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Make me a willow cabin at your gate
(Twelfth Night I.v.268)
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“I HAVE ALREADY TOLD you the first part of my tale, I know.” Her voice was distant, as if she were making a great effort to remain impassive. “My father loved me and indulged me and gave me an education equal or better than what most boys of our station could hope to receive. He was a good man, and cared for our estate and our tenants, and they trusted him and were fiercely loyal in return.
“At first, when Harry went away, we thought he would be gone a few short months, perhaps a year or two at most, to gain the experience and worldly knowledge he needed to run the estate and lead it into the coming time of technological change. My uncle was very keen on the new industrial developments and thought Harry would be well served by some experience in the greater world. Father agreed, for it sounded to be a good scheme. But after Mother disappeared and Father was killed, I saw that Harry’s disappearance was not benign. I began to realize how much I should fear Uncle Percival.
“He was clever. Immediately after Father’s accident, he came to the house to offer his assistance until we could contact Harry and bring him home. He offered me time to mourn and let me remain in my rooms for longer than I ought to have done. Then he said that he desired me close to home to ascertain my well-being and to keep me from danger, lest an accident similar to Father’s befall me.
“He told me that if I were to marry my cousin Percy, I would be truly safe and happy. He might have convinced another, but I could see that his promise was, in truth, a threat. His real meaning was that if I did not marry my cousin, I should never be safe. It soon became evident that I was a prisoner in the house and that I needed to make my escape. I stole clothing from the servants’ washing line when no one was watching and I made my plans, and when the time was right, when everybody was distracted by a terrible storm and fire caused by a lightning strike, I fled. I chopped off my hair, dressed as a local boy, and ran into the night with what little money I had strapped to my body beneath my clothing.
“You know the story from there. That was when you found me. I had not thought to be in need of such assistance, for I had hoped to walk into Derby and from there catch a coach to London. I had not counted upon slipping in the cold stream and breaking my ankle. But you found me and helped me and gave me not only the transportation I needed, but another purpose. I had never thought to use the skills God had given me, or the education I begged from my father, and I cannot say how delighted I was to become your assistant.”
Edward stared at her, contempt in his eyes.
“No, Edward, it is true. I really enjoyed what I did for you. After so many years of being regarded as a curiosity or some mark of the devil, my strange gifts were suddenly useful and had value, and I cannot tell you what a remarkable thing that was for me to discover. I felt like I had a purpose.”
She let her free hand gently touch Edward’s arm, tracing it from wrist to elbow. The sensation overwhelmed his ability to think; his mind wished to yell at her to cease her assault, but his heart pleaded silently for her never to stop. The internal battle was as disconcerting as her touch, and he found he could not speak.
“I discovered something else as well. I discovered your goodness and your kind heart. I was so very scared at first, and I dreaded what might happen if I had to change my clothing in your sight, or worse, if I had to sleep in a bed with you. I was terrified lest you discover my real identity. But you were so full of compassion for a lost boy, and you let me have my oddities and insecurities. I discovered that my saviour was not merely kind and intelligent but that he was also a wonderful man. I discovered that I was falling in love with you.”
She stopped to gather her thoughts before continuing her tale. Edward turned his eyes to hers, to try to read the truth in her words, but said nothing. Then she continued.
“I knew you could never love me whilst I played the part of Matthew, but I wanted you to know me. That was when I came upon the idea of the letters. I thought that if you could learn to like me and become my friend through a correspondence, then perhaps, when it was safe, I might reveal myself to you. And I was surprised at what I learned of you through the letters as well. As a merchant, you show one face to the world, but as a correspondent, you show another. As much as your good nature appealed to me initially, the intelligence and good understanding displayed in your letters made me fall even more deeply in love with you.”
Edward jerked his hand back involuntarily at this confession, although he had heard the words from her before. She reached to grab it again, lacing her fingers more tightly with his. “Please don’t pull away, Edward,” she begged. “Let me finish.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, and thus encouraged, she spoke further.
