Gentleman Jack

by Katy Derbyshire

  The next day, Anne retired to her new moss hut and began work on her future with Ann Walker. Incurred a cross thinking of Miss Walker – I shall think myself into being in love with her – I am already persuaded I like her quite well enough for comfort.28 I begin to think her at times pretty.29 Ann Walker, for her part, had no need to persuade herself of anything. Beguiled by Anne, she walked the love path on a surprise visit to Shibden Hall the next day, allegedly to get Anne’s advice on a tenant. Anne took her straight to her hut and whispered so many sweet nothings that they were bordering on love-making. [...] Our liaison is now established, she believed, and vowed to make the poor girl as happy as I can, so that she shall have no reason to repent. [...] I myself am surprised at my so rapid success & at the novelty of my situation. Perhaps after all, she will make me really happier than any of my former flames – at all rates we shall have money enough & I don’t fancy she will be close or stingy or cold to me.30

  Unlike Sibella Maclean and Vere Hobart, from the outset Ann Walker understood and welcomed Anne Lister’s advances. She told Anne the next day she had often looked at all her things & said what was the use of having them with nobody to enjoy them with her? She said it all seemed now like a dream to her. During the night, she had been thinking whether she could make me happy & be a companion for me. She said how happy she now felt & looked so, as we sat on the sofa. Anne lied, saying she had made up my mind in May – the moment I was at liberty to do so – so that it had been well enough digested by me, however sudden it might seem to her – & that I gave my happiness into her keeping in perfect security.31

  15 Halifax 1836. This was the view Anne Lister had on her way from Shibden Hall into town. Halifax Parish Church is in the foreground; the bridge on the right is next to Northgate. Copperplate by N. Whittock. Calderdale Leisure Services, Shibden Hall, Halifax.

  During their next five-hour rendezvous in the moss hut two days later, Anne told Ann that if she felt a quarter the regard for me I did for her, I should be satisfied – but if she ever should feel half, I should be more than happy. Then she made a marriage proposal of sorts to her. Proposed her living with me at Shibden, the advantages of which I advocated skilfully &, I think successfully. [...] Said that less money needed be paid out than she perhaps imagined. Explained that there would be more éclat & independence even for her at Shibden. She also revealed her financial situation, claiming she expected to have ultimately two thousand a year – a significant exaggeration. I then asked if she thought she could be happy enough with me, to give up all thought of leaving me.

  This proposal put Ann Walker in something of a dilemma. She was accustomed to very different comforts to Anne and hoped to live at Cliffe Hill after her aunt’s death; she spoke of her great attachment to the latter. Moving into the down-at-heel Shibden Hall must have seemed an absurd idea. She ignored Anne’s attempt to open financial negotiations and never let slip her own income. Instead, she explained she had said that she would never marry – but that, as she had once felt an inclination not to keep to this, she could not yet positively say she should never feel the same inclination again. She should not like to deceive me & begged not to answer just now. I said she was quite right – praised her judiciousness – that my esteem and admiration were only heightened by it – that no feelings of selfishness should make me even wish for my happiness rather than hers – that I would give her six months [...] to make up her mind.32

  There was nothing that would make Ann Walker come round more easily, Anne was convinced, than good sex. She fell back on her old trick in the moss hut: On the plea of feeling her pulse, I took her hand & held it some time – to which she shewed no objection.33 In fact, Ann was just waiting for her neighbour to put her words into deeds. When Anne came to Lidgate at 10 in the morning on 4 October, I had my arm on the back of the sofa – she leaned on it – looked as if I might be affectionate, and it ended in her lying on my arm all the morning & my kissing her & she returning it with such a long continued passionate or nervous mumbling kiss – that we got on as far as we, by daylight, mere kissing, could – I thinking to myself, ‘Well, this is rather more than I expected – of course she means to take me.’ Yet on pressing the hardness of my case in having to wait six months, & begging for a less length of probation – she held out, saying her mind was quite unmade up – & I must not hope too much for fear of disappointment. Yet she asked me to dine with her at five & stay all night. Having reacted with such reserve to Anne’s proposal, Ann Walker was very open to her sexual advances, suggesting her own bed for the last step rather than Anne’s romantic but uncomfortable moss hut. Unlike Anne, she did live alone in her house, after all. But Anne could only accept the invitation to dinner: Very sorry could not do the latter while my father was unwell & my sister absent. Thought I, ‘I see I shall get all I want of her person, if I stay all night.’

