Michael Dun - 3. Chapter 3

Charlie Manning

Charlie Manning had gathered his knowledge from the only gardener he knew and loved, his father, John William Manning. He taught him when to plant, how to build a cold frame and hotbed, about soil and rocks and trees and weeds and grasses. Laburnum’s terraced lawns lined with perennial borders, stepped rocks and water features, hidden views of smaller gardens with statues and a yellow flowering ground cover, portrayed to Michael a place somewhere in heaven. An aspect of Charlie’s talent lay in the art of topiary; every yew and privet rounded off and cut smoothly, formed thick green balls. The hedges were square and the trees well trimmed. Michael noticed, for the very first time, every room of the mansion had a special vista into the garden or the winding roads and the hills and the trees.

Michael remembered Charlie’s handshake; strong, confident hands reaching out to greet him. He passed Charlie on several occasions this morning, greeting softly as the gardener worked on the roses and borders. He wished he had the courage to speak out, make his condition known, but instead decided to wait for Charlie to move first. Michael seated himself on a bench beside a pond and within minutes Charlie approached him.

“Good mornin’ sir.”

The Irish accent and the laughing blue eyes in a lean, stubble face, caught Michael’s attention at once.

“Mr. Manning, good morning.” Michael replied cheerfully. “I admire your garden. It has little nooks of privacy to sit and watch the birds early in the morning, places to gather oneself in solitude. Have you visited St. James’ Park in London?”

“I’m afraid I have not seen St James or many of the famous gardens here nor anywhere else.”

“It is quite a remarkable garden, one of lyrical proportion.”

Michael gazed at him; “You have a passion, Mr. Manning.”

“Thank you, sir. I need the money and the keep, sir.”

Michael noted the way in which he dressed. A brown ws’ coat above a soiled white shirt tucked into thigh bulging flannel trousers, and black boots up to his knees. He wore a white shirt, freshly washed, Lord Robert did not care for untidy or soiled attire in his household. His hair, long and sable-black, and his eyes set in to a strong face.

“Do you earn a good keep?” asked Michael.

“‘Tis ‘nough, sir. Keeps me alive. Keeps me well. Your father, sir. He has our respect. In all he leaves us well alone…”

“I am glad to hear that, Mr. Manning. Come, show me this paradise of yours.”

Suddenly, Mrs. Elizabeth came up from behind them and called out. “Mr. Charlie Manning!”

Charlie stood still and closed his eyes as though irritated by her presence. “Yes, ma’am.” He sighed.

“There is much work to do, get on with it. Mr. Michael, good morning to you, breakfast is served, sir.”

“I shall be there directly, thank you Mrs. Elizabeth.”

The moment she turned away Michael spoke quickly. “Meet me later, at the old barn at seven.”

*

Throughout the day Michael asked himself whether this was the right thing to say. He knew he possessed a fondness for Charlie - a strong attraction - but did Charlie feel the same way about him? For a moment this morning Michael did not know what to say to him, if it was not for Mrs. Elizabeth he might not have said anything at all which would have been worse than saying the wrong thing altogether. He felt nervous, as though expecting Charlie not to arrive. After a quiet dinner, he prepared to meet with him in the barn at the edge of the stables. He dressed in a mothball smelling cotton two-piece, waistcoat unbuttoned, with matching checkered sports hat and dug out his fobwatch from a bag in the wardrobe.

For a moment he stopped and thought what he was doing was wrong, but decided to continue anyway. He waited until all was quiet after dinner before he went to the barn. He paced up and down and wondered if he had received confused messages. He sat on a bale of hay, cleared a patch on the ground, and with the rough tip of a long straw, drew pictures of trees and lions on the brown sand. Two hours later he walked back to the mansion, rejected, feeling as though his world had ended. The hay was warmer than Charlie’s heart.

Feeling this way, he went into the parlour just off the main entrance to pour himself a stiff whiskey and failed to notice Madelyn, seated in a chair with her back to him and sipping a glass of red sherry.

“You have never approved of me, Michael. Why?” Gwendolyn glanced down at the carpet.

Michael suddenly noticed her and for a moment wished she would disappear, “How can you even suggest such a thing. You are my father’s wife.”

“Call it woman’s intuition, we feel things of this nature.”

