The Secrets of Tenley House

by Patricia Dixon

  At Tenley, things were expected of him, decisions had to be made, appearances kept up. But after only twelve months on the job, learning the ropes and being a good chap, he had been summoned for a rather uncomfortable and forthright audience with his mother. It seemed an heir was required otherwise those blasted cousins would get their hands on everything and in order to acquire one, Phyllis told Kenneth he would have to take a wife.

  “There is no point in beating about the bush, Kenneth. It is high time we found you a suitable filly because Tenley needs an heir and the clock is ticking. You’re not getting any younger and if you don’t make a match soon you will be left with the rotten apples from the bottom of the barrel and as much as I despair, I wouldn’t wish that on you. Now, have you anyone in mind, has anything caught your eye when you’ve been up to London?” Phyllis tapped her stick impatiently as she observed her son, noting he had paled slightly.

  “Mother, I do wish you wouldn’t refer to people as objects and for the record, no, I haven’t met anyone who I feel attracted to or for that matter, feel inclined to marry.” Kenneth knew he’d told a lie because there were plenty of handsome young men who had caught his eye, not that he could ever admit that to his inquisitor.

  Phyllis tutted and sighed. “Then it looks like I will have to step into the breach, as usual. If you are incapable of finding a suitable woman then I shall do it for you so don’t come crying to me if you end up with some desperate hag whose been left on the shelf. Now jog along and get back to the office. I’ll let you know when I have found someone, leave it with me.” Phyllis glared at her son and waited for him to take the hint, a twitch of a smile playing on her lips as he silently turned to leave.

  In the hallway, Kenneth leant against the wall and sucked in air. He felt rather odd, like he’d just been handed down a death sentence and all he could hope for now was a last-minute pardon, and that every single desperate hag in the county was spoken for.

  Before long, he’d been introduced to Daphne and it became clear that his watchful wily mother hoped to match them. After resigning himself to his fate, along with giving the matter due consideration, rather than being repulsed by the idea, Kenneth welcomed it with open arms. Poor old Daphers wasn’t such a bad catch and she certainly wasn’t a hag. In fact she was rather pretty, an English rose with pale brown eyes and although Phyllis had described her hair as mousey, Kenneth felt Daphne was natural, homely yet somewhat jolly with a bit of a spark. He also felt quite sorry for her, living in the shadow of her reverent parents and now caught in his mother’s spotlight. With an ulterior motive and covert agenda, Kenneth embarked on a tentative courtship during which, to both their surprise, they got on remarkably well. Quite soon he became very fond of Daphne, and she him.

  Away from others, Daphers, Kenneth’s pet name and one that irritated Phyllis in the extreme, was rather sweet, chaste, refreshingly innocent and undemanding. They had mutual hobbyist tendencies and were genuinely interested in the other’s collection. Over afternoon tea on the day of his proposal, they had discussed the possibility of embarking on a joint project, Egyptian antiquities perhaps. It was at this juncture, Kenneth decided to lay his cards on the table, some of them.

  After over-rehearsing his little speech and then becoming tongue-tied, particularly at the part he made reference to his mother’s meddling, Daphne smiled and gently placed her hand over his.

  “Oh Kenneth, please don’t get into such a flap. You really are a sweetheart and I do hate it when you get all flustered over your mother’s domineering ways. It’s fine and I understand, I really do.” Daphne smiled reassuringly and waited for Kenneth to gather his wits.

  It was their first intimate contact and something that Kenneth found both reassuring and surprisingly pleasant. Genuine human warmth was something he’d lacked since childhood days, frequently left in the care of his rather scary nanny. Kenneth’s only other experiences of bodily contact had occurred at boarding school in a deserted dorm or in later years during hurried moments, in seedy surroundings and paid for in advance. On this occasion, he relished the softness of Daphne’s pale skin, as her fingers gently stroked and soothed, she laid the whole matter very simply and politely to rest.

  “Now listen to me, Kenneth. I have enjoyed every moment since we met and these past few months have been the happiest of my life. Now you drink your tea and I shall attempt to set your mind at rest.” Daphne watched as Kenneth nodded, her heart skipping a beat as he picked up his cup but kept hold of her hand with his spare one.

