“Mr. Dean, did you know that Miss Kirke is but sixteen years old?”
He had never asked her age, and somehow in his mind he had presumed that she was near eighteen. Three years had been a lot to ask of her, but five years! For someone as impatient as she, it must seem like an eternity. Perhaps after five years she would come to realize the absurdity of a marriage between them and think better of casting aside her fortune so impulsively. Dean was saddened by the thought, but what he said to Mary was, “Five years may seem like a long time to Miss Kirke, but tell her I shall need all of those years to earn money enow to support her well. Please make her understand that if she insists on marrying a poor man, she maun learn patience. Will you tell her to wait for me, if she can?”
“Yes, sir. I shall tell her to be patient and not to contact you again, but in five years you will be waiting for her if she still desires to marry you. Is that correct, sir?”
She had it exactly, as if she had read his thoughts. “You are a good and faithful messenger.”
She stood up to leave. “Well then, thank you, sir. I shall convey your message to Miss Kirke. Good day to you, sir.”
“Good day to you, Mary. May heaven smile on you and your mistress.”
Dean was sorry to see her go.
***
Meanwhile Susan was so nervous at her needlework that she pricked herself several times and finally abandoned the effort, saying, “Oh, I am all thumbs today!”
Her mother raised her eyes from her work. “Where is your servant Mary this afternoon?”
Susan scrutinized her mother but could perceive no suspicion in her manner. “She was required in London on urgent business.”
“What business was that?”
“Her mother was taken ill quite suddenly. I told her she should go straightaway.”
“I hope you first received permission from your father to release her?”
“Oh, I did not even think of that. Events occurred suddenly, and Mary was so distressed about her mother’s health that I gave her permission immediately. She should be home tonight. She told me she would catch the last return coach.”
“How did Mary obtain the news that her mother was ill?”
Susan was beginning to chafe under her mother’s questioning. What had seemed idle curiosity at the start now seemed like an inquisition. “She received a letter at the last post yesterday.”
Her mother nodded and said nothing more. Susan went back to her needlework, much relieved, but also feeling guilty that she had had to invent such an elaborate lie to alleviate her mother’s suspicions.
Susan did not leave the house that evening to walk in the garden. She was most anxious to meet Mary when she arrived. She wanted to be the first to talk with her and receive any message that Dean may have sent. Unfortunately, it was not to be. When Mary entered by the servants’ entrance, the butler Sutton was waiting for her with orders from his mistress that she was to be brought to Mr. Kirke’s sitting room as soon as she arrived. He executed those orders, and so it was that when Susan saw Mary she was following the butler like a prisoner being led to the scaffold.
“Mary,” she cried.
Mary looked up at her mistress. “Yes, madam?”
The butler turned to her. “There is to be no communication between you and Miss Kirke. Is that understood, Mary?”
“Yes, sir.” Mary shrugged at Susan, who followed the procession to her father’s room. There she was told by her father to wait.
“No, Father. If this concerns my maid, then it concerns me, also.” Susan slipped into the room before he could stop her.
“Very well. You may stay, but on one condition only. You may not utter a word. Is that understood?”
“No, Mr. Kirke,” Susan’s mother responded angrily. “She is not to be in the room.”
“Well, then you will have to remove me physically, madam, for I shall not remove myself.”
Her mother glared. “Very well. But you will sit silently as your father has said or I shall have the butler carry you out.”
Susan sat where her mother asked her to, behind Mary so that she could not give her any visual assistance during the interrogation.
Mary stood in the middle of the room shifting from one foot to the other, looking from Mr. Kirke to Mrs. Kirke to the butler who stood straight as a ramrod beside Mrs. Kirke’s chair.
Mr. Kirke first addressed the frightened maid. “For what purpose did you leave your position to travel to London today, Mary?”
“It was an urgent family matter, sir.”
“Can you be more specific, Mary.”
