Chapter 11: Moira

Tony and Anita were having a late breakfast when the maid came in and blurted out the news.

“I just heard it from the Cartwicks’ driver, Miss Heyworth. Lord Brougham’s son was killed in a duel this morning! And before the eyes of his father! What a tragedy! I better brush out your black dress. Will you be going to the funeral?”

“I guess I’ll have to, at least for his poor wife’s sake,” Anita answered, but the maid was already rushing out, probably to relay the gossip to other acquaintances. Anita looked at Tony.

“Thank God! I am glad that you won’t have to kill him.”

“It is hard to say for me whether I am glad or disappointed. I am glad for the other man whose life was spared.”

“Now stop that, Tony. Killing him yourself would not have changed anything. You don’t have to redeem yourself.”

“You’re right I suppose.”

“Of course I am,” Anita answered archly. “Now, I’ll be attending the funeral as a friend of Harriet’s. I suggest you’ll attend it, too, to accompany me.”

“Is that necessary?”

“I think so. You won’t have that many chances to express your sympathy and regret to Harriet. She is in mourning, and she will have little or no social contacts in the next three months. The funeral will be the only chance for you to show her that you know the truth now. It will mean a lot to her, I assure you.”

“But his family will be there.”

“So they will. Lord Brougham is really a very kind gentleman whose only fault was overindulgence in his eldest son. He’s also a full admiral. It cannot hurt you to express your sympathy to him and to poor Lady Brougham, who is not to blame either.”

Tony relented. They both organised the necessary items of clothing for next day’s funeral. Tony discovered that clothes of mourning were stocked by tailors, simply because death could strike suddenly with no time for relatives to have clothes made to fit.

When they joined the mourners in the Chapel Hill Cemetery early next morning, Tony was surprised that very few people showed.

“He seems to have had few friends,” he murmured to Anita out of the corner of his mouth lest somebody overheard him.

“I pity old Lord Brougham,” Anita whispered back.

Indeed, his Lordship kept looking about as if to conjure up more people to the grave site. Just then, Sir Richard Lambert and is wife arrived, joining their daughter. Lord Brougham sighed once and gave the priest a nod to commence the ceremony.

Afterwards, when they offered their condolences to the family, Tony made sure that he looked straight into Harriet’s eyes. He had planned his words carefully, so as to not cause raised eyebrows amongst the rest of Palmer’s family.

“Mrs. Palmer, please accept my condolences. I deeply regret what happened and I only wish that I could have helped.”

He felt the hand he held tremble slightly when she thanked him. He had to move on because the next person was in line behind him.

Anita and Tony only stayed shortly at the reception in Lord Brougham’s mansion. Anita had to perform in the evening, and Tony needed to return to Portsmouth. Therefore, when he left her that evening, he bade his farewell. They kissed, but that kiss conveyed more than anything else that their relationship was changing. Anita was withdrawn, and behaved more like a friend than a lover.

Not many of Rupert’s friends showed at his funeral. After all, his old regiment was being shipped to Sicily, and to be honest, he did not have many friends to begin with. His younger brother, Commander James Palmer, was at sea, but the youngest brother, Edward, was there to support his parents. True to her word, Harriet acted the mourning widow, supported by her friend Lucy. Both were dressed in shapeless black, and Harriet wore a black veil.

Lord Brougham and his wife were deeply saddened, but for different reasons. Whilst Lady Brougham simply mourned her first born son, Lord Brougham was feeling failure on his part. He did not know when and where Rupert had strayed, but he felt the responsibility for his son’s failings. Looking around, he was also saddened that so few of those friends, who had always readily helped his son to spend his allowance, cared to show at his funeral.

There were surprises, though. Of all people, Anita Heyworth was there, at the arm of an unknown Navy captain. She stood close to the widow to support her. When the priest had said his piece and the choir had sung their songs, the Palmers stood to receive the condolences. Anita Heyworth was one of the last to step forward, not being related and no close friend of the deceased, either.

“Milady, milord, my deeply felt sympathy! Harriet, dear, I am so sorry for you!”

She hugged the widow, and Anita’s companion was next.

“I am Captain Anthony Carter, of the Clyde frigate, milord. Miss Heyworth asked me to accompany her. May I express my deeply felt sympathy for your loss?”

“Thank you, Captain,” Lord Brougham replied. “This is very kind of you.”

The captain turned to Harriet.