“You will want to know how I found Gwen Lancaster. I had known, before Father died and before I was imprisoned in the house, that she and her mother were for London, and on those cherished Wednesdays that I had at my disposal, I sought after her.” Her voice became somewhat cheeky now as she explained how a scruffy lad, claiming to be a messenger, might find any sort of information about a person’s whereabouts in Town.
“I discovered her and with a note, let something of my tale be known. Gwen and I had been co-conspirators for years as children, although her tastes ran to more genteel and ladylike activities than did mine. Nonetheless, in all our years of misadventures as children, not once did she betray my ill deeds to my parents. She can be, as you have most likely seen, a remarkable actress. I knew I could trust her with my plan, although I made her promise to keep our secret from everybody, even her dear mother.
“The ball seemed like a gift from above, for I realized that I might use the masquerade to walk and talk with you as normal people do. When I learned that Gwen was to be invited, I felt that the gods had blessed me indeed. I need not tell you the rest, for you know it all now.
“Having been with you once, I could not bear to be parted again, and so, with Gwen’s help, I contrived to arrange as many clandestine meetings as I could manage. Edward, there was no artifice or disguise then. You must believe me. There were no lies or half-truths when we met in those dark rooms or behind heavy winter scarves. If I lied to you, it was to protect myself from what we now know was a very real danger. And once we admitted our love for each other, it was to protect you as well. My uncle is a cruel man, and no stranger to violence or even murder. I suspected he would not be incapable of harming you in order to return me to Arlenby to marry my cousin, and the attempt on your life with the work horses only proved that my suspicions were well founded.”
She swallowed and continued with a tight voice. “When I heard of the incident with the horses... when I thought what might have happened, that you might have been grievously injured, and by my hand...” She stared directly at him. “In spite of all my efforts, he still struck out at you. I cannot imagine what he might have done had my identity been better known. Please believe me, my intention was not to hurt you but to protect you.”
Edward finally found his voice. To his own surprise, it was devoid of pain, and only held a lingering sadness. “I am wounded that you would not trust me. That you used me and my parents as you did, taking your refuge in our home but not giving us the honour of your faith.”
Turning her head towards the distant sea, she confessed, “I did use you. I felt safe for the first time in so many months, and I felt loved and appreciated. I could not give those up, and if I harmed you, all I can do is apologize. I should have declared my true identity, Edward, but ask yourself, honestly, if you would have been able to keep our secret.
“Would no glance have escaped your kind eye, or no unintended word pass through your soft lips? Would a businessman-like handshake have become a caress?” She looked at him with her light blue-grey eyes. “Admit it, my love. You are not a man who can dissemble like that. Perhaps your genuine honesty is why you have been so sorely wounded by my disguise.”
Edward felt his world shift a little at those words. Was it true? He was honest to a fault, this he had always understood, and he had, with full awareness, forgone some profits or opportunities in his business dealings when he had refused to mislead his customers. He could not let a customer believe that a bolt of cloth was costlier than Edward felt it was truly worth, nor could he mislead a shipper to undercharge him for wares. This disinterested integrity, though, resulted in good long-term relationships that proved so much more beneficial to the Gardiners than a few pounds of extra profit here and there. In short, he had built his reputation, as a tradesman and as a man, on a lack of dissembling and disguise, and on the understanding of complete openness.
And this was what Madelyn Grant had injured so severely. In her desperate quest for physical safety and for the life and well-being of her brother, she had impinged upon Edward’s carefully constructed world. Because he could not affect disguise, he could not countenance its use in others, and indeed, when he met a fellow tradesman who used deceit in his affairs, the business was met with disgust and disdain. This, too, was how he had faced the deception he suffered at Madelyn Grant’s hands.
However, now he began to consider her incentives. She was not seeking to cheat a shopkeeper out of a few pounds or to intrude on another merchant’s deal. She was not using her disguise to succeed at another’s expense. Rather, she was trying to save lives: Edward’s life, her own, her brother’s, and those of the tenants on her family’s estate.
And that, Edward realized with a sudden stroke of awareness, he could forgive.
