My Lady Ellen

By Brenda Slavoff

My Lady Ellen originated from some of the author's vivid dreams.
Research of the historical background, the Jacobite Rebellion and the culture of the time as well as the author's interest in women's position in society have given the novel its depth.
Told by Ellen, the plot takes its inevitable course as the characters around her follow their calling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenda Slavoff
• Release date: Aug 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311329912

Brenda Slavoff

Brenda Slavoff has written plays, short stories, poetry and novels. Manyof them were based on the author's vivid dreams. Growing up inMelbourne, she had already written down a wealth of sketches for storiesand plays. She escaped the city to the clean air of Tasmania where she studiednatural therapies and greatly improved her own health. She hasresearched the historical backgrounds of her stories and turned ideas intoevents which could well have unfolded between her true-to-life charactersof past times. One of Brenda Slavoff's novels has been read in serial formon radio, two of her plays have been performed and she has publishedmany short stories and poems - and all this between gardening, theatre,composing music, playing harps and dancing tango.

Book preview

PART ONE

1723. The winter wind cries outside and the fire flickers in the draught. I lie here, waiting for the spring, afraid of my thoughts. Let me send them far and wide! I wonder, what random thoughts occupied my mother's mind as she awaited my birth?

Where do I start? When did this drama begin?

I think again of the story of my mother and father, as told to me by our old servant, Margot.

The courtship of our parents is the drama that ushers us into this world. Their inevitable meeting is therefore the most important drama of their lives - for us. Is that why am I telling this, is it for you one day, my unborn child? No, I can never have you know the facts concerning your life. Shall I send it to the one I love? Or shall I destroy it soon, so that never shall it be read by living soul but mine?

CHAPTER ONE

-1-

The courtship of our parents is always the most important event of their lives. In our hearts we believe they lived and met each other simply so that we could come into the world. However important or otherwise we are to them, their importance is directly due to us.

My first memory was when my mother took us to the shop my father still owned. Four steps led up to a dark room, mustily aromatic, crammed with wares. An old man, wearing a hat that seemed older than himself, was the guardian of it. His face was dark and seamed, his shoulders bent, his hands gnarled. He looked up from cleaning silver-handled knives as we arrived, and grunted a greeting to my mother, touching his hat. I hid behind my mother's skirts, being the youngest at the time, so that my brother Rupert had to tug at me before I raised my head. Then I let out an Oh! of pure enchantment, and gazed with round eyes at a treasure trove of the most beautiful objects: ones that gleamed with silver and shone with glass, things of ivory and varied woods, lacquered oriental furniture in shimmering colours, materials of rich velvet, silk and delicate lace, rugs woven in brilliant peacock hues.

It was the only time I ever saw the cluttered shop which had played so large a part in the courtship of my parents, for my father sold it soon after. He became a merchant only, and left the selling of his wares to others.

How could he sell that crowded shop of treasures, when it was as instrumental to his marrying my mother as their respectable drawing-room introduction? Old Margot, Mother's servant, often told us the story. James Sinclair had been a young man working hard at his business and slowly investing more money in merchandise...

...And my mother Rosina had been anxious to buy a birthday present for her favourite aunt. It was just an idle word of hers, made while at the house of friends, but James Sinclair overheard it, and without thinking, forgetting his shyness and the touch of a stammer that usually kept him silent, he went to her side and offered his services in that direction.

For I am sure, M-Miss Williams, that I will have s-something, even if I must search the back room, that will please your aunt.

She was surprised, for she had hardly said a word to this solemn young man who almost made her laugh with his tight, set expression; but she was quick to take up an opportunity. She arranged to visit his shop the next morning.

He did not quite expect that she would, on later consideration, but he made sure he was in the shop the whole morning, neglecting his other work. And lo and behold, mid-morning he looked up and there she was, smiling at him from the doorway, accompanied by her old servant, just as she had promised. And she was so full of honest delight over his many wares that on impulse, something he never gave way to, he presented her with a pair of silver candlesticks, an expensive set she had particularly admired. But he did not give them to her at once; he had them sent to her the next day.

She bought for her aunt carved wooden bowls for spices, and they talked of far away places: Jamaica, Africa, the Orient, India. The young man's face and manner were reserved, and his movements deliberate, but for all that he was remarkably handsome in a dark, austere way. She by contrast was very fair, with red-gold hair and a white skin, but she was not considered pretty, being too thin for her height, her face too long and her mouth too wide for beauty. It was her vivacious, warm-hearted manner that charmed.

How stunned she was to receive his valuable gift the next day! When she opened the box, with trembling fingers, how her eyes lit up! There was no note but a business one, 'with compliments from'. Oh, whatever shall I do? she exclaimed, gazing breathlessly at the beautifully chased silver work. How could she accept such a gesture from a man she hardly knew? But there was no question of her returning it.

And later, when her beloved aunt was ill, she said to her niece, He is a good man, Rosina; he won't fail you. He looks cold and stern, and that worries you, doesn’t it, my dear? But he loves you all the more for not daring to show how much he needs you. And I know you love to be needed. Marry him, my dear.

It was a pretty story, which I had heard many times and not grown tired of. I also loved beautiful things, and wished I had been her.

Do you think anyone will ever give me silver things? I asked my brother Rupert. He was two years older than I and my fount of worldly wisdom.

Rupert took a bite from the apple he had stolen from the kitchen store and offered me the other side of it, which I accepted. Of course, men have to give things to women, he answered solemnly. If they don't, the woman won't marry them.

"Do they have to give lots of things?"