“What I think is not important. You seem happy with your lot in life. He is forty years your senior and I cannot imagine the two of you in the same room, never mind the same bed. How does a beautiful woman like you fall in love with an aging, enfeebled man?”

“Your father and I, well, as you so mildly put it, shared the same bed many years ago. We no longer sleep together. It is his will, not mine. Oh, Michael,” Gwendolyn purred. “I never could find a younger man to satisfy me. They are all so immature. But you, you are different. You are gentle, impulsive, and generous and your father is not like that. He needs me as a companion, just as I need him. I am his confidante. Shall we leave it at that, or do you still believe otherwise?”

“You are a very beautiful woman, Gwendolyn, but I am more than just a man for my life is exciting and vigorous. I choose to make it this way. You have chosen yours.”

“Have I? Where will the next path lead? I wish I had known you first, Michael.”

She stepped forward, slowly, taking his head in her hands and moving up to embrace him in a kiss. He pulled away suddenly and she stepped back, surprised at this turn of events.

In a trembling voice, he said, “This will never happen again, Gwendolyn.”

He opened the door and stepped out of the room.

*

“Clematis. You love clematis.” Michael remarked, approaching Charlie two days later.

“Sir. Good morning to you.”

“I waited for you in the barn and I do expect an explanation, Mr. Manning.”

Charlie did not look up at him when he spoke. He continued to prune the clematis creeper growing up the side of the house.

“I was scared someone might see us, sir…”

“We are allowed to see each other, Charlie. I wish to be your friend. I thought we could get aquainted in the quietness of the barn.”

“I am scared, sir.”

“There is nothing to fear, Charlie. Nothing.”

“Oh, yes there is sir, oh yes there is! Myself. I am scared of myself and what I am capable of doing.”

“There is a goodness in you others yearn to possess. You have a certain depth of charismatic charm ...but you already know all that.”

Charlie dropped the shears.

M ichael retrieved them and gave them back. “Mrs. Elizabeth said you were not feeling well yesterday. Have you recuperated?”

Charlie was silent. He seemed uncomfortable in Michael’s presence.

Finally he said, “Yes, sir. Perhaps I was just in shock. I am sorry”.

“I shall be on my way then, do have a good day, Mr. Manning.”

Michael walked away from him and did not turn back to see his reaction. Charlie was not an aristocrat, a nobleman nor a person of royal blood, just a simple gardener in Sir Robert’s employ. It would have been foolish of him to conduct a relationship, any kind of relationship, with the landlord’s son. Servants did not mingle nor socialize with their employers.

 *
 

Michael found it difficult to sleep. He blew out the lamps and made towards his bed when he stopped dead in his tracks. He thought he had heard loud whispering coming from the room so he waited and listened again. There was a tap on the window. Michael raced towards the window, pulled away the curtains, unlocked the pane and stepped aside as Charlie climbed into the room.

“Africa.” He said.

“Africa?”

“The Cape of Good Hope.”

“Where’s that?”

“The southern most tip of Africa. From there to the Republic of the Transvaal.”

“I was hoping you would stay at Laburnum forever, sir.”

“Why?”

“I cannot stop thinking about you, sir. I am asking the impossible.”

Michael stopped him. He removed Charlie’s hands from his face and stared into his eyes. “I cannot stop thinking aboutyou, Charlie Manning. I am going away soon and we must enjoy every moment we have together. You feel the same way?”

Charlie was silent for a moment. He brushed the locks of black hair from his eyes. “I like you too. God what am I sayin’? God help me!”

They embraced in the moonlight across Michael’s feather bed and drew warmth from this bonding. A flooding warmth. suddenly Charlie yanked himself free, protesting that on his Catholic faith, it was unbecoming of him. Ungodly and a sin.

Michael held him to his chest gently and smiled at the ceiling. “The time is not right. Let me hold you. When you are ready you will let me know of-course.”

“Of-course.”

Michael held him in his arms for a time before closing his eyes and relaxing totally.

Oh God! He thought, why did I come back here! To leave again after discovering such happiness!

Charlie was not preoccupied with the sexual prowess, Michael understood that much. The change would take time. A long period of courting and romantic evenings which he did not have time for. Michael loved him as a person, not merely his outward appearance. Charlie was as honest as translucent moonlight, and he deserved respect.