Mary cleared her throat. “A death in the family, sir.” Her voice lifted slightly as if it were a question.
“I am most sorry to hear that, Mary. Whose death was it?”
“My grandmother, sir.”
“How very sad.” Mr. Kirke looked briefly at his daughter and then turned back to Mary. “Susan said that it was your mother who was ill? How extraordinary! Well, she must have been mistaken.” Mary was shuffling from one foot to the other nervously. “How did you learn of this illness, or should I say death, Mary?”
“My brother came with the news yesterday, sir.”
“Ah ha!” Mrs. Kirke cried gleefully. “Tell her, Sutton.”
The butler, who had been standing in silence all this time, spoke at his mistress’ bidding. “I am not aware, nor are any of my staff, of your brother’s visit here yesterday or at any other time. What is more, there has been no mail delivery for you in the last week.”
Mr. Kirke resumed the questioning. “So, how did your brother gain entry to the house without any of the servants’ knowledge?”
“I met him in the garden, sir, before he reached the house. It was quite a surprise, I can tell you.”
“Oh, the garden!” cried Mr. Kirke. “That garden has a great deal to answer for, I must say. Madam, do you not think we would be wise to tear that garden down? It seems to be the setting for any number of intrigues.”
“A veritable Eden, sir, in every sense of the word, a place where wickedness and rebellion flourish more than flowers.” She looked at Susan, a glance that forbade comment.
Mary looked down at her feet.
Mr. Kirke continued. “Now, Mary. We do not believe your story. We believe that you have gone to see Dean on your mistress’s behalf. You would be well-advised to give up your present charade and forfeit to me any letter that Dean has written to Miss Kirke.”
“I have no such letter, sir. I told you I went to visit my mother in order to comfort her in her grief.”
“No, Mary. I told you we do not believe that story. I am losing patience with you. Hand over the letter.”
“Mr. Kirke, I beg you. I have no such letter. You may search my person if you wish. Or you, Mrs. Kirke. I have no letter.” Mary burst into tears.
Kirke looked uncomfortable and turned away. Mrs. Kirke replaced him in the questioning. “Your tears do not signify, Mary. They will not spare you. We are totally unconvinced of your story and you will be dismissed regardless, so you may as well give Mr. Kirke the letter that Dean has sent Miss Kirke.”
“I assure you, I have no such letter. I went to London to visit my mother who is grieving the loss of her mother. How can you so unkind? I will not stay at an employment where I am treated so cruelly.”
“You may get your things and go then, Mary.” Mrs. Kirke spoke to Sutton. “Take her away.”
Mary wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve and followed the stiff-necked butler out the door. Susan ran after them before her parents could catch her.
“Mary, I am so sorry for what have I done to you.”
Mrs. Kirke spoke. “Step back in now, Susan.”
Susan ignored her mother and followed Mary and the butler down the hall.
Mrs. Kirke remained at the doorway almost screeching after her daughter. “Susan, come back here.”
At the end of the hall, before going down the stairs, Mary turned around.
> “Do you have a letter, Mary?” Susan whispered.
“No, madam,” she whispered back. “But he says to wait patiently for five more years and not to look for him.”
Then the butler turned around. “Miss Kirke. Mary has nothing more to say to you. She has been dismissed. Now go back to your mother immediately. You are causing her a great deal of distress.”
Susan glared at him and then looked at her maid. “Mary, I am sorry. I shall make it up to you somehow. No matter what happens to me, I swear I will.”
“Goodbye.” Mary replied as she turned and followed the butler submissively.
“Goodbye, and thank you.” Susan watched her go, feeling remorseful. Then she turned back. “I am coming, Mother.”
At the interrogation room, Mrs. Kirke fell exhausted into a chair. “I have quite lost my voice shrieking at my daughter, sir. You will have to do all the talking now. I have never felt so abused in all my life, and by my own offspring!” Her mother sat weeping loudly and fanning herself through the whole interview that Susan endured with her father.
