Love and Freindship and Other Delusions Read online

  ‘The servants are out,’ my mother said, plying her needle with increased urgency. ‘Whatever shall we do?’

  ‘Should we perhaps go and see who it is?’ I asked, closing my book.

  ‘An excellent idea,’ my father replied, beaming upon me.

  ‘Should we go now?’ my mother suggested hesitantly.

  ‘With all possible speed,’ said I, settling back in my chair.

  At that very moment, there was the sound of footsteps approaching, and a moment later, Mary, the parlourmaid, appeared. She was just in time, for the knocking resumed with unprecedented force.

  ‘The servants have returned,’ my father said. ‘Here is Mary come to get the door.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ my mother sighed in relief, ‘for I long to know who it is.’

  Mary opened the door and peered out into the dark and inclement night. Just as quickly, she closed it again and turned to inform us that that there was a young gentleman and his servant standing outside in the rain. They appeared to have lost their way, were very cold, and begged leave to warm themselves by our fire.

  ‘A young gentleman!’ I exclaimed, immediately intrigued. ‘You must admit them, Papa.’

  ‘Have you any objection, my dear?’ my father enquired of my mother.

  ‘None in the world.’

  Mary opened the door once more, not waiting for further instructions, and through the doorway stepped the most beautiful and amiable young man I had ever beheld. My natural sensibility had already been greatly affected by the dramatic situation of the unfortunate stranger; and as soon as I laid eyes on his angelic countenance, I knew that the happiness or misery of my future life must depend entirely upon him.

  We all rose in unison, transfixed by this tall, handsome man, romantically attired in a wide-brimmed hat and mysterious-looking cloak.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ my father said.

  ‘Forgive this intrusion.’ The stranger bowed formally. ‘I saw the light from your cottage and came hither seeking a refuge from the storm.’

  ‘Pray come in, sir.’ I stepped forward to greet him at once. ‘You are most welcome in our quiet retreat.’

  ‘But who are you?’ my father asked. ‘And how do you come to be in this remote spot?’

  ‘My family name is Lindsay.’ The stranger looked around as if expecting someone to jump out at him from behind the nearby curtain. ‘But I’m afraid that I am forced to conceal it from you, and will call myself Talbot.’

  ‘As you please.’ Papa shrugged.

  ‘As to how I came here, I have quarrelled with my father, a wealthy baronet whose only concern is to enlarge his already vast estate.’

  ‘A vile wretch he must be!’ I exclaimed. ‘It hardly seems possible that such a man could be the father of one so noble as yourself.’

  ‘It is puzzling, certainly,’ he agreed. ‘But I knew that I could depend upon your sympathy and support, and so did not hesitate to reveal so much to such good friends.’

  I inched ever closer, as he continued to elaborate on his original statement. He related how his father, Sir Sidney, had confronted his only son and heir in their palatial mansion. Sir Sidney demanded to know whether Edward (the name of our mysterious guest) intended to marry their visitor, Lady Dorothea.

  ‘Marry Lady Dorothea!’ Edward cried. ‘Never, sir!’

  ‘You seemed much attracted to her,’ Sir Sidney returned.

  ‘She is lovely and engaging, and I prefer no woman to her.’

  ‘Then why, in heaven’s name, do you object to the match?’ his father demanded, becoming increasingly impatient.

  ‘Lady Dorothea is wealthy and titled. What romance can there be in such a connection?’

  ‘Romance! Have you been reading stupid novels again?’

  Edward dismissed this ignorant comment.

  ‘More damning than her title, however, is your promotion of the match. A young man who complies with his father’s wishes is unfit to be a hero. Never shall I be accused of such a paltry action!’

  His stirring narrative aroused my admiration as nothing had ever done before. I clasped my hands together in an ecstasy of ardent passion.

  ‘Noble Edward!’ I could not refrain from saying. ‘You have done just as you should.’

  He inclined his head slightly, accepting the compliment as his due.

  ‘I fled my father’s house, intending to seek refuge with my aunt in Middlesex,’ he added. ‘Yet this vale, I find, is in South Wales.’