  It seemed that Daphne was aware of, yet untroubled by, parental manipulation on both sides and instead of being irritated by it, rather welcomed the opportunity the parental plot had granted. She was ready and willing to fly the nest, even if her new one was inhabited by the Queen of Cuckoos. More so, she had confessed to feeling a great fondness for Kenneth and was sanguine in her assessment of her own predicament – spinsterhood was almost a foregone conclusion. Therefore, should he wish to pop the question, right there and then, Daphne said she would be happy, no, delighted to say yes.

  Without hesitation, Kenneth replaced his teacup which in his haste, clattered on the saucer and after fumbling inside his breast pocket before remembering the ring was actually hidden in his overcoat, he got down on one knee before a pink cheeked Daphne.

  “Dear Daphne, would you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?” In that moment, amid polite clapping from the other diners and waiters as Daphne accepted, Kenneth felt genuine joy, banishing any niggling notion of shame that his forthcoming marriage would be one huge lie.

  Ironically in 1957, the very year that the Government announced that homosexuality would no longer be an offence, Kenneth entered into the union of holy matrimony. The knot was tied in the chapel on the estate grounds during a jolly affair, well attended by those necessary to spread the word amongst social circles that the Tenley line was almost secure.

  Ever thankful for 1950s’ social proprietary and Daphne’s patience, Kenneth had been able to prolong the inevitable until their wedding night where their polite union took place beneath the sheets in a darkened room. The groom, whilst considerate and gentle, in order to perform the task in hand was somewhat lost in an imaginary world, one in which Daphne did not feature.

  The bride, having been previously warned not to expect too much on her wedding night, for once saw wisdom in some of her mother’s words. The rest she chose to ignore, such as rationing the subsequent frequency of marital intimacy. While Daphne was rather deflated by the initial experience, she secretly hoped that next time Kenneth might put in a tad more effort on her behalf. Perhaps he might show some stamina and therefore prolong the duration and quality of their lovemaking.

  Sadly, it was not to be, and rather than Daphne curtailing their conjugal rights, it was actually Kenneth who took charge of rationing. Whilst he was affectionate and attentive during daylight hours, holding hands as they strolled through the grounds and bestowing a morning and bedtime kiss on her cheek with regimental efficiency, he rarely instigated intimate contact. Daphne badly wanted to summon the courage to make the first move but she was sure that good girls didn’t. Curiously, when Kenneth did finally become aroused and amorous, she soon realised it occurred when he was pickled, relaxed and uninhibited by copious amounts of alcohol.

  And there was something else. Knowing little of the male physiology or more to the point the way they ticked, and having nobody in her circle she felt able to confide in, Daphne was increasingly confounded by Kenneth’s explosion of desire when he gave in to his needs. Oh how she longed for him to make love to her that way each and every night, touching and caressing, breathlessly exploring, turning her this way and that, and once, almost pushing decency to the limits.

  In her solitary moments, Daphne scrabbled for answers and the only one she came up with involved Phyllis and her indomitable and unyielding interference in all departments of Kenneth’s life. No wonder he escaped to London half-yearly, insisting that his investments a
nd the London house needed attention. And as much as Daphne was happy to tag along, she demurred to his assurances that he’d be far too busy to gad about while she was left interminably bored. That said, his three-day jaunt did seem to revive him spiritually but sadly not in the bedroom where despite missing her madly, Kenneth was too exhausted for any naughtiness.

  They had been married for three years and not for want of praying on Daphne’s part, even being so bold as to hint at an extension to their once-fortnightly intimacy, it was therefore unsurprising she failed to conceive. And it didn’t help that Phyllis was ever willing to add her two-penneth worth. The bitter old woman waited impatiently, tapping her blasted cane as if she were marking the time of Daphne’s body clock, falling short of announcing the cessation of her monthly cycle and hinting when it was time to get back on the horse. The woman was becoming insufferable, openly obsessed with thwarting ‘The Cousins’ and hell bent on securing the bloodline of her family. No wonder Kenneth was uptight and couldn’t perform.