  So as not to arouse suspicion, Anne hurried home and returned to Ann’s house later that afternoon. Her neighbour had dolled herself up and put on an evening gown. After dinner, her servant left the two of them alone and she sat on my knee, & I did not spare kissing & pressing, she returning it as in the morning. Yet still I was not to hope too much – she said I was infatuated – when the novelty was over I should not feel the same – & I might not find her a companion for me. Ann Walker seems to have been observing her neighbour’s habits for many years. We were so affectionate – we let the lamp go out – long continued (mumbling moist) kissing, I prest her bosom – then finding no resistance & the lamp being out – let my hand wander lower down, gently getting to her queer – still no resistance – so I whispered surely she could care for me some little? ‘Yes.’ Then gently whispered she would break my heart if she left me – she then said I should think her very cold (how the devil could I?) & it came out: how that her affections had been engaged to one of the best men – that they could not be transferred so soon – for he had only been dead just three months – & she got to crying. At the moment of surrendering herself to Anne Lister, Ann Walker thought of her deceased secret fiancé, Mr Fraser, and was overcome by the contradiction of lust and grief. I begged a thousand pardons etc etc – declared it was only thro’ ignorance that I had ever been so sanguine etc etc – & thinking a scene would then come beautifully from me, seemed in a paroxysm of stupid tho’ deeply sighing grief and stifled tears & declared myself hopeless – said my conduct (or, rather, my hoping) was madness. All this was very prettily done. I however promised to see her tomorrow & we parted in all the pathos due to the occasion.34

  Anne was equally surprised by Ann’s advance and retreat. I scarce know what to make of her. Is she maddish? I must mind what I say to her. Be cautious. Hang it! The queer girl puzzles me. She was particularly disturbed by Ann’s open desire. ‘Cold,’ thought I! ‘No sign of that – more likely, she will try what I can do for her before giving the answer, & I don’t think I can do enough.’ She had said that if she once made up her mind she thought herself as much as married to me for life. Well, I may try her, or rather let her try me – & go what lengths the first night I sleep there. She certainly gulled me in that I never dreampt of her being the passionate little person I find her, spite of her calling herself ‘cold.’ Certainly I should have never ventured such lengths just yet without all the encouragement she gave me. I shall now turn sentimentally melancholy & put on all the air of romantic hopelessness. If I do this well, I may turn her to pity.35 Anne was appalled that Ann had accepted her declarations of love and thinks me over head-&-ears with her – she is mistaken – her mumbling kisses have cured me of that.36

  Anne set off for Lidgate the very next morning. I explained how sorry I was – would have been the last to have intruded on her feelings etc etc – under circumstances of such recent grief, and renewed her promise to wait six months for Ann’s answer to her marriage proposal. Ann had composed herself overnight. She took me up to her room – I kissed her & she pushed herself so to me, I rather felt & might have done it as much as I pleased. She is ma
n-keen enough.37 Over the next few days they ventured ever further, but with differing intentions. Anne was interested in Ann’s money; Ann wanted sex. It seems I can have her as my mistress & may amuse myself – she kissed me & lay on my arm as before, evidently excited. Anne kissed her back & pressed very tenderly & got my right hand up her petticoats to her queer, but not to the skin – could not get thro’ her thick knitted drawers, for tho’ she never once attempted to put my hand away, she held her thighs too tight together for me. [...] I wonder what she will say when I have once fairly done my best for her. Ann Walker clearly wondered the same thing, and asked me to spend the whole day & stay the night on Tuesday.38