Yes, lots. I know I'll have to save quite a bit before I can marry.

I was more than happy to believe that, and thought of marriage with pleased anticipation. What would a man give one day in an effort to win me?

-2-

As though from a long distance I can still see how pretty Mother seemed to my child's eyes as she sat at work by the front room window, humming a song to herself. I used sometimes to go to her, to share with her some treasure or be comforted for some small hurt, very cautiously peeping in until she noticed me and would smile and say:

Is that you, Little Miss Mischief?

Then I would lose my shyness and come in. Sometimes she sat me on her knee, letting me stay there while she went on with her needlework, her soft curls brushing my face whenever she reached over to the table. At last she would put me down, kiss me, and tell me to Run along and be a good girl.

We slept in the upstairs nursery where a nursemaid attended to us. We had plenty of freedom despite her, for she was very much taken up with looking after the two children born after me, so we played outside during the day and explored the house at night. We had friends at the end of the street, a family of three girls and two boys. We ran races from their house to ours, and when the finish line was our house we knew it was our duty to win and tried much harder. I won the boys' admiration for being fast at running. My eldest sister Emma sent notes to them by one of our servants, and they would send notes back by their cook's son. Neither messenger could read, so their privacy was assured.

Once a man from one of the big ships gave me a beautiful shell, telling me to run home and guard it well. I did run home and showed it proudly to my mother, but instead of being pleased she got cross and told us all that we were not to play by the docks anymore. We had to stay near the house where she or Margot could see us.

My older brother and sister were very annoyed with me over this new restriction, and blamed me for accepting a present from a complete stranger. He might have kidnapped you and sold you as a slave! exclaimed Geoffrey; whilst Emma tossed her head and declared, You are always spoiling things! Fancy being so trusting!

Because of you, we are losing all our fun! they said in chorus again and again until I began to cry.

Go away, ordered Emma. We don't want you with us.

Haughtily I retorted, though the haughtiness was weakened by my increasing tears, I don't want to play with you, anyway! I've got lots of better things to do on my own!

I ran off, trying to make myself believe it. Having nowhere else to go, I returned forlornly to the nursery, all alone. I was sitting on the floor, listlessly dressing my doll, when Rupert came in. I looked up anxiously - for surely he had heard from Emma and Geoffrey what I had done? But he joined in my game as if nothing had happened. I was so passionately grateful, I nearly started crying again. I don't know what became of the shell, a very beautiful exotic one.

After this, Rupert and I always played together, and even explored the warehouse opposite to our house. It was shadowy and dirty, filled with sacks and barrels and boxes. We used to make up stories about what they contained. Some had people inside of them, we thought, thieves and runaways who had amazing adventures. Once we found a white mouse, dead behind a crate, and I cried when we decided she had died lost and mourning her husband who had been murdered when she was sold for six pieces of gold. (Most of our stories were tragic.)

Where do you suppose she came from? I asked, wiping my tears.

France, said Rupert promptly, this being the only foreign country he knew of. French mice are always white, you know, not like ours.

That's why they sold her! I decided. It must be a cruel place. I shan’t ever go there when I'm grown-up, not even for lace.

Someone's coming! said Rupert urgently, so we quickly hid behind some sacks, the mouse still in my hand. Our father got cross when we came to play here.

A man came in with some rolls of cloth, his footsteps echoing. He put down his burden, took out a paper and scribbled on it before going out again.

Do you think he's the one who sold her? whispered Rupert, glancing at the mouse.

I nodded vehemently, Yes, I'm sure of it. Didn’t you see the awful way he smiled when he left?

What shall we do? If he finds us here he might sell us, and then we'll never see each other again. We could be taken in different directions and you might have to make lace for the rest of your life.

This frightened me, because I didn't know how to make lace. Let's go, before he comes back, I urged.

Yes, I think we'd better. But why don't we leave the mouse on the cloth he brought in, just so he won't think he's got away with it?

What a wonderful idea! I approved.

We crawled out, tenderly arranged the mouse on the bales, and feeling that we had properly avenged her cruel end, scampered away, dodging the corners with beating hearts, finally bursting into laughter when we escaped outside.

-3-

The most important and anxious times of our lives were when Mother brought us down to the parlour. This was a magical room, filled with pretty objects, pictures on the walls, books and carved figures on the shelves, and against the wall, opposite the windows that seemed to capture all the sunshine, an ornate harpsichord with a red velvet stool. A fire always burned on the hearth in this room, and it seemed ablaze with candles at night.

We were presented in order of seniority, as befits society: Emma, the eldest, followed by Geoffrey, the first son; then Rupert and I, Ellen; then John and lastly Deirdre. It was like being presented to the King.

Our father would look us over carefully and ask a few questions, a frightening experience, for he seldom spoke to us directly and in his presence we were not encouraged to talk. Yet it was a great honour when mother brought us to his attention, as if showing us off as her achievements. Mother changed when Father was present, she was brighter and she bossed us more. Every now and then she would put in a word for Father to admire small virtues or discourage with a little firmness small faults. Geoffrey he noticed the most, being the eldest son; he even made remarks on how this son would be a credit to him, when Geoffrey repeated lessons mother had taught him. Geoffrey had a touchy sense of honour, but he was not especially clever. Rupert was quicker at learning, but he preferred to make up games in school which distracted the other boys. This made him popular with his friends, but did not help him in his learning. When I was shepherded forward for my father to admire, Mother playfully curling my dark hair round her fingers, my breath would desert me before this solemn man, Father. Were he God in Heaven, I could not have been more shy. After we’d all had our turn, we were allowed to sit down, though scarcely daring to blink. How I longed to play with the many fascinating things that met my wandering gaze!