  And it wasn’t just that. Phyllis controlled everything, even the household which by rights should be Daphne’s role. She was the lady of the house now but felt usurped at every turn. Tenley was tatty and dreary and Daphne longed to redecorate, nothing dramatic, perhaps just a lick of paint and some new wallpaper. But Phyllis liked her home just as it was and wouldn’t hear of it being disfigured or what remained of her memories of a dear husband, painted over or stripped away. Not that she or Kenneth would ever put up a fight over such things, it wasn’t worth it. In the end, Daphne chose her battles wisely, those she was sure to win and would cause the least disruption to their lives and that of the household in general.

  Her victories came in the form of a brand new bedroom suite and the services of a team of decorators who brought their three private upstairs rooms into the present century. The rest Daphne left to peel and rot, just like Phyllis.

  Immediately off the master bedroom was a modern bathroom and dressing room, a space that Daphne prized, not only as a place to hang her clothes but one she refused to give over to Kenneth. He’d hinted that perhaps it would be useful to have a spare bed, for those nights he stayed up late – he so hated to disturb her. Daphne stood firm, mindful of an even greater chasm opening between them.

  Her greatest triumph was the swimming pool which Kenneth had installed for her birthday. It was housed in the defunct orangery that held only a few benches of jaded plants and was too much for Ernest to maintain, he had plenty to do in the grounds. Daphne loved to swim and so did Kenneth. The pool was heated and perfect all year round and in summer, the orangery doors were flung wide to allow the sun to stream in.

  Travel was another joy the newlyweds shared and following their honeymoon on the Adriatic, once a year they ventured further afield to Egypt and then on to safari in Africa. However, on their return, the holiday blues were deepened by derision from Phyllis who no doubt expected an announcement, not an effigy of Nefertiti. By their fifth year of marriage and after bowing under pressure from The Cuckoo, Daphne and Kenneth sought the opinion of the medical profession and after being prodded and poked, left the Harley Street clinic downcast and despondent.

  Whilst awaiting the results of tests, they remained in London at the Kensington house, both grateful for some time away from Phyllis. The sixties were in full swing and once they’d got over their ordeal, Kenneth suggested they ventured out and had some fun, dinner and the theatre perhaps. The evening was wonderful and as they strolled home, arm in arm, Daphne felt such love for her husband that it almost broke her, right there on the pavement, just beside The Albert Hall. Perhaps it was the champagne and the effects of oysters and caviar, but Daphne was suddenly overwhelmed by so many things, uppermost in her mind was blame. Her desire for a baby was secondary to her hope that their failure to achieve, something Phyllis considered a simple act of nature, was not rested at the feet of Kenneth. Whilst she knew that the alternative would result in the hard-hearted hag making her life a misery, Daphne would choose that, rather than her poor husband be further emasculated by his own mother.

  With age, Phyllis was becoming ever more cutting and obtuse, cantankerous and offensive and Daphne knew her cup would runneth over and spill its vile contents onto whoever was deemed inferior, infertile. As it happened, according to the doctor, neither was at fault and as he tactfully explained, all of the required departments were in full working order. Perhaps patience and a few tweaks here and there would be the ticket. A change in diet, careful monitoring of the monthlies and the avoidance of stress – something they both admitted to experiencing, might be a factor. The consultant did, however, counsel that in some cases these things took time and a certain amount of luck but with lots of practice, he was confident that before long, they would produce a healthy bouncing baby.

  Once back at Tenley, Kenneth sometimes likened himself to the train robbers. While they were being hunted down and captured one by one, and likely to do a very long stretch in prison, his sentence seemed more like eternity. He too had been hunted down by Phyllis and was now locked in a marriage where he was under constant pressure to perform, trapped in a house with his bloody annoying mother and it was driving him mad.

  Practice sessions were scheduled to coincide with Daphne’s optimum bodily cycles while confounding the advice from the quack, Kenneth suggested that to store everything up was far better than diluting his efforts, thus reducing the frequency but improving the quality. Daphne as usual demurred, silently likening her love life to blood and a stone. With every passing month and each distressing visit to the lavatory where she would discover her dismay, Daphne began to lose hope while her yearning almost ate her alive, tension and disappointment conspiring against her.

