The Imaginary Gentleman (13 page)

A
T
O
AKMONT
, L
AURA ATE A
solitary dinner at the long table in the dining hall, her place well lit by candles, while shadows crowded into the further recesses of the room. Sir Richard must have frequently faced this array of dishes alone, sat here alone, with the butler and footman waiting in readiness behind him to move a dish closer or to spoon a potato onto his plate.

Even in the last years of Mr. Evans's life, when he travelled little and could not abide separation from Elspeth, Laura had made her annual visit to Oakmont, but had never dined here by herself. If an engagement had taken Sir Richard away, she always sat opposite her aunt, whose grim visage had faced her through so many a meal for most of her life.

Laura raised her eyes from her plate and looked at the place vacated by Aunt Morrison, picturing her in the plain, crisp white cap that had covered her hair, with long frilled flaps over her ears. Oh, how we hated her, she thought. Yes, we hated you, Aunt Morrison! You came to take our mother's place but you found no joy in caring for us—you had no love to give. That dry sense of duty dominated your life.

Laura stared and blinked, felt a slow chill of fear creep along her arms and neck, as a shadowy representation of the woman herself seemed to form in the chair, candle-lit against the dark space behind, her gaunt face withered by the cancers she suffered in her last years.

“Do not come back to me,” Laura whispered, soundlessly. “Your coldness forced me to keep my true self secret.”

Horrified, Laura thought she saw tears forming in the old lady's eyes. Yet, she knew she brought the image up from her own memory; she even blinked her eyes to be rid of it.

Laura's lips formed the words but she did not speak them. Why could you not love us, Aunt? Why could you not take two little orphans in your arms and love us?

The withered face looked sternly back at her and Laura felt the answer form in her own mind. Why, our faces—Elspeth's and mine—were closed against her!

The figure of her aunt stood up and Laura wondered for an instant that the footman did not leap forward to move her chair. She turned her head and saw the servant at her side, holding a serving dish, standing frozen, his eyes full of fear. She waved him back.

Laura turned back to the bent figure standing across from her and felt herself dwindle to her childish self, as a child saw the stern countenance. She felt her lips part and she almost cried aloud. We hate you! How we hate you, Aunt Morrison! She recalled it now—after forgetting for so long—there had been a glittering in the woman's eyes, and the child Laura had added something like “We will never love you!” She recalled the snapping of her aunt's next words, “You are the two most horrid little girls I have ever encountered. I did not seek love from such as you.” She had never forgotten the wound of her aunt's words, but she had not recalled her own childish cruelty until now.

I knew not that my aunt had such feelings, she thought.

Laura blinked and brought her senses back to the present. She was suddenly aware of the menservants behind her waiting, no doubt wondering, at the strange silent pause in the room. She began to rise and the footman leapt forward to draw back her chair.

“I am not quite well, Michael,” she said. “Please bring my coffee to my room.”

He opened the great wooden door into the hall and Laura, oblivious of his fearful expression, passed out of it and upstairs.

 

Laura visited her sister where she lay in her bed, all white lace and frills, the scent of lavender overpowering the room. After dabbing the invalid's forehead with a cool cloth, Laura sat down by the bed.

“I thought of Aunt Morrison at dinner, Elspeth—of the way she was seemingly so hard and unloving.”

“Laura, how can you speak to me of Aunt Morrison when I am in this state?”

“You do not look ill, Elspeth.”

“What do you know of my sufferings? You spent your day in selfish pursuit of pleasure, neglecting me, your only sister.”

“If you have felt abandoned, I am sorry.”

“My head aches unbearably—I cannot have you remain in the room.”

“I shall continue to neglect you then,” said Laura and went to her own room.

Here she seated herself at her table and unlocked her little desk. Presently, Michael brought coffee to her and a plate of little cakes.

“How thoughtful you are!” she said.

Jonathon entered. “Miss, should I carry in a little bed for Sarah?”

“Good lord, no, Jonathon! Why should I put you to such trouble?”

“This old place gets lonely with so few folks in it.”

“If Sarah is nervous, she must sleep with one of the other maids.”

Jonathon departed and Laura opened her journal.

Laura looked out into the growing darkness, sighing.

The next morning, Elspeth lay in her room, complaining of an intolerable pressure in her head. Laura decided to take a walk alone to Lewton Hall. Like a shadow, Jonathon appeared behind her before she could cross the hall and Sarah ran up from below stairs.

“Might I come with you, Miss Laura? I can carry your sketchbook.”

“Nay, Sarah, I will do that,” said Jonathon.

“Don't be foolish!” said Laura. “I can carry my book and even a pencil.”

A weak voice floated down to them from the top of the stairs. Laura looked up to see her sister clinging to the balustrade with one hand, while she held the other to her head.

“Jonathon, send the carriage around for Miss Morrison,” she said.

“Elspeth, this is ridiculous!” said Laura.

“You shall travel as a lady does,” said Elspeth.

Laura stormed out of the great door and down the steps, while Michael darted around the house towards the stables. Laura was sorely tempted to set off at once, on foot; she had looked forward to the exercise and felt in any case that it was incumbent upon her to take a stand. She walked briskly down the driveway to the gate. Behind her, she heard the crunch of gravel under Sarah's feet.

She said, “Go back, Sarah.”

“I daresn't, Miss Laura.”

Laura looked out across the lawn to a side gate that offered a short cut. The grass sparkled with raindrops.

