Poetry and perfection 14

 

Chapter 14

 

 Hugo went in search of a boy ready to take the stage to London and back, and sent another running to buy some laudanum for him. With this procured, he put a drop in water for Kitty, whose sleep was fitful and fevered. He was careful to give only one drop, knowing that laudanum could cause shallow breathing and cause it to be slow or irregular. Not breathing too deeply should help the pain of her cracked rib, but with breathing difficulties already, he did not want to overdo that. He got a grunt of gratitude as the pain eased.

 

Hugo had helped Sophie when he had found it hard to find a gentlewoman ready to see to the intimate needs of a partially paralysed young woman; he had not thought it suitable to have a mere servant as a nursemaid.  In the end, he had found Polly, daughter of the housekeeper of his country house, who helped nurse the house servants at need, and preferred a post as nurse and personal servant to working up to being a housekeeper. He knew, however, that he and Sophie had been lucky in Polly’s brusque kindness. He could hardly engage a girl to see to Kitty’s needs, for her true sex would have surely become a matter of gossip with a girl who was not fully loyal, and who would be likely to forget, even if bribed to silence. And that would ruin Kitty’s reputation for good.

He had no idea how much younger than Elvira she might be, though presumably she was younger, as she was not formally out; and it was a shame to spoil her pleasure in flirting with beaux in her own season, but the only way out of this embarrassing situation was to marry her.

It was a shame it had been Stephen who had been shot, not himself; and yet, that youth might have blurted out something about his sister, and would not have known what to do to nurse her. He would not think to lift her onto the utensil and she would have, perhaps, lain in a wet bed and taken pneumonia from it. As it was, he also purchased more towels, in case of accidents whilst the girl was delirious, and castor oil to give her to counteract what he knew well was another side effect of laudanum, especially to someone usually active being laid up in bed.

At least she had greeted him by name, and so saw him as someone with whom she was comfortable, his forbidding outward mien notwithstanding, even recognising the solecism of so addressing him immediately. It was a minor solecism compared to having to take liberties with her body, such as only a husband should do; but he would do his best to be a good husband to her.  It was fortunate that, what he had seen of her, he liked well enough. They should have a tolerable marriage, and at least she liked Sophie, and would not want to see her packed off to some asylum or other.

 

Kitty woke up, wondering why she felt so sore; and then she remembered. She blushed to think that Hugo had put her to bed, and wondered why he had not sent for a maid. He had been quite impersonal, and she realised that he was preserving her disguise, to save her name. How galling to have such intimate care just because he cared for the good name of his sister’s friend!

Kitty had a pressing bodily need, and jumped out of bed, only to turn dizzy and crash to the floor.  Panicking, she tried to roll over to get up enough; but then the door was opening, and Hugo was there.

“I know, little one, you are fiercely independent, but let me help,” he said, lifting her, and supporting her, and lowering her onto the utensil.

“Oh, this is humiliating,” said Kitty.

“Of course it is; but we all have bodily needs, and there’s no shame in being human,” said Hugo. “I’m not about to get a woman in to nurse you, who may blab about you being a girl, you know. I promised Stephen I’d take care of you.”

“Thank you. I am sorry, I feel quite lachrymose.”

“That’s the aftermath of laudanum, I’m afraid,” said Hugo. “You were in a lot of pain, I thought you needed to sleep.”

“Thank you,” said Kitty. “What a horrid man that was, to be sure!  I still don’t really understand why he hated me so much he wanted to hurt me. I’d done nothing to him.”

Hugo sighed. Perhaps, at that, she would respond better to a frank answer.

“Some men have… romantic feelings for other men; and yes, some women have romantic feelings for other women. For men, it is illegal to act on such feelings.  Now, some men are afraid of being thought to have such feelings, and it’s my thought that they are men who, in the uncertainty of youth, may have had a… a physical reaction to the touch of a man. But they get aggressive towards those of… of alternative feelings.”

“Well, what has that to do with me?” demanded Kitty.

Hugo sighed.

“I suspect, he felt aroused by you because something about you told the deepest part of him that you are female, but it did not happen on a conscious level of thought, so his tiny brain instead thought you a molly – a man who likes other men. And he was scared of such feelings towards you and so became violent, as people who are frightened often do. Especially as he was in liquor.”

“But what is he frightened of? I’m hardly likely to force a big man like that to… to do whatever he fears.”

“Oh, it is feeling lust for you he fears; fears being like such men as he despises.”

“That’s silly.”

“Most people are.”

“I suppose so,” sighed Kitty. “Well, you may have to treat me as though I was a baby but at least you don’t talk to me as if I were one.”

“I got told off by Sophie when I fell into that trap before we got Polly,” said Hugo. “What, did you think me inept at nursing? I know perfectly well how to care for a young girl who is hors de combat, and I bought some castor oil to counteract the laudanum in case you were not on your feet and active in a day or so.”

“Well, that’s an incentive to get up,” said Kitty. “And I did try!”

“Yes, and I doubt the laudanum has fully passed off, and you felt giddy,” said Hugo. “I bought a new novel by the author of Pride and Prejudice; shall I read it to you?”

“Oh, yes, please,” said Kitty. “And then we can take turns reading it to Sophie when we get back to London.”

“I bespoke breakfast, which I believe I hear, so we will eat first,” said Hugo. “I have written to your parents, and let them know how things stand.  Shall I stay to eat breakfast here with you, or shall I take mine and withdraw?” he asked, as a pair of maids came in, staggering under well-filled trays.

“Oh, stay; moreover there is only one tea pot and coffee pot,” said Kitty. “I’m starving.”

