His impertinence was intolerable. “I would never, sir…”
“Let me finish,” he interrupted her. “My parents are similarly in a hurry to see me wed because they are afraid I will remain a bachelor forever. It is my belief that we would make an ideal couple. We ought to announce our engagement in order to satisfy our parents and allay their fears, after which, we may carry on as we wish behind their backs and with each others’ blessings.”
“Whatever do you mean, sir?”
“I would give you my encouragement if you wished to continue to pursue the gardener after our engagement.”
Susan was shocked at the debauchery of this man. “How could you?”
“In return, I should expect that you would support me in the pursuit of my secret passion.”
“How can I know if I would support it, sir, when you have kept it a secret until now?” Susan remarked.
“And I intend to keep it a secret, madam. I do not wish to offend your delicate sensibilities by revealing it to you.”
“That is hardly fair. You know my secret, so you ought to share your secret with me, especially as I am expected to endorse it.”
“Yes, madam, but you did not tell me yours. I was obliged to guess it. In the interest of fairness, therefore, I will not tell you my secret. Perhaps one day, you may guess it, as well.”
Susan felt unequal to his sophistication. How could she begin to guess his secret? “What you are suggesting seems immoral to me, sir. I can assure that I do not wish to engage in immoral behaviour.”
“I am sorry if I have offended you, cousin. We will talk no more of this matter today. Let us simply enjoy the beauty of the garden instead, shall we? Oh look, madam! There is the handsome gardener over there.”
Susan glanced at Dean. In spite of her desire to walk with him again, she would not do so in the company of Fitzwilliam. “I believe, sir, that I have walked far enough this morning. I shall return to the house.” She turned and began to go back.
“Then, good morning to you, madam. If you do not mind, I shall walk on and speak with Mr. Dean. Our conversation was too brief yesterday.”
***
That evening, the Kirke and Fitzwilliam families were witness to an apparent lovers’ tiff. At dinner, when Herbert Fitzwilliam the younger attempted to engage Miss Kirke in conversation, she responded tersely and turned her head away to converse with others at the table. After dinner, when the ladies had removed to the drawing room, the young Fitzwilliam exhibited an impatient agitation that could only be attributed to his anguish at being separated from the object of his desire. When the party was again all together in the drawing room, Fitzwilliam invited Miss Kirke to walk with him around the room. Although she could not embarrass him with a refusal, she invited his sister to accompany them, as well. It was evident that Fitzwilliam was most annoyed by the inclusion of his sister in their tableau. Then Miss Kirke most uncharacteristically offered to entertain everyone with a performance on the spinnet. This surprised her mother above all since Susan rarely, if ever, played; she took it as a strong indication that Susan had fallen in love with Fitzwilliam.
It was not until the next morning that Fitzwilliam finally managed to accomplish a tête-à-tête with Susan. Again he arrived at the parlour before she did, and although she attempted to elude him by slipping out to the garden without eating, Fitzwilliam had been watching for her possible escape and exited immediately behind her.
“Miss Kirke,” he called to her.
Short of feigning deafness or running away like a mad woman, she could not think of a way to avoid him. She turned back with evident disdain and said, “Yes, Mr. Fitzwilliam. What can I do for you?”
“My dear Miss Kirke, you could do me the honour of listening to my most abject apology. I feel I have insulted your delicate sensibilities with my crude attempt at humour yesterday.”
“I do not recall your making any humorous comments at all, sir.”
“Well, as I said, they were crude attempts and not worthy of the understanding of a lady such as yourself.”
“Mm,” she said, turning away from the gentleman.
“May I walk with you, madam?”
“I would rather you did not.”
“But I have not fully expressed myself to you. I feel there is more that I need to say in order for you to comprehend my meaning.”
“Pray do go on and make the attempt then, sir, for I confess I am at a total loss to understand your babble this morning.”
“I regret that I have managed to lose your good esteem by my reckless comments.”
“I do not believe that you ever had my good esteem.”
“Well, you have mine, Miss Kirke. I do admire your frankness and spirit.”
Again, Susan murmured the slightest of responses.
“Let me attempt to explain to you why I am so anxious to continue in your good graces, or I should rather say, why I would like to achieve your good graces, if such a thing is possible.”
“Please proceed. You have my attention.”
“Have you considered that as long as our parents believe that we are in love with each other, we will have peace?”
“What are you suggesting, sir?”
“It is merely this. Once my parents are aware that my suit has broken off irrevocably, they will begin again the mad hunt for a suitable partner for me. This is something I can scarcely bear, for I do not wish to be married. Please correct me if I am mistaken, but I believe that you have similar feelings at the moment.”
Susan felt her interest grow. “Are you suggesting a deception, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”
He smiled at her. “You are always so frank and bold, madam. I do wish we could be friends.”
“Perhaps we may, if your desire is for nothing more than friendship.”
“Now you begin to understand me. I wish you to be my friend, and if our parents seek to interpret our relationship as something more, we do not need to spoil their illusions at this time. At any point that you should wish to change our relationship in any way, that is to say, if you should wish to break it off at any time, I would be most happy to oblige.”