We were not allowed in here often, but we caught exciting glimpses of its mysteries when the door had been left open and we stole down the hallway and peeped in. We dared each other to go down the stairs when we were supposed to be in bed, and the one who went down the farthest won. This took courage, for it was fraught with many dangers - our parents coming out, or one of the servants coming suddenly along the hall, or the nursemaid going to check on us.

Some evenings we would catch the sounds of guests arriving, and laughter and singing from the parlour. We might glimpse our stern father, handsome in his fine clothes but tense and awkward in his manner, and Mother, with the brightest of smiles, formalising the serving of refreshments and leading all the turns of conversation, supporting him in what was for him an ordeal - entertaining visitors. But it was a necessity. No ambitious man could succeed without the right social contacts. The evenings must have been successful, for I never heard a cross word between them or the servants afterwards. Did he admire her social graces as she conducted these evenings for him? Did he recall how her vivacity had first captivated him?

CHAPTER TWO

-1-

Through the bright childhood memories came a dark cloud that obscured the light. I cannot remember exactly when it all began; there is no single event to which I can say, "That was when it started." But all at once the house was dark, the shades drawn, everything was hushed and we were not allowed to play as usual. No more Mother busy about the house. No more parlour visitors and the tinkling of the harpsichord. I do not know how long this lasted, it may have been weeks, or months, or it may have been only days; but to me it seemed that it had always been dark and I had only dreamed of the light.

One night as we children sat in a huddle on the landing of the stairs, trying to find out something that would lift this darkness, we saw Father coming up the staircase, in his heavy coat, holding a small lamp. We drew back towards the nursery where we had been told to stay, but we did not go in. Normally our father ignored us, but he stopped as he passed, held up the lamp, and looked down at us in silence. We gazed up at him, making no sound but that of our breaths taking in the musty, dank smell that had pervaded the house. My youngest sister clutched her doll to her chest and we all huddled closer together. Was our father going to punish us for leaving the nursery? Not a word passed between us, but I will never forget the expression on his face: bleak, desolate. He moved on.

The light and noise returned suddenly to the house, but there was no mother anymore. It was as if the sun or the moon had disappeared, and yet everyone accepted it as natural, and no one spoke of it. The house was strange and empty. I could remember echoes of the music and talk that once came from the parlour, and Emma's voice saying, When we are grown-up, we shall do things like that. And my youngest brother, "I dare you to go to the last step and sit there!" Or had I only dreamed those things? The round of life went on, our friends, our games and our empty house.

Emma was sent to live with our Aunt Agnes, our father's half-sister, who lived in a fashionable town called Bath. She was to be brought out into the world of society. In my imagination she became almost a mythical being, driving about in a coach-and-four and having to be extra polite to everyone. Geoffrey was sent to school, only returning for holidays, during which he told us how he hated it and how the boys beat each other, when the masters weren't doing it for them. The outside world seemed a very frightening place. How awful it was to see Geoffrey all prepared to go away to school again, pale but uncomplaining to his elders, facing it like a soldier going into battle. The pathos of the scene so moved me that I played sad tunes on the harpsichord all the morning after he left, as if there had been a funeral. Suddenly Rupert and I were the eldest children at home. I was eight years old.

-2-

A man came to visit father several times, and through the servants I learned that he was my uncle. Margot had told us all the family stories, so I knew that Father was the child of my grandfather's second marriage. Grandfather Sinclair had had two children with his first wife, and after she died, he had married a Scottish lady. She had been a pretty daughter of the MacKenzies, and only twenty-four, whilst he was middle-aged. (Of course, as a child, twenty-four seemed old to me anyway!) My father was born to them. This uncle was the son of Grandfather Sinclair's first marriage.

Uncle Sinclair was a big man with a loud voice, totally unlike our father. I caught glimpses of him, and heard the heavy droning of his voice behind the parlour door. Then once I heard him say, as they opened the door:

You are an impossible man to help, James! Blood is thicker than water, you know.

My father stood in the doorway, a quiet smile on his face; polite, but firm. I was hiding on the stairs and could see very well.

But will you agree? said the stranger, our uncle. Come on, man!

At this Father said reluctantly, I shall discuss the m-matter seriously with Mr Plagell. He is my friend as well as my lawyer.

As you will, the other said curtly. But just remember I am your brother -well, your half-brother, if you will - and that's more than a friend. Children need a firm hand on them and a good education. It's the first years that count the most, not what you do with them afterwards. I've enough family pride to care what happens to them.

The remaining two girls shall eventually be under the care of Agnes. I have no w-worries about them.

Yes, you've never been so stiff-necked with her. Three sons! And I not one. Make sure you don't forget what we talked about, James.

I won't forget, said my father in his quiet voice.

Geoffrey was inclined to brood over remote possibilities, particularly gloomy ones. It was he who brought up the question: What should we do if Father died, or took another wife?

I simply couldn’t imagine it. Mother had become someone who had been around once upon a time, so I could not picture any kind of a mother anymore; and as for Father’s death, I didn’t think it at all likely.

Anyway, I said to Geoffrey, we don’t need a mother or father so much now, we’re too old. After all, by this time I was ten years old, and we still had Nurse.

But John and Deirdre aren’t. If anything should happen to Margot or Nurse…

Don’t be silly.

John’s only eight, and couldn’t work for the family properly, and Deirdre’s practically a baby.

