Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall (2 page)

The captain was a gruff man, and
although he had been the closest to a father figure I had ever had since my
father’s death, I was not ready to discuss my feelings with him.

“In any case, young man, I suggest you
start thinking about improving your life, instead of trying to get yourself
killed and wasting your life.”

He was right. Jane had offered me a
place by her side, and I had joined the navy because I was afraid of
commitment. Was I trying to cover up my cowardice by risking my life at sea?

 “You know why you are here, don’t you?”
The captain interrupted my gloomy thoughts. “Admiral Fitzjames, my last
commander, asked me to look after you because your father died in his service;
that’s the only reason someone as inexperienced as you would ever have got on
board a frigate after only six months at naval school.”  

“Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

“I’m going to give you some advice
because you saved my life, and because I can see you have it in you to further
your career in the navy. We need good officers who can command respect, and
risk their lives.” He paused. “Go back to her, son.”

“I told you it was not possible, sir.”

“You’ll get yourself killed if you
don’t. You need to go back and either get her out of your system, or back into
your life.” 

 “Thank you, sir, for your advice. I will
think on it.” I wasn’t prepared to tell him why I was living with my soul in
the grave.

He pointed his index finger in my
direction. “You do that.”

“Anything else, sir?”

He walked to the mahogany cabinet to his
right and grabbed a decanter, clumsily splashing some brandy onto the carpet as
he did so. He pointed his glass at the painting that hung above his desk. Lord
Nelson stared back at him with a sardonic smile.

“He wanted to die, or so it seemed,
according to my father.” He shook his head. “Fool.” He drained his brandy. “What
good’s a dead man to his country, Kirkpatrick?”

He was waiting for an answer, and all I
could think about were his words, ‘get her out of your system or back into your
life’, but it wasn’t possible, was it? Had I not lost her forever?

“I have a letter for you, Kirkpatrick.”

“But we haven’t been to port since we
left Spanish Town four weeks ago.”

“I’ve had it since then. There seems to
be some bad news. You will have to return to a place called Eyre Hall for
Christmas.”

“You read my letter?”

“I read all the letters that arrive on
this ship. There are few enough, and in any case, I need to know who I can
trust.”

I controlled my fury, unwilling to
challenge my superior officer, so I made no comment.

“You are twenty–two, are you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was lieutenant for twenty–two years,
so was my father. He fought with Lord Nelson at Santa Cruz. He told me he had
never met a man so brave. It was not a compliment. He was mad. Reminds me of
you. Thought nothing of his own life. My father told me he would go up on deck
and work with the rest of the crew until he was voiceless and his limbs numbed
from the icy waters. ‘England expects every man to do his duty’ he would say,
morning, noon and night. He was obsessed with duty. My father watched him die
and told me, ‘Son, this is what happens to all of us, no matter how dutiful,
brave, rich, loved, or worshipped we are, we all die’.”

He stood once more, looking out of the
port hole. “When it happens is just a matter of time and chance. If Nelson had
died in his bed, we would not be speaking about him now, would we? He died in
battle and became a national hero. He was in love, too, with an inappropriate
lady. My father should never have told me all those stories. I was a romantic
then, so I also fell in love with the wrong woman.”

He turned back to me. “She married, that
was one of the reasons I joined the navy. Later I met my wife. Mrs. Carrington
is a good woman, but I have never forgotten Theresa. I should never have given
up.” He sighed and refilled his glass. “You were a valet too long to be a good
sailor, and you’re too clever to stay in the navy for long, but I’m promoting
you to lieutenant because you’re the cleverest, maddest, yet boldest man on
board. I have just signed the dispatch to promote you for your bravery and
value. Not only did you save my life yesterday, for the second time, but you
also saved the lives of dozens of men on board. The crew respects and obeys
you. You will make a good officer.”

“Thank you, sir.” I stood up to leave,
eager to put an end to our conversation and read my letter.

 “We will arrive in Portsmouth in two
weeks’ time. You have seven weeks’ leave before we return to sea at the end of
January. You will be my First Lieutenant. You may pick up your uniform at the
navy outfitters, when we arrive. You will be wearing it on land, and I guarantee
Mrs. R., whoever she is, will be yours, once more.”

He knew nothing about the real
situation, and I should make sure to keep it that way. He had been an
invaluable instructor and guide for the last six months, but I was not sure how
far I could trust him once we landed.

“Sir, I would ask you respectfully not
to mention our conversation to Admiral Fitzjames, in order to protect the
reputation of the lady you mentioned.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Knowledge is
power, Lieutenant. I think we can both benefit from this situation.” He
gestured to the chair again. “Sit down, I haven’t finished.”

