The Handfasters

by Helen Susan Swift

  Ungrateful wretch that I was, I said “no” unthinkingly, but the prospect of dry clothing was too great a temptation, even for such a headstrong miss as I was. As soon as Willie Kemp was outside, I placed the chair behind the door to ensure that it was secure, and peeled off my clothing.

  I was very lucky that the fashion in Edinburgh that year was for simple gowns, but even so, have you ever disrobed from a sodden ball gown without even a fumbling servant girl to help? I struggled with buttons and hooks, fought my frustration over eyes and stays, and eventually, and without a thought for Willie Kemp, stood stark in front of the fire. Strangely I lingered for a while, allowing the flames to ease away some of my chill, before I turned to the clothing that Willie Kemp had given me.

  I could have cried. Rather than the fashionable apparel that I was used to wearing, he had given me nothing but rough homespun, with not even a hint of an undergarment to protect my tender skin. If I say 'chafing' you will know what I mean, girls, without me needing to elaborate.

  Hesitantly, and hoping that everything was clean, I hauled on a pair of trousers that were far too large for me, and fumbled clumsily with the fly buttons. The very idea of doing such a thing was revolting, but necessity demanded that I wear such creations, so I had no choice. There was a long linen shirt, thank the Lord, which was softer than I perhaps deserved for my ingratitude, and then a thick jacket of some harsh material. I was only glad that Louise was not there to see me, and then I wondered what Aunt Elspeth would say.

  I realised that Mr Kemp had been knocking on the door for some minutes, but I resolved to let him wait a trifle longer while I rolled up the trouser legs to a more manageable length and folded back the cuffs of the jacket. Only then did I haul back the chair, and Mr Kemp came in. He was dripping with wet, for it was raining again, and he stopped at the sight of me.

  “Do you feel better?”

  “These are very rough” I said. “Do you have nothing more suitable for a lady?”

  “These are all I have,” Mr Kemp said quietly. Without any fuss, he lifted my discarded gown and spread it on some contraption of metal poles he had erected beside the fire. I gasped and tried to hide my underthings, but he lifted them with the same unconcern and placed them to dry as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Were you going far?” Mr Kemp asked, and although I had resolved to tell him nothing, I unfolded the whole story, from my tiff with Louise to Lady Catriona's expulsion, the riot in Edinburgh and my miserable experience by the loch. He listened without comment, giving an occasional encouraging nod when I faltered, and only when I had completed the tale did he speak

  “You have had a sorry night,” he said, solemnly, “but you are warm now, and safe enough here.”

  “But sir,” I said, “my reputation…”

  His smile was gentle. “You need not fear for your reputation with me, Miss Lamont. I am known as an eccentric, not as a lady's man.”

  I had never met a man who was so direct, and so accepting of his own position in the world. “You may realise that, Mr Kemp, but others…”

  “Others will talk whatever you say and whatever you do, Miss Lamont, and we both know that to be true. However, we may minimise any damage by keeping our behaviour beyond reproach.”

  “I fully intend to do that, Mr Kemp,” I replied, frostily, for I did not like the way that this mechanic, or whatever he was, seemed to be taking control of the situation.

  “It is late, Miss Lamont,” Mr Kemp did not respond to my mood. I thought that perhaps he did not understand it, or he may have been afraid of me, as I came from such an elevated position in society compared to his. “And you are tired. You may sleep here tonight and complete your journey tomorrow.”

  I shook my head. “I can hardly do that, Mr Kemp,” I said, “for then my reputation will indeed be ruined.” All the same, it was comfortable in front of this huge fire, with Mr Kemp's thick clothing covering me on the outside and his soup warming me inside. I vowed to remain just a few moments more, or until my own clothes were dry, and then I would go back outside and, hopefully, Mr Kemp would direct me on the correct route to the New Town.

  Nevertheless, I did not protest when Mr Kemp spread a blanket over me, or when he placed his own jacket, carefully folded, under my head.

