Susan returned to the entrance and asked that a hackney coach be called for. The request was quickly executed, for there was a coach already at the gate debarking a devil, a gypsy, and two Circassian maidens. The driver asked where Susan wished to be conveyed, and when she told him, he informed her that it was only a short distance, one which could easily be walked.
“I thank you for your advice, sir, but I do not know the neighbourhood. I will pay you a regular fare to the City if you would be so good as to take me to this address.”
“At your service, my young master.”
A few moments later, she found herself alone in the dark at the door of a strange house in an unknown part of London. Susan had never felt so terrified in her life. She knocked to be let in.
There was no answer.
It seemed as though the inhabitants of the house were all abed. She could not detect any light from the windows. She would have to knock more vigorously to awaken someone within. She pounded on the door and waited.
Still there was no answer.
What could she do? She wanted to give up, but that would entail walking back again through the dark streets. From the coach she had not much relished the sights that the neighbourhood afforded. The only alternative was to continue pounding on the door and calling out to wake one of the inhabitants within. A growing, choking sense of panic compelled her to do so, vigorously and continuously.
***
The inhabitants of the house were finally awakened and greatly disturbed by the commotion at the front door. Mrs. Clark and her housekeeper arrived at the vestibule at the same time.
“What shall we do, madam?” the housekeeper asked.
“Go and wake Mr. Dean. As he is the only man in the house, he will protect us if needs be.”
The housekeeper met Dean already coming down the stairs in his night robe.
“What shall we do, sir?” Mrs. Clark asked.
“Dinna open the door, but demand a name of the intruder as you would from any visitor.”
“How can I make myself heard, sir?” the housekeeper asked.
“Wait until he stops shouting, of course.”
At that moment there was sufficient lull in the noise for the housekeeper to call out, “Who is it?”
“My name is Andrew, and I have come to see Mr. Dean, if I may.”
The two women looked at him. “Do you know this person, sir?”
“I believe I might. Let me address him.” He called through the door. “Andrew, where do you come from, and what do you want?”
“From Kirke Hall. Would you open the door, sir? I am losing my voice.”
Dean was still not sure of the identity of the voice he heard, but the individual, whoever it was, had mentioned Kirke Hall, and Dean was willing to take a risk. He requested the ladies to step back in case there was yet any danger to them, and slowly opened the door. Immediately he saw that it was not Andrew, but before he could speak, the young man looked him directly in the eye and he recognized, with great astonishment, that it was Susan Kirke, disguised as a man.
“May I come in, sir?”
He attempted to regain his composure. “Aye, of course, Andrew. Come in.”
Andrew entered.
“What is the meaning of this disturbance, young man?” Mrs. Clark asked.
“I beg your pardon, mum,” Andrew bowed, in an evident attempt to imitate the rustic accent of her country servant. “I have urgent news to communicate to Mr. Dean.”
Mrs. Clark looked at Andrew expectantly.
“Of a personal nature, mum.”
“I have been greatly upset by this disturbance, and yet I am not to know the meaning of it. Mr. Dean, I cannot allow such improper conduct in my home.”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Clark. I shall listen to my former servant Andrew and convey to you a better explanation in the morning. In the meantime, may I borrow an apartment for my young friend to sleep tonight? I can vouch for his character.”
“Nae, Mr. Dean. You canna vouch for the character of a ruffian who disturbs the peace of a Christian home in the middle of the night.”
“Mrs. Clark, have some Christian charity. Where will the boy sleep tonight?”
“Why, I believe the floor of your dressing room will do well enough for him. But be warned, Mr. Dean. You will see that he is gone tomorrow morning at the first light, no matter what his story.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Clark. You are most kind. It is more than he deserves.”
With that, she and her servant retired to their respective chambers, and Dean returned up the stairs to his apartment, expecting Susan to follow.
He said not a word as they ascended the stairs. He was thinking the unpleasant thought that a woman did not come to a man’s room in the middle of the night unless she was a prostitute. When they entered his dressing room, he indicated the comfortable chair that Fitzwilliam had used a few days before; she flung herself on it.