  ‘A minor miscalculation in geography,’ my father acknowledged.

  Suddenly Edward took my small, frail hand in his, firmly but tenderly, and raised it to his lips quite in the grand manner.

  ‘And now, my dear Laura,’ he asked, his eyes ablaze as he looked into mine, ‘when may I receive the reward for all the sufferings I have endured?’

  ‘What?’ I was too giddy to conceive his meaning.

  ‘When will you reward me with yourself?’

  I did not hesitate another moment, but immediately replied, ‘This very instant, my dearest Edward!’

  ‘I shall perform the ceremony myself,’ Papa announced, beaming.

  Edward stared at him, all astonishment.

  ‘Are you an ordained minister, then?’ he enquired.

  ‘As to that,’ my father gave a slight cough, ‘I cannot say that I am ordained. But is such a technicality to stand in the way of True Love?’

  ‘No. Never,’ I answered emphatically.

  ‘My father originally intended me for the church, and I have attended many a service on a Sunday morning.’

  ‘That is good enough for me!’ I said.

  ‘Me too,’ Edward echoed.

  ‘And once we are wed,’ I assured him, ‘we may yet seek out your aunt—our aunt, I may say—in Middlesex.’

  ‘If not Middlesex,’ he said, giving my hand a squeeze, ‘perhaps Sussex or Wessex—or some other sex.’

  ‘We are of one mind, as ever, my love.’

  The hour that followed seemed to pass in a golden haze, which yet remains indelibly etched upon my memory. My mother placed a floral wreath upon my brow. Then, as we stood before my father, Edward placed a ring upon my finger and I saw my mother wipe a tear from her eye with a handkerchief.

  The rain cleared as if by magic, and Edward and I mounted his horse and galloped away, while my parents stood at the door of their dwelling, waving a happy farewell. Edward’s manservant I never saw again, and assumed that Mary had kept him for herself.

  Chapter Three

  We took a somewhat circuitous route to the home of Edward’s Aunt Philippa, eventually arriving in Middlesex more than a week later. Philippa was surprised by our unexpected arrival, but monstrous kind and accommodating.

  Unfortunately, it transpired that Augusta was also visiting her at that time. Readers may not be aware of the fact (since I have quite forgotten to mention it) that my beloved Edward had a sister whose name was Augusta and who, along with her father, had promoted Edward’s match to Lady Dorothea.

  Augusta was a most cold-hearted, reserved young woman who behaved towards me in an abominable way. She should have perceived at once that I was a most superior person, and yet her arms were not opened to receive me to her heart, though my own were extended to press her to mine. Her demeanour was not cordial, nor her language at all affectionate. Indeed, she wasted little time in quitting the room and requesting a private conference with her brother.

  Feeling the need to know what their discussion entailed, I stationed myself as close to the door as possible. Some might call this eavesdropping, but those conversing in the next room should really have been more cautious if they did not want their words—which were not exactly whispered, in any case—to be overheard. After all, the door of the drawing room was not locked, and was even slightly ajar—at least it was after I had ever so gently turned the handle and inched it open.

  They were having as fine an argument as two siblings ever enjoyed. Peering through the slit betwe
en door and frame, I could perceive them standing close together in the very centre of the room, and it soon became apparent that much of their argument was about his marriage to me.

  ‘Do you think,’ Augusta demanded icily, ‘that our father will ever be reconciled to this imprudent connection, Edward?’

  ‘What should my father’s opinion matter to me?’ her brother responded haughtily. ‘Have you ever in your life known me to follow his advice in anything?’

  ‘Now that you mention it, I have not.’

  ‘Not since I was five years old have I ever had any thought of my father’s happiness.’

  ‘Then how do you expect him to assist in your support?’

  I watched as Edward drew himself up and looked down at his sister with supreme contempt.

  ‘Never,’ he said, ‘would I demean myself by applying to him for aid. Besides, what support should Laura and I require? What do we need but each other?’

  ‘A little food and drink might be welcome now and then,’ Augusta answered drily.