I obeyed, disturbed by the unexpected
turn of events. Had something happened to Susan or to Jane?

“I’ve been captain for over nine years.
My wife seems to think I would make a good admiral. I would not want to
disappoint her. She is a very stubborn lady. I may be visiting Eyre Hall
myself, this Christmas. Fitzjames has often invited me to visit his wife’s
wealthy and influential family in Yorkshire, but Mrs. Carrington has never
liked travelling up to the cold north of the country, especially in winter. I’m
sure I can persuade her it is in our interest to visit this time. So I hope to
see you there, my boy.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be welcome, sir.”

“What, a brave naval officer recommended
by her cousin’s husband, not welcome? You underestimate your worth and your
powers of persuasion, Lieutenant. You will accompany us to Admiral Fitzjames’s
home, and we will do our best to be invited to Eyre Hall.”

“May I have my letter, please, sir?”

“Of course.” He picked up the letter and
absent–mindedly ran his fingers along the folds of the envelope.

“Are you going to tell me all about it,
Kirkpatrick, or am I going to have to find out for myself when I visit Eyre
Hall?”

“Mrs. Rochester is the mistress of the
house where I worked. She was a widow. I was below her station. She became
engaged and I presume married another, more suitable man, so I left.”

“This more suitable man, Mr. Mason, I
believe, is richer and older, I suppose?”

I cringed on hearing his name. What had
Susan written in her letter? “Not richer, but older and more acceptable.”

“Ah, so the lady has all the money!”

I nodded.

“Well, she’ll be free again when you’re
a captain, if you play your cards right.”

I didn’t want to listen to him, but his
words brought hope to my heart once again. I had kept my feelings under control
for almost a year. I was surprised and disturbed by my rekindled emotions. Could
I go back to Jane?

“We can help each other, my boy. We both
win. You get your precious lady, and I get to join the ranks of the Admiralty. You
have saved my life and my reputation by saving my ship, and now you are in a
position to procure me with a most honourable retirement and pension. However,
make no mistake of it; you will gain more than me. I’ve just offered you a new
lease on your life.”

He was right. Although I was dreading
the bad news in the letter, I was also feeling hopeful for the first time in
over a year.

 “I’m still a romantic, and you’re in
love. I want to help you.” He poured himself another brandy. “Well, what do you
say?”

“I need to read my letter first, sir.”

He handed it over casually. I felt my
blood pumping from my temples to my fingertips. I held my breath, in an attempt
to stop my hand from trembling as I reached out for the envelope. The man
facing me smiled triumphantly.

“You’ll make an effort to keep yourself
alive now, won’t you, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick? And don’t worry too much about your
sister. If I have rightly guessed the reason for her distress, I can help you
with that too. I know several young and honest naval officers who would be only
too eager to oblige. They would make good honest husbands and fathers. Trust
me. Marriages of convenience work out more often than not. I can vouch for that
myself.”

He squeezed my shoulder affectionately. “Remember,
Lieutenant, death is the only situation that cannot be mended. Anything else
can be repaired. Women tend to overdramatise, while we men find solutions. Read
your letter, and then we will talk again. Susan is not the first young maiden
to find herself in such dire straits, but she could be luckier than many.”

***

My fingers were still trembling when I
opened the letter minutes later in my cabin. I shuddered as I saw the date. It
had been written almost two months ago. If Susan had been in danger it might be
too late to help, and what if something had happened to Jane?  How could I have
abandoned the two women I loved most? I read, unable to control my racing
heartbeats.

Venice, 20
^th
September.

Dearest brother,   

I hope you receive this letter in
good health. I have heard there are many storms in the Bay of Biscay, where you
told me you would be headed in your last letter, before crossing the English
Channel and returning home. I miss you, Michael. We had never been parted
before, and it has been such a long time!

Mr. Greenwood has a friend in
Venice who is a sea captain, but I dared not speak to him of you, or your ship,
lest Adele should find out and inform Mrs. R. Adele has asked me if I had heard
from you and if you were well; I told her I knew nothing, as you instructed.
She seemed concerned, and I would have liked to tell her you were well, if
nothing else, but I knew that would bring further questions, and I could not
risk her interrogations.

You need not worry about Mrs. R.’s
health. She was unwell, but Adele tells me she is completely recovered now, and
has been in London with her editor, proofreading her new novel. She married Mr.
Mason, as arranged, on All Hallows, although she insisted no one should attend.
Adele was not in agreement with the marriage, but she said the mistress has her
reasons.

