Michael Dun - 2. Chapter 2

Laburnum

The carriage slowed and the house came into view, a large crossover between the old and the new Victorian. A huge slate building built around a busy courtyard with several paths that led to the servants quarters.

The stables, a laughing place with chatter and grumping of horses in the background.

The inner parlor of the house, a sanctum of silence.

The garden, the most delightful place of all with its perfumed colour and tall trees spread across the hills.

If the garden was the happiest, then Sir Robert’s study was the saddest place of all.

Michael disembarked from the carriage, resplendent in a new three-piece suit and bowler hat. A golden, pointed moustache twitched nervously when he encountered, to his horror, the staff lined up the steps to the main entrance to welcome him home. Mrs. Elizabeth, the housemaid, with a gray beehive hairdo, took his hand lightly and curtsied. Jeanette, a new member of staff, nervously took his hand and smiled. Cecelia had been his personal maid before he went away and he was glad to find her as charming as ever.

Charlie Manning stood tall and handsome at the end of the line, a child when Michael had left. He had grown into a handsome young man. Michael grasped his hand and stared into his face and for a moment a squirt of electric energy passed between them.

His father and stepmother stood at the top of the patio, a little off the front entrance, and Michael approached them.

He extended a hand.

“Hello, Father.”

Sir Robert did not take Michael’s hand; instead he greeted him without a smile and went inside.

Gwendolyn smiled. “It is good to have you home, Michael.” She pecked him on the cheek twice.

“Thank you, it feels as though I never went away.”

Gwendolyn sighed deeply then said, “Allow me to escort you to your room. Forgive your father for being so impolite. He is not well and refuses to take rest. I am sure you will understand he is irritated by the simplest of things. He refuses to forget the way in which you parted. His health does not make the situation easier.”

Michael turned immediately to the message he had received, “The telegram was not clear. It seems there is some unfinished business concerning my mother’s will? Is that all?”

She responded, “You should speak with your father. He knows much more than I do. Believe me, he missed you. He is of the belief that a young man, especially his only son, should be pure of heart and wise as an owl, so to speak. He should behold a woman as sacred, and cherish her and care for her and beget children so the family name may continue. You have been away a long time, Michael. You will find out your father has changed. Your room.”

Cecelia stood at the door with her hands before her, pretty as ever with peach cheeks and dark red hair rolled into a bun. She had always known there was something different about Michael, and she felt like the keeper of some deep, dark secret.

Gwendolyn smiled and turned away, “Cecelia will see to it that you are well looked after”.

His room. He remembered this room so well. He could sit for hours watching the scenery before him. He remembered a time when a single bed came with toys. Now, a brown writing desk had replaced the larger than life teddy bear his real mother had given him only weeks before she died, and a double poster with white linen stood by the wall opposite the bay window.

Cecelia spoke as she unpacked his belongings. “’Tis good to ‘ave you back ‘ere, sir. We missed you terribly. Was college exciting, sir?”

Michael smiled. “It was an eye-opener.”

“Oh, go on now. If only I ‘ad been giv’n the chance, sir. Are there any wimen at college, sir?”

“Well, not that many, no. Those who do attend college are indeed lucky. What on earth would you have studied, my good lady?”

“Oh, you are ever so kind. I ‘ad dreams of being a nurse, but changed me mind.”

“Everything begins with a dream, why did you stop if I may ask?”

“I met someone, sir.”

“I am sorry, did not mean to pry. How are you getting on at Laburnum, then?”

“I’ve never ‘ad no trouble, sir. Sir Robert and missus Gwen ‘elp where they can.” She grabbed a fistful of clothing and began to fold the shirts as she did before he went away and was surprised when he took the shirt out of her hands and folded it his own way. She noticed his way was faster and neater.

“Will you be serving me at dinner?” He asked, delivering the shirt into her hands.

“As always, sir.”

*

Gwendolyn knocked politely before entering Sir Robert’s study. She walked in but he was not there. She looked in his bedroom, but neither was he there. Mrs. Elizabeth, at the entrance to the courtyard, told her he was walking in the garden. Something he never did. He disliked gardens and gardening, and if it were not for Gwendolyn, this entire estate would have gone to ruin. Sir Robert simply did not take walks in the garden, in fact, since retiring from public office the compulsion to walk had not interested him at all.

She found him seated between two old oak trees that had become the landmarks of the estate, and scolded him for being out in the cold. He commented that it was crisp, not cold, and he felt wonderful this day so he decided to take a walk. Doctor Charter had told him exercise was good, especially at his age, when everything seemed accomplished in slow motion.