“You have lied to us, Susan.”
She considered whether the time had come to admit the lie or whether she should continue in it. It made no difference now as far as Mary was concerned: she had lost her employment. Finally, Susan decided to say nothing.
“You have nothing to say in your own defense?”
“No, sir,” she said.
“You know that your maid has lost her position because of you?”
“You have dismissed a loyal and faithful servant of mine for no good reason, sir.”
“She was not loyal and faithful to me. She went behind my back at your request in order to scheme and plot and…” Mr. Kirke had begun to run out of steam. “I have had enough. It is too much for me, as well. Susan, you will go to your room and stay there until your mother and I decide on your punishment.”
Susan went willingly. She had no more tears to cry. She was beyond tears, in a despair so deep that she thought she would never see the end of it, and now she was alone in her grief. There was no one to turn to. She gave little thought to her parents’ punishment. What more could they do to her, and how could she possibly feel any worse?
Chapter 13
Susan waited a week in silent despair for a punishment that did not arrive. She began to assume that her parents had forgotten all about it until one morning her mother broke the news to Susan that the date for her marriage to Fitzwilliam, which she had all but forgotten about, had been set and would take place in a fortnight.
“But I do not wish to marry Mr. Fitzwilliam, Mama,” Susan protested feebly, knowing that her wishes were of no consequence.
“Susan, do not contradict. You are to marry Fitzwilliam. The engagement was never called off in spite of your disgraceful behaviour. You should be grateful that no word of this… this affair, has reached the Fitzwilliams, and we are most anxious for the marriage to take place before it does. Do you not see how your behaviour, if it becomes generally known, will poison any hopes you have to make a suitable marriage?”
“Have I not expressed that a suitable marriage is of no interest to me?”
“Susan, I will hear no more about it. Fitzwilliam is arriving tomorrow, and we shall go with him to London to purchase whatever you may need for the wedding. Is that clear?”
At the mention of London, Susan became more interested, and quietly acquiesced. “Yes, Mother.” She immediately began to consider how she might get Fitzwilliam to take her to Dean’s lodging. He had always been obliging in that regard before.
The prospect of getting out of the prison that her home had become and perhaps doing something towards finding Mr. Dean put the bloom back on Susan’s face, so that she looked positively radiant when Herbert Fitzwilliam arrived the next day.
***
“Miss Kirke, you look lovely,” he said.
“It is my pleasure at seeing you once again, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” she lied, pleased at her artifice.
Kirke and his wife exchanged puzzled glances.
“Let us not lose a moment of time, but drive on straight to London. I am anxious to be gone.”
“I would be most happy to oblige you, but the horses must have a rest, and I confess myself to be a little weary and in need of sustenance before I continue my journey.”
“Besides, Susan, we are not yet ready to leave,” Mrs. Kirke said.
“I did not realize that you were coming, Mother.” Susan could scarcely hide her disappointment.
“You did not expect that we would let you go unescorted! And, of course you will need some feminine assistance to choose a trousseau, will you not?”
“I am grateful for your guidance and good taste, madam.” Susan nodded deferentially toward her mother, and then turned her attention to Fitzwilliam. “But sir, are you too fatigued to take a turn with me in the garden as we used to do before we dine? There have been some great changes there that I am certain will meet your interest.”
“Why, certainly, my dear, if your parents have no objection.”
Kirke and his wife again exchanged looks before agreeing to let the young people go.
As they walked away from the house, Fitzwilliam was the first to speak. “Do not tell me yet what the changes to the garden are. As I recall, there is a seat on the bridge above the brook where most of the garden may be observed. We shall go there, and then I shall endeavour to identify the changes. Is this not a good game?”
“It is, sir, but I dare you to find out the change, even from there.”
“I accept your dare.”
