Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall (6 page)

At last, after the tedious dinner, we
moved to the drawing room, where I hoped to approach Jane, but Clarissa
insisted we play an absurd game, and brazenly pulled me into her circle and
under some mistletoe. I had to kiss her first, which was a quick peck on the
cheek. The game continued until all the blindfolded men had kissed all the
girls. Jane had declined to join in, saying she was tired and sat by the hearth
with Mrs. Carrington. When everyone had been kissed, Clarissa proposed we all
play hide and seek. Fortunately, Captain Carrington distracted his wife away
from Jane’s side, and Clarissa was too excited to notice that I had slipped
away from the playful group to join Jane, who was standing by the hearth, looking
intently into the flames.

“Mrs. Mason, I would request a private
word with you, if you please?”

Did she recoil on hearing my voice? Was
it possible that I could have such a negative effect on her? Did she hate me
for leaving, or for returning?

“Have you finished playing, Lieutenant
Kirkpatrick?” she answered looking into the fire.

“I have no intention of playing, and
least of all with you, Mrs. Mason.”

She turned to me, and my heart surrendered
as it always did. Hers were the eyes I had seen in every storm, and hers was
the face I had observed in every dawn.

“Congratulations Lieutenant, now that
you are an officer in the navy, you can have your pick of the young girls who
are searching for husbands. You have done well.”

I wanted to throw myself at her feet and
tell her that I had come back because her image was so firmly lodged in my mind
that her face was the last thing I saw before falling asleep and the first
thing I thought of every morning when I woke up. Hers were the only lips I ever
wanted to kiss, and being so near her and watching her indifference was killing
me.

“I am not looking for a young wife,” I whispered.

“What are you looking for? Why are you
here? Is it to flaunt your victory?”

I wanted to tell her that the only thing
that had kept me alive at sea was a little red button she had given me, and the
faint hope of seeing her again, one day. As I stood beside her, I knew I had
come back because my life meant nothing to me without her.

I moved closer. “Please, could we
continue this conversation somewhere more private?”

“On what matter must you speak to me
that is so private?” she turned away from me to the fireplace.

“Regarding my sister’s health.”

“Susan seems perfectly healthy to me,”
she said, watching the flames.

“It is a very urgent. I would not
trouble you if it were not so important.”

Her bright stormy eyes turned to mine,
and for a second I looked into the depths of the ocean and saw a flicker of
hope. If I could make her look into my eyes again and see how much my love had
grown, I was sure she would allow me back into her heart.

 “I beg you to allow me to discuss the
matter with you privately.”

Her expression softened for a second,
but she turned back to the fire. “Wait in the library.”

I did as she asked, slipping away
unnoticed, and waited for almost an hour in the armchair by the fireplace,
until she entered the room and closed the door.

“Are we to speak in darkness?”

I turned towards her voice. The waning moon
chose her slight frame to illuminate, but the rest of the room was in darkness,
except for a dwindling candle in a Christmas wreath by the window. I lit the
other candles with a taper I picked up from the fireplace. The room sprang to
life with light and flickering shadows in every corner.

She dropped onto the couch and sighed.
Her face was pale and drawn as she looked into the flames; still it was the
most beautiful face I had ever seen.

“Mrs. Mason, thank you for seeing me.”

“Please be seated. You can thank Susan;
it is my concern for your sister’s welfare that has persuaded me to speak to
you.”

I tried to look into her eyes, but she
looked back to the fire.

“Tell me, what is it you want to speak
to me about?”

“I did not know you were unwell after I
left.”

“Did you care how I was?”

“Of course I did. I asked Susan how you
were in every letter I sent. She told me you were well. You had not told Adele
that you were poorly. I only learnt about what happened when I arrived back in
England two weeks ago.”

“Poorly is an unsuitable word. I was
bedridden for over three months.” She looked absently into the flames.

“I’m sorry I was not here to help you.”

She turned to stare at me. “I miscarried
your child.”

I was unprepared for her accusation. “You
don’t know for sure…”

She jumped up and glared at me. “How
dare you doubt my word? I know what a miscarriage is. I have had three.”

“I am sorry.”

“I trusted you with my body and my soul,
and you left me without even saying farewell.”

“I could not stay.” I approached her.

She raised the palm of her hand. “Why
are you here? What is it you want?”

I was about to speak when Mason burst in.
“Thought you were both here! Glad to see you, old boy!”

“Good evening, Mr. Mason.”

“Looking for a job? We could do with
another footman.”

“I am not in need of an occupation, at
present, Mr. Mason. I am content in the Royal Navy.”

“Good to hear it! Glad you took my
advice.”

“I decided to follow my father’s
footsteps.”

“On the other hand, pity you left so
suddenly. I lost my wedding night on that account!”

Jane had moved to the mantelpiece, head
bent once more. Mason walked towards her tripping on the rug. 

“Now that he has returned, perhaps we
can resume our deal, Mrs. Mason. You get your faithful servant back, at least
for a few days, and I get my marriage rights, too. What do you say madam? Will
I be allowed into your chamber tonight?”

He placed his hand on her bare shoulder
and I felt a pain as sharp as a knife ripping my guts. She removed herself from
his grasp and edged to the other corner of the fireplace, nearest to the door.

“Lieutenant Kirkpatrick is visiting his
sister. He is not returning to Eyre Hall.”

“I’m sure you could change his mind, and
we should all benefit from it.”

