The Serpentine Garden Path by Edeana Malcolm
“Ask anyway, Dean. I can scarcely refuse you.”
“Perhaps you would you be able to arrange a meeting between Mr. Kirke and Susan and his grandchildren, without the ken of Mrs. Kirke and the butler, of course.”
Fitzwilliam looked thoughtful a moment. “You do present me with an interesting and challenging assignment. It would be most amusing for me to consider this scheme. Just let me know the time and place of the assignation, and I shall endeavor to bring the old fool there.”
“Aye. I shall need some time to prepare Susan before such an event. I will let you know. In the meantime, you may devise the means of implementing such a scheme.”
***~~~***
As Susan sat in the rocking chair nursing Sweet William, there was a rapping at the door. Mary was upstairs washing baby clothes. Susan called to her, but the maid did not hear. Disturbed from his meal by her raised voice, William started crying. Then the children came out of their room and little Johnny ran to answer the door before Susan could stop him.
She could see the outline of a man indistinctly through the open door to the anteroom. Though the baby was still screaming, she placed him in his cradle and arranged her gown to cover her breast. Then she commanded the other two children to stay and went to the door.
The man was squatting in order to talk to Johnny face to face.
“May I help you?” she said, and he stood up.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dean.” He said, and Susan almost fainted from the unexpected shock of seeing Fitzwilliam after all these years.
He saw her distress, deftly stepped around the boy and caught her arm. “I see that you recognize me,” he said smiling. “I do not often have such an effect on women, I can assure you. Here, let me escort you to your seat.”
He led her back to the parlour where James and Ellie, having stayed at their mother’s command, now seemed entranced at the sight of this strange man who was not their father holding their mother’s arm. Johnny came running back into the room. At the rocking chair, Fitzwilliam released Susan and said, “Have a seat.”
“Thank you, sir, but I am fine. I must see to the baby.” William was kicking and screaming in the cradle.
“Allow me.” Fitzwilliam went to the cradle, picked up the baby as if it were a delicate figurine in danger of being smashed, and handed it to her. She took him and sat down. Immediately that he was in her arms, the baby started groping for the breast again. She did not wish to resume feeding him in front of Fitzwilliam. Fortunately, at that moment, Mary arrived and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam!” She cried, as astonished as Susan had been.
“Mary!” He responded equally enthusiastically. He went to shake her hand. “It is good to see you. I am glad you are gainfully employed again.”
Mary blushed, unaccustomed to so much attention from a gentleman. After a moment, she came to Susan’s aid, roused by the baby’s renewed crying. “Let me take the infant, madam. Ellie, James, Johnny, come with me. It is time for your nap.” She herded the little ones effectively and they trotted reluctantly to the nursery, looking back over their shoulders one last time at the strange man.
“Extraordinary!” he said as the door closed behind them. “And all of these marvelous creatures are issue from your body, madam?” He shook his head. “It is simply extraordinary.”
“I rather think that such a feat is all too ordinary,” she replied.
“Not in my experience, madam.” Fitzwilliam was still shaking his head as he took a chair and pulled it next to hers.
“I would offer you some refreshment, sir, but Mary is our only servant, and she is otherwise engaged at the moment.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head vigorously again. “Not my purpose in coming, madam. I can get refreshments at any coffeehouse in London where I will not be so thoroughly entertained as I am by your company.”
She blushed, unused to hearing such nonsense now that she was no longer part of society. She was suddenly conscious of the thought that John would not approve of her entertaining Fitzwilliam alone. “I am afraid that my husband is not here, sir, if that is your purpose in coming.”
“I know that he is not, madam. I have timed my visit to coincide with his absence so that I may speak with you alone.”
Again she blushed. “You have placed me in a compromising position of which Mr. Dean would not approve.”
“I am sure he would not, but be assured I have not come to dishonour you in any way. Let me explain. Some days ago your husband visited me in order to return a sum of money that I had given him before your marriage.”
“Is that true?” she was astonished.
“I see by your reaction that you were unaware of that transaction.”
“I knew you had given us several items, all of which were most useful in our escape to Scotland; however, I was not aware of any sum of money.”
“An elopement to Scotland was an expense that Mr. Dean could ill afford. At that time, you were ignorant of the cost involved in such an adventure. Perhaps you have since learned the value of money?” He looked at her slyly.
She nodded, blushing again at the thought that she had placed her husband in a position of indebtedness to a man he despised.
“Mrs. Dean.” Fitzwilliam looked directly in her eyes, so that she could see his sincerity. “I want you to know that I always intended that money as a wedding gift for you and your husband. It was Mr. Dean’s mistake to consider it a loan.”
He paused for a moment, but she did not know how to respond to him. He continued.
“You know your husband better than I, I am sure, but I know him well enough to realize he is too proud to accept money from me no matter how sincerely I offer it as a gift. So, I have come to you in the hope that you will receive it in the spirit in which it was given, and for the sake of your children, if for no other reason.” Fitzwilliam revealed the bag of coins which her husband had given him.