  Yet this visit did not lead to what Ann Walker wanted either. Kissing & pressing her as usual. – She put the blind down – lucky – James had come in on trivial errands twice. And Mrs Priestley came at four – I had jumped in time & was standing by the fire – but Ann looked red & I pale, & Mrs P– must see we were not particularly expecting or desiring company. She looked vexed, jealous & annoyed.39 Anne’s best friend, Mrs Priestley, knew precisely what was going on. In days gone by, she had not only tolerated Anne’s preference for women but even defended it. Speaking of my oddity, Mrs Priestley said she always told people I was natural, but she thought nature was in an odd freak when she made me. I looked significantly & replied the remark was fair & just & true.40 Now, however, that it was her husband’s cousin at stake – and her assets – Mrs Priestley’s tolerance came to an end. She only staid a few minutes & went off in supressed rage. Ann Walker did not care. She was not on good terms with her cousin Mr Priestley, a trustee of her father’s will. Miss W– laughed & said we were well-matched – we soon got to kissing again on the sofa. At last I got my right hand up her petticoats & after much fumbling got thro’ the opening of her drawers & touched (first time) the hair & skin of her queer – she never offered the least resistance. In the midst of the action, Ann asked: ‘If you never had any attachment, who taught you to kiss?’ I laughed & said how nicely that was said – then answered that nature taught me. I could have replied, ‘And who taught you?’ 41

  Anne Lister was vexed from the very beginning by the way Ann did not hide her desire. She always found it unpleasant not to be the first lover in a woman’s life and thus have to face comparison. She much preferred virgins. Damn her, she is an old hand & has nor shame nor anything – she certainly takes all very much like one of the initiated.42 Her suspicions alighted on Catherine Rawson, with whom Ann had just been in the Lake District, and whom Anne had tutored years ago in Latin and Greek. At the time, Anne had pronounced I do not think Catherine will make much out as a scholar. She seems better suited to be made a beauty of.43 Now that Ann Walker mentioned having previously talked to Catherine Rawson about moving in together, Anne suspected Catherine’s classics might have taught her the trick of debauching Miss W–. Yes, Miss W– has been taught by someone. [...] Have she and Catherine been playing tricks?44

  16 Letter from Ann Walker to Anne Lister, 24 December 1832; West Yorkshire Archive Service, Calderdale, SH: 7/ML/644/1.

  Anne preferred to go home than stay overnight, having been caught almost in flagrante by Mrs Priestley. How changed my mind, she noted; I am cured, especially as Ann, like Vere before her, simply did not respond to her proposal. I care not for her – tho’ her money would suit.45 And so Anne went to breakfast at Lidgate again three days later, love-making & kissing Ann all day long on the sofa. As it became dusk we crept closer & I, without any resistance, got (for the first time) right middle finger up her queer. [...] She whispered that she loved me – then afterwards said her mind was quite unmade up & bade me not be sanguine.46 Anne, who had taken many women only on my own terms, as lovers in other words, was appalled at the role reversal that Ann Walker undertook; she would like to keep me on, so as to have the benefit of my intimacy without any real joint concern.47

  On Ann’s third invitation for Anne to stay the night, she finally relented. After a day spent paying calls and shopping together in Halifax, they spent a very cozy evening at Lidgate and went upstairs at 10:15. Anne undressed & then went to her room – had her on my knee a few minutes & then got into bed, she making no objection – & staid with her till twelve & three-quarters – rubbing gently. [...] She seemed so tender & able to bear so little (I think she was more intact & innocent & virgin than I had latterly surmised) that I contented myself with handling her gently & love-making. She feared she should never be able to satisfy me. [...] She whispered to me in bed how gentle & kind I was to her, & faintly said she loved me, ‘or else how can you think,’ said she, ‘that I should let you do as you do?’ In fact, tho’ I never allow that I have ‘hope’, surely I ought not to despair – she surely cannot go on as she does, meaning to say ‘no’.