“What in the name of God are you doing here in that habit?” he cried.
She looked frightened at his speech, but he was too angry to repent of it. What would he have to do now to protect her reputation? “Answer me,” he attempted to speak less stridently.
“I am too frightened by your manner, sir.”
He paced back and forth in an effort to control himself before he spoke again. He needed to know her story in order to help her.
“Are you not at all happy to see me, sir?” she asked.
He sat down in the straight-backed chair, leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to cry with the tumult of emotions he was feeling. How could he continue to be angry with her? What she was doing here was evident. She had run away from her family to marry him. With her presence in this room, there was no other possibility open to them now, but how was it to be accomplished? No church in England could legally marry them without her parents’ consent, which was not to be had. They would need to travel by coach to Scotland or by boat to France, and this was a great expense he could ill afford. Besides which, it would mean he would have to leave his employment for the time being. He did not know if they would reengage him when he returned as he had only been there a short time. Then, there was the necessity of finding a home more suitable to Susan’s expectations, another expense that he could not manage. Why could she not have waited as he had asked her?
At that moment, he heard her crying and felt moved in spite of his fears.
“Susan,” he said. She looked at him with all of her sorrow evident in her eyes. He held out his arms to her and she slipped inside. He could do nothing but hold her while she cried on his night robe. All other thoughts and emotions vanished from him in that sublime moment of tenderness. She had risked everything to be with him. How could he treat her so coldly? “I am sorry, sweetheart.”
Her shoulders shuddered with emotion, and she sighed.
It was some time before they had both recovered sufficiently to sit down again and continue their much-needed but difficult conversation. He took one look at her sublimely radiant face and all of the impediments that had risen in his mind seemed of no consequence. “Even dressed as a man, you are beautiful, my dear.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you, sir.”
“But tell me at last how you come to be here dressed as a man?”
“I was attending a masquerade at the Vauxhall Gardens with Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“A masquerade! I had no idea the depravity to which you had sunk, madam. I maun marry you immediately and rescue you from a life of such sinful folly,” he said, smiling as if it were a jest, but he was in earnest about every word he spoke.
She laughed. “One day I shall amuse you with a tale about all the immoral sights that I witnessed in my brief experience at the masquerade, Mr. Dean. However, now there is no time to do them justice.”
“Was Fitzwilliam such a poor escort that he allowed you to slip away from him?”
“Mr. Dean, you cannot imagine how many people were there, and all so art
fully disguised. It was simplicity itself to disappear into the crowd.”
“I should not hae lost you, if I were your escort,” he said with a serious tone. “What do you think will happen when Fitzwilliam discovers you are missing?”
“I had not thought about that, sir.”
“Do you not think he will assume that you have come here? I am afraid that he may come looking for you, and then he will disturb the house again at an even later hour. Nae doubt Mrs. Clark will throw us both out on the street if that happens.”
“What shall we do, sir? Perhaps we should leave now before he comes and finds me.”
“Where should we run to at this hour? Nae. I shall go downstairs and wait outside the door for his arrival. When he comes I shall talk to him and persuade him to give us this one night before he informs your parents that you are gone. Tomorrow morning we shall set out very early, so you had best retire to my bedroom and sleep while you are able.”
“Will you join me there later?”
“I dinna think that I shall sleep tonight.” She began to protest. “Dinna fash, my dear. If I have time, I shall sleep here on the dressing room floor. It will do me no harm, I assure you. Good night, dearest.” With that he kissed her tenderly on the cheek and was rewarded by the deep look of love in her eyes.
As he was leaving the apartment, she called, “Mr. Dean.”
He turned to look at her.
“Fitzwilliam is dressed as a woman, sir.”
He smiled and went out the door.