I have enjoyed the year spent in
Venice, and I shall miss it dearly, but I am also glad we are returning to
England shortly. As I told you in my last letter, I have greatly improved my
Italian and my knowledge of art and history. I am confident that I will be able
to secure a position as teacher in a private girls’ school on my return to
England. I do not wish to remain in Miss Adele’s service once she marries Mr.
Greenwood, who I am afraid I increasingly dislike. They have postponed the
marriage firstly due to her mother’s ill health, and then her death, but I can
see no further excuses for postponement. 

After a brief stay at Mr.
Greenwood’s house in London, we will be spending Christmas at Eyre Hall. Mr. Greenwood’s
son, Dante, will be travelling with us to England. Mr. Greenwood seems intent
on Dante’s marriage to Miss Annette Mason, so he must speak to Mrs. R.
urgently. They have never met, so there is no love on either part. Mr.
Greenwood’s funds are growing short (most of the expenses in Venice have been
covered by Miss Adele’s means), and Miss Mason has been generously bestowed a
large dowry. You see, Michael, it is their way. They care little for love, or
honesty. Their main concerns are placed on power, and money. Sadly, you and I
are insignificant pawns in this game.

Michael, I must beg you return to
Eyre Hall and meet me. I do not wish to alarm you, but I need your assistance
for
a matter of life or death.
Only you can help me, brother. Believe
me, I would not ask you to return to the place you so dispiritedly left if it
were not urgent and essential for my wellbeing. 

Miss Adele says we will be
arriving in London at the beginning of December and we will be travelling to
Eyre Hall before Christmas Eve. I pray that you receive this letter and that we
will be able to see each other at Eyre Hall on Christmas Eve.

Your affectionate and loving
sister,

Susan  

***

Mrs. Rochester was sitting on her chaise
longue by the window, sketching the leafless trees outside her window, while I
read the
Book of Ecclesiastes
to her, as I do almost every afternoon.
She says she likes to hear me read, but I sometimes wonder if she is even
listening, because I often stumble on the long words, or just leave them out,
and she doesn’t seem to notice. Yesterday, just for fun, I skipped every second
verse, and she never batted an eyelid. Even when she is looking at me, which is
not often, her sad eyes are far away, and she hardly speaks.

Beth and Christy say she wasn’t always
like that. They say she used to be merry and talkative, before it all happened,
but that is how she has been since I first started reading to her, almost a
year ago. When I ask them what they mean by ‘all’, they say Mr. Rochester’s
death, and ‘all that’. And when I ask again, about ‘all that’, they say, ‘Things’,
and when I ask, ‘What things?’, they say, ‘Her sickness’, and if I go on
asking, they say, ‘Children shouldn’t gossip,’ or ‘Children should be seen and
not heard’, so I do not know what is wrong, but I do know she is like a
sleepwalker most of the time, except when Mr. Briggs and Mr. Smythe come, and
they sit for hours talking about numbers, writing in huge books and scattering
bits of paper everywhere. 

My mother tells me that she is selfish
and proud, and I am fortunate because she has taken a fancy to me. I don’t think
she is selfish or proud. I think she is kind and gentle. I do not mind reading,
but sometimes my mouth is as dry as straw, my hands ache from holding the heavy
book, and my neck feels stiff from bending to read. When I stand, my legs
tremble from sitting on the same chair for hours on end, but I never complain.
I just read and watch her, because she is beautiful, and in spite of
everything, I want to be like her when I grow up, but happier, definitely
happier. I do not understand why she cannot be happy; she has such fine clothes
and jewels, and this wonderful house and all the countryside as far as I can see,
or even walk, is hers!

I turned back to the Bible and continued
where I had left off, skipping every third verse this time.

“‘
There is a time for everything, and
a season for every activity under heaven:

A time to be born and a time to die,

A time to plant and a time to uproot,

A time to kill and a time to heal,

A time to tear down and a time to
build…
’”

“You’re tired, Nell.” She stroked my
face kindly. “Is that why you’re skipping verses again? You do not have to read
if you do not want to. The Bible should be read with joy and attention, not as
a chore. What is the matter?”

“I am thirsty, Mrs. Mason.”

“Pour yourself some water from the
decanter, Nell, and give me the Bible.”

She took the book from my hands and
continued reading.

