Gerald and Elizabeth: A poignant and captivating family saga

  GERALD AND ELIZABETH

  D. E. Stevenson

  First published by Wm. Collins in 1969

  Copyright © D. E. Stevenson 1969

  This edition published in 2022 by Lume Books

  30 Great Guildford Street,

  Borough, SE1 0HS

  The right of D. E. Stevenson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

  FOR JOHN

  WITH LOVE

  Table of Contents

  1. THE HARRIMAN FAMILY

  2. GERALD BROWN’S SECRET

  3. THE GIRL FROM VENUS

  4. GERALD’S STORY

  5. GERALD IN CLOVER

  6. ‘DO YOU REMEMBER ……’

  7. WINGED STEED

  8. THE STAGE BOX

  9. MISS BURLEIGH’S EVENING PARTY

  10. PENELOPE’S STORY

  11. THE GREAT MAN

  12. BIRKHILL

  13. THE JOB

  14. CANNOCHBRAE

  15. SATURDAY

  16. THE BROKEN DOOR

  17. THE RIVER

  18. GERALD IS TURNED INSIDE OUT

  19. ‘THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING’

  20. THE WRITING-DESK

  21. MRS INGLIS

  22. GERALD’S DILEMMA

  23. COUSIN MATT SAYS GOODBYE!

  24. MISS MACFARLANE

  25. ‘WHERE HAVE YOU DROPPED FROM?’

  26. ‘IT’S ABOUT JESSIE’

  27. ‘HE WOULD HAVE A LOT TO LEARN’

  28. MRS BOLD

  29. ANGUS PROUDFOOT’S APOLOGY

  30. ‘IS IT ALL RIGHT?’

  31. LETTER FROM AMERICA

  32. ‘HE WASN’T MY FATHER’

  1. THE HARRIMAN FAMILY

  The S.S. Ariadne was on her way from Bombay to Southampton via the Cape. She was not one of the larger passenger ships nor very up to date but she was comfortable and well-found. Mr and Mrs Harriman had engaged the best suite which consisted of a state-room, two double cabins and a bathroom with a shower. It suited them admirably, for they were travelling with their daughter, Penelope, and their niece, Marion. At first they had found the accommodation somewhat cramped (they were used to larger ships) but they had settled down now and, as Mrs Harriman observed, there were compensations: the captain was much more approachable, he was cheerful and amusing; their fellow passengers were friendly; there was a pleasant atmosphere in the Ariadne.

  The Harrimans were Americans. Mr Harriman had made his pile and had partially retired from business; his partners were capable and trustworthy so he was free to travel and see the world with his family. They had travelled widely in the last few years; they had done Europe and had cruised in the Mediterranean; the elder Harrimans had been round the world on a conducted tour.

  This trip was different, for Mr Harriman had said firmly that he was tired of being hustled and bustled and forcibly fed with a whole lot of indigestible information, so they had made no plans but had gone when and where they pleased. If they liked a place they stayed, if not they moved on somewhere else. It was much more enjoyable. They intended to stay in London on their way home. Mr Harriman was pretty sure he had cousins somewhere in Buckinghamshire – distant cousins, of course, but all the same he meant to find them. Mrs Harriman, not to be outdone, had vague recollections of her grandmother talking about a farm on the Yorkshire moors and a white pony.

  ‘I wish I had listened properly,’ she added with a sigh.

  ‘We all wish we had listened to the old folk talking,’ declared Mr Harriman.

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ asked Penelope.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t the fashion,’ replied her mother. ‘When I was young we just weren’t interested in having English relatives.’

  ‘Yorkshire!’ exclaimed Marion. ‘Why, we might be related to the Brontës! Just think how interesting that would be!’

  Mr Harriman smiled and held his peace. He had a feeling that the Brontë family, though talented, was not a, family with which he would care to be related (and anyhow they had all died young, hadn’t they?).