“Mrs. Palmer, please accept my condolences. I deeply regret what happened to you. I only wish that I could have helped.”

Harriet’s mind whirled. The double meaning in his words was too obvious. Anita must have told him. He sounded sincere, though. Could he really forgive her?

“Thank you, Captain. Your words mean a lot to me,” she answered in a small voice.

Already, the next person stood in line to deliver the appropriate phrases, and Anthony Carter had to move on.

After the funeral, there was a short reception at Lord Brougham’s City house. Lord Brougham had asked Anita to come too, and she dragged poor Tony along with her. Under the convenient cover of her black veil, Harriet watched Tony and Anita. She could tell that they were at ease with each other, intimate like old friends and showing their mutual affection. At least, that was what Harriet felt.

But why had Anita told him? Why had she made Tony understand what had really happened to Harriet? There could be but one explanation. Anita must plan to engage in a serious relationship with Tony, and she wanted him to be at peace with her friend Harriet. But how could she expect Harriet to play along? Did she not understand that it was torture for her to see Tony with another woman, even if that woman happened to be her best friend?

Just then, Anita approached her.

“Harriet, dear, I am really sorry, but I need to go. Lord knows I am in no mood for comedy today, but I need to perform tonight.” She hugged Harriet and continued in a whisper. “I shall visit you tomorrow afternoon. We need to talk, darling, and in private.”

She left with Tony, leaving an even more bewildered Harriet. She, too, retired to her house, not long after that, claiming exhaustion. The servants stood in line with the butler in the lead, offering their condolences.

Harriet had a hard time keeping her emotions to herself. She dismissed the servants for the rest of the day, asking only her personal servants to stay and help her.

Together with Lucy she sat in the tea room. For the first time, she felt no apprehension. Together they talked about the next days and what to do first. They were astonished when the butler, Toller, entered.

“Madam, I am most sorry to interrupt, but I need your decision on what to do with your late husband’s private study.”

“What about it?” Harriet asked, somewhat puzzled.

“Well, Madam, to be perfectly honest, Mr. Palmer has not given me any orders, but I think you may want me to clear things out before his Lordship chances to see the study. I fear they may disturb his Lordship.”

“I still do not understand what it is you talk about, Toller. Would you care to elaborate?”

“Madam, the Honourable Rupert owned an extensive collection of prints and books. The artefacts may be found offensive by some people, and I know his Lordship to be one of them.”

Harriet sighed. “You may be right, Toller, but I need to see for myself of what we are talking. I would feel bad if they were true pieces of art. Show me to the room, then.”

“Madam, I must object! Those artefacts are not fit for a lady to see.”

“That would be for me to decide, Toller. Unless you want me to tell his Lordship that you were my husband’s accomplice in the collection of these items...”

The butler squirmed. He had been listening into conversations often enough to know that Lord Brougham would not deny his daughter in law any wish. Having a butler run out of the house would not require a moment’s hesitation. He therefore bowed and showed the two women the way to Rupert’s study.

It was a very pretty room, Harriet decided with surprise. The bookshelves went all the way to the ceiling. Two of the walls were covered with prints in expensive frames. She immediately recognised a full set of Hogarth prints, Marriage à la Mode. Her suspicion was roused immediately. Toller could have cleared a tidy sum of money from the sale of the Hogarth prints alone.

“I shall use this study for myself henceforth,” she declared. “I shall sort through the items and decide what to destroy and what to keep. Hand me the keys to this room, Toller!”

The butler complied with a sour expression on his face.

“You may withdraw, Toller,” Harriet dismissed him.

When the butler had closed the door, Harriet and Lucy began their investigation in earnest. The prints on the walls were all very tasteful. There was a series of nudes that Harriet decided should not be displayed in a dining hall, but she was surprised at Rupert’s taste. At least, until they found the large drawer under the desk that was standing at one window.

Harriet blushed deeply when she pulled the first print from the drawer. It showed a satyr who penetrated a naked woman from behind. The print showed every detail of the bodies. It was certainly excellent craftsmanship on the part of the artist. She handed the print to Lucy.

“Oh my,” Lucy giggled, “this looks like fun.”

Harriet had to smile in spite of herself. The next print, however, made her gasp. It showed the satyr and the woman again, but with the satyr’s head buried between the woman’s legs.

“Harriet, what is it?” Lucy asked.

