Fan: Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Not until the end of November did anything important occur to make a
break in Fan's happy, and on the whole peaceful, life in Dawson Place;
then came an eventful day, which rudely reminded her that she was living,
if not on, at any rate in the neighbourhood of a volcano. One morning
that was not wet nor foggy Miss Starbrow made up her mind to visit the
West End to do a little shopping, and, to the maid's unbounded disgust,
she took Fan with her. An hour after breakfast they started in a hansom
and drove to the Marble Arch, where they dismissed the cab.
"Now," said Miss Starbrow, who was in high spirits, "we'll walk to Peter
Robinson's and afterwards to Piccadilly Circus, looking at all the shops,
and then have lunch at the St. James's Restaurant; and walk home along
the parks. It is so beautifully dry underfoot to-day."
Fan was delighted with the prospect, and they proceeded along Oxford
Street. The thoroughfares about the Marble Arch had been familiar to her
in the old days, and yet they seemed now to have a novel and infinitely
more attractive appearance--she did not know why. But the reason was very
simple. She was no longer a beggar, hungry, in rags, ashamed, and feeling
that she had no right to be there, but was herself a part of that
pleasant world of men and women and children. An old Moon Street
neighbour, seeing her now in her beautiful dress and with her sweet
peaceful face, would not have recognised her.
At Peter Robinson's they spent about half an hour, Miss Starbrow making
some purchases for herself, and, being in a generous mood, she also
ordered a few things for Fan. As they came out at the door they met a Mr.
Mortimer, an old friend of Miss Starbrow's, elderly, but dandified in his
dress, and got up to look as youthful as possible. After warmly shaking
hands with Miss Starbrow, and bowing to Fan, he accompanied them for some
distance up Regent Street. Fan walked a little ahead. Mr. Mortimer seemed
very much taken with her, and was most anxious to find out all about her,
and to know how she came to be in Miss Starbrow's company. The answers he
got were short and not explicit; and whether he resented this, or merely
took a malicious pleasure in irritating his companion, whose character he
well knew, he continued speaking of Fan, protesting that he had not seen
a lovelier girl for a long time, and begging Miss Starbrow to note how
everyone--or every _man_, rather, since man only has eyes to see so
exquisite a face--looked keenly at the girl in passing.
"My dear Miss Starbrow," he said, "I must congratulate you on your--ahem
--late repentance. You know you were always a great woman-hater--a kind of
she-misogynist, if such a form of expression is allowable. You must have
changed indeed before bringing that fresh charming young girl out with
you." He angered her and she did not conceal it, because she could not,
though knowing that he was studying to annoy her from motives of revenge.
For this man, who was old enough to be her father, and had spent the last
decade trying to pick up a woman with money to mend his broken fortunes--
this watery-eyed, smirking old beau, who wrote himself down young, going
about Regent Street on a cold November day without overcoat or
spectacles--this man had had the audacity to propose marriage to her! She
had sent him about his business with a burst of scorn, which shook his
old, battered moral constitution like a tempest of wind and thunder, and
he had not forgotten it. He chuckled at the successful result of his
attack, not caring to conceal his glee; but this meeting proved very
unfortunate for poor Fan. After dismissing her old lover with scant
courtesy, Miss Starbrow caught up with the girl, and they walked on in
silence, looking at no shop-windows now. One glance at the dark angry
face was enough to spoil Fan's pleasure for the day and to make her
shrink within herself, wondering much as to what had caused so great and
sudden a change.
Arrived at Piccadilly Circus, Miss Starbrow called a cab.
"Get in, Fan," she said, speaking rather sharply. "I have a headache and
am going home."
The headache seemed so like a fit of anger that Fan did not venture to
speak one word of sympathy.
After reaching home, Miss Starbrow, without saying a word, went to her
room. Fan ventured to follow her there.
"I wish to be left alone for the rest of the day," said her mistress.