She kissed him and reminded him to tell her the next time he wanted to walk in the grounds. “I am happy to hear you are feeling good, Robert. I wonder if it is because Michael has returned?”

The skin on Sir Robert’s face became taught the moment she mentioned Michael’s name. The gleeful smile disappeared from his wrinkled face and his eyes darkened. “I told you that I want nothing to do with his return, Gwendolyn. The tension between us is upon a knife edge and one of us is bound to get sliced.”

Gwendolyn disagreed. “I have a feeling he is more than ready to let bygones be bygones and start afresh. He bubbles with enthusiasm and eagerness, although I must say I have found him a little arrogant. You can do this, Robert. He is your son and he needs to be respected as such.”

“He cannot forgive me for severing his allowance.”

“How do you know this? Have you asked him?”

“No. I do not have to ask him. I know what this young man is thinking.”

“Then you present a feeble argument, sir. I suggest you ask him. Perhaps he will surprise you.”

Sir Robert thought for a moment and then smiled through cracked lips.

* 

Michael silently took his seat opposite Gwendolyn at the table and Sir Robert made a bland comment that Michael was late and that it should not happen again. Michael refused to respond, as always, to his father’s sarcasm. Sir Robert lifted the lid off the silver tray and caught the aroma with his turned up nose. “Excellent veal. What do you intend to do, now that your studies are complete?”

“I intend going to Africa, Sir.” Michael answered.

Sir Robert was surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

“The Republic of the Transvaal. Study the earth, the soil. I might persuade the South African Republic to employ me as a Geomorphologist on the minefields. Or simply dig for gold.”

Silence ascended the room as several waiters under the guidance of Montgomery, served them.

“So this is what college has done to you? Impaired your senses? Diluted your brain with mish mash!” He reminded Michael that he could have taken a field trip with a geological society. He could have sought employment in the British Government. He could have found a sponsor to excavate the Sphinx Delta in Egypt, but he did not, Michael wanted to work on the goldfields.

“…I would have thought your absence would have made a man of you, a man to reckon with. A man who knows his lot in a world of shocking, corruptible young individuals who do not care about anything else but sex. You did not become a lawyer, fair enough. I accede that withholding financial support may have been a burden on you but you had to learn that life in our modern society is quick. It is a challenge far greater than merely becoming a lawyer or a doctor or even a geomorphologist. Do you think it wise to go to Africa at this time? Surely one needs experience to travel, rather than a formal education?”

“A formal education needs to begin somewhere, father. Africa is a good place to start, will you not agree?” Michael edged and picked at his food.

I can name at least five reasons why you should not indulge yourself in this quixotic journey. One, there are animals you have seen once only, in a zoo. Two, the distance alone would kill you. Three, the climate is hot and equatorial. Four, there are few luxuries in that wilderness, and five, there are no women except for the natives.”

“I have lived without women and luxury for six years, father. The climate will not affect me. I am fit enough. As for those strange animals, many men have gone before me and have survived. I have made up my mind. I am going to Africa.” Michael placed the glass of wine before him.

At the first sign of a gap, Gwendolyn spoke out. She brought her tiny pink hand to her mouth and coughed gently, then exclaimed,

“We should plan a banquet!”

Michael rolled his eyes upwards. A banquet!

“Splendid idea.” Sir Robert smiled.

Gwendolyn continued, quite excited about the prospect. “We should invite any one who is anyone. The cream of the crop, young ladies of the ‘old money’! Oh, it shall be wonderful. We should have it in the garden, an open-air affair. Everyone is having those nowadays.”

“You have not touched your food, Michael.” Sir Robert noticed.

“I am suddenly not hungry, thank you father.”

* 

Much later, they spoke in the study where Sir Robert found his privacy, a room in which he had whipped Michael as a child. Freestanding lamps decorated the room and heavy crimson curtains, pictures hung at all angles and books strewn all over the place. Michael feared this room, much like a dog’s fear of his brutal master.

Sir Robert poured two glasses of wine. He lifted his glass and swirled before drinking. “There are things we must discuss, Michael. Your mother, rest her soul, declared in her last testament that upon your twenty-third birthday you are to receive one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. I believe you turn twenty three in a month’s time.”

“One hundred and fifty thousand pounds?” Michael gasped. “This is unexpected!”

Sir Robert informed Michael he should regard the inheritance as a nest egg, for Michael will need the money during the lean times. The inhabitants of Africa still believed and relied on the barter system, money meant little to these people. He would prefer that Michael use the money wisely in England. “I would suggest leaving it in the bank to collect interest.” Sir Robert concluded.