***
Several hours later Fitzwilliam arrived alone and on foot, much flustered and somewhat inebriated. Dean was dozing at the base of a tree in front of Mrs. Clark’s house. He was startled awake by the rustling of Fitzwilliam’s gown as he passed.
“Sir,” Dean called.
Fitzwilliam cried out in alarm.
“Please sir, dinna wake the household at this hour.”
“Who is it?” Fitzwilliam asked.
Dean stood and presented himself. “Mr. Dean at your service, madam.” He offered his hand, and then, when Fitzwilliam extended his, rather than shake it, he kissed it. “You look perfectly charming tonight, Fitzwilliam.”
Fitzwilliam looked pleased for a moment and then snatched his hand away. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now tell me, where might I find Miss Kirke?”
“Why, have you lost her?”
“You know that I have. She is with you, is she not?”
“She is within, safe in bed. Safe from such debauchery as you and her parents see fit to involve her in.”
“I suppose there is no debauchery in her present condition, alone in the bed of a single man.”
Dean was angered by Fitzwilliam’s suggestion. “Sir, let me speak plainly. I know what manner of man you are. I know that you prefer the sexual favours of men to women, which is an abomination before God. A marriage with you would be a miserable sham, and I will do anything to prevent Miss Kirke from falling into it. Now leave this place.”
Fitzwilliam seemed deflated by Dean’s speech. “I am sorry you think so ill of me, sir. I cannot help what I am.”
Dean guffawed.
“But I am not such a terrible person as you believe me to be. I am concerned for Miss Kirke’s reputation. I cannot leave without her.”
“Her reputation is perfectly safe with me, I assure you. I am here to ask that you feign ignorance when her absence is discovered in the morning. If you do that for her, we may be able to escape to Scotland in the morning to be wed.”
“When she is found missing tomorrow, the servants will surely report that I returned home alone.”
“Send your servants home without you now and tell them that you and Miss Kirke will arrive later by hired coach. Surely you can rely on your servants’ discretion in this, as you must have on other occasions,” he said, suggestively.
“Oh, this is such a coil! Might we not still salvage the situation somehow? Can you not persuade her to return with me now?”
“I think not. With this act she has declared her desire and intention; I can no longer deny her her wish.”
“It is good of you to take on the full burden of her reputation, Dean. It will be very expensive for you. Perhaps I could help you in some way. You will need money to travel to Scotland, and I can provide the funds for the voyage. It is the least I can do for you both.”
“Sir, I canna accept your charity.”
“It is not charity; it is a gift.”
“After what I have said, it would be wrong for me to accept a gift from you.”
“You were only being honest, and for that, I consider you my friend. If you will not take a gift from me, consider it a loan. And if you cannot accept it for yourself, accept it for Miss Kirke. She does not yet understand the financial situation that she is in because she has never wanted for anything. I imagine that she gave no thought to money when she left, and did not bring any with her apart from a little pocket money, which she may have already spent in making her way here.”
As much as it hurt his pride to take money from Fitzwilliam, Dean was practical enough to understand it would relieve some of his greatest worries. “It is kind of you to take pity on Miss Kirke,” he said, accepting the money on her behalf.
Fitzwilliam called his butler over and asked him for a ten-pound note, which he handed to Dean. “Here you are, sir.” Then he removed the brooch from his stomacher and gave it to him as well. “This is my wedding gift for Miss Kirke,” he said. “Now I shall send my servants home, return to the masquerade, wait a little while, and then return by hackney coach. You will return to your lady and escort her from the country so that you may marry her.” He touched a handkerchief to his eye. “I feel in my heart as if I have just contributed to unite Romeo and Juliet.”
“I hope not, sir. I do not wish to repeat their terrible fate.”
“So, take care, good sir. I am much affected.” Fitzwilliam could not speak for a moment for the tears.
“Thank you. You have proved a good friend in the end,” Dean said grudgingly.
“It is nothing. Adieu.” With that, Fitzwilliam turned and began to walk unsteadily back the way he had come. He stopped. “Wait a moment, Dean.” He removed his high heels. “Please return these accursed shoes to Miss Kirke.”