“'Tis very wet, miss.”

“I shall not give you the needless work of cleaning the hem of my coat. Come, let us walk along the road and let the carriage overtake us.”

 

The servants delivered their charge safely at the steps of Lewton Hall. After a short conversation, Mrs. Woodruff and Jane excused themselves on the grounds that Evalina was so easily distracted. Laura was left alone with Evalina to work upon the portrait.

Staying quite still for as much as five minutes, Evalina said, “Did the captain carry a kind report of my sister to the baronet?”

“My brother doesn't always remember to be so gallant but I told Sir Richard of Miss Woodruff's kindness to that little orphan.”

“I suppose he is a man of practical talents and very sensible.”

“Sir Richard certainly takes a practical interest in the management of his estate,” Laura obtusely replied.

“I … I meant Captain Morrison.”

“Oh, him! My brother entered the navy at the age of twelve, Miss Evalina. It is not a life that generally produces a poet. He is a very capable man, I fancy.”

“He will marry a sensible and capable lady then,” ventured Evalina.

Laura noted the faint, pretty flush on the girl's cheeks.

“He has never confided in me his requirements in a wife.”

“It does not do for a clever man to marry someone stupid.”

“Not everyone stops to think of what will
do
when they choose their partner in life.”

Evalina dropped her pose altogether, and turned full on to Laura, her eyes sparkling. “I see you are making fun of me, Miss Morrison.” She laughed, her dimples deepening, and lowered her long black lashes so that they swept against her cheeks. Laura saw in that moment what all men must find charming in such a creature.

 

After half an hour, Laura felt satisfied with her sketches. She walked out with Miss Woodruff, followed by the faithful Jonathon and Sarah.
They went first to the village, where Jane paid her daily visit to the child who had captured her interest. The little girl, four years of age, clung to her foster-mother's skirt all the while, looking up at Laura, her little mouth agape.

Miss Woodruff said, “We cannot override her aunt's wishes. It is proper that she should go to her relations in Honiton.” She bent over the child and cupped the grubby little chin with her hand. “You see, Susan, everyone wants you. I hope you will be very good for your aunt.”

She paid the goodwife her foster fee and promised the bundle of clothing in time for the carter, with whom the aunt had made arrangements to take the child away.

Walking back towards Lewton Hall, Laura said, “I wonder what future awaits her? I hope her aunt will be kind.”

“It would not be right to keep her in the village, when her own kin send for her.”

“Indeed we cannot all be where we would wish.”

Laura felt Miss Woodruff's keen glance and hoped she had not betrayed any of the bitterness in her heart at that moment.

The wind was cold but the day had a bright crisp feel of autumn, as they passed through a small gate into the park and began to walk at a brisker pace, following paths that took them through woodland and meadows. Laura paused at the view of a natural depression in the ground, filled with swamp plants, the reeds turning yellow, and the leaves of the primroses at the edge beginning to curl up, with the poignant beauty of autumn. Jane looked at Laura, whose eyes were tracing the patterns of light and form that lent the scene its loveliness.

“How would you paint such a scene?” said Miss Woodruff.

Laura smiled. “You are very observant, Miss Woodruff,” she said. Jane listened carefully to her new friend's explanations.

“How wonderful it must be to have such skill!”

“Mr. Evans, my sister's late husband, took great interest in my drawing, and made sure I had the best masters. I owe him a debt of gratitude.”

“He was a very wealthy man, I believe.”

“Indeed he was, and generous too.”

“Do you see his family at all?”

“No, I do not,” said Laura, wondering if word had reached the Woodruffs of the quarrels that broke out in Mr. Evans's family when he signed over a valuable property to his child bride. “I paid long visits to my sister during her marriage, but her stepson lives in the north. Our visits never coincided, so I missed the opportunity to spend time with his
numerous
children.” She gave her companion a wry look and Jane laughed.

“You have accomplishments of your own, Miss Woodruff. I greatly admire the screen you embroidered for your mother.”

“It gives her pleasure, as I knew it would, and that gave me the patience to finish it. Yet, how I prefer to be of real use!”

Laura stopped and turned to look at her companion, whose expression was of an artless sincerity.

“You really mean it!” Laura said.

Miss Woodruff said, “There is no great merit in doing what gives one pleasure. I enjoy doing what I can for a child such as little Susan.”

“You make me feel ashamed. What a selfish creature I am!”

“You are too modest. Sir Richard told me that there is scarcely a cottage in the village that does not proudly display some example of your portraiture.”

“I draw for my own amusement. Quick charcoal and pencil sketches purchase praise very cheaply. My cousin is too good.”

“He is indeed a very good sort of man,” said Jane, in a serious tone. “I do not know him well, yet that kindness in him shines out.”

They continued their walk in silence for a few moments, with Laura's mind busy with everything she had heard. What wonders this lady might do for me, she thought. She will make a good creature of me yet. Richard is very kind. He cannot help but be stupid—yet over that he has no power; he has only power over his own actions. Those actions—sometimes bumbling and irritating—are invariably kind. He thinks of others before himself, while I … it does not bear thinking of.

They returned to the house in time to take tea with the other ladies. As they entered the drawing room, they heard Evalina's voice raised in exclamation. At once, Laura saw that the young lady was holding the sketchbook open in her hands. Her eyes betrayed her great curiosity and her lips were parted in the remark cut off by the sound of the door. She blushed furiously as Laura came in.