'My eldest sister wrote to me saying that she and my younger sister shall visit my aunt Marianne in Portsmouth. They do not intend to be back until spring.'
'But can you not join them there?'
'Oh, my aunt Marianne is a ghastly woman, sir,' I said folding the letter away. It was the truth. She had always claimed that I was nowhere near as elegant and ladylike as my beautiful sisters whom she adored, particularly Elizabeth. She would hardly find the present change to my benefit. 'In addition I would rather not cause any additional costs to our funds.'
'I see,' he said, his previous cheeriness slightly dimmed. 'You do realise the school will be deserted?'
It was the first thing I had realised after reading Elizabeth's letter. But even if I had really wanted to go she had not invited me. Perhaps she thought I preferred to stay here, or perhaps she thought I would spoil their Christmas – being a disgrace and all that. And yet, I missed her and Eleanor, and I would have really liked to spend Christmas with them – even if it meant bearing the nasty comments of our ghastly aunt, because felt like my sisters were slipping away from me, and I was being left behind – even though it was I who had left them. But what was the alternative? Staying at home and starving? One of us had to earn a living – it might as well be me. I would have hated the idea of Elizabeth having to become a governess. She would have hated it, and I did not want her or Eleanor to live a life they despised, because I loved them, and they were the only two people left in the world whom I had the privilege to love, and I if I could improve their circumstances by being far away I was happy to oblige.
'I quite prefer it this way, sir. I have decided to spend a lot of time in the library. There are plenty of books I have been meaning to read. I shall be content.'
'You have heard the stories then?'
'What stories, sir?'
'Every year on Christmas comes the ghost of Oliver Kenwood to haunt the grounds.'
'Oh, in that case, he and I shall have a very merry time together.'
Hanson laughed.
'By the way, Ryde,' he held up a piece of writing he had been marking, 'very well done. Your observations on the process of osmosis over a semi-permeable membrane are very accurate.'
'Thank you, sir. I learned from the best.'
'By this, I suppose you mean your former mentor?' he chuckled.
I only smiled for the old man had never mentioned osmosis. Now that Hanson reminded me I realised how little I had thought of him in those last weeks when it was he who had made all this possible. Perhaps it would do me good to spend some time alone to recollect how grateful I should be.
'You have been sitting with that copy of 'A Study of Anaesthetics and Their Side Effects' on your lap for the last half hour, Ryde. Have you forgotten why you are here?'
'To be honest, sir, I have indeed,' I said innocently, 'would you have the goodness to remind me?'
He shook his head with a cheeky smile about his lips. Then he turned to his papers without another word and I turned back to my book. There was a very interesting chapter on Nitrous Oxide.
'Could we try laughing gas on Terry some day?' I said aloud by accident.
'Most certainly not,' said Hanson, 'I already tried enough on...' he stopped.
'Ah,' I said.
He held up his index finger to his lips.
Hanson had been right. The school was completely and utterly deserted. Everyone had gone home but the caretaker and myself. We had our meals delivered from a nearby public house as, with only two people staying, there was no point to deprive the cook of his holidays.
The food was horrible (a punishment for staying, no doubt), and so was the caretaker's mood. He usually looked forward to the end of term to be freed from responsibilities which my presence now bestowed on him. He did not let a chance go by without making me feel it by glaring and scowling and swearing under his breath. His worn-out form with too much skin on a bony body scarred me. Hence, I tried to avoid running into him but he had a talent for sneaking up on me noiselessly.
My escape from him was the library. He seldom went there as the Academic Building was the furthest away from the headmaster's wine storages. A drunk caretaker was even worse than a sober one but he was also slower.
In a far corner near a window surrounded by bookshelves I read seven novels in three days. Starting on the eighth I fell asleep, when I opened my eyes the window above framed nothing but blackness. The pile of books I had carefully selected was gone which meant the caretaker had been here to clean. Apparently, he did not find it to be his duty to wake me. The school rules prevailed. If he and I crossed paths now, he would be within his rights to report me.
I weighted the possibility of risking a walk back to my room and spending the night in the library. With no light to illuminate the shelves the place had an eerie atmosphere to it. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and yet I could only see what was immediately in front of me. Everything else melted into nothingness.
Unnecessarily, I remembered how Hanson had joked about the school being haunted around Christmas time. As if to mock me, the chair I sat on creaked, which nearly made my heart stop. That not being enough I could suddenly hear a scratching noise. If it was the caretaker he would probably walk to the headmaster's house this very night and wake him personally to give him the news of my arrest.
The scratching came nearer steadily and unwaveringly. Suddenly there was a scream outside, then another one and another one. The blood in my veins froze.
'That is rats... and birds,' I whispered to myself but did not sound very convincing to my own ears.
