“Are you quite recovered? Do you think you could walk back to the house now? Wouldn’t you rather stay here and rest a while?”
“I should, above all things, desire to quit this accursed garden and never return to it.”
“Yes, madam. Well, we shall do as you wish.”
He stood up and took her arm in his. If there were any witnesses at the windows of the house, they would have observed the touching tableau of an intimate and apparently loving couple strolling up the walk arm in arm, she a little pale and delicate and he looking positively triumphant.
Chapter 9
The next day was hot. Summer had at last found refuge in the garden. The windows that had been thrown open in every room admitted not the slightest cooling gust. In spite of the heat, Susan did not go out into the garden. She did not even go down to breakfast. Instead, she stayed in her bedroom to consider the new conditions of her life. When her mother sent the maid to ask after her, Susan sent word that she was not well so that she might be left to ruminate in peace.
She felt an unbearable shame that she had allowed herself to be rejected again. It was clear that her great love would never be consummated. Until now she had allowed herself to be governed by childish fantasies. It was apparent to her that Mr. Dean was too principled either to go against her father’s wishes and court her or have an affair with her. There truly was no future to be found in her fantasies, unless—even now her will looked for ways around the impasse—he could be persuaded to give up the garden and elope with her. But the garden was his livelihood, his life even, so how could he leave that?
She was beginning to understand, but it was very difficult. She would have to spend the rest of her life indoors or risk seeing him, and she could not bear to see him. It broke her heart every time she saw him. The only escape was for her to marry and move away from this place. However, the family was not going to London this season, and it might be another whole year before she could meet someone who would be willing to take her away. Of course there would be other visitors to the garden who might be captivated by her, but she could scarcely endure the thought of escorting more suitors through the garden.
Then there was Fitzwilliam. In many ways he would make an ideal husband. He had already shown himself willing to indulge her every whim. And he would look very pretty on her arm. It was curious that she felt no passion for him, but certainly passion was not a requirement of marriage, except in novels.
It was afternoon before her mother finally managed to persuade her to come out of her bedroom and join the others in the drawing room. Mrs. Kirke suggested that Fitzwilliam take Susan for a walk so that she could recover from the headache that she complained of, but Susan refused to go. When Fitzwilliam suggested the idea of a drive around the neighbourhood instead, Susan acquiesced.
As the horses trotted down the driveway pulling the couple in their phaeton, Fitzwilliam spoke. “Well, Miss Kirke. Having been in your bedroom all morning, you have no idea what a to-do we have caused by walking together arm in arm yesterday.”
“Is that so, sir? I hope you informed everyone that I required your support only because I was unwell.”
“Of course, madam. I am always at your service.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“My parents have been most assiduous today in insisting that I press my suit. In short, they will not leave this place until I have made you a proposal.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, it is. So, I hope that this experience will not prove too unpleasant for you, but I must ask. Would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?”
Susan was not entirely taken aback by the offer. The question of how to respond to the proposal was one of the quandaries that had occupied her mind in the time she had locked herself in her bedroom, but she still had not resolved the issue.
One moment she was sure it was the right thing to do because it would take her away from this garden that had become a personal torment to her. The next moment, she could not bear to leave in spite of everything. One moment she thought he was a most obliging and pleasant man who would never require more love from her than she could give. The next moment she was just as sure of Dean’s assessment of him as a reprobate.
“Well, Miss Kirke. Your silence frightens me.”
“Thank you, for the honour of your proposal. I will need some time to consider it, if you do not mind.”
“Of course not, but in the meantime, may I make some argument in favour of my suit?”
“If you wish, sir.”
“First of all, as I said before, I am in no great hurry to marry. We may have a long engagement if you should wish. Secondly, I understand the position that you are in at the moment.”
She became alarmed that he might mention Dean.
“Do not worry. I shall not allude to it again. I only mean that I intend to be sympathetic to your emotional distress and not push you in any way beyond what you are ready to accept.”
She felt relieved by his words. “You are most kind. I will, of course, take your remarks into consideration when I make my decision.”
“Please know that a positive decision from you will relieve me of the onerous obligations that my parents have imposed. Even if your acceptance of my suit is only a temporary measure on your part to obtain a little respite from your parents’ demands on you, I shall understand.”
“Sir, it worries me that there is absolutely no talk of love or even of affection in your suit. You do not express your feelings towards me. It would be helpful for me to know what they are.”
“Of course, madam. Forgive my clumsiness in expressing myself. Let me honestly confess that, of all the women I have ever met, you are the one with whom I would most like to be allied. I appreciate your honesty and candour, qualities which I hope to learn from you so that one day, I may be equally as honest with you as you are with me.”
“Perhaps your honesty will extend to sharing your secret passion with me?”
He blushed. “Not at this time.”
“Well, it is not full honesty then, is it?”
“I did not promise you full honesty, only equal honesty.”
“You imply, then, that I am not fully honest with you?”
He nodded.
She blushed. “I confess I am disappointed in your proposal, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I had hoped to hear some expression of love in it.”