I could look after John and Deirdre all right, I said calmly. They don't take much caring for. I dismissed the duties of nursemaid very simply! And if I manage the home, you could support us all. You’d only have to run the warehouses and ask Mr Plagell for advice.

Geoffrey flushed with the pride of being so well thought of. He longed for such opportunities, yet worried constantly about them.

You know, Ellen, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. This was the favourite form of praise of one of his masters. You and I could manage quite well.

I nodded, pleased. Yes, and soon Deirdre would grow up enough to help me, and when Rupert gets through school he'd be a second partner to you. What Rupert thought is beside the point! And then Emma will probably get married, and she and her husband could come back here and we wouldn’t need anyone else. I already do most of the sewing because my eyes are better than Nurse’s or Margot’s. I could entertain your guests. Rupert says I can always think of the right thing to say to people.

I gave so much thought to the running of the house, poking into corners of the kitchen and back quarters to judge how much help I’d need, mentally rearranging furniture, mostly returning it back to the way it was when I was very little, and deciding how many evenings a week we should have company. How many imaginary guests I welcomed into the parlour, dressing up for the role! One day I was pretending that Rupert was one of my guests, without his realising it, until he complained I wasn't talking sense. Of course I wasn't. How could he know I was actually responding to the remark of a stranger and not to anything he had said? I explained matters, and to make amends I offered him imaginary refreshments. He fell upon them as if he were ravenous and we began a tug-of-war over a leg of mutton that wasn't there, he protesting he was the hungriest, I declaring I had cooked it myself and deserved the best pieces.

Just then Mr Plagell and Father entered the parlour, and we were caught out, I in my best clothes and Rupert rolling on the floor laughing at our nonsense. How we blushed and stammered! But the guest said nothing about our behaviour, and Father did not reprimand us, as we made our courtesies and stood ready to leave.

So this is little Ellen and young Rupert? Mr Plagell said to Father, quite unnecessarily, since he had seen us many times before. He made the usual inquiries on how our studies and accomplishments were progressing, but didn't seem to be listening to our replies. Finally he said:

He’s a healthy young buck, and she’s a pretty face already. It would be all for the best. You couldn’t do better towards them, James.

Perhaps.

Father saw Mr Plagell into a chair, then without a word, shut the door on us. In the hallway Rupert and I exchanged blushing glances, wondering what the grown-ups were up to now.

What do you suppose he is going to do? I asked suddenly.

I don’t know. They're probably discussing Geoffrey. I’m glad I don't have to go away to school like him!

So was I. The very idea of living without Rupert was too horrible to think about.

But it was our lives that were to change forever, soon after my twelfth birthday.

-3-

Nurse came to me and said I must busy myself with packing.

Packing what?

"Your things. I'm sortin' the clothes, lots of mending to do too, miss, plus anythin’ else you want to take.

Take WHERE? I demanded.

To the country. You're goin’ to live with your uncle.

The blood drained from my face; my stomach felt as if filled with lead. Just like that, I was leaving home, going out into the world! It was my turn now. The World it was a big place for one as sheltered as myself. And my uncle? That big man with the loud voice?

But why am I going there?

I don' know, child. It’s for your own good, or your father wouldna be sending you.

But what is my uncle like? I asked, shrinking back.

He’s agreed to take you an' your brother, so he must be a good man.

My heart gave a great relieved jump. Suddenly I could breathe again.

"Oh! Rupert is going too?"

Of course he is. You two are the biggest here now, an' it's time for you to make somethin’ of yourselves. Your uncle has a grand estate, you'll be goin' up in the world there.

This was some consolation, but the fact that Rupert was coming too made all the difference. It changed it into an exciting event. It even became an adventure!

I raced downstairs and into the parlour - strange how unmagical the room was nowadays - and peered anxiously out of the window, but Rupert wasn't home from school yet. I thought his studies were interesting from what he told me, but he found them as dull as I found sewing seams for things I would never use. There was no fire in the grate and the spring sunshine did not penetrate the window, but I am sure I shivered more from excitement than cold. What would it be like to live in the country with an almost unknown uncle? I tried to picture him in my mind, but it was so long ago I had seen him with my father that I couldn't remember exactly how he looked, except that he was loud and big. What was Rupert going to say? I couldn't wait to tell him!

At last I heard footsteps coming up to the house and when I looked out of the window I saw Rupert. I waved to him frantically, enjoying the drama.

Come in quickly! my gestures said.

His face flashed back questions. Then he held up his hand and disappeared from sight, emerging the next minute through the parlour door to demand:

What's happened? Then, Has the cat had kittens again? For that was the reason for my last performance.

No, no, don't be silly! Something else has!

You mean the eggs have hatched?

No, I don't know about the pigeon eggs, but listen, Rupert! You and I are going to live with our uncle! It's being arranged right now.

Our uncle? gasped Rupert, unable to say anymore.

I was fully satisfied with his astonishment and sank down into a chair, prepared to elaborate. Yes, it's true, just us two, going to live in the country.

For Heaven's sake! We're going to leave home, for good? He was perplexed, and not particularly pleased. He had friends at school, games to play, a contented routine.

I don't know for how long.

What will we do there? he demanded, as if I knew all about it.

Nurse said it's a fine estate, I offered.

Rupert shrugged at the prospect. Do you want to go?

In the light of his lack of enthusiasm, I considered the matter again, more coolly. I don't know. It depends on how long it will be for. But at least we're going together.

Yes, said Rupert, thank Heavens for that!

