‘When do you come of age exactly?’ I asked my husband. ‘I am naturally anxious to make our marriage known as soon as possible.’
‘I will inform you when the time is right, until then you must say nothing,’ he insisted, which was most unsatisfactory.
‘This is no proper marriage,’ I complained to my mother. ‘Tommy still will not allow me to announce my new status. Why will he not treat me with proper respect? What if I should be with child?’
Mama looked shocked. ‘Do you think you might be?’
‘Not that I know of, but how can I be certain? For all we are living apart, my husband visits me regularly so I could fall at any time.’
‘I agree it is odd that no date for Tommy’s coming of age has ever been mentioned.’ Frowning, she became increasingly thoughtful in the days following, and finally turned to her protector, Mr Cox, for advice.
‘I will make some enquiries, dear lady,’ he promised her.
Within days he returned with devastating news. ‘It may surprise you to learn that Mr Thomas Robinson came of age some time ago. Nor is he in fact the nephew of this alleged “uncle”, the Mr Harris who lives in South Wales, but his illegitimate son.’
‘Illegitimate?’ Mama cried in horror.
I thought for a moment she was about to faint as she collapsed on to a sofa. I hurried to burn a feather in case I should need to revive her. After all the care she had taken, to discover this unsavoury truth was devastating for her, and for me. I felt as if my sacrifice had been entirely in vain.
‘And is this Mr Harris not even wealthy?’ she asked, in tremulous tones.
‘Oh, indeed yes, he is a man of some substance, although strangely reluctant to acknowledge his sons.’
‘Sons?’ I queried, in some surprise.
‘There is an elder brother, a Commodore William Robinson, at present in India under the patronage of Lord Clive. Both boys are apparently the result of a liaison with a laundry maid.’
Mama groaned as I sank on to the seat beside her, equally stunned. With an elder brother, whom Tommy had conveniently failed to mention, his financial prospects would be bleak, even without taking into account his illegitimacy. And I was fully aware that he had already borrowed money to pay for the wedding and the honeymoon.
‘I have made a terrible mistake,’ my mother sobbed. ‘I should never have promoted the union, never have insisted upon this marriage.’
‘It was not your fault, Mama, it was his. He lied to us, which is unforgivable.’
As Mama wailed all the more into her handkerchief, I was the first to rally. ‘Mr Cox, would you be so good as to ask my husband to call upon us this evening, when we might discuss this matter with him?’
Tommy came that evening, as requested, if subdued, having been warned by Mr Cox of what he might expect.
Quite her old self again, Mama was bristling with anger and wasted no time in coming to the point. ‘We have heard the most alarming news that not only have you already come of age, but that you are illegitimate! Can this be true?’
Tommy stared at her aghast. It was clear that the possibility of our discovering the full extent of his secret had never crossed his mind. ‘Not at all. It is entirely false,’ he babbled, falling over his words in his eagerness to convince us. ‘Who told you such nonsense? Whoever it was has maligned my honour,’ he protested, with precious little conviction in his tone.
‘How we came upon these facts is immaterial. Nor is it your honour that concerns me, but my daughter’s. What matters, young man, is that you have practised upon us a gross deception.’
‘I swear I am not illegitimate. Mr Harris is indeed my uncle and nothing more.’
‘Whatever the truth of your birth, you are giving the impression that my daughter is a kept woman, when she is no such thing. If you truly love her and wish to continue seeing her, then you must forthwith publicly declare her status as your legally married wife.’
Knowing how she inwardly raged, I marvelled at my mother’s composure, and keeping my own emotions carefully in check, I chipped in with a comment of my own. ‘Either you agree to introduce me to your family as your wife, or I shall accept Mr Garrick’s offer and go on the stage after all.’ Perhaps a part of me still longed for the latter solution, but I was again disappointed.
Tommy was instantly contrite. ‘I confess I am nervous of offending my uncle. I need to be cautious as he could well cut me out of his will altogether should I marry without his consent.’
