The Trespass (36 page)

‘Some most interesting specimens of the enormous bones have been sent to England,’ said Darwin, ‘and it is very likely long, long extinct, young Benjamin, but I am presuming you have been listening to rumours!’

‘I have,’ Benjamin admitted, laughing. ‘Apparently there has been talk of a sighting. As it turns out, it is possible that family business may send me to New Zealand: at least I could test the air!’

‘Bring back a skull at least!’ said Darwin.

Outside, some of his children were playing with a dog in the cold December afternoon, their cries and laughter and the barking of the dog rang out over the garden. In the distance thunder was rumbling ominously; a woman’s voice called the children indoors and their voices and the laughter faded. Somehow Benjamin managed to turn the conversation to the subject of forebodings and premonitions.

‘They cannot exist, surely, in our new world,’ he said dubiously.

Darwin listened, looked at Benjamin shrewdly.

‘There are some things that are becoming clearer and clearer to me, Ben, and nothing I shall present is not explained by meticulous scientific proof. But I nevertheless understand that there is something more to the human heart than science, all the same.’

‘But – premonitions?’

Darwin looked out across his winter garden. ‘My father taught me many important things that have nothing to do with science,’ he said. ‘And nothing I have studied has led me to negate the indomitable complexity of the human spirit.’

He was tiring now, Benjamin knew he must go.

‘Intuition,’
said Darwin, watching Benjamin Kingdom.

*   *   *

Finally Benjamin asked his brother to dine with him at his club.

He had persuaded Ralph to forgo the ballet one night and to come instead to a meeting of the Royal Geographic Society in which the African interior had once again been discussed; they had met there Lieutenant Richard Burton fresh from adventures in India where he had travelled disguised as an Arab trader, and their relation Isambard Kingdom Brunel, full of more plans for bridges.

‘By God!’ said Benjamin afterwards, over the port, in what seemed to be a burst of uncharacteristic garrulity. ‘It is a grand, grand time to be an Englishman. I tell you, Ralph, I would not have been born at any other time. Whatever other changes are to be made in this world till the end of time,
this,
this time of discovery will never be matched, never, and it seems to me a trip to New Zealand would not go amiss.’

Ralph’s cigar was halfway to his mouth – and it stayed suspended for a moment in surprise, neither advancing or retreating.

‘New Zealand?’

Ben busied himself with cutting the end of his own cigar. ‘There is, perhaps, a most fabulous bird still in existence there. The
moa.
I would very much like to search for it.’

Slowly Ralph’s cigar found its place. A waiter brought more port. Benjamin continued, still seemingly intent on the tobacco. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘to literally cross the world at this time in our country’s history should be part of the experience of any man.’ Then after another pause he added, ‘I wondered if you felt Miss Harriet Cooper might be worth pursuing, Ralphie?’

Ralph gave his brother a long look and then stared at the white tablecloth moodily.

Since his younger brother had told him he should have stayed on the
Amaryllis,
Lord Ralph Kingdom, so elegant, so cool, so man-about-town, had been made thoroughly uncomfortable by his own thoughts. He thought he might have behaved in an ungentlemanly way towards Harriet. Fencing, drinking, shooting, riding, nor Mimi Oliver could shake him out of the conjecture that haunted him: Harriet Cooper had been trying to tell him something and he had not listened. Over and over again he had told himself he had had her best interests at heart when he ordered her ashore, he was thinking of her reputation as much as her welfare: yet the more he thought about the thin, pale, desperate and utterly determined girl crossing the oceans of the world alone on a small ship, the more he wondered what might have driven her to such reckless action. Benjamin knew nothing about women, yet Benjamin, Ralph knew, would not have grabbed Miss Cooper by the arm and tried to force her off the ship.

‘I love her, Ben,’ he said now to Benjamin, ‘and she was trying to tell me something. And I did not listen.’ He stared at his brother a little longer, and then excitement began to burn in his wild dark eyes. ‘If I went to New Zealand I could of course express my remorse. She will then, I am certain, listen to reason and become my wife. Besides,’ he said, suddenly feeling more cheerful than he’d felt in weeks, understanding that Ben was suggesting a wonderful idea and offering to come with him, ‘it would be, as you say, a marvellously interesting adventure to travel across the whole world and back. By God, Ben, it’s a splendid plan. I should have thought of it myself. We can do it in less than a year and then we too shall have something to say at the Royal Geographic Society!’ and the brothers leaned across the tablecloth to each other and shook hands on their plan in great delight.