  ‘Food and drink!’ Edward’s voice dripped with disdain. ‘Can your vulgar mind conceive of no other support for an exalted sensibility?’

  ‘Clearly my sensibility is not as exalted as yours.’ She shrugged. ‘I cannot dismiss my digestion so easily.’

  ‘I pity you, sister.’

  Augusta put her hands up to his shoulders, as though about to shake him. However, she refrained, and when she spoke her voice was surprisingly calm.

  ‘Do you even know if this girl—this stranger—possesses any of the qualities you wish for in a wife?’

  ‘I ask for no more in my wife than she will find in me: perfection.’

  ‘Edward, tell me plainly how you intend to support yourself and your bride.’ She shook her head, apparently bewildered by his attitude. ‘You have no profession, no connections of any material advantage to you.’

  His next words roused my enraptured soul like a trumpet call!

  ‘Augusta,’ he enquired, ‘have you never felt the pleasing pangs of love? Can you not conceive the joy of living in poverty and distress with the object of your deepest desire?’

  ‘That is a joy which I can well do without,’ she snapped.

  At this point they were interrupted by the arrival, through the opposite door to mine, of Sir Sidney himself. He strode forward, approaching them quickly. It was painfully clear that he was an angry man.

  ‘Papa!’ Edward exclaimed in some consternation.

  ‘Can what I have heard be true?’ Sir Sidney demanded.

  ‘That your son is out of his senses?’ Augusta queried with deep sarcasm. ‘It is but too true.’

  ‘Say no more, either of you!’ Edward cried out, raising an arm before his face, as if to ward off a fatal blow. ‘I know your cruel and vicious designs.’

  ‘Do you, indeed?’ His father’s fury seemed only to increase at this.

  ‘You mean to reproach me for wedding my Laura without your consent!’ He struck an attitude.

  ‘Without a great deal of thought, either.’

  ‘Well, I glory in my actions. It is my greatest boast that I have thwarted my father’s designs.’

  ‘I see that you are mad.’

  ‘With the madness of true love!’ he declared. ‘And nothing but death will ever separate me from my beloved.’

  With these words, he rushed towards the door where I was watching, his strides so swift that he had opened it before I could move. As a consequence, the door handle struck a stunning blow against my temple. Before I could do more than utter a quick gasp of pain, however, Edward had grabbed me by the arm. Without another word, he dragged me behind him along the hall and out of the front door.

  A coach-and-four was drawn up in front of the house with the driver still waiting on the box. Edward shoved me up into the coach, jumping in behind me and closing the door with a snap.

  ‘The London road!’ he shouted to the driver. ‘And hurry!’

  With a crack of the whip, we were away, leaving a cloud of dust behind us. Huddled against my husband, and nursing a sore head, it took me several minutes to collect my thoughts enough to speak.

  ‘Whose carriage is this, my dearest?’ I ventured at length.

  ‘My father’s.’ His countenance was mutinous, his voice perhaps on the verge of petulance.

  ‘Should we borrow it without his permission?’ I asked.

  ‘He has several carriages,’ Edward answered reasonably. ‘This one will scarcely even be missed. Besides, he deserves it for his cruel treatment of me and my charming Laura.’

  How could I argue with that? Instead, I settled back in the well-padded seat, perfectly satisfied that Edward would make all right at last.

  ‘But where shall we fly, my love?’ I asked several hours later, when night had drawn on and there seemed no end to our journey.

  ‘I have a most particular friend, Augustus,’ he explained, ‘whom I have known since my days at Cambridge. He and his wife, Sophia, will be happy to take us in.’

  ‘He must be a very particular friend indeed,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, he is,’ Edward nodded emphatically. ‘Believe me, he is!’

  Chapter Four

  After an uneventful night, we arrived the next morning at the home of Augustus and Sophia. We were immediately admitted by the butler, who led us down a large hallway towards a room from which emerged the sound of a mournful dirge played upon an antique Irish harp.

  The butler stepped forward into the room and the music ceased abruptly.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Edward Lindsay to see you, madam,’ the old servant announced.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Edward Lindsay!’ Sophia repeated, in some astonishment.

