Gwendolen Read Online Free PDF

conjectured whether or not the scene was intended and wondered about the provenance of the panel. I was mortified. I forced myself to reappear quickly as if nothing was amiss. ‘We have to thank you for devising a perfect climax,’ Klesmer said, and I flushed with relief and embarrassment and half took him to mean he recognised my acting talent. Later I learned he and everyone else concluded it was an unplanned mishap. His new-found tact was prompted by pity. As witness to my frailty, not my talent, he chose to spare me further mortification. Rex, who already loved me, saw proof of my sensibility and loved me the more. Other guests let the matter drop.
    *
    I was disturbed that the helpless fear which beset me in private could show itself in such a public way. Apparently Isabel, curious about the image that caused me acute distress, had taken the key and unlocked the panel. She trembled as she asked my forgiveness, which I granted out of a wish not to mention any of it ever again.
    I did not understand my eruptions of madness. Mamma called them my sensitiveness, but there was something else, a spiritual dread. None of uncle’s exhortations in church helped me. I came to think you might reconcile me to this inner darkness and guide me to a place of peace with myself. ‘Safeguard your fear,’ you were to say to me. Down the years I have so often said that to myself: ‘Safeguard your fear, Gwendolen. Safeguard your fear.’ I might have managed that with your arms around me.
    *
    Rex was one of the men I spurned. Oh and poor Mr Middleton. And poor Mr Clintock. Rex and Anna were devoted siblings. He was the light of her life, her guide and mentor. I liked his company and found him handsome and clever. The three of us would sing and play the piano, go riding, walking and on picnics.
    Anna observed his love for me and rightly feared I would reject him. The simplicity of his devotion made me cruel. Though I loved him as if he were my brother, I could not return his passion. He was so upright, so defined by Pennicote: the dutiful son, loyal to his family, ambitious to serve as a lawyer, respectful of polite society. Anyway uncle would never have countenanced our marrying: young as we were, first cousins and without money.
    Rex loved my frailty, strength and beauty. He laughed at my jokes and respected my moods. Had we married, he would have been my attentive husband and wise, judicious friend. He would have encouraged my ambition, adored our children, provided a smart house and secure income. He was so opposite to mamma’s feckless husbands. But his virtues were a problem to me.
    *
    I recall with shame the morning I inveigled him to ride with the hounds. I chose to ride despite forbiddance from uncle and dissuasion from mamma, who was conscious of how my father died in a riding accident. Uncle said no lady rode with the hounds except Mrs Gadsby who until she married the Yeomanry Captain had been a kitchen maid and still spoke like one. I scorned their concerns and lightly disobeyed. Lord Brackenshaw, who owned the hunt, had invited me. (His pink coat was always stained and from his appearance it was hard to believe him a man of fabulous wealth.)
    His daughters Beatrix and Maria were to ride with him, so I urged Rex to ride with me. Uncle was away. Rex reluctantly agreed and, without asking, took the old horse Primrose. It was a beautiful January morning, the branches of the elm trees bare, the air fresh, the hedges sprinkled with red berries. As we trotted along, Rex asked what I hoped to do in my life. I feared a forthcoming hint at marriage. I was amused by his adoration but alarmed lest he might overtly make love to me. I did not want to hear the words or sense a desire to embrace me. The idea made me shrink. I told him I should like to go to the North Pole, compete in steeplechases, dress like a man and be Queen of the East like Hester Stanhope.
    ‘You don’t mean you’d never be married?’ Rex asked. I said if I married