The door was somewhere down the broad aisle. I felt my way there repeating to myself that the draft I felt was not the breath of Oliver Kenwood.
Even though I had my hands stretched out I managed to bump my forehead into the wood anyway. Thus having discovered the door I tried the handle, but it refused to open. The evil caretaker had locked it and left me to be eaten by the rats.
Quite determined to give neither the caretaker nor the rats any satisfaction, I tried every window. There were many and when I reached the last one I was reasoning with myself very lively not to panic. But then it gave in to my rattling.
At least two metres separated me from the ground. If I broke a leg, would they still expel me or would they have mercy on me? Certainly, Hanson would have the time of his life trying all sorts of medicines on me. That is, if anyone found
me, before the rats would eat me, or the birds, or the caretaker. The scratching noises became more aggressive. I inhaled sharply and jumped, hit the ground, and rolled in the soft bed of moss.
Regaining my senses, I stood up and sneaked around the bushes with my heart pounding loudly. An emerging crow scared me half to death when I had nearly reached the halls of residents. Taking my shoes off to make as little noise as possible I walked up the cold stairs. Suddenly a shadow reached for me. I punched and kicked and wanted to run away from it but the monster held on firmly.
'Don't eat me,' I yelped.
'I did not intend to,' said Hanson.
I stopped fighting him and embraced him as firmly as I could, instead.
'What happened?'
'The caretaker locked me in the library so the rats could eat me but I jumped out the window and then the birds and the ghost of Oliver Kenwood were after me,' I mumbled into his cold coat.
'Seems highly plausible,' he agreed. 'I suspect staying here was not a good idea after all?'
'The worst, sir'
'It gave me no peace either, therefore I came to ask if you would like to spend Christmas at my house.'
I released him and stared.
'I have been waiting for you quite a while, if you decline it will have been a perfect waste of-'
'I will get my things instantly.'
Hanson waited for me by the school gate next to a black carriage and two black horses. He held the door for me and I climbed in. Once more I was reminded how easy little things like these were when one wore trousers.
'Where is your coat?' he asked.
'I am wearing it, sir.'
'With enough optimism that,' he took the hem of my clothing between his thumb and forefinger, 'could be called a jacket but hardly a coat and you are not wearing a scarf either.'
'It is all I have, sir,' I said timidly.
'You are very unreasonable.'
'My wardrobe is not something I can change with reason.'
'I meant in general.'
Then he took off his coat and wrapped me in it. I protested severely.
'If you freeze to death in my carriage the headmaster will blame me and that would be nuisance,' with that phrase he won the argument.
A blurry London passed by, as we drove along. Apart from a few remaining candles in the windows, the city was dark and cold, and I was glad not to be alone in it.
Chapter 15
LOVE AND LONELINESS
The Hanson mansion was a modern villa. Its huge windows looked down on us with silent dignity and elegance, their polished glass reflecting the rising midnight fog.
The gold-shimmering gate, which put the school's gate to shame, invited us into a garden that must look beautiful during spring time but was eerie this moonless night. Trimmed rose bushes followed the pathway past a big beech with a swing covered in dead ivy and frozen moss.
Devoured by the tall, white double-door we found ourselves in the belly of a red tiled giant. A butler and two maids rushed in to welcome their master. They were joined by a middle-aged woman in a night cap, who displayed exceptional strength as she pushed the other staff out of the way, and proceeded steadfastly towards us. Afraid she might run me down without even realising, I remained hidden behind my teacher's back.
'Do not tell me you went out without a coat into this devilish cold night. How many times do I have to tell you to dress properly, young man? Now, Lucinda, off with you into the kitchen and tell cook to prepare a hot cup of tea for Master Charles,' she cupped his cheeks in her big, round hands, 'the poor child is freezing.'
'Miss Durdle, please,' he said in a pleasant voice, gently breaking free from the woman's grasp and with the warmest smile I had yet seen on him. 'My coat is right here.'
Hanson stepped aside so Miss Durdle could get a good look at me in Hanson's coat which was so long that a good quarter of a meter was dragging on the floor. She drew up her hands to her mouth and gasped as if she had discovered an abandoned kitten by the side of the road.
'Oh, you poor little creature,' she uttered, 'you must be frozen and starved as well. Lucinda!' she yelled the name of the maid who was right beside her.
'Yes, Ma'am?'
'Tell cook to heat up some of the stew and tell her to make more tea.'
'Yes, Ma'am,' Lucinda hurried off for a second time.
'Please, do not inconvenience yourself on my behalf,' I waved the long sleeves in protest.
'Nonsense,' she dismissed me. 'Arthur, take his coat and light the fire in the sitting room. Tea and stew shall be served there.'
