“I would like to offer my congratulations, sir. You must be very pleased. When is the wedding to be celebrated?”
“Thank you for your good wishes. No date has been settled yet. There is no rush. Miss Kirke is still very young, you understand.”
“Of course. I only ask because I am sure you would want to show off your garden to best effect during the celebration. Pray, let me know well in advance of the date so that I may make the necessary preparations. Perhaps we might also make some plans for the use of flowers during the ceremony.”
“Capital idea! I shall keep you apprised, sir.”
Dean did not feel relieved to have obtained official confirmation regarding Miss Kirke’s engagement, but he was pleased to learn that the wedding was not to be celebrated immediately. There might still be time to warn her if he could only think of a means to achieve it.
***
The next day Mr. Kirke observed his melancholy daughter sitting in the window seat, looking out at the beautiful summer morning.
“You sit here pining as if you wished to go out, Susan, and yet you do not. Why is that, my dear?”
Susan was surprised by her father’s observation, and for a moment could not think how to respond. “I have so much on my mind, Father. There are a great many preparations to be made for my wedding.”
“Extraordinary! I had no idea there was so much to consider in preparing for a wedding. Why, just the other day I was speaking to Dean and he mentioned the fact that the garden needed to be prepared for the wedding, and flowers would be required. You know, I had never thought of such things before.”
Just to hear his name mentioned lifted Susan’s spirits remarkably.
“However, I can hardly credit your words as you are not doing anything but sitting here. How is it possible that you are preparing while you stare out the window?”
Susan laughed in spite of her melancholy. “I was looking at those flowers there, wondering which of them would make the sweetest, most colourful nosegay.”
“’Tis a beautiful day, my dear. Why do you not walk out where you can smell the scents and see them more clearly? If you see the gardener, you might discuss with him yourself which flowers would be best for decorating. There is not a man in England more knowledgeable on the subject.”
“But I am forbidden to talk to the gardener, Father.”
He looked nonplussed. “I had forgotten that. However, it seems to me, considering your new position as an engaged woman, there would be no danger, would there, my dear?”
“Of course not. I shall always be ruled by Mr. Fitzwilliam, and I would do nothing that he would disapprove of.” She looked down at her shoes as she spoke. She felt awkward, but Fitzwilliam had given her leave to seduce the gardener.
“I am pleased to hear it, Susan. So, run along now into the garden. Perhaps the fresh air will put some colour in your pale cheeks.”
“Thank you. I believe I will.” He was a fond old fool, she thought as she got up from the window seat and prepared to go outside. She now had her father’s permission, as well as her fiance’s; there could be no harm.
***
Dean was deep in contemplation regarding the best manner of warning Susan about the danger of marrying Fitzwilliam when he almost ran into her on a solitary woodland path.
“Miss Kirke,” he stammered, feeling the blood drain from his face.
“Are you all right, sir?” She examined him solicitously.
He nodded.
“I am sorry to have startled you. I had the advantage of seeing you coming before you saw me. You were deeply preoccupied. May I enquire as to the subject of your reverie?”
He was embarrassed to tell her. “You may not, madam.”
“Yes, well…” She looked down.
“I beg your pardon. I didna mean to be so abrupt. You startled me so because you were the object of my preoccupation. I was considering how best to meet you, and then, suddenly, there you were.”
“How very strange.”
“Yes. It was as if the devil himself had conjured you out of thin air.”
“Not the devil, I hope, sir.”
“Yes, the very devil.” He hoped to hurt her just a little, as she had hurt him by her foolish engagement.
“Well.” She continued meeting his gaze, but he thought he noticed a slight tic near one eye. “What is it you wanted to contact me about?” she asked.
“I wanted to warn you.” He saw the exasperated look on her face. “From the bottom of my heart, madam, I do not try to warn you out of my own self-interest. I have given up all claim to that, but I am still interested in your welfare, and I know you will never be happy with a man like Fitzwilliam.”
Susan negotiated steps around Dean and began walking down the path. He turned and kept pace with her. “And just what kind of man is he?” she asked.
“One who has no interest in loving a woman.”
“I do not know this kind of man, sir, but Mr. Fitzwilliam is my friend. He has ever honoured my wishes, and he makes no excessive demands on me.”
“Nor ever will, I am sure. Just as I am sure he will leave you quite alone once you are married. Is that your wish?”
The path opened onto a lawn. Susan stopped short and faced him. “What right have you to interfere in my happiness? As you say, you have given up any claim to me.”
“I have.”
“Then you have no right.” She turned to walk away.
“Miss Kirke,” he called after her. “I only wished to counsel you.”
She whirled around. “You gave up your right to counsel me when you promised my father never to talk to me again, a promise which you see fit to break now.”
He realized that she was angry at him because he had rejected her. He did not have the heart to anger her further. “Do you really believe there is any way we could have a future together?” he asked.
She said nothing.
“Would you be able to give up all this?” He looked around the garden. “Because you would lose it all if you married me.”
She stood looking at him intently a few moments before she finally responded, “And you would lose it all if you married me.”