He turned towards me. “Tell me Lieutenant
Kirkpatrick, how does my prudish little wife squeal and writhe when she is
being…”

“Richard! You are drunk. Please leave
us.”

“First answer my question, my wife; will
you now open your chamber to both of us?”

Jane gasped and moved towards him. “How
dare you! Get out!”

“I am your husband, at least in name. I
will address you as I please, madam.” He grabbed her arm and a knife turned in
my gut. I clenched my fists as I imagined my hands breaking his neck like a
Christmas turkey’s, in one smooth movement.

 My voice from across the room broke
through the tension. “Sir, what is your weapon?”

He dropped her arm. The crackling fire emphasised
the ominous silence that overcame the room. The long clock chimed. Seconds
later Jane spoke evenly. “Please leave, Richard. Michael and I need to talk.”

“About old times?” He laughed.

“Mr. Mason, whichever weapon you choose,
you will die unless you apologise to Mrs. Mason and take back your offensive
remarks.”

“You’re bluffing.”

 “I am an officer of Her Majesty’s Royal
Navy. I do not bluff.”

“Michael, old boy…”

“Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, Mr. Mason.”

“Quite, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick. You must
have misunderstood me. I meant no offence to you or Mrs. Mason.”

“Then could you apologise to your wife?”

He bowed theatrically. “My apologies,
madam.”

“Mrs. Mason, are you satisfied?” She
nodded, but I was not satisfied. “Please speak, Mrs. Mason.”

“Yes, I am satisfied,” she whispered.

“Mr. Mason, you are a fortunate man. Be
sure to treat Mrs. Mason as the jewel she is, or believe me, I will make sure
your death is as slow and painful as those who are cooked and devoured by
cannibals in Surinam.”

“You dare to threaten me in my own
house?”

“Mr. Mason. I have come to discuss a
private matter with Mrs. Mason. Would you kindly leave us?”

He walked to the door, turned to me and said,
“You have not heard my last word,” as he left the room.

Jane stared at the door for some moments
before speaking. “I am married to a monster.”

“It was your decision.” It was the
truth. I had hated her for marrying him and part of me wanted her to suffer for
having done so.

“When you have a child, if you ever do,
you will understand what I had to do.”

“I gather the marriage is not happy?”

“You know the answer to that question.
Do not play with me,  Lieutenant Kirkpatrick.”

“Pardon me, Mrs. Mason. I am sorry that
you are troubled by Mr. Mason.”

“Fortunately he is rarely at Eyre Hall.
When he is, I lock my door at night and sleep with a knife under my pillow. ”

“He hasn’t hurt you?”

“Do you care?”

“Of course I care.” I strode towards
her. “Has he?”

“He tried to.” She looked towards the
hearth and smiled. “But I used the stoker.”

“Good idea.” My furrowed brow smoothed
out into a smile. “I have seen you use it before, to great effect.”

She smiled. “Dr. Carter was a saint in
comparison. Mason tried to use a zombie powder Edward had told me about that
they use in the Indies that converts people into will–less dolls. So I hit him
and he has never tried to enter again.”

I smiled. “I can believe that. He must
be terrified of you,” I said, but I knew Jane did not have the strength to
resist an attack if he ever tried to force her. My greatest concern was her
safety, and she would only be safe if Mason were dead.

“Not at all. I am the one who is
frightened out of my wits, when he is at Eyre Hall, which fortunately is not
frequently.”

“I wish he had accepted my challenge so
I could have killed him.” I was serious; my need to protect her was stronger
than any idea of self–preservation, sanity or survival. I would never forgive
myself if he hurt her. 

“Why did you leave me, Michael?”

I could not answer at once. My name on
her lips once more wounded my heart more than any firearm.

“You know why. I… we…. It was not, is
not, possible.”

“You broke my heart.”

“It was never my intention to harm you.
Please forgive me, Jane.”

We looked at each other for what seemed
a long moment until she finally spoke. “Well, let us sit down again. Tell me
why you are here.”

“I have come because Susan has asked for
my help.”

“Susan, of course,” she said as a sad smile
crossed her lips. “What is the matter with Susan?”

“Susan is with child.”

“Dear God! Susan? How is it possible?”

“She says she fell in love, but perhaps
she was seduced.”

“Who is the father?”

“Dante Greenwood.”

Her brow furrowed. “Dante? Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Absolutely sure?”

“Susan is sure.”

“Are they in love?”

“I believe so; at least that is what
Susan has told me, although I have not spoken to Dante yet. I wanted to speak
to you first.”

She pressed her temples. I took a
decanter, poured some brandy and handed it to her. She shook her head, so I
washed it down myself and brought some water, which she accepted.

“You must know that Mr. Greenwood has
asked me for Annette’s hand in marriage to his son, Dante.”

“That is why I am here. I have come to
beseech you to stop the wedding and insist that Dante do the honourable thing
and marry my sister.”

A look I had never seen glazed her eyes.
She stiffened and spoke quietly. “It amazes me how differently you behaved when
you had fathered a child yourself.”

I remembered how her soft skin had moulded
pliantly into mine, how she had surrendered completely to me, and I wanted to
beg her forgiveness, but my words were trapped in my dry throat.

She walked to the window and pressed her
palms against the panes.

“Get out.”

“Please forgive me, Jane.”

“Now.”

“I did not believe you.”

“Why not?” she shook her head and spoke into
the windowpane.

“I could not believe you. We had only
spent one night together.”