  Mr Harriman was much more anxious to establish a link with his mother’s family. She had been Charlotte Audley before she married. Her father (whom he vaguely remembered) had been Charles Audley, the elder son of James Audley, who was said to have come from Buckinghamshire in England.

  Mr Harriman had tried to find out more about the family but without success (if only he had listened to the old folk talking!). However Audley was not a common name so he was hopeful. The discovery that Buckinghamshire was a large county with a sizeable population did not daunt him. Most obstacles could be overcome with perseverance – so he had found. In fact the only ambition which had eluded him was the acquisition of a son to perpetuate his name and succeed him in his business. He had intended to call his son Audley – Audley Harriman sounded good – but Audley had not materialised. Audley was a dream son.

  As a matter of fact Mr Harriman thought of Audley quite often and sometimes dreamt of him: Audley as a kid (with fair hair like Penelope) getting into mischief; Audley at college, winning prizes; Audley growing up, making dates with girls, playing baseball and beginning to take an interest in business. Mr Harriman would sooner have died than have mentioned Audley to his nearest and dearest (he prided himself on being a hard-headed businessman) but at the back of his mind there was a vague sort of hope that in Buckinghamshire he might find a young Audley cousin who would fill the bill … and, if so, thought Mr Harriman (if the young Audley cousin were all that could be desired) he might marry Penelope and become a son-in-law – which would be almost as good. Mr Harriman had begun to plan what branch of his business would suit the young Audley cousin (not sales, thought Mr Harriman. Englishmen hadn’t enough push) when his day-dream was interrupted.

  ‘What are you thinking about, Elmer?’ inquired Mrs Harriman.

  ‘He’s thinking about Table Mountain,’ suggested Penelope. ‘The captain says we shall see it to-morrow morning.’

  ‘I’ll be sorry,’ Marion declared.

  ‘You’ll be sorry?’ exclaimed Mrs Harriman in surprise. ‘Why Marion, I thought you wanted to see Table Mountain!’

  ‘George is disembarking at Cape Town,’ murmured Penelope. She added kindly, ‘Never mind, Marion. There will be other nice young Britishers. The captain said so.’

  ‘George is amusing,’ admitted Marion without embarrassment.

  ‘What about Clem?’ asked Penelope.

  ‘He wouldn’t mind,’ replied Marion. ‘He likes me to enjoy myself.’

  Penelope was not so sure. Marion was engaged to Clement Hogan, the two families had been friends for years. Mr Hogan had a large and flourishing business with branches all over the States and Clem was doing well. Sometimes Marion wore Clem’s ring on her engagement finger but more often on a ribbon round her neck. Marion loved Clem and was looking forward to marrying him in the spring, when he was due for a partnership; but, as she had explained to Penelope, she found it ‘easier to talk to people’ when Clem’s ring was invisible.

  ‘I wear it all the time,’ added Marion, sensing her cousin’s disapproval.

  Penelope said no more.

  The girls were very attractive and were used to receiving a great deal of attention – all the unattached males on board the S.S. Ariadne had fallen victims to their charms. Penelope was fairy-like with ash-blonde wavy hair and sea-blue eyes; Marion’s eyes were brown, her smooth hair was cut to fit her well-shaped head like a dark brown cap. They were very fond of each other, and had good fun together, and they enhanced each other’s charms.

  When the ship called at Cape Town the two girls leaned on the rail and waved good-bye to their friends.

  ‘It’s a little sad,’ said Penelope. ‘We’ve met so many people – but perhaps it’s just as well.’

  Marion understood what she meant of course. She had been sorry to say good-bye to George but it was ‘just as well.’ He had said he would write to her but she knew he wouldn’t – they never did. After a short silence she said, ‘You can make friends on a ship quite easily because you know you’ll never see them again.’

  ‘Do you want to see George again?’ asked Penelope with some anxiety.

  ‘Not really,’ Marion admitted.

  They looked at each other and smiled.