  Ann Walker had had to ask three times before Anne finally went to bed with her. In the morning, though, she woke up far from happy. Miss W– not well – lay on the sofa all the day & I sat by her very affectionately – gave her her gruel. Ann thought she was suffering from having had me last night, and struggled (or appeared to struggle) to recover from the loss of her virginity. She never thought I should have made her suffer so much – would never let me do so again. I took all this very well,48 just as she took in her stride the information Ann had given her that night about her income: Ann received £2,500 a year but could only spend £1,000 of it freely; that was far less than Anne had assumed. They had both got what they had been waiting for – Ann sex, and Anne hard figures – but they both woke disappointed.

  And yet they both wanted more. In the nights that followed, Anne caressed Ann and gave her, as she owned, pleasure,49 until she managed to shorten the proposed waiting period: Ann Walker now wanted to decide by the end of the year whether to live with Anne, and was toying with the idea of travelling with her in January. She had set this time aside for her friends the Ainsworths, but Mrs Ainsworth died suddenly in a carriage accident. Ann’s shock was doubled by the advances made to her by the freshly widowed Mr Ainsworth, asking her for a secret correspondence. A tearful Ann gave Anne his letter to read. ‘Oh ho,’ thought I, ‘all this is very clear’ – and I candidly told her what I thought, namely that Mr Ainsworth aimed to win Ann’s heart before her relatives could send him packing. To Anne’s surprise, however, Ann did not feel capable of rejecting his advances outright. This led to my saying that she must now decide between Mr A– and me, and gave her until Monday to do so. Anne made this ultimatum on a Thursday.

  Ann panicked. Fearing she should not be so happy with him as she might have been – never knew till now how much she was attached to me – should make comparisons, too, in poor Mr Fraser’s favour – and torturing herself with all the miseries of not knowing what to do. After a good two weeks of sex with Anne, she also felt repugnance to forming any connection with the other sex. She not only asked Anne to stay with her that night but also promises me a lock of queer’s hair in the morning – and I am to cut it myself if I like! 50 We fretted ourselves to sleep last night – she lay on me as usual to warm her stomach & then lay in my arms – but I was perfectly quiet & never touched her queer. [...] Just before getting up, I got scissars [sic] – took up her night-chemise & attempted to cut the lock, but kissed her queer – gave her the scissars – said she must cut it for me herself – & threw myself into the great chair. She soon gave me the golden lock – threw herself on the chair by me. We wept (& kissed). Ann was overwhelmed by her feelings for Anne. She had been certain of Anne’s love and it was only her move of using Mr Ainsworth to put her under pressure that made it clear to her what she had to lose. She hung upon me & cried & sobbed aloud at parting; according to Anne’s conditions, they were not to see each other again until the day of her decision. ‘Well,’ said I to myself as I walked off, ‘a pretty scene we have had, but surely I care not much & shall take my time of suspense very quietly – & be easily reconciled either way.’ 51

  Ann Walker, however, spent a tormented weekend. On the Monday she sent Anne
a small purse containing two pieces of paper, one saying ‘yes’ and the other ‘no’, along with a letter. I have endeavoured to express myself in the most gentle & delicate manner possible & rather to imply than say what I really mean. It is a most difficult note to write – and, had it been possible, I would rather have been silent for the present – until grief has become more subdued. [...] I find it impossible to make up my own mind. For the last twelve months I have lived under circumstances of no common moment, and with my health impaired & with vivid regrets of the past, I feel that I have not the power fairly to exercise my own judgment. My heart would not allow me to listen to any proposal of marriage, and this is in effect the same. I would simply go on & leave the event to God.

  And on these grounds, I once thought of asking if you would act upon your original intention, and consent for us to travel together for a few months. Again I feel this unfair to you. I promised an answer – and I am at your mercy. I have written the words on a slip of paper & put them in the purse. I have implicit confidence in your judgment, & if you still think it better to decide today, the paper you draw first must be the word – or, if you prefer, let your good aunt draw. And then we neither of us decide – you may think this an evasive termination of my promise. Forgive me, for it is really all I can say. Having heard you once say that in one case [i.e. no] I must give you up as a friend, I find myself as incapable of consenting to this, as I am for deciding under my present feelings what is to be my future course of life. Whatever may be the event, I shall always remain your faithful & affectionate A. W.