poetry and perfection 15

 

 

Chapter 15

 

“Charles!  I should go to Kitty!” cried Mrs. Worthington, when she received Hugo’s letter. Her husband took it, and read it.

“No, you should not, Caroline,” he said. “If you go to her, and fuss over her, you are almost certain to let it out that she is a girl.  Bottringham has nursed his sister, and we must assume he knows what he is doing. I cannot like it, but for Kitty’s good name, it is the best I can think of. As to him marrying her, well, that is a bridge to be crossed when she is home. I am going to write to him, on the assumption that she is expected to remain there for a few days, thanking him for his good care, then I will have the coach set to, to collect Stephen from South Mims. Perhaps you will see to the arrangements of having the Misses Bottringham to stay, as suggested, so that we can all share news, and so they have an adult in the house. I’m not going to attempt to go haring after Kitty. She seems to be in good hands, and I shouldn’t object to Bottringham as a son-in-law, if she agrees.  He’s chivalrous, but I don’t think he would offer marriage if he didn’t like her well enough; he would pass her off as too young to be on the town, and suggest rusticating until everyone had forgotten anything whatsoever about her.”

“Oh, Charles! I fear you are correct, I should find it hard to pretend she is a boy,” said Mrs. Worthington. “It seems so wrong for a man… and yet doctors… and accoucheurs in the most intimate of situations to aid with birthing… but she is very young, and I cannot like her being tied to a man some seven years older than she is, without love or even affection. And he seems so cold!”

“My dove, if he were cold, he would not be adored by the sister we know, nor be prepared to put himself out for the other we do not know,” said Worthington.  “I agree, I would rather Kitty found herself a beau of whom she is fond, but I can’t help thinking that if she picked one who was too meek and mild, she would henpeck him to the point he either became violent, or just abandoned her. And, my dear, I would point out that there are eight years between us, and it answered very well, for Kitty is your very image, perhaps even less volatile.”

Mrs. Worthington blushed.

“Oh, Charles! And I have grown to love you very well. Papa was correct when he chose you for me, though I did not know at the time why you had suddenly become assiduous in your addresses. But I did want Kitty to have a choice.”

“I will not let her marry him if she is unwilling,” said Worthington. “But I do hope he does not spring it on her as a fait accompli, for there is nothing so much as that to set Kitty’s back up, and leave the poor young man faced with a veritable virago. Now, I shall write to him, and then be on my way.”

                                                                                                      

 

My dear Bottringham,

I thank you for your tender care of my offspring.  I am sure you must be most put out at having the care of Kit, who appears as equal to falling into trouble as Stephen. As to any plans, it must be something you discuss with Kit, who is quite stubborn enough, should you introduce the subject in an inopportune manner, to run off somewhere, without being fully healed. I hope you will be cognizant of the fact that my younger child can be led, but is as stubborn as a mule or a goat if driven. I have found over the years that choices should be presented in the light not so much of whether to do something, as in the correct timing in which to do it.

I know that Kit will not be happy if this suggestion is in any way a self-sacrificing offer, being as straight as a die, and as fair as anyone might hope a young gentleman to be. And I am sure that if this is the case, we can find some way to get over heavy ground lightly.

Please find enclosed some ready money; I doubt you set out with the intent of being holed up in an inn for several days.

Worthington.

He reflected that Kitty was the younger; by about twenty minutes, so he was not entirely inaccurate in so naming her.

 

 

Kitty found herself sleeping a lot during the day; her headache mostly went away when she was asleep, and she did not hurt her ribs with her breathing. When she was awake, Hugo read to her of the doings of Miss Austen’s ‘Emma.’

“I think Emma is a silly creature,” said Kitty. “She means well, but she interferes too much, and she’s too top-lofty. If I was Mr. Knightley, I’d spank her.”

“He can’t really; he’s only her brother-in-law.”

“And I can’t see you hesitating for a moment in spanking me if I was rude to… oh, an old governess of Sophie’s,” said Kitty.

“You have me, there,” said Hugo. “Though I might hesitate now we are going to get married; it’s rather a brotherly thing to do.”

“Oh, I suppose so,” said Kitty. “I don’t think Jane should have anything to do with that awful Frank fellow. If Emma does and is taken down a peg or two, I won’t be upset.”