-4-

The evening before we were to leave, my father sent for Rupert and me. But Margot and Nurse had already sent Rupert to bed at the same time as John, because both boys were too boisterous and being a nuisance in the last minute preparations, so there was only me. Father was in his study closet, a small place downstairs with a table and a chair by the fireplace, and little else. It was here that he did all his book-work. The rough wooden door was partly open, so I agonised for some minutes trying to decide whether or not to knock. Finally I just pushed open the door and peeped in. My father was sitting at his table, facing the door; he did not see me at first. He was looking down at a paper that one hand rested on, but he was not reading it at all. His other elbow was on the table, the hand against his forehead, where his still black hair fell on it in locks that carelessly curled at the ends. He did not move until I was right in front of him, and then he slowly lifted his head and raised his eyes to me.

He was a very handsome man. At the time, as a child of twelve, I did not think so much of that, I was only struck by the extraordinary blue of his eyes and the thought that he was not so very old, after all. Unhurried, his eyes took me in without comment, then travelled back to the paper in his hand. It had been sanded; he blew at it gently and folded it, before speaking.

I have a letter here for your uncle, which w-will be in the clerk's hands tomorrow. It is an important letter for your future, and your brother’s future. I want you b-both to show every respect and gratitude to your uncle, who will henceforth…

He broke off, and was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke slowly and dully, as though weary: All your things are p-packed and in order, I presume?

Yes, Father.

Then go to bed. You must sleep well tonight.

He sighed deeply and stood up, standing in one position for a moment before coming around the table to shift some papers about. I turned away.

Good night, Father, I said timidly.

He turned his attention back to me. G-good night. Sleep well, daughter. And then he removed his gaze from me to the fire.

I knew he was very tired; he was often curt late at night. I had wanted to see Rupert before he was ordered to bed, but as I had missed him, I just went to my own bed, where I lay and watched the moonlight creeping in through the window. Finally I got up and crept out into the silent hallway, so different when hushed in slumber, compared to day; and I went to the boys’ room, very, very carefully opening the door in a way I knew from experience prevented it from squeaking. As I had hoped, Rupert was still awake, and deftly he joined me. We had often done this early in the morning, spending a blissful hour in the kitchen with the servants before the household stirred, sharing with them the fire that burned most brightly when just lit, whilst they quietly prepared for the day’s tasks. Everything seems fresh and new in the dawn. But now we crept to our hiding position on the stairs and sat there purposefully, hands linked for safety.

Is anybody up still? asked Rupert anxiously.

I don’t think so. I heard Father pass before I came out.

I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow!

Neither can I. I’ve never been in a coach before. It feels like we’re going to the end of the world. I wonder how long it will take?

A long, long time, I'm sure.

I wish we could take the kittens with us, I added.

I reminded Margot to look after them, and asked her especially to look after the pigeons, because John and Deirdre always forget.

It seemed a long way till morning, as if the night were eternal, but I knew if I went to sleep it would pass by in a minute. So I stayed firmly where I was. Then I found myself sniffing with more and more tearful intensity, though I tried hard to suppress it. Rupert, when he realised what I was doing, said:

Ellen, what on earth are you crying about?

Oh, I don’t know!

He made an impatient sound. You must know what you’re crying about. You wouldn’t be crying for nothing.

True, I wasn’t a cry-baby like John.

"I just feel like crying," I answered.

But there must be a reason for the feeling.

I don’t feel because there’s a reason, I feel because I feel.

Your feet are cold. You’re shivering. We’d better go back to bed.

I was trembling, partly from the cold, partly from the unaccustomed excitement. Do you remember, I said, the time Mother caught us sitting here once?

Such a long time ago, it seemed. She had come out of the parlour, the last to retire that night, holding a candle that lit her fair hair, her straight, willowy form and the charming dress she wore. There must have been visitors that evening, for it was a cherry-red velvet overdress pulled back over a pale underdress embroidered with roses, a dress that made a warm rustle as she climbed the stairs, holding the candle before her. Rupert and I saw her emerge from the parlour and we had run to our hiding place. She passed, then stopped suddenly, turning to hold the candle above her - and was looking directly at us.

You naughty little things, what are you doing out of bed?

We were frozen by the fear that she had seen us, and the hope that she hadn't, and simply stared up at her. The candlelight glinted on the silver necklace she wore.

Shall I have to tie you to bed to keep you from roaming about?

I lost something, I said, thinking quickly.

What about you? she questioned Rupert.

I was helping her look for it, he answered promptly.

Well, take better care of it next time, and get to bed with you both, at once!

We were about to scamper off when she crouched down, and throwing her free arm about our small forms, hugged us fiercely together before ordering us away.

It was like a dream now. And this would be the last time we would ever sit here. Rupert was getting up.

I suppose we should go to bed, though I don’t feel sleepy at all. He yawned as he said it.

I wiped my tears as best I could in the dark with the nearest fold of nightgown, whether mine or Rupert’s, I don’t know.

I’m not the least bit tired, either, I echoed. But it is cold here.

So we kissed each other good night and I returned to try to get warm in bed while the moon smiled quietly in at me, until sleep closed in and suddenly it was morning.

Outside the window a dark coach was waiting, as if materialised from nowhere, and packages were being loaded into it. All the household was astir, watching from the hall, and even John and Deirdre, still sleepy, were excited, though it wasn’t happening to them. There was so much discussion about our changes, roads and stages that I felt daunted by the Unknown. I sat in the corner of the hall, my cloak over my arm, while Father and Mr Plagell talked and walked in and out. Soon I would go in like the boxes.