“Of course you are; lads your age always are,” said Hugo.

It was a gentle reminder that she was a boy, as well as to reiterate it to the maids.

“At least it looks like a man’s breakfast, not gruel, or my mother’s choice, coddled egg, bread-and-butter, and chocolate. All of which is a good starter but not a full breakfast.”

Hugo wondered if that was for the benefit of the maids, until he saw Kitty tucking in, with single-minded determination.

“You enjoy your breakfast,” he said, amused, as he did likewise.

“Best meal of the day,” said Kitty. “I’m often too tired by dinner to eat much.”

“Ah, a little lark, not an owl,” said Hugo.  “Not easy for coming out.”

“I’d as soon not come out at all, to be honest,” said Kitty. “But I suppose it has to be done.”

“Well, that makes it easier,” said Hugo. “It was one thing I was regretting on your behalf, because you wouldn’t be coming out if you were already married.”

“I don’t really want to be married, either,” said Kitty. “I don’t know anyone feasible who lives up to my standards, and I don’t want to lose my independence. Nor do I dislike anyone enough to connive towards being a widow, except that Haselbraid fellow, and my portion isn’t enough for him, even if I was prepared to put up with being mauled by him long enough to make ‘died of a heart attack on his wedding night’ look believable.”

“You wouldn’t be able to kill him in cold blood,” said Hugo.

“No, probably not,” said Kitty, sadly. “So, you think I should go into the country and forego a season? Is that what you meant?”

“No, I meant that as I have compromised you, you should marry me,” said Hugo. “I don’t have to worry about you being able to get on with my sisters, and that would be the only concern when I am constrained to do the right thing.”

Kitty frowned.

“If you feel ‘constrained’ to do the right thing, you do not want to get married, either,” she said. “We could just go back to London, and it is understood that we never speak of this again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; it is unthinkable that I should minister to you so intimately and not wed you,” said Hugo.

“I will not have a friend, dear enough to put himself out so much, to be trapped into marriage with a schoolroom miss, whose schoolroom has not even taught her enough to have properly erudite conversations with him, and who still has a sad lack of tact, because however hard I try, my tongue starts off from a thought before common sense can wake up,” said Kitty. “I am ashamed that Emmy is a very traditional governess, and that I cannot discuss even as much as Elvira and Sophie can with you, on current affairs, and history; and although I enjoy writing poetry, I do not know much about poetry forms, and I don’t understand metaphysical poetry at all.”

“I cannot teach you about metaphysical poetry: why, it is very intimate and shocking.”

“And that’s why I cannot marry you. You can sit me on the po, and I dare say would have wiped my backside had it been necessary, but you cannot bear to think about me in terms of pleasure, which I understand such poetry to address.”

“Kitty, I can’t afford to think of you in terms of pleasure whilst I must nurse you,” said Hugo. “Or, indeed, at all; I was going to offer you a marriage of convenience, without forcing myself on you.”

“Did you think that it would be too much effort to woo me, so that there was no question of forcing about it?” said Kitty, tartly. “Apparently, you hold me in too low a regard for such.”

“Dammit!  I don’t know you well enough!” snapped Hugo. “I have deliberately held aloof from my sister’s young friend of tender years, as I surmise you must be, to be kept in short skirts and not allowed out. Though you have a well-developed figure for a girl of fourteen or fifteen.”

“I’m seventeen!” said Kitty, mortified. “I was going to come out next year, but my parents deemed me too young, but I was permitted to be a companion to Elvira on the condition that my clothing marked me out as too young to be on the town. It is that Mama fears that I will make a faux pas if I am out officially by saying such things as… well, asking about metaphysical poetry in public, or mentioning undergarments or some such.”

“OH!” said Hugo. “I see; that makes all the difference. I was afraid of frightening you and hopeful that I might be able to woo you when we had been married a few years.”

“Well! In that is all, I will consider your proposal,” said Kitty. “So long as you educate me enough not to make stupid remarks and grate upon your undoubted erudition.”

“It’s a deal,” said Hugo. “To be honest, I find you delightfully frank and see your lack of tact very much as a lack of missishness.”

“Miss Emmett was mortified that I commented on your neckcloth, and said it was not at all the same thing as warning her that her skirt was tucked up when she left the necessary house and that the full moon would shine on Papa if she did not sort it out,” said Kitty. “And I do not understand the difference; I wanted to save you from embarrassment too, and you had given me permission to speak.”

“Oh, my dear girl!” said Hugo, ruefully. “In some ways, there is no difference at all; but in many ways, there is all the difference in the world.”

“Well, I wish you will explain it.”

“In a manner of speaking, Miss Emmett is both of your household, and a dependent of yours, so you have a duty of care towards her, and a need to help her. But I am not of your household, or any relative, and some men would have taken your honest desire to help as impertinence. I am glad you spoke up, but you must not be surprised if some people puff up and take it awry, and call it impudence.”

Kitty frowned.

“So, if another girl, or even a duchess, comes from behind the screen for the closed stool in the ladies’ cloakroom at a soirée, equally tucked up, I should not mention it because she is not family?”

“Oh, lud!  Yes, you should mention it; that is part of the universal sisterhood of women, even as a man would tell another that his fall-front is awry.  But you should not tell her that the shade of yellow she is wearing makes her look bilious, even if it does. Not unless she asks for an opinion, and you should then refuse to pass one until she insists.”

“It’s very complex.”

“Sometimes, overly so, I do agree.”

“Oh, well, so long as you don’t think me a little fool.”

“You are delightful, but I am not going there.”