Fanny (41 page)

Queen of my Heart,

The Unkindness of your last Missive hath lacerated my Heart to its very beating Centre. Know that I enclose this small Memento as but a Token of my fiery Passion for you, and also as but a modest Harbinger of the Riches that may be yours, if you will agree to let me care for you as befits your Splendour in the Arts of Love. Cupid himself will look down and smile to see you ensconced in the fine House I will build for you in St. James’, and Venus herself will laugh and sing to see the Jewels I will heap about your delicious Neck, entwine ’round your delicate Wrists, and slide upon your slender Fingers. A Life of Luxury and Ease awaits you, if you will but relent in your Cruelty to your most anguish’d and tormented,

Bellars.

To which I rais’d my Quill and replied:

My Lord,

Do you think that because I have been driven, like many another impoverish’d Lass, to make my Living as a sometime Whore, that I am totally insensible to the Pleasures of Freedom and would so readily abandon ’em for Jewels and fine Houses? Your Lordship’s Jewels, I perceive as nought but Manacles; your Lordship’s fine House as nought but a Prison; and your Lordship’s Words of Love as nought but Treachery. You mistake me, My Lord, for another sort of Woman if you think I may be as easily brib’d as a Whig Minister! I return your Jewels herewith with my strictest Warning not to further try the Patience of your most insulted and outraged,

“Sister” Hackabout-Jones.

O this indeed was Capital Sport! Was I becoming as corrupt as Lord Bellars from the Pleasure I took in this Game? Had I lost my Innocence entirely? Had I forgotten the Wisdom of the Grandmaster of the Coven, who herself confirm’d that Vengeance belong’d to the Goddess alone? But the Delights of this Game were so irresistible to me that I could not forbear from playing. Indeed, I lookt forward to seeing the Letter Bellars would send when he saw his Bauble return’d.

His Answer came upon the Morrow, and sure enough, nosy Kate fetch’d it for me. ’Twas a larger Packet upon this Occasion—a Fact which was duly noted by Kate, who sneer’d and said: “Methinks me Fanny hath an Admirer.”

“What gives you that Idea?” I askt, taking the Packet and swiftly locking the Door to my Chamber.

The Letter was wrapp’d about a small mahogany Casket, lin’d in red Velvet and fill’d with loose Jewels which sparkl’d with all the Colours of the Rainbow. I gasp’d to see such an Array of Rubies, Emeralds, Diamonds, and other Gems, for not only were they costly beyond Reckoning, but, loose in the Hand, they seem’d like Gifts from Faery Land, not from the World of Mortals. These would I have dearly lov’d to keep, but the Letter which accompanied them harden’d my Heart:

Beloved Creature, Keeper of my Heart, Most Honoured Madam,

I am contrite. My whole Heart contracts into a shiv’ring Ball for fear I have offended you. Heaven Forbid that I should misconstrue your Honour and your Purity and lead you to believe I value you as nought but a Common Strumpet. Perhaps the Bracelet that I sent was too ornate for the Purity and Simplicity of your Tastes and therefore offended you. For that, I ask a thousand Pardons!

Please accept these modest Jewels as a small Token of my Grief o’er having insulted you. If you will be good enough to visit my Jeweller, Mr. Crickle, in the Royal Exchange, he will set these Stones for you in whatsoe’er Manner you choose and bill them to the Account of your most devoted, contrite, and humble,

Bellars.

P.S. I will no longer press you, but will count the Minutes until we meet at The King’s Theatre. Adieu. I hope my Heart will not break into a thousand Pieces e’er then!

So the Blackguard thought I did not fancy his Taste in Bracelets—the Fool! I ran to the Escritoire and wrote:

My Lord,

’Tis not your Lordship’s Taste in Jewels that is wanting, but rather your Lordship’s lack of Delicacy in understanding the Hearts of Women. I would rather accept six Pomegranate Seeds from the King of Hell and risque Imprisonment for half the Year than accept these Jewels, for they are nought but Bribes to relinquish all I hold most dear in this World—namely, my Liberty. My Heart is not to be so lightly won.

Riches alone ne’er sway’d my Soul to Love. Think on your past Behavior and purify your Heart. Then perhaps I shall learn to love one who has so little Esteem for the Souls of the Fair Sex. I return your Lordship’s Jewels herewith.

Yrs.,

“Sister” Hackabout-Jones.

Ye Gads! I thought, sealing the Packet, perhaps I’ve gone too far this Time and I will ne’er hear from Bellars again.