“Do not fear, the money will be spent wisely, father. Unlike Gwendolyn, I am not a spend-thrift.”

Sir Robert winced and said, “Gwendolyn was incorrect in sending you that telegram. I told her I want nothing to do with it. However, it is done and you arte here and we must face and talk to each other. Her intentions, they are somewhat harmless. Do you still harbor a great and defiant disapproval of her?”

“You know how I feel about Gwendolyn, father. However, I am sure she has served you well over the years. I shall have to get used to her ways.”

“Indeed you shall, but your trip to Africa must come first. My grandchildren will have to wait and so will I. I am tired now. Will you see me to my room?”

Michael led Sir Robert by the elbow to his room, then returned to the warmth of the study, where he remained for a long while, staring at the ceiling and the open bay windows. It was not too long ago when, as a child hanging onto his mother’s skirt, she would be patting him on the head continuously, telling him he was different to other boys of his age. She did not mind, because she would always love him, always be with him. Always. As though in mourning, he cried for the first time in many years.

* 

Mrs. Elizabeth knocks softly on the door and waits a moment before entering. Michael is lying on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the high wooden ceiling, deep in thought. He is looking forward to Trinity. His father thinks he will be studying the Law, but a week earlier he had been accepted into the Faculty of Geology, studying rock systems and the earth, weather and climate, environment and earth movements. He had posted his admission papers secretly, and had forged his father’s signature from original documents that said he would be studying the law.

Mrs. Elizabeth calls him awake; he stands up and stretches. The first thing he notices is that it is still light outside.

-Your father wishes to see you in his study right away.

-And the matter?

-At this time of day? Who knows? Montgomery is on leave and Sir Robert does not communicate confidently with me. Least of all me, young Michael.

He follows her into his father’s dreary study, here where the beatings were born. The incessant beatings that cause tears of disillusionment and solitude whenever the memory surfaced: The scolding words that bordered on hate speech. If he chewed his food too fast his father scolded. If he dressed lightly, his father scolded. Bathing was limited to three times a week and spilling water would bring a scolding, sometimes a thrashing.

Michael is glad he is going away.

Sir Robert does not invite him to sit.

He waves a wad of papers before him and exclaims, - You forged my signature, Michael.

He pauses, waits for Michael to vindicate himself but Michael remains as still as the waters on a summer lake.

- You will be studying Geology instead of Law.

Again he pauses, expecting to be answered, but Michael ignores him.

Sir Robert crumples the admission forms and shouts out, quite red in the face. - Deceit is not a thing I take to lightly. In all my living years as a scholar and a student, I have never resorted to criminal action, and I should not have expected my son to endorse such actions.

Sir Robert moves slowly toward the far wall where his long horse – whip stands waiting to be used. Michael steps back in fear as his father brings it closer and flashes it at him. The whack in the air is unmistakably vicious and Michael’s mind screams that this is not going to happen again.

This night, his father will not succeed.

He allows his father to curse and whip him several times before grabbing the whip away and pointing it at him just under his nose.

-If you touch me again, I shall not be responsible for my actions. This I assure you, father.

Sir Robert stares at him from behind eyes of absolute hate.

-Thank the lord you leave tomorrow for this could have turned out quite ugly. Besides, I have a reputation to keep. I no longer recognise you as my son. I want you out of here tomorrow and I never want to see you again. Is that clear. Oh, and as for your promised stipend whilst at college, best you find some other means to support your insolence. I shall not tolerate this.

He slams the door shut behind him, leaving Michael feeling hopeless, and ashamed.

The door opens again and Sir Robert puts his head in.

- Study the Law, perhaps you will learn a discipline. I would not trust you with a farthing.

Michael had no idea that his father could be so cruel. He needs the money for many things, firstly, his youth, and secondly, his comfort zones.

At Laburnum, his clothes would be ironed and bath water made warm in pots over a fire. His bed would be made up every morning and warm water ready in a portable face basin. Mrs. Elizabeth looked after him as she would her own child, and she never complained about his arrogance, ever.

He will miss this, he thinks, as he leaves, alone, in a carriage, that will take him to his destiny.

Michael’s first semester at Trinity is fused with the excitement of being a part of such an esteemed and learned institution. He shares a hostel room with two other gentlemen of fortuous family heritage. However, they are lay-abouts, uninterested in the rewards a good education may bring, they are simply there because their fathers require them to be there and they have no choice in the matter. Michael’s father did not want him to study anything if not the Law.

This will not hinder Michael’s will and perseverance to succeed.