"Tell Rosie that I don't wish to be disturbed. After you have had your
dinner go down to the drawing-room and sit there by the fire with your
book. And--stay, if anyone calls to see me, say that I have a headache
and do not wish to be disturbed."
Fan went sorrowfully away and had her dinner, and was mocked by Rosie
when she delivered the message, and then taking her book she went to the
drawing-room on the ground-floor. After she had been there half an hour
she heard a knock, and presently the door was opened and Captain Horton
walked in.
"What, alone, Miss Affleck! Tell me about Miss Starbrow," he said,
advancing and taking her hand.
Fan explained that Miss Starbrow was lying down, suffering from a
headache, and did not wish to be disturbed.
"I am sorry to hear it," he said. "But I can sit here and have a little
conversation with you, Fan--your name is Fan, is it not?"
He sat down near the fire still keeping her hand in his, and when she
tried gently to withdraw it, his grasp became firmer. His hand was very
soft, as is usual with men who play cards much--and well; and it held
tenaciously--again a characteristic of the card-playing hand.
"Oh, please, sir, let me go!" she said.
"Why, my dear child, don't you know it's the custom for a gentleman to
hold a girl's hand in his when he talks to her? But you have always lived
among the very poor--have you not?--where they have different customs.
Never mind, Fan, you will soon learn. Now look up, Fan, and let me see
those wonderful eyes of yours; yes, they are very pretty. You don't mind
my teaching you a little, do you, Fan, so that you will know how to
behave when you are with well-bred people?"
"No, sir; but please, sir, will you let me go?"
"Why, you foolish child, I am not going to hurt you. You don't take me
for a dentist, do you?" he continued, trying to make her laugh. But his
smile and the look in his eyes only frightened her. "Look here, Fan, I
will teach you something else. Don't you know that it is the custom among
ladies and gentlemen for a young girl to kiss a gentleman when he speaks
kindly to her?"
"No," said Fan, reddening and trying again to free herself.
"Don't be so foolish, child, or you will never learn how to behave. Do
you know that if you make a noise or fuss you'll disturb your mistress
and she will be very angry with you. Come now, be a good dear little
girl."
And with gentle force he drew her between his knees and put his arm round
her. Fan, afraid to cry out, struggled vainly to get free; he held her
firmly and closely, and had just put his lips to her face when the door
swung open, and Miss Starbrow sailed like a tragedy-queen into the room,
her head thrown back, her face white as marble and her eyes gleaming.
The visitor instantly rose, while Fan, released from his grip, her face
crimson with shame, slunk away, trembling with apprehension.
"Captain Horton, what is the meaning of this?" demanded the lady.
"Why nothing--a mere trifle--a joke, Pollie. Your little girl doesn't
mind being kissed by a friend of the family--that's all."
"Come here, Fan," she said, in a tone of concentrated rage; and the girl,
frightened and hesitating, approached her. "This is the way you behave
the moment my back is turned. You corrupt-minded little wretch! Take
that!" and with her open hand she struck the girl's face a cruel blow,
with force enough to leave the red print of her fingers on the pale
cheek.
Fan, covering her face with her hands, shrunk back against the wall,
sobbing convulsively.
"Oh, come, Pollie!" exclaimed Horton, "don't be so hard on the poor
monkey--she's a mere child, you know, and didn't think any harm."
Miss Starbrow made no reply, but standing motionless looked at him--
watched his face with a fierce, dangerous gleam in her half-closed eyes.
"Don't stand snivelling here," she spoke, turning to Fan. "Go up
instantly to the back room, and stay there. I shall know how to trust a
girl out of the slums another time."
Crying bitterly she left the room, and her mistress shut the door after
her, remaining there with her lover.
Fan found the window of the back room open, but she did not feel cold;
and kneeling on the sofa, with her face resting on her hands, and still
crying, she remained there for a long time. A little wintry sunshine
rested on the garden, brightening the brown naked branches of the trees
and the dark green leaves of ivy and shrub, and gladdening the sparrows.