“‘A
time to weep and a time to laugh,

A time to mourn and a time to dance,

A time to scatter stones and a time
to gather them,

A time to embrace and a time to
refrain,

A time to search and a time to give
up,

A time to keep and a time to throw
away,

A time to tear and a time to mend,

A time to be silent and a time to
speak,

A time to love and a time to hate,

A time for war and a time for peace.
’”

She handed me back the sacred book and
sighed. “Indeed there is. We cannot always expect good times, or bad times, can
we Nell?”

She wasn’t asking me because she was
looking out of the window, lost in her thoughts. I sat down beside her again. “Shall
I continue reading, madam?”

“Nell, close the Bible and pass me my cape
and my bonnet. Let us sit outside. Look, the sun is shining, at last.”

As we walked downstairs, she smiled for
the first time in months. “Put on your coat and bonnet, and fetch Flossy, Keeper,
and Piper.”

The sun had broken through the stormy
clouds and the wet leaves were shiny and slippery.

The air was still and we walked slowly
and quietly. Mrs. Mason seemed to enjoy looking at the orange–tinged hawthorns,
the bare hazel bushes, dry shrubs and wild flowers, stopping every now and then
to admire them. We heard the distant church bell toll four times, and dimness
was fast approaching as the sun sank into the horizon.

“Listen to the tinkle of the stream,”
she whispered.

“Is it far?”

“It is too far to walk today. It is
getting dark and we need to get back for dinner.”

We turned around and strolled back
lazily.

“Can you hear the wind rustling in the
branches?” she asked and I nodded.

“It is a calm evening. It will be an
agreeable night. No howling wind for a change. The air smells clean and almost
warm. Strange for the beginning of December.”

I chased the dogs around some bushes,
and Flossy barked at Keeper, but Piper ignored us and walked nobly beside Mrs.
Mason who stooped to pat his head every now and then. She watched me chasing
the dogs and smiled. She looked happy at last and I wondered what had happened.
It was just another normal day.

I ran back to her side with the dogs as
we approached the house again. “Is today a special day?”

“I am not sure why, but yes, it is. The
air smells friendlier. I can almost smell the sea. Perhaps the wind is bringing
sea air.”

“The sea? I have never seen the sea!
What is it like?”

“It is vast and quite frightening,
except by the seaside, in summer, when the waves are pretty and harmless to
watch. We will visit the seaside in summer, if you like.”

“Yes, I would love to! Are there
mermaids, and big ships, and dangerous pirates?”

“The sea has many legends. Perhaps you
would like to read
Treasure Island
, when we finish
Persuasion
?”

I nodded and rushed indoors with the
dogs.

“Would you like to have dinner with me
this evening in the dining–room?”

“Yes please, Mrs. Mason!”

“Well, you’ll have to wash and change.
Tell Cook we will be having dinner early today, at half past six.”

I loved eating upstairs in the dining
room. The food was almost the same as downstairs, but the dishes, the cutlery,
and the glasses were so pretty I felt like a princess. I rushed downstairs to
tell my mother.

“Mummy, Mrs. Mason would like me to have
dinner with her today!”

My mother was alone in the kitchen, sewing
by the warmth of the stove.

“Again? Ain’t you had enough of her?”
she asked without looking up.

“Haven’t you had enough of her, Mother?”

She threw down her sewing and jumped up.
“Don’t you get cheeky with me!”

“It isn’t a word. ‘Ain’t’ isn’t
correct.”

“You snotty brat!” Her eyes bulged and
she leapt towards me. “I’ll throttle the life outta you!” Her hand flew out and
landed on my cheek.

She kept slapping me furiously. “What
shall I tell Mrs. Mason if my face is red and bruised?”

“You ungrateful witch! You’d still be
stood in the fields, scaring off them horrible blackbirds all day if I hadn’t
of brung you here!”

I covered my face with my hands, as she
kept on hitting me, but I was even angrier than she was. “If I had not brought
you here!”

 “Don’t think because you’ve got good
grammar that you’re one of them, ’cause you ain’t!”

“You aren’t,” I replied. She slapped me
so hard I fell against the stove.

“No, I am not, because I am not ‘one of
them’ or ‘one of us’, I am ‘one of me’.”

She had picked up a pan, which she was
beating against my back. “One of me? What the hell’s one of you? You’re not
worth the bread you eat. You ungrateful rat!”

I was on the floor by then, and she was
still knocking the pan on my back.

“I would rather be one of ‘her’ than one
of ‘you’ any day.”

“Don’t you dare answer me back or
correct my grammar. You’d be dead in a ditch if I hadn’t kept you, do you hear
me? Nobody wanted you because you ain’t nothing to nobody. You’re just a
useless brat!”

