So was I, but I managed not to cry until I reached the seclusion of the beech wood, where I finally gave vent to my feelings.
I had simply asked for more time. Mother said I cannot possibly need more time since there is really nothing to consider. Apparently I have no right to become a burden and that is what I shall be if I decline Walter’s offer. Mother made it quite clear she thinks I am unlikely to receive another, so I shall be beholden to my brothers for the rest of my life.
I had rather be dead. Or married.
Walter shall have his answer tomorrow.
June 15 th
It is done . I am to become “Mrs Walter Dowding”. It sounds very distinguished, but I was rather attached to “Miss Hester Mordaunt”.
Walter says I have made him very happy. He did not mention the word love. Neither did I.
Afterwards, I went down to the wood and sat beneath the Trysting Tree, the old beech with tangled roots like a giant’s ball of knitting wool. I cried for a long time and missed dinner.
I must have fallen asleep for when I opened my eyes I found I was being watched. I was frightened until I realised it was young Hatherwick. I believe his name is William. He explained that he had come upon me, asleep in the wood and was concerned for my safety, so he had waited until I woke. I was confused, still muddle-headed with sleep and said nothing. The light was fading and I felt nervous, alone in the wood at dusk.
Hatherwick had already taken his leave and turned away when I called him back. Mother would have been horrified, but I did not care. At that moment I did not care about anything, least of all Mother. I needed to talk to someone, so I talked to Hatherwick for a little while. I told him I was to be married. When he congratulated me, I said I should much rather travel the world and collect plants, like Mr Ernest Wilson. He did not laugh, nor did he look surprised. He suggested I might have many opportunities to travel as a married woman. I told him that unless I made an enormous fuss, I should not even be permitted to arrange my own flowers. He smiled then, but it was a sad sort of smile, as if he understood.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then he asked if I should like to borrow a book about plant collecting in China. I said I should, very much. He told me his sister, Violet would deliver it and I could keep the book as long as I liked.
I am very tired now, but cannot sleep. The conversation with Hatherwick runs through my head, over and over. His act of kindness has made a great impression on me and I am eager to read his book. I do hope he will remember to send it.
THE BEECH WOOD
We bore witness at the beginning. We stood, as we have always stood, observing merely, while she watered our roots with her tears.
Her body shuddered with sobs as she rested her dark head on her arms. Her fine clothes absorbed moisture from the soil and the cool evening air. Finally she slept, her limbs awry, her body twisted, like one who lay dead.
When he came upon her in the clearing, he stood still, fearful until he saw she breathed. He looked back the way he had come, then stood guard at a distance, his strong, rough hands in his pockets, watching her.
As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw him and got to her feet, alarmed, shaking out her long skirts. She reached out and placed a hand on one of us to steady herself while she gathered the strength to run. He stepped back, his palms raised towards her in a gesture of submission. As he removed his hat, she recognised him and said his name. He inclined his head, trying not to stare as she lifted a hand to an errant strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear.
She was dressed in green, tall, slender, like a young sapling, bending easily at the waist to brush leaves from the soiled hem of her skirt. He noted the silky brown of her hair, like horse chestnuts, the hazel of her unhappy eyes. She seemed to him the very spirit of this dark, green place.
His heart was full and he
I had simply asked for more time. Mother said I cannot possibly need more time since there is really nothing to consider. Apparently I have no right to become a burden and that is what I shall be if I decline Walter’s offer. Mother made it quite clear she thinks I am unlikely to receive another, so I shall be beholden to my brothers for the rest of my life.
I had rather be dead. Or married.
Walter shall have his answer tomorrow.
June 15 th
It is done . I am to become “Mrs Walter Dowding”. It sounds very distinguished, but I was rather attached to “Miss Hester Mordaunt”.
Walter says I have made him very happy. He did not mention the word love. Neither did I.
Afterwards, I went down to the wood and sat beneath the Trysting Tree, the old beech with tangled roots like a giant’s ball of knitting wool. I cried for a long time and missed dinner.
I must have fallen asleep for when I opened my eyes I found I was being watched. I was frightened until I realised it was young Hatherwick. I believe his name is William. He explained that he had come upon me, asleep in the wood and was concerned for my safety, so he had waited until I woke. I was confused, still muddle-headed with sleep and said nothing. The light was fading and I felt nervous, alone in the wood at dusk.
Hatherwick had already taken his leave and turned away when I called him back. Mother would have been horrified, but I did not care. At that moment I did not care about anything, least of all Mother. I needed to talk to someone, so I talked to Hatherwick for a little while. I told him I was to be married. When he congratulated me, I said I should much rather travel the world and collect plants, like Mr Ernest Wilson. He did not laugh, nor did he look surprised. He suggested I might have many opportunities to travel as a married woman. I told him that unless I made an enormous fuss, I should not even be permitted to arrange my own flowers. He smiled then, but it was a sad sort of smile, as if he understood.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then he asked if I should like to borrow a book about plant collecting in China. I said I should, very much. He told me his sister, Violet would deliver it and I could keep the book as long as I liked.
I am very tired now, but cannot sleep. The conversation with Hatherwick runs through my head, over and over. His act of kindness has made a great impression on me and I am eager to read his book. I do hope he will remember to send it.
THE BEECH WOOD
We bore witness at the beginning. We stood, as we have always stood, observing merely, while she watered our roots with her tears.
Her body shuddered with sobs as she rested her dark head on her arms. Her fine clothes absorbed moisture from the soil and the cool evening air. Finally she slept, her limbs awry, her body twisted, like one who lay dead.
When he came upon her in the clearing, he stood still, fearful until he saw she breathed. He looked back the way he had come, then stood guard at a distance, his strong, rough hands in his pockets, watching her.
As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw him and got to her feet, alarmed, shaking out her long skirts. She reached out and placed a hand on one of us to steady herself while she gathered the strength to run. He stepped back, his palms raised towards her in a gesture of submission. As he removed his hat, she recognised him and said his name. He inclined his head, trying not to stare as she lifted a hand to an errant strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear.
She was dressed in green, tall, slender, like a young sapling, bending easily at the waist to brush leaves from the soiled hem of her skirt. He noted the silky brown of her hair, like horse chestnuts, the hazel of her unhappy eyes. She seemed to him the very spirit of this dark, green place.
His heart was full and he
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