‘This will not be quite like our jaunts to Paris and Hamburg and Spain,’ said Benjamin carefully. ‘There is the business of telling Mamma.’

‘Indeed.’ And the brothers fell silent then, and thought of Lady Kingdom sitting alone in the high, chilly drawing room waiting for the infrequent visits of her sons with only the painting of their dead father, the interminable long-windedness of the oleaginous Reverend Cornelius Boothby, and the monotonous ticking of the huge old clock for company.

*   *   *

‘YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY GO!’

Lady Kingdom sat in the drawing room, upright in her accustomed chair. Icy tentacles of fear clutched at her stomach. The word ‘stomach’ never passed Lady Kingdom’s lips of course; nevertheless that part of her anatomy contracted with terror.
What would befall the House of Kingdom if both her sons made such a reckless, dangerous journey?
Her world was the Kingdom estate and the Kingdom family.

‘You cannot do this!’

Her voice shook in a most unaccustomed manner.

‘I completely forbid such an extraordinarily ill-conceived plan! You cannot go gallivanting around the world over a foolish and ill-behaved young woman. Sir Charles Cooper’s reputation cannot but be damaged by the fact that his daughter has seemed to
run away!
No young girl of class would ever do such a thing, I was foolish to think Miss Cooper could be in the least suitable. I will not have the reputation of the Kingdom family besmirched and it is clear that if people heard you were chasing after her we would be the laughing stock of London!’

And all the time she spoke the terror moved through her, numbing her legs (that often ached with pain in the night, telling her she was old); making her cold hands colder. She was a woman, and she knew that her real power over the Kingdom name was illusory.

Desperately she reminded herself that she nevertheless had power; she had emotional power over her sons, if they stayed in her orbit she could manipulate many things. Ralph must not go. He was wild and reckless: only his mother could save him from himself. She reminded herself that her instincts had been right. Miss Cooper’s extraordinary actions had betrayed her origins: Charles Cooper was only the son of a country squire after all, whatever his pretensions now, and some of his business dealings were, she was sure, no better than
trade.
She would never, never agree to such a conjoining now: the girl was talked of in morning rooms and
her name had more or less been in the newspapers.

A wild rage shook her and mixed with her fear. ‘I will not agree, Ralph!’ and, despite herself, she almost shouted. ‘You must put Miss Cooper from your thoughts!’

Ralph, standing beside the fireplace where a puny fire made no assault on the chill of the room, glanced at the painting of his father. The eyes twinkled as they always had, as Ben’s did, but apart from that there was no answer. His mother saw and was enraged still further.

‘You cannot possibly image that your father would
agree
to this? Your father was a great believer in
breeding,
Ralph. Miss Cooper has been shown to be sadly lacking in such an important attribute, let alone good manners and good sense. A young lady who has
run away
is not a consort for Lord Kingdom!’

Benjamin cleared his throat mildly to speak but Lady Kingdom was now in full flow and was so angry that the lace on her cap actually shook. ‘And what, pray, is New Zealand? No more than a native colony where working men buy land for baubles. I heard from Lady Butler that one of her grooms went there, set up business as a blacksmith and now, she is reliably informed, he
owns a house!
And he cannot even
read!
Next I suppose we will hear he is taking tea with Lord Russell. Surely you understand that the real world, our power, is here, in England! The rest of the world is merely something we own; Her Majesty does not see any reason to visit her primitive dominions and no more should you!’

The head footman bowed discreetly at the door of the cold room. Dinner was served.

Lady Kingdom struggled to become calm: a lady never, never lost control of herself. She motioned to the footman to leave and then she rose slowly and majestically. ‘You, Benjamin, go if you must, bring back wild stories for your brother of the savage world around us. But, Ralph, you must stay. Your duties are to the business of the Kingdom estate, and to the Kingdom family and lineage, and to Her Majesty, and to the House of Lords where it is high time you took your rightful place, and I absolutely refuse to agree to any other course of action!’