The interior of the coach had black leather straps and dark, worn seats. Rupert leaned over to me to say one of the horses was named Raving Bess, he had just found out. I submitted to tearful, parting embraces from the servants - it was as if I were going to disappear forever - I even forgot how outraged I had been at Deirdre’s getting some of my things, and how I had fussed and sulked with Nurse while she was packing because I wasn’t allowed to take everything of mine with me.

CHAPTER THREE

-1-

The countryside went on forever. Always another village, town, farmhouse and another turn in the road that led to more of the same. Would the journey ever end anywhere? The coach lurched over the ruts of the dry roads, the horses’ hooves raising swirls of dust. Rupert and I were seated opposite to Mr. Plagell’s clerk. He was sombre in black, reading in the limited light a little black book with smudgy black print. We soon tired of watching the little frayed black bookmark bobbing up and down, and turned our excited attention to the world passing by behind the dirty windows. This must be our destination; no, it’s not, over there, perhaps - no, we are turning away - have we gone the wrong way, are we lost? And then we were too much jolted to do anything except try to cover Rupert’s humour at the open curses of the coachmen as they urged the horses onward. I thought of Father’s parting words to him:

Many people have gone to a lot of t-trouble for you; be grateful and behave yourself as you have been taught.

It is hard to believe when I think about that journey that until the age of twelve I had never been farther from home than the length of Bristol. I had met no people other than my family and the few children in the street and the school friends of my brother. That had been my world.

Now here I was in a coach looking out at unfamiliar scenery, stopping for food and a change of horses at strange hostelries where the clerk did the talking and told us where to sit and what to eat. We never spoke to him, we just did as we were told, and we only talked together in careful whispers. Finally as the weary day came on to evening and dusk obscured the world outside, our guardian shut his book and just sat there in the dimness. The moon was already high, casting silver between the shadows. We stopped at another inn for food and rest, and we children fell asleep on a wide bench in a back parlour. We were woken while it was still dark and somehow were got back into the coach, where we huddled together and fell asleep again, despite the cold, as children can do almost anywhere.

Not long after, I opened sleepy, confused eyes as blue light came in through the windows. Struggling to sit up, I looked out at a fairyland of pearly mists muting the greens and browns of the earth, the shadows interwoven with light in a magical radiance. Light and dark were one. Sleepy cows hung their heads over pastures wet with dew; birds hidden in the shelter of trees were twittering loudly enough to be heard over the noise of the horses and wheels, and small woodland animals, disturbed by the rhythmic pacing of the horses and the heavy monotone of the wheels, quickly frisked out of sight and disappeared into the mysterious half-light. The sigh of the breeze was like the earth breathing. The light slowly increased, gained power and, as if at its command, the mists receded and the shadows retreated to their positions. The first low rays of the rising sun stretched out, the beasts of the field raised their heads, the birds lifted up their voices in song; and it was day.

As I rubbed my eyes, Rupert woke too, and in silence we gazed out at the strange world caught unawares in its waking. Now we could see the clerk clearly; he had his eyes shut, dozing upright in the hard leather seat. Every now and then we caught each other's eyes and giggled. What would this day bring us? Our hearts beat fast in excitement.

-2-

At noon we stopped before a stone building that looked like a larger cottage but had a sign hanging in front of it, betokening a stopping-house. The road in front and behind was empty. All around us were fields, space, sky, stretching out expansively. The wind ruffled the grass in an abandonment of freedom; we felt some of this too as we got out of the coach at last, given permission to go stretch your legs. But we weren't to go out of sight.

Across the road, beyond a low stone wall, was a pleasant grassy field with a small stretch of water. Rupert and I had never seen any landscape like this. We sat on the stone wall and looked about us. Then we went farther and looked at the wildflowers that were growing plentifully. We were so absorbed in picking some that we paid no heed to the sound of horses until our names were called. We dropped the flowers we had picked, and I took Rupert's hand so we could run back together.

As we approached the road we saw another man talking to the clerk. He was tall and had a loud voice, and I recognised him as the man who had been talking to my father so long ago: our Uncle Sinclair, head of the family. He watched us closely, as we ran up to him, innocently happy. My brother and I looked very much alike, slender of build with dark hair and brown eyes; though he was taller and my eyes were lighter, almost golden, and my skin fairer.

We were before our uncle now. The wind tugged at my hair, blowing strands of it across my face. Uncle Sinclair, ignoring me, took a good long look at Rupert and then with a scornful out-breath, remarked to everyone: By God, what a fine fellow! Look at him! Are you going to hold onto your sister’s hand all your life?

It was as if we had been struck.

Rupert dropped my hand abruptly, before I had taken in what had happened or why we were standing apart now. As we were ordered into the main room of the building, I collected my scattered wits and thought, ‘What is wrong with that? Why should he not hold my hand? We have always done so and no one has said anything about it,’ on and on. Yet I blushed with shame.

The clerk did not stay for dinner but took his leave of us, and so our last link with home was gone. We sat opposite our uncle at table. We were given cold meat and bread to eat, and I went through the motions of eating, hardly aware of hunger or weariness. Our uncle watched us the whole time. When his eyes were on me I just looked down at my plate as I chewed my food. He said nothing to me, only ever addressed himself to my brother, telling him to eat, to hurry up, and now to come along. I followed behind Rupert's brown coat as unobtrusively as possible, not able to take his hand anymore. We entered the coach before our uncle, and as I took my seat beside my brother, my uncle finally addressed me by saying curtly, No, miss, you'll sit on my side; and I stumbled to the designated seat, but at the farthest distance from him. It was strange that he called me miss as Nurse had lately begun to call me, yet it sounded totally different. It did not make me feel like a young lady. The horses started up, and suddenly I felt a great onslaught of tears. They flung themselves against my eyes like burning pains, but for the first time in my life I fought them back and somehow succeeded in overcoming them. I wrung my hands together under cover of my cloak so desperately that later they were red and sore. I looked straight ahead, not out of the window, lest the urge to jump out be too great. Home seemed not only a great way away but something that no longer existed.