  After lunch the girls returned to their post and watched the new passengers arriving. There were one or two couples, oldish people who looked rather dull, and a harassed mother with a family of children. They all straggled up the gangway, turning to wave to friends who were seeing them off. Next came a group of young men (Marion decided that they were ‘Britishers’ going home to England); they paused when they saw Penelope and Marion and gazed at them hopefully … but the girls were talking to each other and did not seem to notice.

  ‘Nothing doing, Jack!’ exclaimed one of the young men, giving his friend a hearty buffet on the shoulder.

  They laughed and passed on.

  One man behaved differently. He was alone and obviously he had no friends to see him off for he strode up the gangway without looking to left or right. He glanced at the girls in passi
ng, but without the slightest interest and, pushing through the crowd on deck, disappeared into the bowels of he ship presumably to find his cabin.

  ‘Did you see him?’ whispered Penelope in her cousin’s ear.

  ‘Not really,’ Marion replied. ‘He was going too fast.’

  Penelope agreed that he was going much too fast – she had not seen him either – but they decided that he was of medium height and had a thin brown face and blue eyes (‘grey-blue eyes’ said Penelope).

  ‘What colour was his hair?’ Marion wondered.

  Penelope thought his hair was brown but she could not be be certain because his green felt hat had an unusually wide brim. Marion had noticed that his grey flannel suit was a little the worse for wear and that he had lost a button off his jacket. Penelope had noticed that he had green socks and highly-polished brown shoes.

  They had not really seen him, he had been going too fast, but obviously they would know him again when they saw him and quite soon they would be able to get into contact with him.

  ‘You could offer to sew on his button,’ suggested Penelope.

  ‘Clem wouldn’t like it,’ Marion replied primly.

  They both laughed – it was the sort of joke they enjoyed.

  All this time other people were arriving, singly or in groups. Two young men paused and looked at the girls with pleasure and appreciation. One of them hesitated as if he were going to venture a remark … and then thought better of it. The other young man removed his hat and smiled and said, ‘Lovely weather, isn’t it?’ The girls smiled back quite kindly and agreed. He was tall and well-set-up with copper-coloured hair and very white teeth (which his smile showed to advantage) but all the same the girls were not interested in him.

  By dinner-time the girls had discovered that the man with the green socks and highly-polished brown shoes was Mr Gerald Brown. It was a dull name and they were rather disappointed. They expected to see him at dinner of course and every time the door opened they looked up eagerly but he did not appear. The ship had left Cape Town by this time and Table Mountain was disappearing in the evening mist but the sea was so calm that they could not believe Mr Brown was suffering from seasickness. They discussed the matter while they drank their soup and ate their fish.

  Mr and Mrs Harriman listened to the discussion in silence but when filet de boeuf à la jardinière appeared Mrs Harriman could contain her curiosity no longer and inquired why they were so enthusiastic about the man.

  Marion replied, ‘He looked at us as if we were a couple of steamer chairs.’

  ‘He didn’t see you,’ suggested Mrs Harriman.

  ‘He saw us but he didn’t see us,’ explained Penelope.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ declared Mrs Harriman.

  ‘It’s quite easy,’ said Penelope kindly. ‘When you board a ship and see a couple of dirty old steamer chairs lying around you see them with your eyes – but you don’t really see them. That’s how he saw us.’

  Mrs Harriman frowned. It seemed strange. Afterwards she spoke to her husband about it but found him unhelpful. Elmer Harriman had given up the attempt to understand his female relations. He loved them dearly and was extremely proud of them but he just accepted them as they were. Sometimes they amused him immensely but he had a poker-face and kept his amusement to himself. (Audley would have understood and enjoyed the joke).

  Marion and Penelope were looking forward to establishing friendly relations with the mystery-man. It was easy to make friends on-board ship – in fact it was difficult not to – but Mr Brown eluded them and, apart from a chance meeting in the corridor when he hurried past with a muttered ‘Good morning’ in answer to their smiles, no contact had been made. He was never visible except at meals when he sat at a small table in the corner of the dining-room, eating and reading a book. He was never to be seen on deck. He took no part in games nor swam in the swimming-pool. There was a dance one night but apparently Mr Brown was not a dancer. Mr Harriman assured them that he did not spend his time in the bar.