*

At breakfast the following morning, Michael was cheerful and Gwendolyn found this an opportune time to talk with him about the banquet. She would not have it without his consent. But she really did not want it. She yearned to be free from the Dun shackles, instead of bound to this old man’s manor. Michael sat back and listened as she told him she had planned for sixty guests, many of whom had daughters who were worthy of such a fine young man as himself for to be without a fiance would be disastrous.

“Why would I want to commit myself to this arrangement when I do not wish to meet a young woman who does not know nor understand me?”

“I have met most of them so I should know. They are attractive and intelligent, and, may I say, healthy.”

Michael rolled his eyes upwards.

“Gwendolyn, please forgive me if I say I appreciate your motives, but I simply cannot commit myself to anyone at this stage.”

“Would your state of mind have anything to do with Mr. Manning’s visit to your room last night?”

Michael’s blood froze over. However, he had to remain calm and think fast. He told her quite bluntly that Charlie Manning’s visit had nothing to do with her. Whatever had transpired between the two in his room was a private matter altogether and she would do well not to pry.

“Well, if you insist that it is not my business then I must assume the worst. Is Charlie Manning your paramour?”

Michael’s silence bordered on denial. The first emotion to spill in the heat of honesty. To tell the truth would spell the end of this all ready troubled household.

Gwendolyn taunted him, saying he possessed an overwhelming indifference towards women. But he insisted it was not her place to speak with him seriously on that subject. She was not his maker, and being his stepmother did not give her the privilege to pry into his private life.

“You seem to know everything about me, tell me, do I have an aversion towards women?”

“Yes. Especially me.”

“You know I have never approved of your liaison with my father.”

“Oh, stop playing games with me, Michael.”

“It is my business, Gwendolyn. Now if you will excuse me, I wish to continue with my walk.”

He walked away but she picked up her dress and stormed towards him. She grabbed him by his jacket and he stopped without looking into her face. His face was red and his eyes slanted with anger and the muscles in his body had stiffened.

“You say I am after your father for his wealth. I say that is not so. In fact, your father has bequeathed everything of importance to you, not me. Yes, it is a marriage - to your father’s convenience. I understand he has bequeathed to me enough. I would not have to seek employment or lower my status. But you, you are worse off because you dabble in something evil and you refuse to tell me the truth.”

Michael was silent for a moment. ‘You stand before me, say proudly that your marriage to my father is a fraud, and in the same breath, tell me I am worse off. As if together your actions vindicate such a thing.”

Gwendolyn touched his arm. “It is a marriage, Michael. We have not committed a crime. Unlike yourself who has committed adultery or whatever it is called with another man. If your father ever found out he would disown you and I have everything to gain from such a situation.” She walked away from him, saying, “Learn to live with my situation and I shall learn to live with yours. I do not know you, and I never will, and that does not disturb me.” She lifted her gown, turned, and stormed off like a bull on heat. She was shattered by the very idea that two men could do those things. Michael’s father would never accept nor tolerate this of his very own son even if he were being tortured on the rack! She had not told his father. It would kill him. It would do more harm than justify an end.

“Well, time will tell, as you put it to me recently, time will tell”. She said, showing him the door with a gesture of her hand.

Michael headed towards the garden. He had committed the worst sin against himself; he had denied his very existence. But no one had ever asked him such a personal question. He had no experience in such matters. The incident left him cold and he found a quiet corner of the garden within which to sulk.

*

Gwendolyn told Mrs. Elizabeth to set up an appointment with Charlie to discuss a new garden she had planned. A perfumed garden, filled with roses and jasmine and rosemary and lavender, and all placed together in a quiet corner. Charlie was taken aback, normally he would chat with Lady Dun in the garden and make changes for her as she directed. He dressed in his best clothes for the appointment combed his hair back, away from his eyes, and shaved. He was nervous when he presented himself to Gwendolyn in her parlour. She did not smile, or make him welcome.

She circled him, taking in his muscular frame and square face, “Tell me, Charlie, do you like working here, at Laburnum?”

“Indeed I do, madam.”