“And you wish to do this only to avoid further engagements that your parents might arrange?”
“That is right.”
“Because you do not wish to marry at this time?”
“You understand me perfectly. Now is this such a devilish proposition? Does it do you dishonour? Should you wish to marry in a year or so, we can break it off with no harm to either party.”
“I am not so sure about that. First of all, what suitor could I meet if I was engaged to another? And even if I did meet someone, who would have me if I was cast off?”
“As to the first, you are right, madam. You would not be in the marriage market at this time, but I thought that was your desire. As to the second, well, I am quite certain it would be no obstacle. Once London society is introduced to your beauty, I can assure you that there will be no end to the suitors who would wish to pursue you in spite of a failed engagement. But forgive me, I was under the impression that you did not wish for suitors, as your heart was already engaged.”
Susan felt properly chastised both by the remarks of Fitzwilliam and by the look of disappointment that he gave her. She remembered that he had been talking to Dean yesterday, and she wondered for the first time if he might be a kind of intermediary for them, since they were forbidden to speak directly. Dean’s jealousy had given her hope that he might be interested in such an arrangement. The thought made her bold to consider his proposition. “You are right, sir. My heart is truly engaged elsewhere, and you know where. Tell me, when you spoke to Mr. Dean yesterday, did he speak of me at all?”
“Ah, Miss Kirke. At last your honesty rises to the surface like fine rich cream! And you blush again like a sweet crimson rose. You have restored my faith in womankind.”
“Mr. Fitzwilliam, you are embarrassing me.”
“Did he speak of you? Why, not a word, and yet to that, his e
yes spoke of nothing else. He watched you leave the garden until he could not see you, and then his eyes kept wandering back to the place where they had last seen you. He scarce could keep his mind on the questions related to the garden that I addressed to him. I can assure you, that the man is most thoroughly besotted, and I would say that his love is deeper than yours. I do not believe that he would ever speak of looking for another suitor as you have spoken to me this morning.”
Susan blushed again. “If you speak to him again, I would appreciate it if you did not mention that to him.”
“I never would. I will tell him only what you instruct me to tell him.”
“Would you tell him how much I miss our conversations in the garden?”
“Of course I would. I shall convey the message to him immediately if you wish. Where might I find the gentleman, do you think?”
“He is often to be found in the greenhouse at this hour. Oh, sir, I do so appreciate your intercession on my behalf.”
“Then we have an agreement, Miss Kirke? I will intercede on your behalf with Mr. Dean and you will pretend to our parents that my suit has at least some chance of success.”
“This sounds most fair, Mr. Fitzwilliam.” Susan extended her gloved hand and he shook it.
“Good day to you, sir,” she said as she turned and walked back toward the house, pleased that she would again have a chance to speak to Dean, even if through the voice of another.
Chapter 8
To the delight of both their families, that evening found the two lovers again walking out alone into the garden. As soon as they were out of sight of the house, Fitzwilliam said to Susan, “I have arranged a little surprise for you, Miss Kirke.”
“What is that, sir?”
“Look there.”
She looked up and saw Mr. Dean standing cap in hand at the end of the rectangular lawn where she had first met him, apparently waiting for them. When he saw her, he nodded as had become his custom in the last few weeks. Susan’s heart skipped a beat. Fitzwilliam had more than fulfilled his promise, arranging a meeting rather than simply carrying messages. She wondered how he had convinced Mr. Dean to be a willing participant, but it was a brief thought, immediately replaced by an overwhelming urge, which she did not resist, to run towards him. As she approached, he took hold of her arms as if to restrain her from throwing them around his neck impulsively.
“Miss Kirke, may I speak with you alone?” he said, his voice earnest and anxious.
She looked back at Mr. Fitzwilliam, still strolling toward them, looking eminently pleased with himself. “Of course you may if you wish, madam,” Fitzwilliam said. “I shall wait right here on this bench and walk back with you when you are finished.” He went to sit on the stone bench that Susan considered “theirs.”
Susan and Mr. Dean walked on for some moments without speaking. He led her, still holding one of her arms, to the wilderness away from the common paths where they might have been seen. Susan was acutely aware of his hand clenched tightly around her arm like a vice. Something about the roughness of his touch made her tremble with a strange mixture of emotions: fear and yet anticipation. She began to fantasize what was awaiting her; how he would turn toward her, take hold of her other arm and kiss her, bruising her lips with his ardour. When he finally stopped and turned towards her, she was so filled with terrified longing that she closed her eyes. He did not kiss her, and instead of taking her other arm, he released the one he had.
“Miss Kirke,” he said.
She opened her eyes, feeling about to topple now that he was not holding her up.
“I apologize to you for violating your father’s wishes in speaking to you, but I feel certain that he would approve if he understood my motive.”
She was too disappointed to comprehend his words and said nothing.
He continued. “My motive in speaking to you today is to warn you of the great danger that you face at this moment.”
Finally, she found her voice. “What danger is that, sir? If you mean the danger of my being alone with you, then I am not greatly afraid. After all, it is not a very dangerous wolf that warns the victim of her plight.”