“Why do you dislike him?” asked Hugo.

“Why, he is cruel to Jane, and puts her down, and that’s the act of a bully,” said Kitty. “He’s sly and backhanded in the way he says cruel things, and I don’t find him charming at all.  I expect that Haselbraid fellow manages to be charming in the same way.”

“The hell! You’re quite right. Oh, I beg your pardon.”

“I am all boy, and don’t regard an expletive in the least,” said Kitty. “You can see it, now, can’t you?”

“Yes, and I’m glad you aren’t likely to be taken in by someone like that,” said Hugo. 

“Oh, well, if we’re going to get married and you really don’t dislike the idea, I can refer people like that to you to draw their cork and darken their daylights.”

“Now, where did you learn such sporting cant?”

“Stephen, of course. He took me to a mill, once, but there was no science, only milling, and it was a bit gross, so we went away again, only we were discussing it in an inn when the local hero came in, and he was put out, so Stephen taught him about science, and we won a packet,” said Kitty. “Don’t tell Mama! Papa suspects, I think, but then, Papa is fairly down to earth about things like me borrowing Stephen’s clothes, because we’ve always been close.”

“You’re a hell-born babe,” said Hugo. “Well, if you understand science, and you know how to drive, you certainly have two topics of conversation which interest me.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” said Kitty. “Now you can explain Metaphysical poetry to me.”

“Well, mostly it’s couched in metaphor,” said Hugo. “A man, approaching his lover, wants to be between her legs,” he blushed as he spoke of such. “And so he might say,

I sail between two spits of land

In search of a sweet luscious bower

Advancing an exploring hand….

“What?” he added as Kitty giggled.

“Oh, that could end as one of those Sapphic odes you use for irony with the line, ‘a golden shower!’” said Kitty.

Briefly he looked outraged, then he laughed.

“Well, that shows that you have the meaning of the metaphor and a good way of pricking any pomposity I may show,” he said. “I had been going to conclude that quatrain, “to pluck a rare and beauteous flower.”

“This is why I’m no good at poetry; I see the comedic side which can be brought to bear, not the clever or romantic side,” said Kitty. “Flower?”

“The plucking of a rose has long been a metaphor for taking a woman, and one speaks of ‘deflowering,’ as well,” said Hugo.

“So, one might answer that also in metaphor?” said Kitty.

“Exploring hands may feed the soil

With blood from thorns of briar and brake

Unless to tend a flower, they toil,

And give, not take.

“Yes, though you have that Sapphic ode form and its truncated fourth line in your head, otherwise bravo for a good reposte,” said Hugo.  “It might be better as ‘to gently ask to share, not take.’. Do you see?”

“I do,” said Kitty. “I know little about verse form, only that sonnets come in four quatrains and a couplet, and that the most of it is iambic hexameter, but the couplet can be Alexandrines, which is cleverer, which are six double feet to the rhythm, not five.”

“You studied Shakespeare’s sonnets?”

“In woeful detail,” sighed Kitty.

“I’ll dig you out my book about poetry,” said Hugo. “It’s a bit prosy, but once you’ve done all the exercises as exercises in satire, you should be happy with all manner of set forms.”

“Maybe you know me better than you thought,” said Kitty, happily. “I find it terribly hard to stay serious.”

“Hmph.  Well, maybe you need someone to write serious and sincere poetry for you,” said Hugo.

“Maybe I do,” agreed Kitty. “I didn’t sabotage Stephen’s poetry to Elvira, well apart from to him, though I did tell her about it. If I don’t like a girl he’s eulogising, I change the lines, and he doesn’t usually notice, so it comes out just sarcastic enough that, unless she’s stupider than a stump, she is offended.”

“Your sisterly duty, I suppose?”

Kitty nodded seriously.

“He’s too susceptible,” she said. “Dear me, I do hope the vicar of South Mims has no personable daughters, or at least, if he does, that they are nice for real as well.”

“Indeed, for a young man being physicked by a pretty girl is in a vulnerable position,” said Hugo.

“And I don’t really want a well-meaning but preachy sort of sister,” said Kitty. “I’d be happy if he sticks with Elvira, but of course he has another year and a bit of university, so unless she’s ready to wait for him, I think I’ll be disappointed.”