  It may have been the sound of calling geese that wakened me or the perfume of something fragrant slowly cooking, but I stretched with a sense of well being, opened my eyes and immediately wondered where I was. I did not recognise my surroundings, not the rough stone walls, or the shaped shelves above my head, or the piled up pieces of metal that lay between my bed and the smouldering fire where the pot gave that delicious fragrance. Only when the large man smiled down at me did I remember where I was, and where I had spent the night.

  “Oh my Lord,” I said, sitting up in bed and looking down at myself. I had no need to worry for I was still fully clothed, and had a couple of blankets piled on me to boot. “I've been here all night!”

  “You have,” said Mr Kemp, “sleeping sound and snoring softly.”

  “I do not snore,” I denied, but it was the far more important matter of my reputation that concerned me.

  “Breakfast in ready,” Mr Kemp told me. “There is warm water for you to wash, and your own clothes are clean and dry.”

  I looked up and saw that Mr Kemp had been busy while I slept. He must have washed the mud from my cloak and my gown, and both lay clean and dry on that metal contraption beside the still living fire. He had also gone to the trouble of retrieving my shoes from the mud, although how he had done so in the dark I could not imagine. They too lay clean and dry, standing at the foot of my bed.

  “Mr Kemp,” I said, and stopped. What could I say to an eccentric mechanic who had treated me with such kindness, yet spoken so bluntly?

  “Miss Lamont,” he raised his eyebrows in reply.

  “If you will kindly grant me some privacy I shall certainly rise now and get myself ready.” I looked around the room, hoping to see a necessary convenience, but there was none.

  Mr Kemp spared me the embarrassment of having to ask. 'There is a door some short distance behind you,' he said quietly. “If you would kindly step through, you will find a ewer and pitcher, warm water, soap and the other necessities of your morning needs.” He bowed slowly, a tall, tanned man with patched homespun clothing and hands the size of shovels. “I will leave you in peace for an hour or so. Your breakfast is keeping warm by the fire.”

  He left very quietly for such a big man, and once again I pulled the chair to the door in case he should return unannounced, although by now I was beginning to have some trust for Mr Kemp. Did I like him? I do not know the answer to that question, for at eighteen I concealed my feelings from everybody, myself most of all.

  The small room was exactly as he described, but he had not mentioned the mirror which seemed too large for use in shaving, so I suspected that he had brought it in especially for me. I did not see Willie Kemp as one of these preening dandies who spent so much time admiring themselves in front of the mirror to ensure they were perfect in feature and form. I recollected his long, saturnine face and shook my head. No, he was certainly no dandy, not with that unfashionably neat queue and the unruly whiskers that barely extended past his ears.

  There were two candles already alight in that windowless room, so I watched myself as I washed in that deliciously warm water, with a soap that produced a lather equal to anything I had experienced at home. It smelled of primroses, which was also quite unusual for a man, so I wondered anew at this eccentric.

  It was easier to remove Mr Kemp's clothing than it had been to don it, but as the last of the heavy cloth fell to the ground I smiled. It had been a strange experience altogether, to wear something that habitually covered the body of a man. The thought was strangely disturbing, so I discarded it, although I suspected that the images might return later.

  The rough material had rubbed parts of my body that were normally protected, so I
examined myself for permanent damage, but found none. Only a few red patches here and there, particularly on my hips. I turned sideways. I quite liked my curves, although I seldom had an opportunity to observe them in privacy. There had been four of us sharing one room in Badenoch, and Aunt Elspeth had insisted that I share with Louise in Edinburgh, while there were always maids running at the back of me with unwanted advice and fiddling fingers.

  I turned in front of Willie Kemp's mirror, seeing my quite well shaped breasts and the smooth curve of my flank, the swell of hips and my slightly too large bottom. Was there ever a woman born who was happy with her shape? Are you, my dears? Take off your clothes now, this very minute, and look in the mirror. Write down what you think, and then ask somebody close, a sister perhaps, or your most trusted maid, to tell you what she really thinks. And then fight your natural urge to slap her soundly and believe her words rather than your own.