“I do not refer to your immediate situation. Although you might be universally condemned for allowing yourself to be alone with me in this place, you and I both know that you have nothing to fear from me. I would never harm you. No, I am referring to the danger of associating any further with that panderer and reprobate Fitzwilliam.”
“Whatever do you mean, sir? He has always acted towards me in an honorable manner.”
“I am afraid you are somewhat naïve in the ways of the world. Please trust me that I know better than you in this regard.”
Susan fumed at what she perceived to be a slight. Although he was only confirming what she had already thought herself, she could not bear that Dean should even think this of her, let alone express it. “What? You have spoken to Fitzwilliam twice at most and you have formed an opinion based on those conversations, one of which was about nothing but gardening?” He looked hurt by her assault, and she immediately felt sorry instead of angry. Why was she wasting the short time they had together with her petty grievance? “And the second time he spoke with you, did he not tell you how much I miss our conversations, Mr. Dean?” She looked at him with pleading eyes.
“Am I to understand that you wish to engage him as an intermediary between us?”
She nodded, barely able to speak.
“And what are you to give him in return, if I may be so bold as to ask?”
“Nothing at all but the appearance of a courtship, so that our parents will no longer hound us with suitors.”
“I do not trust the man. I do not wish to entrust my secrets with him.”
“But do you not see? He has already arranged this meeting for us, and he will arrange others. He will be a screen so that we can continue meeting without the arousal of my parents’ suspicion.”
“Yes, I see perfectly well. However, I am not at all comfortable with the notion of sneaking around behind your parents’ backs. If that had been our intention, we could have arranged to do that without Fitzwilliams’ assistance. I have agreed to my employer’s injunction forbidding me to speak with you; apart from this one necessary meeting, I intend to carry it out.”
His words dumbfounded her. In her excitement at meeting him again, she had not considered the situation carefully. Of course, he was right. Nothing had really changed. She had set herself up for further disappointment. “Then, this is to be goodbye again?” she murmured.
Mr. Dean did not speak. He swallowed a hard lump.
“You do not wish to say goodbye anymore than I do,” Susan said, taking heart from his discomfort.
“Miss Kirke, you are punishing me most cruelly by prolonging our farewell.”
“You do not wish to say goodbye to me anymore than I wish to say goodbye to you.”
“We cannot always have what we desire.” He spoke barely above a whisper.
“Maybe you cannot, but I always have,” she said, turning around so that he would not see the tears she was about to cry. “You give up too easily, it seems to me. I do not want someone who is so weak.” She started to walk away.
He watched her walking away from him. Weak! he thought. Weak! She could not know the strength it was taking him not to follow her, not to stop her, not to succumb to her plans and let Fitzwilliam be their go-between; but Dean knew what the man was. He could read the large spaces between the lines that poor Susan was unable to see. He wanted so much to protect her from the potential hazards of associating with such a man, and he realized that he had failed to impress her with his admonition. He should try again because, if he let her go back in her present frail condition, she might be in danger of destroying her own future happiness by marrying Fitzwilliam. He felt compelled to call her back in order to save her.
“Susan,” he whispered her name, praying that she would not hear him.
She continued walking. He watched her
slender back moving away from him, the long, bare neck holding her head full of upswept chestnut curls high and proud above her. If she turned around at that moment and lifted her hand to beckon him silently, he would go to her. He would not be able to stop himself because it seemed as though his heart was seeping out from him at that moment. A long string of his love was going with her, growing thinner and thinner as she walked farther and farther from him. He did not know if he could stand it. If she called him back and he ran to her, all of that love would be gathered back together and scooped between them, and they would never be apart again. But she did not turn around. She had not heard him. He thought he saw her back move up and down softly in a shudder that could only mean she was crying, too. It was cruel and unfair that they should be apart.
He turned around to go back to his garden, but his work had never before felt so empty and uninspiring. As much as he had missed her in the last two weeks, he missed her more now that he understood how much love there was between them, love that was going to waste like rain in a fallow field.
***
Susan saw Fitzwilliam’s smiling face waiting for her in the lawn where she had left him. She felt dizzy and looked down. As the blood rushed from her head, she saw only white and heard a ringing in her ears. Fitzwilliam was at her side taking hold of her as she fainted. He swept her up in his arms and brought her to the bench where he had been sitting. Susan could feel the peculiar warmth of the spot where he had been waiting for her. It made her feel sick.
“My dear Miss Kirke! Whatever is the matter?”
She leaned her head forward over her dress and swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.
“Can it be that your lover has rejected you? What a despicable rogue the man is! I cannot believe he can be so blind to your evident beauty.”
She could feel the blood returning to her head. “Please, sir. Let us not speak of this matter. Let us never refer to it again.” She slowly raised her head in order to warn him with her eyes.
The look was not lost on Mr. Fitzwilliam. “Yes, of course. I shall not say another word.”
He took her hand between his and they sat for a few moments in silence.
As soon as she was recovered sufficiently, she stood up. “Let us go now.”
The Serpentine Garden Path Page 5