  ‘Why bother about him?’ asked Mrs Harriman. ‘There are plenty of nice boys for you to be friends with. That good-looking boy with the red hair has lovely manners and his father is a baronet …’

  ‘Oh, we’re friendly with him, Aunt Ada,’ said Marion.

  ‘We’ve plenty of friends but we’re interested in Mr Brown,’ explained Penelope.

  One evening Mr Harriman met the man face-to-face in the passageway outside his cabin and invited him into the private stateroom for a drink.

  ‘Oh, thank you! It’s very kind of you but I’m rather busy,’ replied Gerald Brown. ‘Thank you very much, sir.’

  It was a polite refusal – almost too polite, thought Mr Harriman, as he watched Brown scurrying down the passageway and disappearing into his cabin like a bolting rabbit.

  Mr Harriman had hoped to please his daughter and his niece but had failed in the attempt.

  Meanwhile the girls had obtained some interesting information from one of the stewardesses. In exchange for a lavish tip they learned that Mr Brown got up early, ran round the deck and swam in the swimming-pool long before his fellow-passengers were awake. He had given the stewardess his jacket to have a button sewn on. Whilst engaged in this task she had discovered that the lining of his jacket had come loose and had been mended with black cotton thread, so she had unpicked it and repaired it with grey silk which she happened to have in her sewing-basket. Luckily it matched exactly so she was able to make a neat job of it. Mr Brown spent most of his time in his cabin, reading books which he obtained from the ship’s library. He had read Diamonds Forever and was now reading a big fat book with pictures in it, called The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. As far as she knew he had received no letters nor postcards nor cablegrams. He was a nice polite gentleman and gave no trouble except that he was always in his cabin when she wanted to clean it and make his bed. In answer to further questioning the stewardess said that she thought he went out for a walk on deck late in the evening – but she could not be sure.

  When they had sucked the stewardess dry Marion and Penelope talked it over. Marion was of the opinion that he was a criminal flying from justice and was travelling under an assumed name, Penelope did not agree. ‘He has lovely eyes,’ said Penelope with a sigh.

  Penelope had heard of Robinson Crusoe; she had been under the impression that it was a story for children – but perhaps she was wrong? She decided to have a look at it when Mr Brown returned it to the library.

  2. GERALD BROWN’S SECRET

  Gerald Brown was unaware of the trouble he was causing, he was too wrapped up in himself and his own affairs. He had chosen Robinson Crusoe from the library because he remembered that the man had been wrecked upon a desert island. Gerald envied him.

  Gerald thought there were too many people in the world – the ship was full of people who would not let him alone. They said ‘Good morning’ to him or ‘Good evening’ as the case might be and he was obliged to reply in the same meaningless words. It was impossible to escape from people except by shutting himself up in his cabin.

  The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe interested Gerald profoundly, he read it for hours on end, forgetting his own troubles in following the troubles of Crusoe … but, whereas Crusoe had found much to be thankful for in his plight, Gerald was unable to find anything at all to be thankful for in his.

  He was wrong, of course. Everyone has something to be thankful for and Gerald had quite a lot. Hundreds of thousands of people, lying sick in hospitals, would have considered themselves fortunate in having a strong fit body free from pain. Gerald never thought of that. He took care of his body, of course: he ran round the deck every morning and at night when nobody was about; he swam daily and did strenuous exercises in his cabin, for, although he did not count fitness a blessing, he had no intention of allowing his muscles to go soft.

  It was a friendly ship and for the first few days Gerald was pursued by his fellow passengers and invited to play games – or swim – or dance. He refused everything and eventually they gave him up in despair … all except the American family. Mr Harriman asked him to come in for a drink – and he refused.