He was so enrapt in his ponderings that he failed to notice Madelyn’s querying concern. “Edward?” she was asking, again and again, “Edward?” At length, the soft sound of her voice drew him back from his contemplations, and he turned her, shifting now so that his whole body faced her for the first time that day. He blinked his eyes, watching in amazement as the world around him shifted one degree more. The colours that had entranced him earlier that morning now seemed a bit brighter. The birds’ cries were clearer, and the tang of the salt air felt sharper on his wind-roughened skin.
Madelyn was still speaking. “Edward, are you well? You have been sitting, unmoving, these last several minutes. Have you taken ill?”
He peered at her curiously for a moment before replying. “Thank you, I am well. In fact, I am very well.” He withdrew his hand from hers and, shifted his weight until he could rise from his seated position on the grass. Madelyn stood as well and looked forlornly at her bare hand, no longer entwined in his. Edward saw her glance and the disappointment that flickered over her face, and immediately reclaimed that hand, wrapping it in both of his own now.
“I think I understand,” he whispered now. “Perhaps I understand.”
Madelyn drew her hand from his and threw her arms around him. Pulling her body closer to press lightly upon his, she rested her head on his shoulder. She was silent, but Edward thought, from the uneven rise and fall of her breath, that she might be crying. With tentative motions, he lifted his own arms from his sides and wrapped them gently around her soft frame. His hand brushed across her face and he felt it become damp.
“Don’t cry,” he cooed. “Lynnie, please don’t cry.”
“You called me Lynnie,” she managed in a strained voice, thick with tears. “Then we are friends again?”
He stepped back a half pace and cupped her chin in one tender palm, turning her head until he could see her face. Tears lightly streaked down her cheeks, and he looked with fresh eyes at the familiar face. Her skin was fair and clear, with a hint of apricot in her blush, and her eyes were fringed with thick lashes, almost but not quite brown in colour, topped with light, expressive brows. The hair that he had at first considered straw-coloured he now realized was a flaxen shade of blonde. Her pale eyes, flashing now blue, now grey, seemed to encapsulate for him the essential contradiction between the body and the soul, as her fair, cool colouring belied the fiery flash of her personality. When he had first seen her by that icy stream in Derby, a world away from where he stood now, he had thought her almost too pretty for a lad. But now, as he looked at her face, delicate of feature and glowing softly in the bright sunlight, he wondered how he could ever have imagined her to be a boy.
“You are so lovely,” he whispered as he wiped a thread of tears with his thumb. “So very pretty. I wish I had known...” he let his voice trail off. He moved his glance to her eyes, holding her light ones with his own darker ones, blue meeting hazel. She met his gaze unabashedly, and when he did not move, unsure as to how to act, she took the initiative and moved her face to his, pressing his lips with her own for a soft kiss.
He did not think, did not let his mind control the moment. He accepted her kiss and replied in kind, repaying her attentions measure for measure. If a part of his awareness reflected that ladies do not force their attention on gentlemen, another part laughed at that notion, wondering when Lynnie had ever acted the part of a lady. And if his pride might have been injured by his complete capitulation to her advances such a short time after he vowed to have nothing more to do with her, every other part of him breathed a sigh of relief at her return, for he knew he could never be happy without her.
He was happy now. Happy to be standing here, under the warming sun on this grassy bluff overlooking the bright endless ocean. Happy to be back in the New World, although he had not realized he missed it, happy to be showing something of his past to the people he had come to care for. Happy to breathe the fresh sea air and hear the birds. Happy to have accomplished his self-assigned mission, to have assisted with the rescue of a young man from an unkind and unjust fate. Happy to be wrapped in the arms of the woman he loved in spite of himself. Happy to be complete.
He let the enormity of the moment wash over him. Lynnie was his. All his. There were no more disguises, no more lies. No more secret rendezvous in dark rooms, no more hiding behind masks. He could parade around through the streets of London with her on his arm, not afraid of who might see. Everyone could now know that the possessor of that lovely face was his, all his.
He moved his lips away from hers to run them over her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, before she reclaimed them for her own. There they remained for a very long time, oblivious to the crash of the sea below or the cries of the gulls.
And if a passer-by came upon them and observed what looked like a young man wrapped in a passionate and wholly inappropriate embrace with a boy, nobody said a word.