Harriet realised that her cheeks were red. She collected herself and plastered a rueful grin on her face.

“This looks like fun, too.”

“I’ll say,” Lucy laughed.

Harriet nodded. “Let us look at the rest.”

Lucy nodded enthusiastically. “Good idea!”

They examined the content of the drawer, print after print. Some were conventional, some were extraordinary. Many of the scenes depicted were Sapphic in nature, and Harriet wore a permanent blush. Others made her wince, as they depicted the flogging or whipping of women. The latter were piled together and rolled up.

Without many words, they closed the room and went to Harriet’s sitting room. In the fireplace there, Harriet burnt the whipping scenes. They had a small supper served, but their silence continued. When the table had been cleared, Lucy looked at Harriet and bit her lower lip.

“Harriet, do you want to be alone?”

“Why?”

“Well, you feel uncomfortable, don’t you? What spooked you?”

“I admit that the images of the women ... doing things ... naughty things ... they were...”

“I bit shocking?”

“More than a bit, but yet, I’d hate to commit those prints to the fire. They were beautiful, too, in a way. They also reminded me ... Lucy, you and that woman, you did things like that?”

“I did, Harriet,” Lucy admitted, “She was ever so caring to me, and no harm was done. I still love being with Andrew. Only when I am lonely, I find that I can be attracted to a woman, a kind woman. Do you think me a bad woman, Harriet?”

“Lucy, no!” Harried cried and rushed around the table to embrace her friend. “You are not bad. I am still your friend. Nothing has changed.”

Lucy hugged her back fiercely, tears flowing from her eyes whilst she smiled.

“Oh, thank God! Thank you, dear!” In her relief, she kissed Harriet’s lips. “You know that I love you, Harriet, don’t you?”

Harriet swallowed. “I love you too, Lucy.”

“Perhaps we can ... maybe you’d like to ... cuddle with me. Nothing naughty, just one friend giving comfort to the other.”

“You mean, sleep in the same bed?”

Lucy nodded.

“Oh, dear!” Harried sighed, blushing furiously at the thought.

Later, when Harriet went to bed, Lucy stayed and the two young women cuddled under the blanket finding comfort in each other’s embrace. They even shared a chaste kiss before they fell asleep, still in a tight hug.

When they awoke, the morning sun sent rays of light between the curtains. Looking at each other, they giggled like schoolgirls. Lucy found her robe and put it on, making herself presentable. Then she tossed Harriet’s robe over to her friend. It was none too early because the chambermaid knocked with the breakfast tea not five minutes later.

After breakfast, both young women dressed. During breakfast, a thought had formed in Harriet’s mind, and she called for the coach to be readied. In vain, Lucy tried to learn their destination. It was only when they stood in front of a modest house in one of the better streets of the East Side that Lucy realised to whom they were paying a visit. An elderly woman opened the door to their knocking and asked for their business. She was obviously surprised by the view of a widow in deep mourning.

“I am Harriet Palmer, and this is my good friend, Miss Lucy Gutteridge. I would like to speak to Miss Moira McTaggart, please.”

“Miss McTaggart does not receive visitors, Madam,” came the hostile answer.

“But I need to speak to her. I shan’t take more than a few minutes.”

“I shall ask the Major,” the woman said and let Harriet and Lucy step into the entrance hall.

The house was modest, dark and cold, and it smelt of illness. After a few minutes, they heard the thumping sound of a wooden leg and a gaunt man came to see them.

“I am Major James McTaggart. What do you want of my daughter? Don’t you think she has been through enough?”

Harriet threw back her black veil.

“Major, I just want to meet her and see how I can help her in her distress.”

“Why would you?”

“I know full well of what my husband was capable, Major. Believe me, I do not blame you or your daughter for what happened. My husband deserved his fate. Yet I am concerned over your poor daughter, and I wanted to show her my regret and my sympathy.”

Her candour was appreciated, for Major McTaggart bowed slightly and led them towards a narrow staircase.

“It’s the first room to the right, Madam. She is in bed. She hasn’t got up in a week.” Suddenly, there were tears in the older man’s eyes. “She was the light of my life, and now she is only a shadow of herself.”

Harriet turned to Lucy.

“Lucy, dear, please let me talk to her alone. Major, would you mind entertaining my friend for a few minutes?”

The Major bowed stiffly and showed Lucy into a small living room. In the meantime, Harriet climbed the narrow staircase and knocked on the first door. There was no answer, and she opened the door carefully.