“She’ll still be your sister if you marry me,” said Hugo.

“Oh! Yes, but I would like Stephen sorted out before I get married, just so I know he’s safe,” said Kitty.

Hugo laughed.

“Well, if he is my brother because of us being married, I would watch over him more carefully myself,” he said. “I like the chub a lot; I spoke to him at first because I liked the way he drove, with a combination of panache, but care for the safety of his team and the general public.”

“Yes, he was very conscious of the honour done to him by a man of fashion and renown,” said Kitty. “Goodness! I have mostly forgotten that you are a man of fashion and renown, because you have become a person through knowing you as Elvira’s brother.”

“I know; you informed me so when you apologised for calling me ‘Hugo’ when I first rescued you from the consequences of not knowing how the wicked world wags,” said Hugo. “Blurting out things like that is one reason I wondered if you were very young, but I think it’s just you. And a natural curiosity about why personal remarks are fine sometimes but not others.”

Kitty flushed.

“I’m afraid it’s just me,” she said, ruefully. “Mama has mostly learned not to.”

“Oh, well, I would prefer honesty, even if tactlessly couched, than the often-sly nature of polite fiction,” said Hugo. “You may use my name in private.”

“And you may use mine,” said Kitty, shyly, blushing again.  “Do you fight duels?”

“What a question! Duels are illegal, my good sprout.”

“Well, Haselbraid seemed to think it reasonable to suppose you had been hurt in a duel; he says you’re quarrelsome.”

“I’m not douce with him, but I’ve never actually fought a duel.  I think he assumes it would appeal to the romance of a young girl.”

“I’d have found it more believable if he’d said that you had been hurt in a mill with a… a pet of the fancy.”

Hugo gave a shout of laughter.

“Well, to be honest, that would be more likely,” he said. “He’s a fool.  Assuming we can move in a few days, we might just get to see a mill on the way back to London, if you would like; it should be more scientific than what you have seen previously.”

“Oh, thank you, Hugo; I should like to see it performed with skill.”

“It is a shame that your only experience is of a brawl.” He looked self-conscious. “Is it vain in me to hope that I have the chance of a wife who actually appreciates my skill?”

“I think it is only reasonable,” said Kitty. “A woman expects her husband to admire her housekeeping abilities in finding his household life smooth, with meals he likes, on time, events arranged efficiently for him, fresh flowers, embroidered slippers, and so on.”

“Seriously, you enjoy embroidering slippers?”

“Not in the least, but it’s a skill one is supposed to have. I would rather draw you caricatures of the people you know, to amuse you.”

“Oh, that, I would also prefer. Is that what you girls giggle over, in your commonplace book?”

“That, and my little verses.”

“Go on….”

“Off the top of my head…”

Mr. Langer’s dignity is carried all before;

He keeps it in his embonpoint, when he sets off to bore.

He thinks so much of his great brains, he keeps them safe at home

And never puts them on display, lest they should chance to roam.

“Oh, very accurate and most reprehensible. Very good!” said Hugo. “A talent for witty bon mots is going to prove more useful in the drawing room than being able to assemble a villanelle, or the new form of poetry, which comes from the Malay, called a pantoum.  It’s not hard; the second and final lines of the first quatrain are used as the first and third of the next, and so on. If you want to be really clever, you can put the first and third lines of the first stanza as the second and fourth of the fourth.”

“Oh! This I have to try; give me some paper, please?” said Kitty.

Smiling, Hugo handed her paper, and a tray to lean on, so she might scribble away. It kept her occupied.

It took Kitty a good ten minutes to produce her effort, and she handed it to him.

The boxer takes his starting stance

With ready feet and meaty fist

Ready to make his fighting dance

With solid knee and braced his wrist

 

With ready feet and meaty fist

He jabs to find a weakness, where

With solid knee and braced his wrist

He might exploit it should he dare.

 

He jabs to find a weakness, where

The opponent’s guard is scarce or poor

He might exploit it, should he dare

And put the other on the floor.

 

The opponent’s guard is scarce and poor,

The boxer takes his starting stance

He puts the other on the floor

In science with his fighting dance.

“I had to change some of the lines slightly,” she said, frowning.

“No, that is accepted – that’s very good,” said Hugo. “I am going to enjoy teaching you.”

 

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.”