“Miss Kirke, have you not been told that affection often increases after marriage? I feel certain that our friendship will grow with time.”
“I have heard that it is true, but such has not been my observation in the limited experience that I have had.” She was disappointed with his reticence. “Although your feelings are not as passionate as I would hope for, I will consider your proposal and give you my answer within twenty-four hours. Let us not talk of the matter any further.”
“As you wish.”
The rest of the drive continued in idle chitchat about the affairs of the various neighbouring villagers.
***
The next day, after another afternoon of her mistress’s brooding, Mary came to Susan’s drawing room to assist her with her toilette before supper. She was to dine with Mr. Fitzwilliam and give him her response.
“Are you feeling better, madam?” she asked politely.
“Oh, Mary. My head aches with the quandary I am in. Mr. Fitzwilliam has made a proposal, and I do not know if I should accept.”
Mary looked around the room. “Which gown would madam like to wear?”
“Oh, Mary! Do not vex me so. I have just told you that I am not capable of making a decision. You choose.”
“It is not my place to advise you on your choice of suitor,” she said, “but I think I can help you with your choice of gown. Pink goes well with your complexion. Why don’t you wear that new Spitalfields silk?”
“Yes, Mary. But at least tell me what you think of the gentleman for whom I shall wear it.”
Mary blushed. “I like him we
ll enough,” she said, noncommittally.
“Well enough to marry him?”
“There is not the remotest possibility of that, madam.”
“But if there were no impediment to it, would you marry the man?”
Mary touched the gown lovingly. “If he asked me and I like his conversation, then I believe I would.”
Susan tossed down her hairbrush limply. “I believe you are a lovesick fool, Mary. Do you like him better than Mr. Dean?”
Mary could not help but blush again.
“I do believe you are in love with every man you meet. Tell me, do you love Andrew, as well?”
Mary did not blush but instead shook her head firmly. “That is enough nonsense, madam. Let’s put on your gown.”
As Mary lifted the gown above her head, Susan began to chant annoyingly. “Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?”
“’Tis not my garden. ‘Tis yours.”
“With silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row.”
“You are one pretty maid who causes me endless trouble, madam.”
“And you are one pretty maid who never helps me with my troubles.”
“That is because I am contrary, just as the rhyme says. Never mind, madam. I promise I shall stay with you, whatever you decide, if you’ll have me.”
“Now that is a good, dear friend, Mary. Of course I will.”
***
Mr. Fitzwilliam had arranged an intimate supper with Miss Kirke that evening. They had the parlour to themselves with no servants to disturb them as the food was already arranged on the sideboard to eat at their leisure. Miss Kirke filled her plate and sat down. Mr. Fitzwilliam sat down facing her.
“Will you not have any food to eat?” Susan asked him.
“How can I eat when I am in such a state of suspense? Can you not see that I am hanging here waiting for your response? Will you have me or no?”
Susan smiled slightly. Now this seemed like some kind of passion, even if it was only impatience. “Do you expect me to give my response to you on an empty stomach? What if the news is other than what you hope for? Then you will be unable to eat at all, and I will have spoiled your supper.”
“Oh, say it is not so, Miss Kirke. Tell me quickly if the answer is to be no.”
“Then I shall tell you slowly and at my leisure, Mr. Fitzwilliam.” She took a piece of cheese and put it in her mouth.
“Does that mean the answer is ‘yes’? What has become of your plain speech of which I am so fond?”
Susan laughed. “It is amusing to tease you, sir. I believe I might even enjoy being married to you if I may tease you at my leisure.”
“Ah ha! I have won the day, then!” Fitzwilliam jumped up and clapped his hands. “Now I shall have some food and drink to celebrate.” He went to the sideboard to fill his plate, skipping and singing, “Pray, when will the wedding be?”
Susan watched him with some lingering doubt. He seemed happy, but only for himself. He had not greeted her warmly or touched her since she had said yes. “Not too soon, I hope, sir.” The words slipped out of her mouth without her thinking.
“What’s that?” He stopped capering and turned to her.
Fortunately he had not heard, and she had time to amend them. “I hope the wedding will be soon, sir.”
“No, no. I am not overanxious for that. I should like to be betrothed for a few years yet just to grow accustomed to the position and to have some peace from my parents’ match-making. I shall live the life of a bachelor in peace and no man will seek me out as a mate for his daughter. You do not know how happy this makes me, Miss Kirke.”
“As your future wife, I suppose I must be glad for your happiness, sir. However, your happiness seems not to include me.”
“I am sorry. I have been too frank even for you. Do not mistake me. I hope that your life will be easier for the next few years, also.”
Susan could not imagine how it would be if she was to remain here at her parents. “Now that I have had more time to reflect, I think I would rather marry you sooner than later, sir. I wish you could take me away from this place before a few years’ time.”
“What! You surprise me. Why would you want to quit the garden that you love so soon?”
“May I have your permission to speak frankly, sir?”
“I wish that you would, madam.”
“It has become a torment to me to encounter the gardener who no longer loves me.”