  I longed for somebody to ask such advice, but there was nobody. My mother, may God rest her soul, would never have countenanced my looking in a mirror, or any other sort of self observation. I shudder to think of the consequences, but what harm is there in such an innocent pastime? God made us all, so we should surely be allowed to enjoy one of His finest creations.

  There was a perverse thrill about standing naked knowing that there was a strange man standing so close, but also an element of apprehension, so after my initial few minutes of luxurious tension I hurried as best I could. My own clothes were dry, and after being beside the fire all night, deliciously warm, which made a nice change for mother always insisted on us freezing. It built character, she claimed, although I always suspected that it was more likely to lead to pneumonia.

  Fully dressed, I attempted to do something with the tangled explosion of my hair. Mr Kemp either had strange tastes or a profusion of lady friends, for there was a full dressing set by the mirror, and I hauled and combed and brushed madly until I had imposed a semblance of order on my ugly black head. God knows how I envied Louise her beautiful blonde hair, while mine was as black as the Earl of Hell's waistcoat and as liable to snarl as a bramble bush in an autumn gale.

  I was extraordinarily disappointed that the outer room in that shed, and there were only the two rooms, was empty of Mr Kemp. However, my breakfast was laid out on a plate by the fire, and I ate the fresh fish, presumably newly caught from the loch, and the eggs, with as much relish as I would any delicacy from Lady Elspeth's table. And Mr Kemp had provided a knife and fork as well, which astonished me as I expected such a class of people to eat with their fingers.

  The cutlery was of good quality silver too, but had obviously been stolen as there was an embossed coat of arms on the handle of each. Not recognising the symbol of the crown and crossed swords, I wondered, briefly, who the rightful owner might be. I smiled, wondering if Mr Kemp had been the thief, but somehow I could not imagine him sneaking through the window of some great house to filch a handful of forks. More likely he had bought it cheap in some corner pawnshop in the Auld Town.

  As if my some magic spell, Mr Kemp knocked on the door the moment I had finished my breakfast.

  “Come in,” I sang, for I knew it was he.

  Taking one step inside, Mr Kemp stopped and looked directly at me. “You clean up remarkably well,” he said.

  “And what do you mean by that?” I prepared to defend myself against an insult. One does, after living with five brothers and sisters, and then sharing a room with Louisa.

  “Last night you came in as a gaberlunzie, a ragged orphan of the storm. This morning you are pretty as any picture, a young lady fit to grace a palace, and far too good for my humble home.”

  “I think you are making game of me, Mister Kemp.” I was unsure if he was mocking me, but I suspected that he was, although I could not think of a method or retaliating except to turn my shoulder. Which I did, of course, but he seemed not to notice.

  “Indeed I am not,” Mr Kemp said, smiling at me.

  I resolved to be polite but distant, as suited a lady speaking with an obliging servant. “You have been very helpful,” I favoured him with a small smile, “and I am sure that my aunt, Lady Elspeth Ballantyne, will thank you with some suitable remuneration when she sees fit. But now, pray, show me the way back to the New Town of Edinburgh.”

  “Pray step outside, Miss Lamont,” Mr Kemp invited, and opened the door wide.

  Now you must remember that I had stumbled on this shack in the dark of a December night, and I had no idea of my location. But once I stepped outside I knew exactly where I was, and how foolish I had been.

  That first day of January 1812 was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful in creation. The Lord had seen fit to bless us with a bright curve of clear skies and a high sky that enhanced everything beneath it. I stood outside that shed and wondered at the delights of the day.

  In the light of morning, the North Loch seemed far less formidable an obstacle, more like a tiny Highland Lochan or a muddy duck pond in a lowland village than a real loch. Indeed I wondered how such an insignificant stretch of water could have caused me so many problems only a few hours earlier. Overlooking the loch, Edinburgh Castle dominated everything beneath its grey battlements and tall stone buildings. The multi-crossed flag of Union floated high and even from here I could see the splashes of scarlet as the garrison took their stations behind the parapet.