“I would,” he stated firmly. He would not hesitate to abandon the garden if she would consent to be his wife. It was only his work. However, she had more to lose, for she would be losing her home and family, which were very precious possessions indeed.
“Well,” she said. “It seems we are at an impasse. You do not wish to give up your livelihood. I can understand that. It must be everything for a working man.”
“My livelihood!” He said with disdain. “Why, such a loss can be nothing to me compared with the loss of your family for you.”
“You would be willing to give up your employment for me, sir?”
“There is other employment elsewhere for an industrious gardener like me. However, you have only one family, and I would never ask you to give up the wealth and status, in short, everything that your family affords you.”
“Go ahead. Ask me,” she said eagerly.
He looked at her, not believing what she was saying. Would she really choose him over her family? “Would you…” He began, but before he could finish the question, she ran to him with her arms outstretched. He stood firm against her violent assault and wrapped his arms around her tiny, warm body. His heart was a bird beating its wings inside of him. His tears fell on the top of her head and he kissed them away till she turned her face upward and he kissed the soft, white skin of her forehead, her cheek, her chin, her upturned nose and then the pink bud of her lips.
He was lost for a moment that seemed like an eternity.
Then he felt the shock of the reciprocal emotions engendered by his kiss. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck him, and he stepped back and looked at her. “Miss Kirke,” he said, recovering himself. “My apologies.”
“No apologies necessary, sir.” She smiled.
“Will you do me the very great honou
r of becoming my wife?” he blurted out.
“With all my heart, sir.”
He opened his arms to her and she stepped into his embrace again. She fitted the space there as if she had been created for it, and he did not want to release her ever. Instead, they started walking down the garden path, arm in arm.
“Of course, you realize it is necessary for me to disentangle myself from another engagement before we can announce ours,” she said.
“Aye. But I cannot keep it secret for a moment. Let us be open and honest with your family from the start. We should go straight to your parents and make an announcement to them. When that is achieved, disentangling yourself, as you say, will be redundant.”
“My parents will be very angry and they will put all kinds of impediments in our way, I am certain, sir.”
“Why should they not wish for your happiness above all else? When they see how happy we are, how can they stand in our way?”
“You will see, sir. They will.”
“But we cannot keep our love hidden any longer. We must confess it openly. It is the only right and honourable thing to do. We must accept the consequences of that, whatever they may be.”
“If you say so, sir.”
He was determined. The emotion of the moment so clouded his usual good judgment that he was convinced love would overcome all obstacles. So they continued walking arm in arm until they came to the great house, and then they walked together up the stone steps and in through the door. There was an agitated stir among the servants that they passed as they penetrated farther into the house. Finally they walked boldly into the sitting room of Mr. Kirke, who was unfolding his napkin in order to take some repast.
“What have we here?” he said in evident shock.
“We have come, sir, to declare our undeniable love for one another and to ask your blessings on our union.” Dean recited his speech like a prayer he had memorized.
Kirke threw down his napkin and jumped to his feet far more nimbly than he had done in many a year. “How dare you break into my house in broad daylight and steal my daughter from me? The audacity of the man. Such bold impudence! Leave hold of my daughter immediately or a magistrate will be called for.”
“Why, sir? What laws have been broken?”
”I can only assume your ignorance of the law is due to the fact that you are Scottish. Perhaps in your wild country, it is acceptable to steal a man’s daughter from him.”
“It is your daughter who has stolen my heart…”
“Please do not recite pretty poetry to me. I will not be so easily pushed over as my daughter has been.”
Susan extricated herself from Mr. Dean’s arm and stood up to her father. “How dare you insult me by talking about me as if I were a cow and Mr. Dean a cattle thief. How dare you suggest that I am under the influence of this man’s ‘poetry’! I tell you that I am in love, Father, and no one has swayed me.”
“You are too bold, you ungrateful baggage. Go to your room while I talk with Dean.”
“I will not.”
Mrs. Kirke arrived at that moment and burst into the room. “What is the meaning of all this commotion?”
“Your daughter and this scoundrel here,” he nodded at Dean, “have just announced their intention to wed.”
Mrs. Kirke began to faint, slipping toward the floor, but the butler, one step behind her, caught hold of her and led her to a chair.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Kirke came to her side.
“Yes, yes,” she murmured.
Kirke turned on his daughter. “You see how your willfulness has shocked your mother! Now, go to your room.”
“I will not.” Susan continued her insolent words, but her demeanor changed. She knelt down beside her mother. “Are you sure you are all right, madam?”
Her mother looked at her fiercely. “You cannot do this to our family. You are already engaged to Fitzwilliam. Think of the dishonour the whole family will suffer if you go forward with this unspeakable plan.”
Dean spoke at last. “What is unspeakable, madam, if you will pardon my intrusion, is that you have engaged Miss Kirke with a man who can never make her happy.”
“The impertinence of the man! Mr. Kirke, I cannot suffer to be spoken to in such a manner in my own house. Call the magistrate and have him escorted from our home.”
“Yes, dear. Right away. It is only what I have already threatened to do.”