  To make things a million times worse, the tapping irritable Cuckoo oozed disapproval and disdain from every pore which is why, when Daphne could take it no more, Kenneth came up with a solution. It was one he hoped would complete his wife and silence his mother while at the same time allow him respite from conjugal expectations.

  Daphne was at first cautious, unwilling to give up on her dream to bear a child of her own, but soon agreed it would be a perfect solution, to give love and a home to a baby in need of adoption. And who knew, one day God might bestow upon them the gift of a natural child, as a reward for their goodness. Kenneth was eager to set the wheels in motion once Daphne was on board and all that needed to be done was announce their decision and joy to The Cuckoo. Daphne was enveloped in a haze of expectancy as motherhood beckoned, while Kenneth felt rather smug after solving two problems at once. Phyllis on the other hand was furious.

  Phyllis

  Down the hall, the matriarch of the family, Phyllis, was locked in her room dissecting every morsel of the conversation she’d had with her son. Never in her life had she been so dismayed, incredulous or disapproving than at that moment. To think that everything she had strived for, the indignities and constraints she had endured, would be for nothing. The Tenley line was about to end, sullied. Did Kenneth think that she had brought him into this world for this, and how dare he be so blasé about something so monumentally wrong? She had given her life to this family and expected, no deserved, respect.

  Phyllis had remained at Tenley once Daphne and Kenneth were married, a union which she orchestrated from the outset, as with their meeting and courtship. Suitability of personality or otherwise had not been a consideration in her meddling. Phyllis had only one desire – to offload her remaining child onto whoever would have him. The subsequent production of an heir was imperative and overrode any kindlier thought processes. Lord knows she’d done her bit for the family and this was to be her final hurrah after living life dutifully, as she and society saw fit.

  Her own marriage had been arranged yet acceptable to both parties. It was a union in which Phyllis observed the rules laid down by those who had gone before and then, once she’d produced an heir and spare, altered things to suit herself. Phyllis was content with her life at the manor, especially w
hen the boys went off to school and her husband buggered off to London to visit his mistress. Happily resigning all that bedroom nonsense to another more suited to the role, Phyllis preferred the glory of being a wonderful hostess to their friends, along with frequent sojourns to the continent and the south coast with her loyal chaperones.

  Phyllis was extremely wealthy in her own right and a stalwart of not only the local community but was still in the loop with the London Crowd. She had been on the lookout for an unsuspecting daughter-in-law ever since her peculiar second son was dragged back from whatever he got up to in London. Biting her stiff upper lip, Phyllis resolved that the best way to overcome Gus’s death, her precious and delightfully roguish, normal son, was to focus her attention on the disappointing one.

  Kenneth was decent enough to look at. Tall and broad shouldered with a fine head of pale brown hair, his spectacles distinguished his scholarly way of dress, perhaps one could describe him as Oxford don but less shabby. But there was a stumbling block. In Phyllis’s opinion, Kenneth lacked in many areas – personality, ambition, joie de vivre, and on occasions she was horrified to detect just a hint of the nancy boy in him. This characteristic had been swiftly brushed aside, and Phyllis assured herself it was just Kenneth’s artistic tendencies and sensitive manner. After all it was impossible. The Appleton-Tenleys bred men, not poofters!

  Therefore, to avoid the shame and embarrassment of a shelved or rejected son, Phyllis had taken matters into her own hands and became hell bent on selecting a woman from a decent gene pool, perhaps a religious, military or banking background to match with her leftover son. The notice in The Times would be seen by many and Phyllis had a reputation to keep and standards maintained. To ensure a coupling – because the good Lord had not made her task easy, the candidate in question would be in need of a companion, not necessarily the love of their life and one who would appreciate a step up the ladder. The family from which she hailed had to be solvent, and the candidate had to show child-bearing potential but not be seen as desperate or previously cast aside. It was also imperative that they were manageable because Phyllis was not about to lose control, especially of her daughter-in-law. In a nutshell, no-hopers need not apply.