“I know about you and Michael. I heard you last night in his room. No need to deny or accept the allegation, Charlie, I saw and heard you. I do not seek an apology.”

Charlie remained standing, staring at her from behind eyes filled with pity and sorrow, he did not expect her to understand. Lady Gwendolyn knew of their clandestine meeting, who else knew? The thought preyed on his mind and he felt awkwardly off balance.

“I note your silence. I trust you are in agreement. I should tell you to leave, but you have been a loyal and honest member of Sir Robert’s staff, always willing to go the extra mile. “ She circled him, playing him with words, he was without doubt a handsome Irishman, and had the potential to be successful. She unfolded a telegram and handed it to him. The telegram was for Michael from FATHER?, telling him he would be going to Africa within two days.

“You will go with him.” She instructed.

*

He passed Jeanette who greeted him but he did not hear nor see her. He passed Montgomery in the courtyard without so much as a nod or the usual, “Good day, Mr. Montgomery”. He passed the stables and did not stop to brush his favorite mare; a golden brown Arabian called Softly. And when he got to his room, immediately went about packing his belongings into a shoulder bag. The door opened and Cecelia came in, but Charlie wished to speak to no one at this time. She closed the door softly and came up behind him.

“It is awfully difficult, isn’t it? I mean, I know what you’re goin’ through and I just wanted to say that if you need to talk before throwin’ in the towel like this, then talk to me. I know how difficult this is.”

He could not understand how she could know anything. But she had noticed Charlie and Michael spoke and acted, “so radiant like”. She knew what was going on. She knew because women have those feelings towards other women. Yes, she was a lady who liked ladies and no one else knew, except for Charlie Manning. She had known for years about Mr. Michael after seeing some letters to a friend at senior school, and she knew then. But she was worried about Charlie, with whom she had spent some years of her childhood.

“What are you goin’ to do young Charlie Manning?”

Charlie smiled, in his eyes, Cecelia had been a simple forty something, red haired, porcelain doll who never participated in serious talk. By looking deeply into her eyes and seeing an honest, lonely soul, he knew she could be trusted. He quickly found a pen and note-pad and scribbled something on it, then gave it to her.

“There is something you can do for me. Give this note to Michael. Will you? If he does not get it, I fear I shall go mad.” He threw the bag over his shoulder and walked away without saying goodbye, leaving Cecelia with the folded note in her hand which she took to Michael at once. Michael opened the note and smiled when he read the words:

Will meet you at the Docks tomorrow…

Charlie!

“How long ago did he leave?”

“Not ten minutes ago, sir. He had a row with Lady Dun and he packed his things. Told me to give you this note.”

“Cecelia, you must get Montgomery to stop him. I have a score to settle with my stupid, stupid stepmother.”

“Oh, do be careful, sir. Do be careful. I’m positively in no doubt she is a wicked witch.”

“She will be more than that after I am done with her, thank you Cecelia. Now rush off and send word to Montgomery. He’ll get him back – do not say anything more than you have to, I am sure you understand me?”

“Very well, sir.” She backed off, ran into the corridor and down the steps, cautious not to be seen, but the moment she was outside she started to yell for Montgomery.

Michael went immediately to Gwendolyn’s parlour and waited for her to emerge from the bathroom.

“I thought I heard a commotion earlier. Someone was shouting for Montgomery outside. Michael! What brings you here?”

“Why has Charles Manning gone?”

“Oh, yes, well, it is a frightfully long story.”

“I have all day, and if necessary all night.”

“Michael, Michael. He simply was not right for the job. So many gardeners are better and fully qualified. We shall hire another.”

“No, Gwendolyn. You will tell me the real reason, or else I shall see to it that father knows what is going on in his house.”

“You would not dare – you know it would kill him. He knows you disapprove of me. He knows you would do anything to get rid of me.”

“I will find out, Gwendolyn, if not today, then tomorrow, and when I do I shall make you wish your life had been shorter.”

He did not wait for her to say whatever she was going to say. Instead, he went directly to find Montgomery. But Montgomery was out, looking for Charlie. He returned an hour later, saying that try as he might he could not get Charlie to return. Michael turned to Cecelia and told her to get his belongings ready; he had a ship to embark. London was thirty miles away and if he hurried, he would catch up with Charlie.