Michael Cox - The Meaning of Night

She appeared to take unfeigned pleasure in my company, always greeting me with a sunny smile as I entered the drawing-room of her aunt’s house, slipping her arm into mine as we walked, and allowing me to kiss her hand when I arrived to see her, and when I left.

She had become the most companionable of companions, the most considerate of friends; but now I began to discern unmistakable signs of something more – certain gestures and looks; a tone of voice; my hand retained a little longer, and held a little tighter, than previously; the eager, bright-eyed greetings; the intentional brush of her body against mine as we stood waiting to cross a road. These all spoke of something more – much more – than friendship; and I was overwhelmed with joy to know that love had finally come upon her, as it had come upon me.

And then, in the third week of June, Lord and Lady Tansor returned from the West Indies – Daunt was making his separate way home, having literary business in New York. Accordingly, Miss Carteret began to make preparations to leave her aunt’s house for Evenwood. On the morning before her departure, we walked out into Hyde-park. The day was overcast, and after an hour we found ourselves in a deserted corner of the Park, running towards a large oak-tree to shelter from a sudden downpour of rain.

We stood for several minutes, huddled closely together and laughing like children as the raindrops pitter-pattered through the branches. Then, away to the west, came a faint rumble of thunder, the sound of which caused her to look round anxiously.

‘We are not safe here,’ she said.

I told her that there was no danger, and that the storm was too far away to be of concern.

‘But I am frightened nonetheless.’

‘But, dearest, there is no reason.’

She paused before replying. ‘Perhaps it is not the storm that frightens me,’ she said softly, with her eyes to the ground, ‘but the greater tumult in my heart.’

In a moment I had pulled her close to me. Her breath was sweet and warm as I pressed my lips to hers, gently at first, then more urgently. The body I had once thought immune to desire now yielded willingly, eagerly, to my touch and thrust itself so hard against mine that I almost lost my balance. And still she would not break off the embrace. Like some mighty onrush of water, irreversible and immense, she broke against me, battered me, submerged me, until, as if I were a drowning man, my life seemed to pass before my eyes, and I offered myself up to sweet oblivion.

She clung to me, panting, her bonnet fallen back on her shoulders, her hair awry and disordered, her face spattered with rain.

‘I have loved you from the very first moment,’ I whispered.

‘And I you.’

We stood in silence, her head resting on my shoulder, her fingers gently tracing little circles on the nape of my neck, until the rain began to ease.

‘Will you love me always?’ she said.

‘Do you need to ask?’

*[‘Who shall separate us?’ Ed. ]

*[Words from the first two lines of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 137: ‘Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, / That they behold, and see not what they see?’ Ed. ]

*[Marie Tussaud, née Grosholtz (1761–1850). During the French Revolution she had assisted the wax modeller Dr Philippe Curtius to make moulds of the heads of decapitated victims of the Terror. She established her Bazaar in Baker Street in 1835. The name ‘Chamber of Horrors’ was coined by a contributor to Punch in 1845 to describe the room containing the gruesome relics of the Revolution, along with newly created figures of murderers and other criminals. Ed. ]

40

Nec scire fas est omnia *

From that day onwards I felt renewed, vivified, happier, and more free of care than at any time since my student days in Heidelberg. What could I not achieve, now that I possessed my dear girl’s love! It had been arranged that I would go to Evenwood as soon as she was settled, a prospect that rendered everything else dreary and uninteresting. But then I received a letter from Mr Tredgold, which shamed me back to a contemplation of all the things I had neglected.MY DEAR EDWARD, —I was most concerned when you did not come back to Canterbury as arranged. Many weeks have passed without word from you, & now Mr Orr has written to say that you have not been to Paternoster-row this past month, which makes me fear some harm may have come to you. I am much improved, as you see by my handwriting, & as you could observe for yourself. But as I am still unable to leave Canterbury, I beg you to write to me as speedily as you may, to put my mind at rest that all is well with you.I shall make no mention here of the other matter that has been constantly on my mind since your last visit – I allude of course to the remark that you made as you were leaving, concerning what you have been seeking – other than to say that it is of such moment that it would be foolish, for both of us, to commit anything concerning it to paper. I hope you will write soon, to let me know when I might expect you here, so that we may discuss this matter face to face.May God bless you and protect you, my dear boy.C. TREDGOLD

My employer’s words roused me from my lotos-dream, and I immediately took train to Canterbury.

I found Mr Tredgold sitting in a wicker chair under a lilac-tree, in a sunny garden at the rear of Marden House. He had a rug over his knees, and was in the act of making some notes in a small leather-bound book. His face, shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat, was thin and worn, but he had regained a little of his old suavity of manner, as evidenced by the beaming smile with which he greeted me.

‘Edward, my dear, dear boy! You have come. Sit down! Sit down!’

His speech was a little slurred, and I noticed that his hand was shaking slightly as he polished his eye-glass; but in all other respects he appeared to have suffered no permanent disablement. He wasted no time on idle chatter, but began at once by telling me that a deed had now been enrolled in Chancery to break the entailed portion of Lord Tansor’s inheritance, and that, in anticipation of this succeeding, a new will had been drawn up that would make Phoebus Daunt his Lordship’s legal heir.

‘Lord Tansor has instructed all concerned that he wishes the matter to be expedited,’ said Mr Tredgold, ‘and though of course the law cannot be hurried, it is certain that it will feel obliged to pick up its skirts and do its best to walk a little faster. Sir John Mounteagle has been retained by Lord Tansor to see the deed through Chancery, which he will do with his customary vigour, I have no doubt. I think we may expect matters to be settled by the autumn. And so, Edward, if we are to prevent the will being signed, it will be necessary to lay our hands on some invincible instrument. Do you, as you implied, have possession of such an instrument?’

‘I have nothing in my possession,’ I admitted, ‘except my foster-mother’s journals and Mr Carteret’s Deposition, which, you advised, will be insufficient to prove my case. But I have a strong conviction of where the final proof may be hidden, and I believe that Mr Carteret shared my conviction.’

‘And where might this place be?’

‘In the Mausoleum at Evenwood. In the tomb of Lady Tansor.’

The eye-glass dropped from Mr Tredgold’s trembling fingers.

‘In Lady Tansor’s tomb! What possible grounds do you have for this extraordinary conviction?’

And then I told him of the words that Miss Eames had written on a slip of paper and sent to Mr Carteret – the same words that were graven on my mother’s tomb.

Mr Tredgold took off his hat, and placed his head in his hands. After a little time, in which nothing was said by either of us, he turned his sad blue eyes towards me.