My husband looked so devastated, so anxious, that I couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for him. Yet I pressed on. ‘Since the deed is done, that is a risk you’ve already taken. Therefore, I insist upon my position being made plain. Would you prefer your “uncle” to discover that you had put me in the family way without the benefit of the church’s blessing?’
All colour drained from his cheeks. ‘You are not …?’
‘It is difficult to be certain about such matters,’ I said, gently putting one hand to my flat stomach to deliberately imply that I might be. Why should I be the only one to worry? He did not know that my courses had come as normal this month.
Mama again intervened, her expression stern and unyielding. ‘I will not stand by in silence and see my daughter’s reputation irrevocably damaged. This marriage must be made public at once, or we will take the matter into our own hands and you will not like the repercussions. It will be your honour in ribbons then.’
Tommy swallowed, then grasped my hands in his. ‘We will leave at once for Bristol. Once you are settled there I will go on alone to South Wales, to herald your arrival and prepare the way, as it were. I will return for you when I am sure you will be given a cordial welcome.’
This wasn’t quite what I’d hoped to hear. ‘And how long might that take, pray? How am I expected to cope alone, in Bristol?’ I had no wish for my relatives to see how I’d allowed myself to be duped by this man’s lies.
‘I shall see that you have a few guineas for your keep, and the name of a friend you can apply to for more, if necessary.’ Turning to Mama, he added, ‘Then I will happily present Mary, as my bride, to my uncle.’
‘Splendid!’ Mama said. ‘And I shall accompany the pair of you as far as Bristol, so that my daughter will not be left alone.’
‘There really is no need, I will take good care of her,’ Tommy protested.
Mama gave him a chilling smile. ‘There is every need, if you are to leave her unattended. While her father is absent it is my responsibility to ensure that my daughter’s honour is properly protected, at least until her new status is publicly acknowledged.’
Seeing that my mother would not be moved on this point, Tommy had little choice but to concede defeat, and hire a carriage large enough for three.
Tommy made something of a tour of our journey to Bristol, stopping off at Oxford to visit various colleges, and pausing to admire the palace at Blenheim. I believe he was attempting to pacify my aggrieved mother. Once we arrived in Bristol she took great satisfaction in meeting up with old friends and family again, and was determined to keep up appearances by presenting her new son-in-law as a young man of considerable expectations. For his part, Tommy wasted no time in leaving for Tregunter in Carmarthenshire, as promised.
After four months of marriage I was growing accustomed to my new husband, to his inherent weakness and impulsiveness, and although love did not form the basis of our relationship I did feel a certain sense of duty and honour towards him. He was not a difficult or an unpleasant man, if a rather foolish and devious one, and was ever kind to me.
As we waited impatiently for Tommy to return from his mission to have me accepted by his family, Mama and I could not resist visiting the minster house where I had been born. Walking those same paths upon which my infant feet had trod filled me with a sweet nostalgia. Had the place always looked so dark and gloomy, the paint peeling and the house so decrepit? I wondered.
‘Look Mama, here is where I would climb upon that long stone bench,
and here crawl beneath the brass eagle in the middle aisle, under which I would sit and childishly sing with the anthem, or chant the morning service.’
‘You were ever a sensitive and dreamy child,’ Mama agreed with a sigh, almost as if she had never quite understood my passion for the rhythm of words and verse, this other world I occupied inside my head. Even now, poems would emerge almost of their own volition which I would scribble in my notebook in some private moment. Tommy didn’t understand my passion either, calling it an obsession.
One afternoon when we returned to our lodgings, I was handed a letter from my husband, announcing his safe arrival at Tregunter.
‘At last we have news,’ I said, ripping it open to quickly scan the contents. ‘Tommy says his uncle is disposed to act handsomely. He did not at first dare admit to the fact we were already wed, implying we were merely affianced, fearful of abruptly announcing that he had been already some months a husband.’
Mama clicked her tongue in annoyance. ‘The man is a coward as well as a liar!’