It was dusk when we arrived at our destination, and we saw nothing of the building outside, being bundled straight from the coach to the door. There was a wide hallway, and we were led into a large room with wooden beams across the ceiling and a long table in the centre. Serving women brought candles and we were given a quick supper, then led away upstairs to bed. The woman who led the way was very different from Margot and Nurse; probably no more than thirty, and spare of frame. She was curt with us, but Rupert and I were able to look at each other behind her back, which was reassuring. Sharing this new environment with him made me feel a little better. I whispered a goodnight to him as I was bustled into a room and he was led on.

My room had some pretty furniture and was quite large. Everything was different from my old home; I felt strange and important. At night things always seem more mysterious, even the most ordinary things.

-3-

When I woke next morning it was quite late, but I had not been disturbed. The housekeeper Mrs Crowther, the thin woman who had taken me to my room the night before, now gave me some breakfast and helped me put my clothes in order. When I asked where Rupert was, she said he was already at work with my uncle. I was startled. Was he not to go to day school as he did at home? And anyway, it was summer, would we not have time to play? Not so, it seemed. This was to be the normal routine of the day.

Every morning from now on, except Sunday morning, Rupert spent with our uncle, going over his books. I was left to my own devices. I remember waiting drearily every day for dinner, when Rupert would at last appear, following our uncle to the table. Afterwards Rupert would fling on his brown coat with the yellow braid trimming and we would escape outside for fresh air and to explore some of the estate. The house seemed so big and isolated, surrounded by fields and woods, and there was much more activity going on outside than in. These were our only happy times.

The wind was unchecked by the buildings of men, or of trees in the cleared ground, so it passed over like a light-footed goddess; the grass bowed and parted at her passage, then down the slope the wind went, round the woods to scatter leaves and wilfully disturb the sleeping twigs, then off - to nowhere, or perhaps back to the sky from whence she came. Let's race the wind! one of us would yell, and we’d run with exhilarating speed down the slope, ending knee-deep in grass. It was long since childish feet had trod these paths, though Uncle Sinclair had been married once, surprisingly, as I heard from the housekeeper.

Too soon would the light fade, and it would be twilight, when lights begin one by one to appear inside inhabited dwellings, while outside all grows darker, as if the light of the world were leaving it to live confined in these lamps. Were human beings the only creatures whose souls needed the light? The lighted beacons in the dwellings of humans showed kinship to the moon and stars. Did they look down and smile?

Soon the lesson times extended well into the afternoon and it would be three o'clock before Uncle let Rupert out and we had dinner. Uncle Sinclair was unimpressed with my poor brother. Having taken stock of Rupert’s past schooling, and finding scanty evidence of it in his present knowledge, he grew more short-tempered by the day. Rupert was not as stupid as Uncle Sinclair believed; while he was not as clever as John, he was quicker than Geoffrey had ever been; but alas, he had never been a studious worker. Cleverness to him had always been the ability to do less work for the same result, and with the help of the other boys or the leniency of the masters, he had come through his previous schooling easily. Of the boys of our family, John was really the only clever one; he could remember anything he learned, picking up knowledge as pigeons pick grain. But he only did it for the praise. I wished I dared tell our uncle all this.

When Rupert didn’t know his lessons, Uncle would say, Perhaps a good thrashing would get it into you. I won’t tolerate laziness! Sometimes he was so angry with him he told him to Get you gone, with your woebegone face! You'll never amount to anything! It would take a couple of hours before Rupert's spirits recovered. He was growing more and more morose.

I can't remember anything when he's looking at me for the answer, he explained miserably. He's always telling me to do something I can't do - if he would just leave me alone I could think of it!

Nothing Rupert did suited our uncle. If you’ve got a head, use it, Uncle Sinclair would bark. If you haven’t, you’ll have to use your muscles and your backbone, and if you've neither of these, your heart had better hold out, because you’ll be used by everyone else all the days of your life!

I could make small sense of his speeches, but it made the future seem a perilous place. Rupert understood them better, and he became very discontented with his lot. Until now, people had always liked him. He missed his friends, missed being with me, hated working at his books, hated our uncle.

I cannot say I hated my uncle, because I did not look upon him as an ordinary human being. To me he was an ogre. No wonder Rupert could make no headway with him! I was always telling him that Uncle Sinclair was a cruel and terrible man; I was sure he was truly wicked. He was planning bad things all the time, had taken us from our family - and why, but to ruin us all? Everything I could find out about our uncle I twisted to sound sinister. He had been married once. So where was his wife? Had he got rid of her, locked her away, had an evil spell worked on her?

Maybe she ran away by herself, said Rupert with more mature judgement.

Everything our uncle did was charged with malevolent meaning to me. He spoke in cryptic riddles. I grew so frightened that I avoided seeing him at night and would never stand in his shadow if I had to approach him. Though too old to frighten myself with such ideas as I used to (when I had to call Nurse to see me to bed), I convinced myself that our uncle really had evil designs and we were completely at his mercy. He was the Evil Fate grown-ups spoke of, the Blind Fate you could not escape, the Fate that would get you in the end.