I looked helplessly at Hanson who gave me a look to understand that there was no stopping this force of nature.
Suddenly, the elegant white stairs above our heads made a noise. Leaning over the rich balustrade a girl's face beamed down on us.
'Charles,' the girl pronounced gently. She was like an angel with her big brown eyes and the pretty auburn-gold curls rounding her delicate face.
'Sofia,' Hanson answered and I understood that the smile from minutes ago was nothing compared to what it was now. His features lit up as if he had never had a sad thought in his life. 'Why are you not in bed?'
He climbed the stairs with quick steps and gave her a kiss on her delicately pale cheek. It looked odd because he had to bend down as though the girl who looked to be fourteen was no taller than a six-year-old. I stepped back a little to find out why and was startled to see her sitting in a wheelchair.
'Is this Jonathan Ryde?' Sofia whispered loudly enough for me to hear.
'Yes, it is,' he said warmly.
The girl began standing up. It took her a while and then Hanson helped her walk down the stairs on unsteady feet. With him holding on to her elbow she curtsied.
'I am so very happy to finally meet you,' she beamed, 'my name is Sofia Hanson.'
I bowed shortly and quickly, 'Jonathan Ryde.'
Her face was small and thin and the eyes were big but deeply set in their sockets, the skin around them was pink. She looked fragile, thus when she reached out her hand to shake mine I was afraid my touch would break it.
'I am Charles' sister. Has he not told you of me?' she knitted her brows and I could hardly bring myself to say no.
'Why not Charles?' she demanded of him.
'A description, no matter how fine, would not have done you justice,' I said in his defence. He nodded gratefully.
'Oh, but Charles,' she smiled again, 'Jo is all you said he was. Am I allowed to call you Jo? Charles told me it is what your friends call you and I so want to be your friend.'
'Of course.'
'What a charming young boy, Master Charles,' Miss Durdle gave me a pat on the shoulder that almost send me to my knees.
While I was rubbing the violated spot, half-expecting another attack on my health and well-being, Hanson proposed to go to the sitting room where the tea was most likely already waiting. I was glad he had not waited until the woman had thrown me to the floor and kicked the living lights out of me. She sure looked capable of it.
I was shown to what would be my chamber for the next two weeks. It was a beautifully decorated spacious room with a big window overlooking the garden. I particularly liked the bed. It looked soft and cosy, nothing like the box I was sleeping on in the halls of residence at Kenwood.
'My room is right next to yours,' Sofia who had followed us, after the butler and maid had carried her up again, informed me. 'And that of Charles is down the hall.'
She was so enthusiastic about Hanson and my stay at their house that I wondered whether she had many friends. With her condition it might be difficult to socialise. Furthermore, she looked very pale which probably meant that she stayed inside mostly.
'Do you love music, Jo? I am very fond of it. Would you like me to play you something on the forte piano tomorrow? Do you have any preferences?' The little girl chattered.
'Do not forget to breath, Sofia.' Hanson reprimanded her politely.
'Oh, you are such a tease, Charles.
Is he not a tease, Jo? You have no idea how I have longed for company. The days are frightfully dull in this big, boring house.'
'Am I not company enough? Or are you tired of me after three days only?' he was a tease.
'Those past days were wonderful and also the weekends when you visit but other than that...,' she paused in contemplation.
I tried to imagine her isolation but failed. Our house had always been filled with voices, laughter, and love. Even in harsh times. There was no comparison I could draw.
'I am fond of music although I am most likely not quite as knowing as you are, therefore I trust your judgement as to which songs you would like to play to me. I will be happy to listen to anything you choose.'
Hanson must have forgotten how my voice sounded for he sure looked at me that way.
'How wonderful! I am going to pick out a piece in the very early morning. Do you sleep long in the morning or do you wake early? Would you like to be woken by Arthur? Shall we say at six, or seven is probably more suiting?' Sofia enquired eagerly.
I thought about my options. Neither six nor seven seemed very tempting.
'Sofia, give him a moment's rest, would you,' Hanson was a little stricter now. 'It is time for you to go to bed and for Ryde and myself, too. We shall discuss everything else in the morning, and please do not wake either of us before we even close our eyes.'
'Oh, yes,' she said cheerfully, 'the sooner we sleep, the sooner we rise. Oh, this will be the best Christmas we have ever had.'
She rose from her wheelchair holding on to my arm and clumsily staggered towards me to give me an unexpected hug.
'I am so happy you are here, Jo,' she sat back down and turned the wheelchair expertly, then disappeared behind her door. Lucinda followed her.
Hanson and I remained in the hallway alone. It was strange to be in my teacher's house and to be treated with such familiarity. He and I wished each other good night and went to our respective rooms.
The Girl who was a Gentleman (Victorian Romance, History) Page 12