But I was much too taken with the Game to stop playing now. Like a long-time Gambler, my Fever grew as the Stakes rose higher, and Danger of Loss kindl’d Passions that Safety and Security ne’er knew!

Perhaps Bellars was a Gambler, too, for upon the following Day I receiv’d this surprizing Missive:

Empress of my Heart,

I have search’d my Soul to understand the Import of your last Letter, and, after much Anguish and Consternation, have determin’d that you must, in some wise, be alluding to the Entanglements I have nurtur’d lo these last five Years, with a certain well-known Lady of the Town.

Know then, that immediately upon Receipt of your Letter of Yesterday, I terminated all Entanglements with this Lady and gave her to understand that I could not see her e’er again. Before we meet at The King’s Theatre, I will study to purify my Heart so that I may, by the Grace of God, be worthy of your rare and divine Love.

What a Fool I was to dream that a Heart as pure as yours could be won by Jewels alone. Rather, I will essay to present you with the Jewel of my Fidelity to you and you alone.

Most Respectfully,

Your Contrite,

Bellars.

Now this was cunning Vengeance indeed! The Lady with whom Bellars had broken my Heart had now been cast out by him! Had Revenge been my whole Intent, I could have ne’er contriv’d such sweet Vengeance! ’Twas only when I idly toy’d with Fate, instead of fretting and anguishing o’er it, that Fate dropp’d all her most glitt’ring Jewels in my Lap. Was Destiny no more than a Game in which Merit was seldom rewarded and Vice was punish’d capriciously, if at all? Was the Great Goddess a Merry Prankster rather than a Dispenser of Solemn Justice? So it seem’d!

What a Lesson this was! Ne’er had I truly seen Life as a Game of Chance before. O I long’d for a Friend with whom to share this Wisdom. I wisht for someone I could trust with this curious Tale! ’Twas then that I thought of the Wiltshire Witches. Isobel would understand all this, tho’ Joan might not. Dear Isobel, I thought, Peace be with your Soul. But Isobel and the Witches were gone, and the Wenches at the Brothel were none of ’em true enough Friends to tell.

But where was Littlehat’s Letter? I grew impatient awaiting his Call. This Game with Bellars was diverting for the nonce, but I had seen enough of his Contradictory Character by now to fix my Heart in its Resolve to flee with Lancelot. Bellars was passionate in Pursuit, yet I doubted not that he should grow bor’d and jaded once he had me in his Keeping. And I was bitterly aware that ’twas not me myself he lov’d, but merely a mysterious Maskt Lady who had teaz’d him mercilessly in the Hell-Fire Caves. Should he discover me to be nought but his simple innocent Step-Child, all his ardent Adoration would blow away like Clouds o’er the Sea upon a windy Day. No, I could not risque putting my Destiny in the Grasp of such a fickle Passion. I must choose Friendship instead and sail with Lancelot! Upon this, my Mind was firmly fixt.

At last, after what seem’d an interminable Wait, I receiv’d the long’d-for Letter. Kate, my avid Post-Girl, carried it upstairs, but upon this Occasion, I was so eager to read it that I tore the Paper open without bothering to lock the Chamber Door. I read with trembling Hand as she lurkt in the Corner watching (with the avid Eyes of Envy) my own eager Orbs flicker o’er the Page.

My Beloved Fanny,

I risque this Missive only upon the Assurance of Littlehat that you will not fail to burn it as soon as you have committed its Contents to Memory.

All is in Readiness here for the Embarkation for Eden. I have secur’d—I cannot tell you how—a two-masted Brig, the
Hazard
, which is anchor’d off the Isle of Wight. She’s a fine Ship, about 30 Ton, square-rigg’d on the Foremast, fore-and-aft-rigg’d on the Main, and flying a Jib and Staysails. She’ll sail with as little as a Crew of Twelve, as well as Captain, Mate, Cook, and Carpenter.

The Captain is myself, Horatio the Mate, whilst the other Crew may easily be supplied from amongst our worthy Followers here. I shall send Littlehat to fetch you upon horseback on the Morrow to carry you to our Rallying Ground, which I cannot yet disclose. Take as few Possessions as you can, but do not fail to bring any Valuables which may easily be barter’d, and dress
en Homme
, as you were when first we met. Fear not but you will be as well car’d for as if you were our own Daughter, Sister, Mother, Wife.