His reasons for concentrating on Rupert's education soon became clear.

We were at dinner one Sunday. We had just returned from church, and it was that quiet dull time when everything seems sleepy and slow. Rupert and I ate in silence while Uncle spoke to us, to himself, to the servants - he just spoke out loud to whoever was there to listen.

You'd better try harder to get some knowledge or you'll never keep up at school, he growled.

Rupert glanced up, then let his eyes fall again.

That's right, you'll be off to school in a month's time and woe betide you then, for laziness and impertinence. I don't know how you'll keep up. But we've four weeks to get you up to standard, if we work hard.

He applied himself to his soup noisily, then announced: After that you'll be going into the army. That'll make a man of you!

Rupert and I woke from our apathy. We both looked up, horrified.

Yes, said Uncle Sinclair, chewing on his bread, an army career's your best bet. You don't need too much brain. You'll be on your feet, have the chance of advancement. There's nothing else for you. Your father's got nothing, he got nothing from our father, all he has is his business - and that'll go to your older brother. Much good may it do him! Your father'll leave you nothing and no one else will either. You've got absolutely nothing in this world, not land nor money, so you'll have to make your own way. You've nothing in your head and no skills. If you don't push yourself forward, you'll get nowhere. Well, I've agreed to educate you and to get you a commission, like a gentleman. I don't know what you'll do with it.

Rupert suddenly muttered under his breath, I don't want anyone's money, least of all yours.

This was so unexpected that Uncle stared incredulously for a long moment before he jumped up from his seat in a rage. I don't think he heard what Rupert said but he knew he was being rebellious, and his face went absolutely purple. He grabbed up the nearest object to hand, the soup ladle, and then he fell upon Rupert, thrashing it this way and that. A piercing high scream forced its way out of my throat - I hardly knew who had screamed - and I jumped up, too. Before I could do anything, my uncle thrust his other arm out and pushed me roughly aside, saying, Get you gone! What has this to do with you? Mrs Crowther pulled me out of the room, and I could hear: Thump! Thump! Thump! I flinched at each dull blow as if it were about to descend on my own back. I remember the housekeeper trying to calm me down, for I was almost beside myself, and then Rupert coming out of the room, his face red and blotched from suppressed tears of rage and pain. I ran to him but he shook me off and blindly headed upstairs. I just stood there, watching his retreating back.

Leave him alone, said Mrs Crowther not unkindly. He'll be all right. Go out and take a walk.

An hour later Rupert came outside at last. His face was stony.

What is going to happen? I implored him, as if he could give me a different answer to what I feared.

I'm going to boarding school, he said, in four weeks' time. And when I’m finished with school, then I'm going into the army.

I could hardly believe it. Never had I imagined such a separation. Fate had caught up with me, yet I fought it desperately.

But you won't go and leave me here, will you? I cried aghast. He'll change his mind, won't he?

I don't want to go, I have to go.

You don't have to go! Tell him you won't! But even as I said it I knew it was impossible.

He'll thrash me again.

However horrifying that prospect was, his going away was worse. My voice rose almost to a scream: You can't leave me here!

I have to, said Rupert hopelessly.

I stared at him, I did not know what to do; then I turned and ran off blindly, but where could I run to? There was no place to go, it was all alien and unfriendly. There was no one to run to, now that Rupert had become the source of my sorrow. I knew at last that I would be homesick always, alone always, that this was no temporary life but forever. I was never going home to the old life from where this would seem a strange episode. How could I endure being alone for the rest of my life in this cold and indifferent place?

CHAPTER FOUR

-1-

Every day passed mercilessly. Rupert refused to talk about his going away and I tried to believe it wasn't going to happen. But neither of us did much with our free time anymore. Now and then someone in the household made a reference to my brother’s departure, or repeated some comment of our uncle's in relation to it. Rupert continued to work at his books and to do what was expected of him in preparation for his new life. Neither of us had any idea what being in the army would be like. Common soldiers were considered a rough lot, but there were soldiers who were heroic and commanding men, fighting great battles and winning great renown. Even a king's son fought in wars. I didn't know how Rupert would end up.

My eyes were full of unshed tears that were held back because of the last little hope that it wouldn't really happen. But a week before his departure, with the trunk nearly full and the new pair of shoes standing ready before it, I knew it was reality. It would not be held back.

I was looking at the trunk inside his room that night, the sign of this terrible thing that must happen, when Rupert said, It will be an exciting life, being in the army. There will be many things to face and do. Men have to do things like this so we can protect our country and make it great. I'm not a boy anymore, I'm fourteen. He looked at me directly for the first time in weeks, and tried to smile. And won't it be fun when I become an officer in a scarlet coat and shiny top boots?

We desperately tried to cheer up by embarking on an imaginary voyage into the future. He bowed to me so low that his make-believe hat fell off, and I, now a proud lady with her head so high in the air, condescended to use it as a stepping stone over the muddy ground.

He was completely resigned and I had given up all hope of a reprieve, when two days before his planned departure, abruptly he changed. Suddenly he was refusing to go, he was declaring he wouldn't go; then he decided to confront our uncle with his newfound courage. It was a final, desperate effort for him and I almost wished he wouldn't. Now that I began to hope again, I became angry and frightened again. And what would happen if he opposed our uncle's will? Would he be beaten, could he be sent to prison?

What shall you say to him? I asked, trying to sound casual. Think it out beforehand, be careful -

"I don't know. Yes I do: I shall just ask him