  Straggling downward from the castle were the irregular rooftops of the Old Town, with the Forres Residence dominating the top section. I sighed, and turned around. I was perhaps thirty yards from Princes Street, the outlier of the New Town. I could nearly have thrown a stone across the loch, and then I would have been home in ten or fifteen minutes.

  “So close!”

  “Yet so far,” Mr Kemp seemed to have read my thoughts. “You see, Miss Lamont, to reach your destination you would have to skirt the loch, which would have taken quite some time.” He pointed out the ragged edge of the loch, with its waving reeds and the vast patches of boggy mud that I had experienced the previous night.

  “So, Mr Kemp, what must I do?”

  “You must wait here for the sedan-chair men.”

  The reply confused me. “Which sedan chair men, Mr Kemp? There is nobody who knows I am here save you.”

  His smile was infuriatingly enigmatic, but his reply was as open as everything else about him. “When you were sleeping, Miss Lamont, I took the liberty of walking to Lady Elspeth's house to explain your situation. I knew that Her Ladyship would be worrying about you. She promised to send her chair for you this morning, once her servants have recovered from their excesses of last night.”

  I stared at him. “So Aunt Elspeth knows?”

  “She does,” he confirmed. “Otherwise she would be immensely concerned.”

  Sinking down into the chair, I dropped my head into my hands. For once my melodrama was genuine and not copied from a Gothic romance. Aunt Elspeth would be most upset that I had spent the night in such a place and with such a person. I did not know how she would react, but certainly she would be less than pleased at my conduct.

  I looked up at Mr Kemp. “You have ruined me,” I said. “You have ruined both my reputation and my future happiness.”

  He smiled. “I do not believe the situation is quite as bad as you imagine,” he said. “Lady Elspeth may appear stern, but she is no ogre. She will understand the situation, and in the meantime you must remain here with me.”

  I shook my head, content in my own despair. “How can you know about Lady Elspeth?” My, but I could be quite the high-born lady when I tried, could I not? Looking back, I am not sure whether to be amused or embarrassed at my own performance, and I still want to hide my face in shame at my treatment of that poor man. Poor Willie Kemp, God bless him, but how I did rail that morning!

  “You are only a vagabond of the loch, a mechanic who lives in a tumbledown shack,” I said, pointing out the shed in which he had cared for me the previous night. “How could you possibly understand the culture of you
r betters?”

  He stood with his head titled slightly to one side, listening solemnly to my curtain lecture.

  “You had no right to approach Lady Elspeth,” I told him, and I am sure that I wagged my finger, “imagine! A man in your position rasping the door of a Lady! What must she have thought! And what airs and graces you must have apportioned to yourself!”

  At that time, you see, I thought only of myself and of the shame that I must now endure. I gave not a whit's consideration of the trouble that Mr Kemp had been to, of the care he had taken of me, of his long and lonely walk through the dark of a winter's night, or even of my occupying his only bed while he spent the night outdoors, which he most certainly had.

  “Have you finished?” He asked, smiling at me in that most disconcerting manner.

  I nodded, for I had run out of breath and out of words.

  “In that case you had better prepare yourself, Miss Lamont, for I see Lady Elspeth's chairmen approaching now.”

  I had imagined that Mr Kemp would have greeted the sedan chair porters like brothers, and they would have partaken of early morning ale together or perhaps whisky as we do in the north, but instead he stepped back and allowed me to take over the proceedings.

  I greeted the porters with courtesy, of course, for one must always be polite with servants, even when dismissing them, and I slid into the padded seat with all the dignity that I could muster, given the circumstances. With barely a nod to Mr Kemp, I gave the order and the chairmen lifted me and began the long porterage to the New Town. As I peered from my curtained window, I saw Mr Kemp watching, still with that curious smile on his face. Why, I asked myself, if one must always be polite to servants, had I allowed myself to scold him in such a manner? It was almost as if I treated him as a brother, or worse.

  When he lifted his arm in farewell I could not meet his eyes, but looked away, to see the hut in which I had spent the night and the strange mechanical contraption that sat at its side. No doubt that was the machine on which the eccentric Mr Kemp wasted so much of his time.