By a sign as she sailed to the dining room on the arm of her elder son, where they were joined by the Reverend Boothby, Lady Kingdom forbade further discussion: over dinner mutual acquaintances, the opera, and the weather were spoken of. But there were stiff and terrible silences and Lady Kingdom’s plates remained untouched; only the Reverend Boothby’s appetite was completely unaffected.

The brothers did not discuss the matter over the port with the Reverend Boothby either. He began a long rambling monologue on church windows. But at last even he began to understand from their demeanour that there was something in the air and as always he at once began to worry how matters would affect him, the poor relation. Being so reliant on others for his existence was a situation continually fraught with difficulty. He must not offend. His rambling petered out. He had perhaps one more glass of port than was absolutely necessary and so did not see that it might have been better that he retire to his room. On their return to the drawing room, where Lady Kingdom was waiting to pour the tea into exquisite small cups, the gentlemen noticed two high, bright spots of colour on her usually pale cheeks. She seemed to tremble as she passed the cups. Ralph and Benjamin glanced anxiously at one another – was their strong-willed mother about to swoon? The Reverend Boothby became most uneasy. The reliable thing about his relation was that she never lost control. But there was the ominous sound of a china cup tinkling louder than usual against the saucer as tea was passed. The Reverend Boothby coughed tensely, wished the port bottle was still accessible. He offered a small private prayer to the Lord that nothing would imperil him personally.

The clock ticked loudly. Minutes passed. Lady Kingdom maintained a dignified, ominous silence. She had said all there was to be said. The Reverend Boothby burped discreetly.

At last Ralph spoke. The vision of the beautiful Harriet Cooper, pale and alone on the high seas, gave him courage. ‘I will go, Mother,’ he said firmly, ‘I have made up my mind. I wish to put my suit and I am deeply sorry if that is distressing to you, because I believed you had assented to my hopes for myself in regard to Miss Cooper. Perhaps she will not accept me but—’

‘Not accept Lord Ralph Kingdom? Have you gone mad? A cheap and common daughter of a tradesman?’

Benjamin spoke suddenly. ‘Please, Mother, do not talk of Miss Cooper in terms she does not deserve. We do not know what has made her do something so – unusual.’

The Reverend Boothby looked from one to the other, mesmerised. This family did not ever confront each other in this manner. He felt himself perspiring in embarrassment.

‘We shall not be gone for so very many months.’ Benjamin addressed his mother gently.

Ralph pushed on. ‘It shall remain a confidential matter among us, Mother, if you so desire. I say again, I am determined to put my suit. For Benjamin there will no doubt be uncharted mountains and unbridged rivers and most of all birds. But we will in any case, as Ben says, be back within a year and I do not think it is necessary for anybody in London to find our journey strange in the least. Englishmen are travelling all over the world these days – India, Africa, Australia – and we shall merely be two of many.’

Any colour in Lady Kingdom’s face drained away.

Her son had spoken.

With every vestige of control she possessed she seemed to remain calm. She simply bowed her head so that they would not see her face. She closed her eyes and prayed that Miss Harriet Cooper would drown in the Indian Ocean.

And then wildly it came to her, unbidden, with the force of an earthquake, that the exact same fate could befall the sons of the House of Kingdom. In terror she saw before her high seas and violent storms and uncharted waters. She saw the small, crowded ship that Edward Cooper had sailed on. She felt pain that she had forgotten, and loss, and love.
Do not leave me, my darling boys,
she wanted to cry out,
do not leave me.
The delicate handle of her china teacup snapped in her hand.

The clock ticked loudly in the silent room.

Then with the iron control for which she was famous Lady Kingdom raised her head high, regarded her sons, and gave them a small, wintry smile.

‘It is to me, then, that the maintenance of the dignity of the House of Kingdom falls.’ She was silent for a moment and then she spoke again and her eyes betrayed nothing. ‘You, Benjamin, although I had hoped for more wisdom from you, may do as you please: that is the fate of a younger son. I hope however that you, my dear Ralph, and I, do not live to regret this day. Of course I cannot prevent your going. But my cousin’ – she gave an imperceptible nod at the Reverend Boothby who was suddenly looking at her in terror – ‘will at least accompany you both. He will go as my moral representative, and your moral judge. May God watch over you.’