“Miss McTaggart?”

A black curled girl was half sitting on the bed that stood against the far wall of the room. She cast an accusing glare at Harriet.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“My name is Harriet Palmer.”

“What do you want of me? I did not ask for what your husband did. Leave me alone!”

“Miss McTaggart,” Harriet started, “I did not come here to accuse you or your father; quite the opposite. I came to apologise for what my husband did to you. I also came to see whether and how I might help you.”

She saw the suspicious look in the girl’s eyes and decided to be brutally open. She knelt before the bed, took the reluctant girl’s hands, and stared into her angry eyes.

“Listen! Almost two years ago, Rupert Palmer broke into my bedroom at night, beat me senseless and raped me. Because my father is an important man, Lord Brougham forced his son to marry me. He probably thought this would make things right. Yet, Rupert continued to beat me; he beat me so bad one night that I lost my unborn child. Being forced to live with him under one roof made me hate him more than anyone can ever believe. I know how you feel, Moira, and I want to help you. I want to be your friend if you let me.”

“Is this true?” the girl asked in a less hostile tone.

“I promise,” Harriet replied. “Now, the most important thing you have to understand is that it was not your fault. It took me a year and the help of good friends to realise this, but I felt better afterwards. Moira, you are innocent. Will you believe me?”

The girl nodded.

“And because you are innocent,” Harriet continued, “you must not be ashamed. So you should dress and come down with me. Your father will be happy to see you.”

“My father is dying,” the girl said in a hoarse voice.

“Say what?” Harriet asked, surprised at this turn.

“He’s suffering from a malignant growth. The doctor says it’s only a matter of weeks. He was hoping to find me a husband or at least a place to live before he dies, but who will marry me now?”

“I certainly cannot marry you, but I can offer you a place to stay. If anything happens to your father, let me know and I shall take care of you. I promise. I shall ask my father, Admiral Sir Richard Lambert, to act as your guardian. I am sure that he will agree.”

“Why should he? He doesn’t know me or my father.”

“If he does not agree, I shall find another honest man to be your protector. Now, come and let us dress you.”

Strangely, the first name that came to her mind was that of Anthony Carter. She had to forget him, she admonished herself.

Harriet coaxed the girl out of bed and helped her dress. She combed her raven black curls and braided them. Then she led the girl to the stairs and down to the first floor.

Major McTaggart was thunderstruck. The Widow Palmer had achieved what he had tried in vain for a week. His beautiful girl was back. Her eyes still conveyed hurt and fear, but she had come out of her shell.

Moira hugged her father. “Father, Mrs. Palmer has told me a few things about herself. I have also told her about us, about your health. She has offered me a place to live should your health decline further.”

“Would you do that, Madam?”

Suddenly, Harriet had to smile. It was not a happy smile, more a sardonic one.

“Major, I am in your debt. To be honest, when you shot my husband, you freed me from a life of constant fear and from a hatred that was choking my soul. It will be my pleasure to take care of your daughter should that need arise. I shall also ask my father to act as her guardian. I think you know him, don’t you?”

The Major nodded. “Madam, this takes a load off my shoulders. I am not a rich man, but I have done my best to give my daughter a good upbringing and education. With your father as guardian, she may yet find a decent husband, in spite of what happened.”

Suddenly, Lucy found her voice.

“The girl is as innocent of what happened as anybody. There is no reason for her to be ashamed. We shall find her a fine husband. Why, look at her! There is no mortal man who could resist her beauty. All we need is to find a mortal man with reason; that will be the daunting problem.”

Lucy hugged the girl. “I am Lucy Gutteridge. I am Harriet’s friend and her brother’s fiancée. I am living with her until her brother will come to port to marry me.”

Harriet invited the girl to visit her in the afternoon, promising her to meet the famous Anita Heyworth at her house. Hardly able to cover her excitement, the girl accepted. When the two young women finally left, the Major bent low over Harriet’s hand.

“Madam, I take it that your life up to now has not been easy. You still care about other people, though, and that is what I call character. You are a true daughter of your father, and I am sure he is proud of you.”

“I learned a lot from my parents, Major. I also learned from life’s trials, although these lessons have been hard. I refuse, however, to let those trials drag me down,” she ended with her chin set and her back straight.

The coach brought them back to her house and both women had a light lunch. Lucy watched her friend whilst they ate.