As they walked along the gravel path, they passed several garden workers, who did not return Fitzwilliam’s greeting. They were so rude that he could not help remarking on it to Miss Kirke. She gave him no explanation, but continued walking. The serpentine path wove its way beside the pond and onto the bridge from where Fitzwilliam surveyed the entire estate for some time.
“I do wish that I had brought my spyglass. I am afraid that the changes you mentioned are not so great after all, for I cannot see them.”
“Then you are blind, sir.”
“Can you not give me some clue? In what section of the garden do these changes reside?”
“Why sir, they are everywhere. As for hints, you have already had several.”
“When was that, madam?”
“When the garden workers refused to greet you.”
“I cannot discover what that signifies. I am afraid you have won your wager. I must relinquish. What are the changes, Miss Kirke?”
“Can you not see how miserable the garden is, sir? Why, nothing at all is the same as it was.” He looked at her as she kept him in suspense. “The gardener has gone.”
“Oh, no! Do you mean that Dean has left?”
“Yes, sir. We have been discovered, and he has been dismissed. That is the reason you have been summoned here so hastily and why our marriage date is set.”
“I understand. But you seemed so happy to see me.”
“Yes, sir. I have been kept a virtual captive in my room almost since the gardener was dismissed. My maid has also been let go for helping me to locate Mr. Dean. You, sir, have rescued me from my virtual prison, and I pray that you can help me meet with him.”
“So you do not mean to marry me, Miss Kirke?”
“I am sorry. I did not think that you really wanted to marry me, sir. At one time, I remember you said you would help me in my affair with Mr. Dean.”
“If you recall it was to be a mutual assistance in the guise of a marriage.”
“Mr. Dean told me to have nothing to do with you. He did not like you for reasons that I barely understand, and he did not trust you. Perhaps I should not trust you, either, but what choice have I? You are my only hope, sir. I beg of you to assist me now to see him again. I am engaged to him now, and I renounce my engagement to you. I am sorry if this causes you grief. I do not know if there is any other way that I can assist you, but I will not ma
rry you.”
“You do cause me grief in this announcement. It would have given me happiness to be your husband. Not only Dean, but I, too, have lost the pleasure of this garden. Reconsider, madam. If you marry me, I shall restore him to his position, and you can see him every day.”
Susan considered for a moment. Dean had been so right about Fitzwilliam. He was a rogue of the worst kind, but she must appeal to his better nature. She was sure that he had one. “Mr. Dean would never approve of what you are suggesting, sir. He would not come back here if I were your wife.”
“I am afraid that you are right. I have seldom met such a principled man. It is really quite a shame. I wonder that he did not become a clergyman rather than a gardener.”
“So will you help me, sir?”
“You can depend upon it, Miss Kirke. In spite of my personal loss, I have too sensible a nature to deny assistance to such lovers as you and Dean.”
“Oh, sir. Thank you.”
“While you and your mother are shopping in London, I shall seek out your gardener. However, you do not know what I sacrifice for you. I, myself, was anticipating the shopping expedition.”
“Sir, I have his address already. My maid managed to obtain it from one of the servants in the garden, and she has spoken to him. He told her that I should wait for him until I am twenty-one, and my parents will not have the same control over me.”
“He surely cannot mean for you to wait for five years! Love’s fire burns brightly, but never for so long as that. At any rate, since our marriage date has been set to take place within this fortnight, I must warn him that he no longer has any time to lose. He must carry you off to Gretna Green immediately. Is that essentially the message, madam?”
Susan blanched at his directness. “Yes, sir,” she said.
Chapter 14
Susan and her mother set out in a hansom cab to visit a mantua-maker on Oxford Street that had been recommended by Fitzwilliam. A young man greeted them at the door and showed them to some seats. After offering refreshments, he left the room.
“Now we shall meet the mantua-maker,” Mrs. Kirke said.
However, it was the same gentleman who returned with a basket of dolls from Paris for the ladies to examine.
The Serpentine Garden Path Page 9