I read on. ‘He did admit the truth in the end, to which Mr Harris responded: “If the thing is done, it cannot be undone.” His uncle also expresses a hope that the object of his nephew’s choice is not too young, “as a young wife cannot mend a man’s fortune!” Oh dear, I fear he is to be disappointed in that regard too, although Tommy has told him that I am nearly seventeen!’
‘Yet another lie. You are but fifteen and a few months.’
‘Mama, please, what does a small fib about age matter? Mr Harris hopes that I am not handsome as he says “beauty without money is but a dangerous sort of portion”.’
I couldn’t help but smile even as my mother very nearly exploded with fury. ‘Is he accusing you of using your beauty to advantage in some dishonourable manner?’
‘As you well know, Mama, I am a woman of pride as well as passion, and well able to speak up for myself.’
‘Indeed you are. And passion for poetry, rather than the less salubrious sort. Has Mr Harris agreed to see you?’
‘He says if it is true that I am a gentlewoman, then he can have no reason to refuse.’
‘I am relieved to hear it,’ Mama drily remarked.
‘Tommy concludes by saying that he will return shortly to fetch me.’
This news seemed to cheer her, but what I did not mention was that my husband’s letter also urged me to write to a Mr John King, or ‘Jew King’ as he was more often addressed, a money broker who resided in Goodman’s Fields. I was already acquainted with the gentleman as he had frequently called upon Mr Robinson during the first months of our marriage. When I’d enquired as to why he called so often, I’d been instructed to treat him with all due deference. It was made clear to me that he had lent my husband a considerable sum of money in lieu of his expectations. The fellow had even accompanied us for the first part of the journey as far as Oxford. Now Tommy wished me to request yet another small loan to pay for my travel arrangements to Wales. I felt rather dubious about this. I hated to be in debt to anyone, and he was not a man I particularly liked. But I did as my husband bid me without question, as a wife must.
The letters between Mr King and myself grew quite friendly over the following days, even a little flirtatious. While I might privately have wished to discourage him, I dare not, for the sake of the money my husband owed him, and the fact we needed more.
‘… you express so much friendship, that the hardest task I ever undertook in my whole life, is how to return thanks suitable to the favours I have received from you …’ I wrote, doing my utmost to sound polite.
He would flatter me with talk of the theatre and poetry, whereas Tommy cared little for such things. His letters could become quite amorous and I would remind him of my marital state. But should he imagine himself in love with me, then let the delusion stand for now, so long as he sent the money we craved.
When I thought I’d flattered him sufficiently, I tactfully explained how we were in need of his assistance. ‘I shall depend on your promise this week for I am really distressed.’
His letters reminded me so much of London, and made me long for our return, but I was greatly relieved when my husband at last arrived to collect me.
The journey to Tregunter proved to be a nightmare. Crossing the River Severn to Chepstow in an open boat as it pitched and tossed against a strong tide was extremely perilous. We were drenched in equal parts by the rain and the water that washed over the sides of the vessel, the wind blowing up a terrible storm. It seemed as if every part of my life must be marked by a tempest.
‘I pray you not to judge my uncle too harshly,’ Tommy warned, holding my head as I voided the contents of my stomach yet again. In my misery I thought enviously of my mother safely left behind with friends in Bristol. ‘He is an eccentric, living life as he chooses, with only my sister Betsy, and a housekeeper for company.’
I looked at him askance. ‘You have a sister?’
He flushed crimson. ‘I do.’
‘How much more is there to discover about you, I wonder?’
The next day as we drove through the majestic panoply of the Black Mountains, their summits swirled in wisps of white cloud, Tommy urged me to conceal my true age. ‘I have told my uncle you are almost seventeen, let us fix upon that, shall we?’
I readily consented as I had no wish to appear a child.