How could he have kept that money from them? She thought of the days when they had eaten little more than bread. But here it was now returning to them.
Before she could extend her hand to take it, Fitzwilliam continued, “I know you will scruple to take it behind your husband’s back.”
She felt a little ashamed that she had not, but with small children and an overriding concern to keep them alive, she could ill afford such scruples.
“But consider that Mr. Dean did not tell you about this loan. Consider that all this time, he has been keeping from you and your children, a sum of money with which to repay me, a sum of money which must have been greatly needed at home. Pride is such a terribly expensive commodity, is it not?”
“I do agree,” she said.
“I trust you will not tell Mr. Dean.”
She nodded and Fitzwilliam handed her the bag.
She took it. “I will be as secretive about the money’s return as he was about its disbursement.”
“And about my visit as well?”
“You can rely on my discretion, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“I thank you, madam.”
“I owe you a debt of gratitude, sir. Indeed, I am so overwhelmed by your generousity that I am at a loss to comprehend it.”
“I know your opinion of me is coloured by your husband’s. He is an extremely moral man who sees the behaviour of others only in black and white. In his eyes, because of my peculiar sexual appetite, I am purely black. But I believe you can see other colours in people. You see that I am capable of good as well as evil. I am a liar, that is true, but society has forced me to perfect that particular skill. In fact, most people are liars. Even Mr. Dean himself, though in many aspects a paragon of virtue, has lied to you by omission, and you would do no worse to keep this truth from him.”
She wondered what Fitzwilliam meant by his “peculiar sexual appetite.” He had never shown any odd sexual desire for her or anyone else that she could ever remember. When he was gone she would ask Mary about it. In her experience, servants usually knew
She saw that Fitzwilliam was preparing to leave and she still had something to ask him. “Sir, have you any news of my parents?”
He stopped his preparations and looked her straight in the eye. “I am sorry, Mrs. Dean. I have none, other than to say they are both in health. As you can imagine, our families no longer keep in touch.”
She could not deny the truth of such an excuse. She did not know if the rest was a prevarication, but it was the sort of thing a person might lie about to spare another from grief.
“They are alive then?”
“Yes, madam. I can assure you of that fact. I should not tell you this because you have enough secrets to keep from Mr. Dean already, but he has charged me to arrange a meeting for you and your children with your father.”
She must have shown her pleasure because he immediately said, “Now, do not hope for too much. It may not be possible but I shall try what I can do.”
She started to cry, unable to adequately convey the joy he had given her. “Oh, thank you, sir.”
He stood up, kissed her hand, and said, “I am at your service, madam.” Then he turned away. “Now, do not rise. I shall show myself out. Good day.”
He departed quickly after that, and Susan sat in her rocker a long time, crying softly. She thought of how much she had hated Fitzwilliam in the past, while all this time, unbeknownst to her, he had been her greatest benefactor and friend. She had never understood him. What was this sexual peculiarity that he spoke of?
Then suddenly she recalled the last time she had seen him. It was at a masquerade, and he had been attired as a bride wearing her wedding gown. Surrounded by a coterie of men, he had fluttered his eyelashes coquettishly. Silly as the scene was, he had looked extremely happy, happier than she had ever seen him, and a realization came to her. Perhaps Fitzwilliam had wished all his life to be a woman! She had never heard of such a thing, except perhaps among the ancient Greeks, and yet it explained what he had meant when he said that society had taught him well to be a liar. If he had always wanted to be a woman, then he would have always had to lie about himself. A feeling of profound sadness came over her. How unfortunate that nature had trapped such a compassionate and feminine nature in the awkward body of a man, and how sad it was that only now had she recognized what a truly good friend he had been to her.
London, Winter, 1784
John was eating his breakfast and contemplating what his chores would be that day considering the dullness of the sky and the possibility of rain, when Mary announced the arrival of a letter by the post. His curiosity excited by the unusual event, he hurried to the door, where the postman was waiting for his penny.
John was tempted to say, “Indeed I have not any,” like Simple Simon of the nursery rhyme, but his desire to know the contents of the unexpected letter compelled him instead to ask Mary if she had the money.
She nodded and reached deep into the pocket of her pinafore, extracting a copper coin which she gave to the postman. He handed her the letter and made his departure.
John’s surprise at her hidden wealth was overshadowed by his curiosity, so he said only, “Thank you, Mary. I will repay you.”
She nodded again, but did not leave. He considered sending her away so he could read the letter in private but decided her penny had bought her the right to know. So, he unfolded it, noticing as he did so that the fine quality paper bore a coat of arms and the handwriting was immaculately formed. John read the letter aloud.
“My Dear Mister Dean:
We request your presence at our London residence at Bloomsbury on January 28, 1784 at three o’clock.
You will no doubt be surprised to receive such a summons from such an eminence most certainly unknown to you. The explanation lies with the fact that we have lately been apprised by a mutual acquaintance, his honour Mr. Herbert Fitzwilliam, that you are seeking employment as a gardener. As it happens, we are also in need of a gardener. If you would please come to the above-mentioned location at the appointed time, your suitability for this position will be ascertained by us.