 “You’re nasty and spiteful. I hate
you!” I could feel my head splitting as she pulled my hair and lifted me to my
feet. Drops of blood from my head trickled down my neck.

“I knew we never should’ve come here!
Look what you’ve become!” She pushed me into the long, narrow pantry behind the
door and locked me in.

“Please let me out!” I banged on the door.
“I can’t breathe!”

I opened my eyes as wide as I could, but
I couldn’t see a thing. I heard the familiar scratching in the storeroom, and
screamed again. “Please open the door! There are mice and it’s dark!”

“Who do you think you are, eating the
same food as the masters and wearing the same clothes? You’re no better than a
filthy street urchin!”

I twisted the handle, kicked, and
pounded the thick wooden door. “You are worse than Eve, who ruined us all, and
even worse than Delilah. You will end up like Jezebel!”

She didn’t reply. I was alone in the
dark cupboard. The cut hurt and the pain was sharp. I wiped the dripping blood
with my dress sleeves and cried helplessly. More blood trickled from my bruised
knuckles as they smashed on the unyielding door. My chest was heaving
uncontrollably, and I was sure I would die if someone didn’t open the door soon.

I must have fainted. I was dragged out
of the room and hugged by someone who smelled of scones and jam. I looked up at
a friendly, worried face.

“What’s she done to you?” Beth shook her
head as she washed my face with a cloth. I put my hand to my hair and felt the
warm, sticky blood on my hands.

“Why did she do this? Whatever got into
her?” She hugged me and wiped my hands.

“That woman’s got a short temper,” said
Simon. “She’s a good match for Mason. He gives her what she deserves. Bitch.”

“Simon, be careful what you say. She’s
her mother after all.”

“Some mother. I ‘ad a mother like ‘er
too. Hope she’s in Newgate or ‘anged.”

“Don’t cry, Nell. She won’t do it again.
Simon, go and tell Mrs. Mason what’s happened.”

“What good would that do? Mrs. Mason’s
in her own little world, ain’t she? She don’t give a fig about any of us no
more,” said Simon.

 “You’re right. Since Mr. Rochester died
and Michael left, she ain’t been herself,” said Beth nodding at Simon.

“Then she married that mean swine, who
causes havoc whenever he’s here and she don’t care. We’ll have to look after
Nell ourselves, Beth.”

“Perhaps you’re right, Simon, but Jenny needs
to be put in her place. Fancy bashing up your own daughter like that. It ain’t
right.”

“It was my fault. I am a horrible, ugly and
ungrateful person.”

“Don’t you say that again, Nell. You’re
a beautiful girl, and no–one ain’t got no right to treat you like this.”

I hugged Beth and could not help
giggling. “No–one has got the right to treat me like this, you mean.”

“Good for you, Nell. You’re clever, and
pretty. Mrs. Mason will look after you. You won’t be a servant like us, working
fourteen hours a day.”

Simon interrupted sternly. “If Jenny
does this again, I’m telling Mrs. Mason. I don’t care what you say, Nell. It
ain’t right. Mrs. Mason needs to start finding out what’s going on at Eyre
Hall, or there’ll be trouble. Mark my words.”

Beth whispered something in Simon’s ear.
He kissed her and squeezed her waist, and she giggled and said, “Later.” I
thought they made a lovely couple. They were always laughing and holding hands.
Simon was slow and clumsy, but kind, and Beth was clever and impatient, but
affectionate. They were happy and well–matched. I wondered if they would marry
and leave Eyre Hall, or stay on like Cook and Joseph. I prayed they would stay.

“Simon, bring me the tub, and put some
water on the stove, we’re going to give Nell a proper bath, aren’t we, miss?
I’ll plait your hair and then you’ll wear your pretty Sunday dress. How’s that
for a treat?”

I cried again as I threw my arms around
her neck and pressed my lips onto her warm and fleshy cheek. “Thank you, Beth.”

“We can’t let madam see you like this,
can we?”

“Beth, there are mice in the pantry. I
heard them scratching and screeching.”

“For crying out loud! Simon, filthy rats
again. We won’t never get rid of ‘em. Get some more arsenic when you go into
Hay, we’ve run out. Cook’ll go berserk if she finds out.”

I told Mrs. Mason I had slipped down the
stairs, because I had a bruise on my cheek, a bump and a bandage at the back of
my head, and scraped knuckles. She was very upset and said I could have some
extra pudding. I wished she could be my mother. I would never ever answer her
back or be cheeky to her.