  Before she could say more, Edward and I rushed in, unable to contain our joy any longer. We pushed past the butler, almost knocking him down in our haste, and flew to embrace the beautiful harpist.

  The three of us twined our arms about each other. Sophia expressed her almost ineffable felicity at seeing Edward again, while Edward in turn made the necessary introductions.

  ‘This,’ he said, his arms encompassing our two waists, ‘is my wife, the Divine Laura.’

  ‘Who else could it be?’ Sophia wondered aloud. ‘My dearest Laura, you are all that I ever hoped for in Edward’s wife!’

  ‘And you, Sophia, are just as he described you to me: somewhat taller than average.’

  I kissed her cheek and she returned the gesture.

  ‘We will be the best of friends!’ Sophia cried rapturously.

  ‘We will never again be parted!’ I added.

  We separated ourselves from Edward and clasped each other’s hands as we vowed mutual and eternal fidelity.

  ‘Come,’ Sophia entreated me, ‘let me unfold to you the most inward secrets of my heart.’

  ‘I will not have a thought or wish hidden from you, loveliest Sophia.’

  We had almost forgotten Edward, who was looking about him, frowning in some consternation.

  ‘But where is the Beautiful Augustus?’ he asked of my new bosom friend. ‘What has become of my companion?’

  The words had scarcely escaped from his lips when a willowy blonde youth—the veritable image of Sophia, but perhaps more sylph-like—seemed to float into the room through the French windows which led onto the garden beyond.

  ‘Here I am, Edward,’ the youth replied. ‘Your own dear Augustus.’

  In an instant the two men were in each other’s arms. Blue eyes stared soulfully into brown as they closed in a passionate embrace.

  ‘My life! My soul!’ Edward cried.

  ‘My adorable angel!’ Augustus responded.

  They were completely oblivious to me and Sophia as their lips met in a kiss of ardent devotion. Sophia and I, much affected by this display of true and unalloyed friendship, sighed softly and each wiped a tear from our eyes.

  I must mention that Isabel, dear acquaintance as she is, was not so deeply affected when I described the scene to her at a later date on our j
ourney to Scotland, but more of that anon. Isabel seemed to think that the friendship of our respective husbands was a trifle excessive, and that a little restraint might have been more acceptable. How it can be possible for love to be excessive, I do not understand; and as for restraint, it is a word repulsive to anyone of true sensibility. To artificially control and deliberately inhibit one’s feelings is abhorrent to me, and I was most distressed to find Isabel so insensible on this matter.

  How could I possibly object to the many hours my husband spent alone in his bedchamber with his friend, Augustus? Why, I have heard him say that he would break his own back upon a mountain for his friend! How then, could I deny them the expression of emotions so ennobling and fulfilling to them both? And besides, Sophia and I were as happily employed in mutual protestations of friendship and sharing the most intimate details of our lives for each other’s delectation.

  Chapter Five

  Alas, our bliss was only too short-lived. As readers might surmise, Augustus and Sophia had eloped in defiance of their parents, and were wed but two months before Edward and I arrived to complete our happy circle. They had no money on which to live, apart from a few hundred pounds which Augustus had purloined from his father’s escritoire.

  Had he foreseen our arrival, no doubt Augustus would have stol . . . that is, he would have procured more money. The rent for the house and our taste for the finest food and wine were our undoing, for not more than three months after we came there, Edward confessed to me that we were all to pieces financially.

  There was no one to whom our friends could apply for aid, since they had informed all their neighbours that they needed nobody except each other, and would accept no visits from persons less exalted than themselves. They might, of course, have attempted a reconciliation with their families, but would have scorned such an ignoble act as much as they would have blushed at the thought of actually paying their debts.

  But for all their courage and their insistence on adhering to their democratic principles, what was their reward? Augustus was arrested and taken to Debtors’ Prison! Yes, such is the cruel inhumanity of this world, that they would prosecute someone so beautiful simply because he owed a large sum of money to those who needed it to feed their families.