By-and-by the shortlived sunshine died away, and the sparrows left. It
was strangely quiet in the house; distinctly she heard Miss Starbrow come
out of the drawing-room and up the stairs; she trembled a little then and
felt a little rebellious stirring in her heart, thinking that her
mistress was coming up to her. But no, she went to her own room, and
closed the door. Then Rosie came in, stealing up to her on tiptoe, and
curiously peering into her face.
"Oh I say--something's happened!" she exclaimed, and tripped joyfully
away. Half an hour later she came up with some tea.
"I've brought your la'ship a cup of tea. I'm sure it will do your head
good," she said, advancing with mincing steps and affecting profound
sympathy in her tone.
"Take it away--I shan't touch it!" returned Fan, becoming angry in her
misery.
"Oh, but your la'ship's health is so important! Society will be so
distressed when it hears that your la'ship is unwell! I'll leave the cup
in the window in case your la'ship--"
Fan pushed cup and saucer angrily away, and over they went, falling
outside down to the area, where they struck with a loud crash and were
shivered to pieces.
Rosie laughed and clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, I'm so glad you've
smashed it!" she exclaimed. "I'll tell Miss Starbrow, and then you'll
see! That cup was the thing she valued most in the house. She bought it
at a sale at Christie and Manson's and gave twenty-five guineas for it.
Oh, how mad she'll be!"
Fan paid no heed to her words, knowing that there was no truth in them.
While pushing it away she had noticed that it was an old kitchen cup,
chipped and cracked and without a handle; the valuable curio had as a
fact been fished out of a heap of rubbish that morning by the maid, who
thought that it would serve very well for "her la'ship's tea."
Rosie got tired of tormenting her, and took herself off at last; then
another hour went slowly by while it gradually grew dark; and as the
lights faded her rebellious feelings left her, and she began to hope that
Miss Starbrow would soon call her or come to her. And at length, unable
to bear the loneliness and suspense, she went to the bedroom door and
softly knocked. There was no answer, and trying the door she found that
it was locked. She waited outside the door for about half an hour, and
then hearing her mistress moving in the room she tapped again, with the
same result as before. Then she went back despairingly to the back room
and her place beside the window. The night was starry and not very cold,
and to protect herself from the night air she put on her fur cape. Hour
after hour she listened to the bells of St. Matthew's chiming the
quarters, feeling a strange loneliness each time the chimes ceased; and
then, after a few minutes' time, beginning again to listen for the next
quarter. It was getting very late, and still no one came to her, not even
Rosie with her supper, which she had made up her mind not to touch. Then
she dropped her head on her hands, and cried quietly to herself. She had
so many thoughts, and each one seemed sadder than the last. For the great
tumult in her soul was over now, and she could think about it all, and of
all the individuals who had treated her cruelly. She felt very
differently towards them. Captain Horton she feared and hated, and wished
him dead with all her heart; and Rosie she also hated, but not so
intensely, for the maid's enmity had not injured her. Against Mary she
only felt a great anger, but no hatred; for Mary had been so kind, so
loving, and she could not forget that, and all the sweetness it had given
her life. Then she began to compare this new luxurious life in Dawson
Place to the old wretched life in Moon Street, which now seemed so far
back in time; and it seemed strange to her that, in spite of the great
difference, yet to-night she felt more unhappy than she had ever felt in
the old days. She remembered her poor degraded mother, who had never
turned against her, and cried quietly again, leaning her face on the
window-sill. Then she had a thought which greatly perplexed her, and she
asked herself why it was in those old days, when hard words and unjust
blows came to her, she only felt a fearful shrinking of the flesh, and
wished like some poor hunted animal to fly away and hide herself from her
tormentors, while now a spirit of resentment and rebellion was kindled in
her and burnt in her heart with a strange fire. Was it wrong to feel like
that, to wish that those who made her suffer were dead? That was a hard
question which Fan put to herself, and she could not answer it.