“Ah, Miss Kirke. Now I understand your haste.” He got up and went to the sideboard to fill his plate while he gave her the following advice. “Do not be discouraged. I have great faith in your powers of persuasion. You have no idea what wonders the passage of time may work. You should wish for more rather than fewer years in which to win his love. Though as to that, I am confident that you will accomplish it sooner.”
Susan was astonished by his complete lack of jealousy. “Am I to understand that you would want me to marry Mr. Dean?”
Fitzwilliam sat down with his plate of food. “We have already established the improbability of that event. I speak rather of his seduction.”
Susan blushed. “Mr. Dean is too moral a man for that, sir.”
“Such a man does not exist in my experience.”
Susan regarded him eating a chicken leg as he spoke with such cynicism. There could be no man on earth more unlike Dean. She did not like Fitzwiliam, and yet she had just accepted his proposal. “Sometimes I do not understand you at all, sir. Have you not a jealous bone in your body?”
“I have not, madam. But do not be concerned. You will have a lifetime to learn to understand me.” With that remark, he put his piece of chicken back down on his plate. “Miss Kirke, I am so excited by your acceptance of my proposal that I find I cannot eat after all. You will forgive me if I rush off to acquaint my parents and yours with the good news first.”
“We should go together to deliver that news, sir.”
“Oh yes, of course. How foolish of me. Forgive me, but I am new to the concept of engagement, as yet. It will take me some time to replace ‘I’ with ‘we.’” Then he rose, offered her his arm, and they went together to inform the family.
Chapter 10
Andrew had a basket filled to the top with weeds that he was attempting to balance on his shoulder in order to carry them to the compost heap. He held it nonchalantly at a rakish angle, and some of the weeds began to tumble out. The old widow Hardwick, who had spent the morning bent over filling the basket, nevertheless began to laugh with her wide open mouth revealing her missing teeth.
“Why are you cackling, old woman?”
She could not speak in her merriment, so she pointed. He looked behind him at the weeds strewn on the ground and bent down to pick them up again, still holding the basket at its angle. Even more weeds tumbled out over his head. Mrs. Hardwick literally doubled over with laughter, although, with her stooped back, she had not far to bend.
The gardener, overhearing them, came to investigate the sound of laughter so foreign to his present mood.
Andrew, by this time, had put down the basket and was picking up all the weeds that had tumbled around him.
“What is all this disorder, then?” Dean scowled.
“Oh, Mr. Dean, you ought to have seen it.” Widow Hardwick tried to explain between her chuckles.
“You are a clumsy oaf, Andrew.” Mr. Dean cuffed the kneeling boy on the side of the head.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Here, Mr. Dean. There’s no harm done.” The widow came to the boy’s defense.
“Never you mind, madam. Just get back to your work.”
“You’ve always been a good, kind master, and I would never complain on my own behalf, but don’t beat the boy, sir. Don’t take your sorrow out on him.”
“What do you know of my sorrow?”
“Begging your pardon, sir. I only assume you must feel sorrowful to hear about the engagement of the young Miss Kirke and that
scoundrel Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“And why would I feel anything about that? Get back to your work or I shall cut your wages.”
“There are no coins smaller than a farthing, sir.” She began cackling again, this time louder, then turned and toddled off into the wood like a diminutive spirit of the forest.
Dean took to heart the grizzled lady’s advice and apologized to Andrew before he returned to his greenhouse retreat.
So it was true, and even the most lowly servant knew about it! Dean cursed himself. How could he have let Susan slip into the clutches of that vile Fitzwilliam? He had tried to warn her, but he should have known that his warning would only incite her to defy him, just as she had defied her parents by meeting with him even after she had been forbidden. He should feel relieved to be rid of her. Such a perverse and disobedient child would have brought him only heartache. He tried to convince himself that he was better off without her, but his heart refused to believe it, linked as it was steadfastly to hers. How could she even consider marrying another man, especially one like Fitzwilliam? She had no idea what marriage was or she would not become engaged with someone who could not love her and would not make her happy. How could he make her understand this before it was too late?
He had not seen Susan in the garden for several weeks and so he foresaw no opportunity of meeting her by chance. He could not arrange a meeting stealthily through a servant. Besides it being forbidden, he did not know whom he could trust. He did not trust his own heart to risk speaking to her in person. He had lost his chance to employ Fitzwilliam as an emissary since the Fitzwilliam family had already left the premises, perhaps to prepare the impending nuptials.
If that was the case, then Dean did not have time to spare. For all he knew, the wedding could be next month. That was it! He suddenly hit upon the perfect pretext to broach the topic with her father. He would speak with Kirke about the preparations that would be needed to prepare the garden for a large wedding party. He resolved to do so at the first opportunity, which was not long in coming.
The very next day, Kirke sought the gardener out to discuss some expenses for the maintenance of the garden, and Dean found the courage to ask about the wedding.
“Mr. Kirke, I understand there is to be a wedding in your family.”
“Well, yes. What!” Kirke coughed and blustered proudly. “There has been an engagement announced between my daughter and Mr. Herbert Fitzwilliam.”