Dean knew that he had been foolish and that Susan had been right, but at the same time, he could not fault himself. It was not in his nature to sneak around like an outlaw when he had made up his mind on a course of action. Still, it was clear that this was a time to withdraw from the battlefield. Nothing further could be gained from going before the law now. “There is nae need, sir. I will leave of my own accord peaceably. I need some time to assemble my things, and then I will be off your property in short order.”
“No, Mr. Dean! Surely you do not intend to leave me here. Take me with you,” Susan cried out from her position on her knees.
He was moved with pity for her. He should have thought through the consequences for her before he acted. He tried to reassure her. “Have faith and be patient. Wait for me. When you are the age of consent, they cannot stop us. Our love will win in the end.” Even as he said it, he could scarcely believe his own words. Patience was never her strong suit, but she would have to learn it or learn to forget him. “Goodbye, my love.”
With that, Dean left the family as they were, Susan sobbing on the floor beside her mother, her mother wailing, Mr. Kirke ordering the butler to escort Mr. Dean to collect his belongings, and then the butler superciliously passing on the task to a footman.
Mr. Kirke looked at his two women howling and almost put his hands over his ears. He went to the door and called Susan’s servant, who arrived in mere seconds. In fact, the gardener had just passed by all of the household servants, or at least those who could manage it, huddled within hearing distance.
“Escort my daughter to her apartment, where she will stay for the remainder of the day,” Kirke said to Mary. “You will see to it.”
Mary curtseyed. “Yes, sir.” Then she bent down and linked her arm in Susan’s to help her up. “Come, madam,” she said and took her to her bedroom.
There, Susan flung herself full-length on her bed and wept inconsolably, her face buried in the bedclothes, while Mary sat quietly at the side of the bed waiting for her mistress to recover.
He was gone. Just like that. He had abandoned her. He expected her to wait until she was of legal age and no longer needed her parents’ consent to marry. Did he not know that the age of consent was twenty-one in England? Or perhaps he did not know that she was only sixteen. Five years was an eternity! The snail crawls faster than those five years would pass.
Why had he insisted on telling her parents? She had warned him, but he had to be so honest and so noble. She cringed at the sarcasm in her own head. It was wrong of her to chastise him, for he was honest and noble. She was not worthy of him with her wicked thoughts. She imagined him standing before her in his gardening clothes, in his blue overcoat, which matched those blue eyes that stared at her disapprovingly. What would he disapprove of now? Her extravagant display of emotion that served only to waste time that could be more helpfully employed in rectifying the situation.
Well, she said inwardly to the man in her mind, I understand. I really do, but you must give me half an hour—just half an hour is all I require—to wallow in misery and self pity. She sniffed loudly. After that I promise I shall employ my time making all things right again. A little sob escaped her mouth and her imaginary Mr. Dean inclined his head ever so slightly to kiss her forehead. It was more than she could bear.
She began to weep again, but this time not only for herself. She was weeping for John Dean, for his loss was greater than hers. He had lost his employment because of her selfish desire to be in his company. She tried to console herself with the thought that he was a skilled gardener, and h
e would easily find another position. She was sure of it. She hoped for it. She wanted to see him immediately in person to tell him how sorry she was to have put him in jeopardy. She wanted to get up and go to him before he was gone she knew not where.
“Mary, fetch me my walking shoes. I need to find Mr. Dean to apologize before he leaves.”
“I am sorry, madam, but your father has ordered me to make sure that you stay here.”
“You are being ridiculous! You are my maid. If I ask you to help me, you will.”
“But your father pays my salary, so I must do as he bids me.” Then she muttered under her breath, “Though to that, he does not pay me near enough to be a jailer, too.”
“I appeal to you as a friend, Mary. Help me now.”
“I cannot let you go, madam. You understand I could lose my job if I let you go.”
“You are right. I am sorry. Enough people have lost their job because of me. Do you think somehow you could get word to him on my behalf, maybe by way of another servant? Go down to the kitchen and bring me some broth for I am feeling poorly. Ask around and see if a message may be sent to Mr. Dean. While you are gone, I shall compose one.”
“Do you promise you will not slip away while I am absent?”
“I promise I will not.”
Mary left and Susan took a piece of paper from her escritoir and sat at her bureau to write a letter to “Mr. John Dean, Esquire.” The words came painfully slowly, each one wrung from her, reconsidered, and erased a dozen times or more.
Sir:
You cannot know how sorry I am that your employment has been terminated on my account. I pray that you will soon find another position. I have every confidence that you will with your excellent skills.
Please send me word of your destination…
How could he send her word of his destination if he never received the missive because she did not know his destination?
Before she had finished, Mary returned with a dish of broth and word that Mr. Dean was already gone and no one among the household staff knew where.
Susan crumpled the letter until her hand ached from squeezing it. Then she threw it with all her might. She resisted the urge to cry again, and her sorrow transformed into anger at herself. Her vision of John Dean had been right. While she had been wallowing in self pity he had gotten his things together and left. She could have sent a message to him; instead she had wasted the time in tears, and now she did not know where he was. She wanted to scream.