Your humble and sincere patron,
George Gordon,
Lord of Haddo,
Third Earl of Aberdeen.”
The signature, though not as neatly penned as the rest of the letter, was nonetheless legible. John read it again. “George Gordon, Lord of Haddo.” Could it be the same Lord George Gordon who had precipitated the riots just a few short years ago, upsetting the city of London and the peace of his own family? He hoped it was not, because he did not think he would like to work for such a man.
Well, John argued with himself, but the riot was not really Gordon’s fault. He may have initiated the rally but it had been for a good cause. Indeed, John himself had been supportive of it, before the tumult began. He could not have known beforehand how large the mob would become and how unruly it would behave. Besides, the King himself had acquitted Gordon of treason. Who was John then to judge him so harshly?
“Mary,” John said. “Do not say a word of this letter to Susan in case nothing comes of it. I do not wish to give her false hopes.” But his own heart sang with hope and he said a silent prayer of gratitude, asking God to have mercy on the immortal soul of Herbert Fitzwilliam. Then he went with trepidation to his appointment with Lord George Gordon at the appointed time.
John was ushered into a great hall where the Earl met him. He was an attractive man of middle age, wearing a fine embroidered jacket unbuttoned to reveal a vest so tight that the buttons were strained almost to bursting. His graying and thinning hair gave him a distinguished appearance, and he carried himself in a self-assured, almost haughty, manner that befit his rank.
John inclined his head politely. “My lord.”
“Mr. Dean.” The Earl stood aside to reveal two ornate chairs. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
John sat, but the Earl continued standing, strutting about the room and orating as if he were addressing the House of Lords. “Us wish you to know, at the very outset, that us is not the same Lord George Gordon who started the anti-Catholic riots some years ago. Were you in London at that time of tumult, Mr. Dean?”
“I was, sir.”
“Yes, well, then you remember what a terrible time it was. So, us wants to assure you that, although we share the same name, us is not he.”
John was taken aback at the Earl’s peculiar manner of speaking.
The Earl continued. “No. That Lord Gordon is our cousin, the brother of the Earl of Gordon, whose intercession saved his life. A grave injustice was thus done. Us believes that the king should have hanged the scoundrel for the treason he committed. Then there would have been an end to this confusion of names.”
“I am relieved to hear that your lordship is not that Lord George Gordon.”
“Aye. That Lord Gordon is now in Amsterdam, fomenting more treason, no doubt. Us has our faults to be sure, but religious fanaticism is not one of them.” The Earl laughed heartily.
When he had finished, John said, “’Tis true that we all have our faults, my lord. In my own case, you may be aware that I am married to the daughter of a gentleman, which is considered to be a kind of thievery in England, though not quite a hanging offence. Instead, my punishment is to be kept on a black list, which as prevented me from obtaining employment equal to my abilities.”
“Pshaw,” the Earl made some such utterance of dismissal. “The English! What do they know of love? They have no heart for such an emotion! A man cannot choose whom he loves, and love breaks the bonds of class. Love does not recognize class.” The Earl approached him. “Us will not hold your love against you. Us is only interested in your gardening ability.” He leaned forward, holding the back of his
John’s heart was beating loudly in his chest. “You may place a wager upon it that I can.”
“Good man, good man.” He patted John on the back vigorously and then resumed his pacing. “You have no objection to moving to Scotland, presumably, being a Scot yourself?”
John hesitated before answering.
The Earl stopped and faced him again. “Do you have such an objection?”
“I dinna have such an objection, sir. I am only considering my wife’s opinion on the matter since she is English.”
The Earl waved his hand dismissively. “She can have no objection, sir. A wife goes where her husband goes. Surely love will bid her follow you.”
What could he say? “Of course, my lord.”
“Then it is settled. Us has purchased a property in Ellon just north of Aberdeen and not far from our home estate of Haddo. Until this year it has been uninhabited but now us has finished restoring the castle and now the garden must be attended to. A pleasure garden will make a splendid decorative addition to a castle, do you not agree?”
John smiled. It sounded even more splendid than Kirke Hall. “I canna wait to see it, sir.”
“Nor will you have to. Us shall arrange a private coach to transport your family this fortnight. Can you be ready?”
John nodded.
“How many be in your family?”
“Six, sir. Including my wife and our four bairns.”
“Will there be a servant to accompany you as well?”
“I dinna ken if our maid will make the journey. Since she is English, she may not wish to be uprooted to Scotland.”
“Probably not. The English think Scotland a wild, untamed place, and she has not the inducement of love to lure her there. If she will not go, us shall arrange a servant to accompany you.”
“Thankee, my lord.”
“Come, let us settle the bargain with a bumper of Scotch whiskey.”
And so they did.
***~~~***
Susan was pregnant again with their fifth child. It was early enough so that she was still sick in the morning, indeed, sometimes sick the whole day.