Her long fast and the excitement she had experienced, with so many lonely
hours of suspense after it, began to tell on her and make her sleepy. It
was eleven o'clock; she heard the servants going round to fasten doors
and turn off the gas, and finally they passed her landing on their way to
bed. It was getting very cold, and giving up all hope of being called by
her mistress, she closed the window and, with an old table-cover for
covering, coiled herself up on the sofa and went to sleep.
When she woke it was with a start; her face had grown very cold, and she
felt a warm hand touching her cheek. The hand was quickly withdrawn when
she woke, and looking round Fan saw someone seated by her, and although
there was only the starlight from the window in the dim room, she knew
that it was her mistress. She raised herself to a sitting position on the
sofa, but without speaking. All her bitter, resentful feelings had
suddenly rushed back to her heart.
"Well, you have condescended to wake at last," said Miss Starbrow. "Do
you know that it is nearly one o'clock in the morning?"
"No," returned Fan.
"No! well then, I say yes. It is nearly one o'clock. Do you intend to
keep me here waiting your pleasure all night, I wonder!"
"I don't want you to come here. I had no place to sleep because you
locked me out of your room."
"And for an excellent reason," said the other sharply. "How could I admit
you into my room after the outrageous scene I witnessed downstairs! You
seem to think that you can behave just how you like in my house, and that
it will make no difference."
Fan was silent.
"Oh, very well, Miss Fan, if you have nothing to say for yourself!"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Say! I wonder at the question. I want you to tell me the truth, of
course. That is, if you can. How did it all happen--you must tell me
everything just as it occurred, without concealment or prevarication."
Fan related the facts simply and clearly; she remembered every word the
Captain had spoken only too well.
"I wish I knew whether you have told me the simple truth or not," said
Miss Starbrow.
"May God strike me dead if I'm not telling the truth!" said Fan.
"There, that will do. A young lady is supposed to be able to answer a
question with a simple yes or no, without swearing about it like a bargee
on the Regent's Canal."
"Then why don't you believe me when I say yes and no, and--and why didn't
you ask me before you struck me?"
"I shouldn't have struck you if I had not thought you were a little to
blame. It is not likely. You ought to know that after all my kindness to
you--but I dare say that is all forgotten. I declare I have been treated
most shamefully!" And here she dropped her face into her hands and began
crying.
But the girl felt no softening of the heart; that strange fire was still
burning in her, and she could only think of the cruel words, the unjust
blow.
Miss Starbrow suddenly ceased her crying. "I thought that you, at any
rate, had a little gratitude and affection for me," she said. "But of
course I was mistaken about that as I have been about everything else. If
you had the faintest spark of sympathy in you, you would show a little
feeling, and--and ask me why I cry, or say something."
For some moments Fan continued silent, then she moved and touched the
other's hand, and said very softly, for now all her anger was melting
away, "Why do you cry, Mary?"
"You know, Fan, because I love you, and am so sorry I struck you. What a
brute I was to hurt you--a poor outcast and orphan, with no friend but me
in the world. Forgive me, dear Fan, for treating you so cruelly!" Then
she put her arms about the girl and kissed her, holding her close to her
breast.
"Oh, Mary, dear," said Fan, now also crying; "you didn't hurt me very
much. I only felt it because--because it was you."
"I know, Fan, and that's why I can't forgive myself. But I shall never,
never hurt you again, for I know that you are truth itself, and that I
can trust you. And now let us go down and have some supper together
before going to bed. I know you've had nothing since lunch, and I
couldn't touch a morsel, I was so troubled about that wretch of a man. I
think I have been sitting here quite two hours waiting for you to wake."
Together they went down to the dining-room, where a delicate little
supper, such as Miss Starbrow loved to find on coming home from the play,
was laid out for them. For the first time Fan sat at table with her
mistress; another new experience was the taste of wine. She had a glass
of Sauterne, and thought it very nice.