Michael Cox - The Meaning of Night

J. EAMES

I laid down the letter and turned to open Lady Tansor’s writing-box.

Underneath the hinged slope were a great many papers, the majority of which appeared to be a sequence of letters from Mrs Simona Glyver, sent from the village of Sandchurch in Dorset to Evenwood, and dating from the beginning of July 1819, with one or two others written by this lady from Dinan in France to an address in Paris during the summer of the following year, and yet more sent to her Ladyship from Dorset throughout the late summer and early autumn of 1820, directed first to Paris, and then, from October onwards, to Evenwood. Though not all were dated, I quickly saw that the letters in the box partially filled the fifteen-month gap that I had noticed from my earlier examination of the communications from this lady that were already in my possession. I sat down and began to read through the letters methodically.

I do not have time to record here the contents of each letter in detail. Some were inconsequential and ephemeral, merely containing the usual harmless chatter and gossip characteristic of such exchanges between ladies. But others had an altogether different tone and purpose, especially the earlier communications, written throughout July 1819, which seemed indicative of some great impending crisis. A few extracts from letters written to her Ladyship by Mrs Glyver during that month (in which, I deduce, Miss Eames is referred to as ‘Miss E’) will serve to illustrate the point. [Friday, 9th July 1819, Sandchurch] I beg you, dearest friend, to think again. It is not yet too late. Miss E has, I know, more than once urged reconsideration on you. I now add my voice to hers – as one who loves you like a sister – and who will always have your best interests at heart. I know how you have suffered, after the death of yr poor father – but is not the punishment you intend out of all proportion to the offence? Even as I write the question I can anticipate yr answer – & yet still I exhort you with all my strength to stand back & consider what you are doing. I am afraid – Miss E is afraid – & you should be, too, for there may be consequences – perhaps of the most terrible kind – that you can neither foresee nor control. [Thursday, 15th July 1819, Sandchurch] Your reply is as I expected – & I see you are determined to proceed. I have heard separately from Miss E, who says that you will not be persuaded, and therefore must be helped – to ensure that what is done is done well, and as privily as we may. For we cannot let you do this alone. [Saturday, 17th July 1819, Sandchurch] In haste. I have made my arrangements. Miss E will have told you the name of the hotel – and I have the address of yr man in London. It will be some comfort to me – though a selfish one – to have this safeguard, if such it be, for the future. God forgive us for what we are about to do – but never believe, my dearest L, that I shall fail you. That I shall never do – though I may be called to account – in this world or the next. Sister I have called you, & sister you are, & will always be. There is no one more precious to me. I am with you now unto the last. [Friday, 30th July 1819, Red Lion, Fareham] I arrived here safely this afternoon and send this on ahead to assure you that all is well. The Captain raised no objections to my leaving – he neither knows nor cares what I do, as long as I put nothing in the way of his pleasures. Indeed, he was charming enough to tell me I may go to the Devil as long as I leave him in peace. He was glad to hear that my accompanying you would not prove a drain on his purse! That was his main concern. I am to visit my aunt in Portsmouth tomorrow, as you know. She strongly suspects that the reason for my ‘condition’ may not be whispered, which of course is not quite what I intended, but I shall not disabuse her – in order that the waters shall remain conveniently muddied. As she cannot abide the Captain, she will say nothing to him, and does not condemn me in the least – in fact applauds what, if it were true, would have been an act of the most unmitigated scandal. And so I go there as a kind of heroine – my aunt being a great admirer of Miss Wollstonecraft’s disregard of social propriety and seeing me as in some sort – like Miss W – striking a blow for the rights of our sex through my transgression. *What the Captain will say when I come back with a baby in my arms, I do not know. But the calendar will now be a witness-I made sure of that (though he may not remember). †I shall be with you as planned on Tues. morning. And so the die is cast, and two husbands will go to bed tonight wifeless. I wish there was some other way – but the time for all that is past. No more words. Please to destroy this on receipt, as you have done, I hope, with the others – I have been as careful as I can &have left nothing behind.

From a receipt dated the 3rd of August 1819, I surmise that the two friends, perhaps with Miss Eames in attendance, met together in Folkestone. They then departed for Boulogne, on or about the 5th of that month. A letter received by her Ladyship some weeks later, from an address in Torquay, confirms (what I did not know for certain before) that Miss Eames did not accompany them to the Continent. After the letter quoted above, parts of which I did not fully understand at first, there seem to have been no further communications from Mrs Glyver to her Ladyship until the 16th of June 1820, which, to my mind, strongly suggested that they remained together in France – as, indeed, proved to be the case. However, there are letters to her Ladyship from a Mr James Martin, an aide to Sir Charles Stuart, the Ambassador in Paris, *written in February and March of the following year – on seeing them in the writing-box, I remembered that this gentleman had been a guest at Evenwood on more than one occasion. The purpose of the exchange was to secure accommodation for her Ladyship in the French capital over the summer. I could not help but smile, despite the growing fear I felt within me, when I saw to where Mr Martin’s replies had been directed: Hôtel de Québriac, Rue du Chapitre, Rennes.

The letter from Mrs Glyver of the 16th of June 1820, alluded to above, was written from Dinan to her friend in Paris, to a house in the Rue du Faubourg St Honoré. †The friends seem to have left Rennes together around the second week of June, taking lodgings in Dinan before her Ladyship departed alone for Paris. In her letter, Mrs Glyver begins by speaking of her imminent return to England. And then comes this extraordinary passage:I took the little one to see the tombs in the Salle des Gisants ‡yesterday – he seemed much entertained by them, though the chamber was cold & damp & we did not stay long. But as we were leaving he put his little hand out – so sweetly and gently – to touch the face of one of the figures, a thin old lady. Of course, it was just an accident, not deliberate at all, but yet it seemed like a conscious act & I whispered to him that these were once all fine lords and ladies – like his mamma and papa. And he gave me such a look as if he understood every word. We encountered Madame Bertrand at the Porte du Guichet & she walked with us for a time along the Promenade. It was such a beautiful day – cloudless, a delicious soft breeze, with the river sparkling below us, & I so longed for you to be with us once more. Madame B said again how like you he is, & indeed it is so, tho’ he is still a mite. At least when I look into his dear face, with those great eyes gazing back, I feel you are close. I hate to think of you alone when we are here, longing for you to be with us, & I cried for us both last night. You were so brave when you left us. I could hardly bear it, for I knew how you suffered & how you wd suffer more when we were out of sight. Even now I wd bring him to you, if your resolve should falter. But I do not think it will – and I weep for you, dearest sister. I kiss yr beautiful son every night & assure him that his mamma will love him for ever. And I shall love him too. Write soon.