My Heart is heavy as a Hangman’s Noose about the Throat of an innocent Man when I consider how I us’d you at the Start of our Acquaintance; but having search’d my Soul I know that you and you alone are the Woman who can share my curious Destiny. Some Men sigh for Heiresses with Doweries, and some for the Appeasement of their jaded Lusts. For mine own part, I have turn’d to beauteous Boys because ne’er before did I meet a Woman whose Wit and Learning could challenge my own Understanding and cause me to reach for Truths unguess’d before.

I fear’d you not only for your Beauty, but also for your Wit, for I was wholly unaccustom’d to finding Wit so enclos’d in such a beauteous Form; and the Presence of two such rare Qualities in one Woman fill’d me with Dread of the Unknown. Most Men fear Learning and Wit in Women, for they suppose that all a Woman’s Wit will be put to the Service of ensnaring them and making them Slaves for Life. But I have found in you another Quality more rare than e’en your Beauty or your Understanding, namely your Sweetness and Loyalty—Traits said not to exist in Womankind. Ne’er have I seen you stoop to Coquetry e’en when Coquetry had serv’d you better than your own Native Honesty.

Know then that I love you with all my Heart and require your Wisdom and Wit, as well as your Companionship and Chear, in establishing my great new Nation of Free Souls. In it, Women shall have no less Authority than Men, and Blacks shall equal Whites, for we are all nought but Souls in the Sight of God, and Souls have neither Sex nor Colour. Truly, we shall build a New Jerusalem, a Second Eden, far from the Fears that trouble this hellish Isle, where Liberty is nought but a Word and Men are imprison’d merely for seeking to survive rather than perish of Hunger. Come with me and I shall prove to you not only that I can show you most enduring Love, but that we can build a World where neither Sex nor Poverty nor Colour may be a Bar to perfect Happiness and Liberty!

My Heart flies to you until I may but clasp you to my Breast fore’er more!

Yr. Most Devoted,

R. Hood.

I gasp’d to read this Letter, which represented the pure Fulfillment of all my Noble Dreams of Love. How wise I had been to fix my Heart upon Lancelot’s Lofty Friendship rather than Bellars’ Scurvy Lust! Here was Love conjoin’d with High Ideals, Love which did not seek to bribe with Jewels nor play the gaudy Games of Coquetry, but Love which sought to join two Souls in pure Service to the Great Goal of Liberty! How could I burn such a Letter upon the Instant? I must read and re-read it until I knew its Contents by Heart! And so I tuckt it in my Bosom, promising myself that I should burn it ere long—but only after I had savour’d its stirring Text, not merely one more Time but sev’ral.

So engross’d was I in the Letter that I quite forgot the Presence of Kate, who still stood in the Corner, surveying me with her envious Eyes.

“That must be quite some Letter, Fanny me Girl,” says she, bringing me back to my Senses with a Jolt.

“Kate, you take too much Notice of my Business and not enough of your own,” say I.

“’Tis me own Affair an’ Coxtart’s, too, if ye mean to fly the Coop, Fanny. D’ye catch me Drift?”

“And what of your own sweet Man, Kate? Will he not make an Honest Woman of you as he promis’d?”

“An’ that’s none o’ yer Business neither, I reckon,” says Kate, turning bright red.

Suddenly I know I have done ill to touch this sore Nerve, so I quickly seek to make amends, to soothe rather than pique mine Enemy.

“Kate, can I help you somehow to flee this Place? For I will plight my Troth to you in Friendship and help you all I can….”

“An’ who needs yer bloody Help, ye Baggage! Me Man will come fer me. I need no poxt Strumpet to befriend me!” Whereupon she hastens to leave the Chamber.

“Kate,” I call after her, “there’s not a Soul alive who doth not need a Friend from Time to Time.”

But Kate only turn’d ’round to sneer, then clatter’d down the Stair.

O she was one of those who mistake Friendship for Pity and can accept no Help for fear of seeming Weak. Her Frailties, more than my own, I fear’d, might be my Downfall. For ’tis oft’ the Case, in this imperfect World, that the Strong are fell’d by the Weak, that the Robust are brought low by the Envy of the Frail; and many a mighty Fortress, which Cannon could not tumble, hath been undone by the tiniest of Termites, doing their steady, destructive Work unseen!

I fear’d Kate’s Enmity now as much as I had formerly fear’d Lord Bellars’ Satanick Lust (and the corresponding Lust it rais’d in me). But I could not long dwell upon Kate and her Jealousies, for I must now make Preparations for Littlehat’s Arrival; and then I must lock the Door to my Chamber and feast my hungry Eyes upon Lancelot’s beauteous Letter until I had burnt its fateful Contents into my Heart.