Later, as we drove through the enchanting Wye Valley, I thought I had never seen a more romantic, beautiful setting in all my life, and was happily engrossed devising a poem in my head when the post-boy drew the carriage to a halt outside Tregunter. It was not at all what I had expected as a new mansion was in the process of being built, meanwhile the family resided in one of the estate cottages. But the estate itself appeared large and wooded, so I quickly stepped down from the carriage, eager to meet my new family.
My first sight of Mr Harris was of an old man dressed in a brown fustian coat, a scarlet waistcoat bordered with gold braid, and a pair of woollen spatter dashes. These were a form of leggings that encased his lower legs from knee to shoe, rather than the silk stockings one might expect a gentleman to wear. This rustic image was topped off with a curly-brimmed tricorne hat trimmed with gold lace. An eccentric indeed. But he embraced me most cordially, offering a surprisingly warm welcome.
‘How delightful to meet you at last,’ he said, as if he had been eagerly awaiting my arrival.
I dipped a polite curtsy. ‘And I you, good sir. I have heard so much about you from your nephew.’ I rewarded him with my most winning smile, and noted with some satisfaction how the effect of my charms caused him to seemingly melt before my eyes. Beauty was not then such a disadvantage, I thought, hiding a smile.
My sister-in-law, however, was another matter altogether.
‘Allow me to introduce Miss Elizabeth Robinson, your husband’s sister,’ Mr Harris said, indicating the frumpy young woman who had come to stand at his side.
If I thought it odd that he referred to her as such, and not as any relation to himself, I didn’t have long to reflect upon the puzzle. Small of stature with ruddy cheeks and a snub nose that turned sharply up at the point, she barely grasped the tips of my fingers longer than a second, her plain face rigid with disapproval. Her gown was of chintz, the gaudiest imaginable, and her cap a veritable profusion of coloured ribbons, making her look far older than her twenty years.
I, of course, was more modestly and stylishly attired in a dark claret riding habit, with a white beaver hat and feathers.
‘Good afternoon,’ she managed, mouth curling with distaste as her gaze flicked over me with great condescension. ‘Goodness, Tom, I’m surprised a lawyer’s wife finds it necessary to dress like a duchess.’ And tossing back her head with haughty disdain, she spun on her heel and led me into the house, her spine as stiff as if a steel rod held it in place.
‘Do not rise to her cattiness,’ Tommy whispered in my ear, as he followed me inside. ‘It will only make matters worse.’
I wou
ld not demean myself, I thought.
There was yet another person for me to meet, as the house was run under the strict jurisdiction of a crabby old housekeeper, a Mary Edwards, or Mrs Molly as I dubbed her. She seemed to be ever present, sat next to Mr Harris at table, and even joined us in the parlour of an evening. A more overbearing, vindictive spirit never inhabited the heart of mortal than that which pervaded the soul of the ill-natured Mrs Molly. If she made any effort to make my stay comfortable, I was not aware of it. No warming pan was put in our bed, no breakfast brought to our chamber, my clothes were not laid out or put away for me, nor even brushed.
‘She has much to do,’ Tommy said, when I complained. ‘And I can keep you warm at night.’
I turned from him with an irritated sigh. This visit was not turning out well.
Fortunately, I soon became quite a favourite with his ‘uncle’, or the squire as he liked to be called. Not that I saw much of him as he was seldom in the house, save for meal times. He would be out from sunrise to dusk, riding his small Welsh pony about his large estate as he conducted business with the tenants. Squire Harris was indefatigable in his duties, and as justice of the peace and a strong Methodist, he would entertain us with tales of how he frequently fined the locals for bad language, despite his own oaths peppering every third sentence.
But he was never anything but the perfect gentleman towards me, and most friendly, while the hearts of Miss Betsy and Mrs Molly were cold as stone. They saw me as an interloper, nothing more than a gold-digger who had married Tommy for his money. Always supposing there was to be any inheritance, of course. Both ladies clearly nursed the fervent wish that I’d never set foot in their house, which filled me with sadness and a silent fury.
Lady of Passion Page 5