“Goodbye to you, and thank you, Fitzwilliam,” Dean said, relieving him of the shoes.
Chapter 18
Susan felt as though she had barely slept a wink when Dean roused her. She had slept in the clothes she had worn the previous evening, and, having no other change of clothing, she was obliged to remain a boy for the time being. Dean could not provide her with anything of his because of the difference in their sizes. Besides, it suited their purpose that she would travel in cognito as a young man.
At the coach house, Dean gave her name as Andrew Gardiner, his young master. Not being used to wearing men’s clothing, she felt a strange kind of nakedness or vulnerability without the voluminous layers of skirts that she normally wore. The other passengers gawped at her, and she was conscious of her too formal evening attire. She must look a foppish young gentleman putting on airs above his station. She expected Dean to take his place beside her and was surprised when he did not.
“Mr. Dean, are you not going to join me?” she whispered to him out of the window.
“No, Master Gardiner. I have paid the lower fare and shall sit outside.”
They were unable to continue their conversation as other passengers were beginning to arrive and take their positions in the coach. Two men, one old and one young, sat on the same side of the coach as Susan, forcing her into the corner, and two ladies, evidently their wives, sat opposite. Susan felt uneasy with the other male passengers sitting so close beside her. She also felt strangely insignificant as she took up so little space in the coach without her gown.
They passed some time in polite conversation. She explained that her servant John was accompanying her back to her parents’ house. She was greatly relieved that t
hey did not ask too many questions. Attempting to speak in a masculine voice was causing her considerable nervous strain and she began to question herself. What was she doing here, dressed as a boy, traveling alone in a coach with total strangers? At any moment her identity might be discovered. What would they do if they suspected her? She determined it was best not to speak again unless she was directly addressed and then to answer only in monosyllables. The other passengers soon found the burden of attempting to engage the young man more onerous than it was worth and managed to carry on a conversation without him.
Susan gazed out the coach window without appreciation for the charms of the early summer English countryside. The rolling hills of vivid green grass and multi-coloured wildflowers where the sheep grazed had no power to abate the worries that continued to accumulate. What had she done? Her father would be angry beyond words. He would send the fastest riders he could find after them, and soon, very soon, at any moment, this slow coach would be overtaken and she would be dragged from the carriage and taken back to London in shame, where she would never be forgiven. No one would ever want to marry her or even have correspondence with her. She would live her life as a miserable old maid. When she heard the galloping hooves of a horse approaching, she gasped out loud.
The young lady opposite was startled by her reaction. “Whatever is the matter, sir?”
The sound of the hoof beats diminished as the rider overtook the coach and passed by. Susan breathed a sigh of relief before endeavouring to answer the young woman. “I am sorry, madam. I have an inordinate fear of highwaymen. I have read too many terrifying stories and it has overexcited my imagination.”
“I do hope that your fear is unwarranted,” the young lady said, grasping her throat nervously.
“Of course it is, my dear,” her husband tried to comfort her. Then he cast a sidelong glance of disapproval at Susan. “You should think better of frightening young ladies.”
She remembered with embarrassment that she was supposed to be a young man.
Then the older man in the party spoke to the young woman opposite. “Do not be so foolish, child. You ought to trust your parents better and know that we have chosen a good husband who is well able to protect you in any situation.”
“Yes, Father.” The young woman looked down demurely.
What had she done? How could she have been so disobedient to her father? All of her upbringing had taught her, even Dean had told her, that she ought to honour her father and mother, and yet she had acted in total defiance of their wishes. No one in the world, not even Dean, considered her justified in her action. She had been irredeemably selfish and sinful. She had listened to no one’s counsel and now, without the support of any friends, she was wavering in her steadfastness. She had not met with the unconditional and immediate acceptance from Dean that she had expected and which would have bolstered her, and she was left alone in this coach to ruminate on the mistake that she had made. “Mistake” was too mild a word.