by Dilly Court
Arabella and Lady Lyndon exchanged meaningful glances.
‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Arabella said with a wry smile. ‘We get along well because she loves to be seen with a titled lady, but if I were just Mrs Martin, I doubt if she would have given me the time of day.’
‘My thoughts precisely.’ Lady Lyndon nodded in agreement. ‘Dreadful woman. I feel sorry for her husband; he seems nice enough, if a little overbearing at times.’
‘Yes, exactly.’ Kate moved a little closer, lowering her voice. ‘Mrs Goodfellow’s cottage is vacant, and from what she told me it would be ideal for Ivy and her family, but it belongs to the Church and when I tried to broach the subject to the vicar, Mrs Courtney intervened. She made it clear that I would have to seek her approval as well, which is ridiculous.’
‘Ridiculous,’ Lady Lyndon echoed.
‘You said there were two problems,’ Arabella prompted.
‘Yes, Mama. The other is perhaps more serious. It concerns Hedley and Jenny. Apparently they’ve become close but Mrs Courtney will have none of it. She says that the Courtney ancestors came from France at the time of the Norman Conquest and Jenny is not good enough for their son.’
‘I suppose most mothers feel that way about their little boys,’ Lady Lyndon said thoughtfully.
‘But we’re talking about Hedley.’ Arabella rolled her eyes. ‘He’s nice enough, but the poor fellow is not right in the head.’
‘He suffered a bad injury, Mama,’ Kate said defensively. ‘He is much better now and he wants to rejoin his regiment, taking Jenny with him as his wife.’
‘Well, now.’ Lady Lyndon pursed her lips. ‘Let’s hope the poor girl knows what she’s letting herself in for.’
‘Jenny is a good servant,’ Arabella added. ‘I don’t know what her mother would say.’
Lady Lyndon placed her empty glass on a side table. ‘I am more than happy to help, but what is it you want us to do, Kate?’
‘Mrs Courtney respects both of you. I think if you asked her to tea on Monday it would put her in a better frame of mind towards my requests, and it would allow me to speak to the vicar without her at his side.’
‘It seems simple enough.’ Lady Lyndon glanced at Arabella. ‘What do you think?’
‘I agree. Anyway, I’m seriously considering taking over running the various committees. Elaine had better grow accustomed to asking my opinion on village matters. I’ve discovered I have quite a gift for organisation.’
‘Then I can rely on both of you?’ Kate rose from her seat.
‘Yes, my dear. And you can pour me another glass of port,’ Lady Lyndon said, smiling. ‘It is Christmas Day, after all.’
Kate picked up the empty glass. ‘What about you, Mama?’
‘I think I will indulge, Kate. I’m beginning to feel quite like my old self, and Giles has invited me to visit Pomeroy Park next week. Of course, I am still in mourning, but I’m sure that your dear papa would not want me to be miserable for ever.’
Kate filled their glasses and one for herself. She was gambling on her powers of persuasion, but she was almost certain that the vicar would see things from her point of view.
Kate’s strategy worked. Without undue pressure from his wife, Humphrey Courtney agreed that to give Ted Harris a second chance was the Christian thing to do. The cottage was available and it would be better to have tenants installed right away so that the property did not fall into disrepair during the winter months. Ivy was ecstatic and the children were bubbling over with excitement when Kate accompanied the family to visit their prospective home. Ted was less forthcoming, but he nodded and said that ‘it would do nicely’, and Kate took this as the best she could expect from a man who kept his inner feelings to himself.
Chapter Nineteen
Ivy, Ted and the children moved into Marsh Cottage in the middle of January. Ivy had insisted on giving it a thorough spring clean before they took residence and, with Jenny and Kate’s help, they had the place spotless, warm and welcoming. Ivy was to continue working at Warren House, and Morrison was only too happy to have a strong man like Ted to assist him, especially during the long winter months when the old man’s rheumatics were most painful. The older children attended the village school, and Ivy continued to bring Charlie and baby John to the house, where Tilly clearly doted on both of them.
Hedley and Jenny saw each other as much as possible, despite opposition from Elaine, but Kate’s meeting with the vicar had proved successful, and Humphrey raised no objections to his son’s return to duty or his relationship with a servant girl. Hedley had to make several trips to London where he underwent rigorous tests to ensure that he was fit to return to duty, and at the beginning of February he received orders to join his new regiment in Delhi. There was not enough time for the banns to be read and Hedley, with a degree of purpose that Kate could not have imagined he possessed, had attended Doctors’ Commons to get a special licence.
The wedding of Hedley and Jenny was a small affair performed by Hedley’s father, who had somehow persuaded his wife to attend, although Elaine made it abundantly clear that she disapproved of the match. Kate was happy for Jenny, who made a beautiful bride, although Kate knew she would miss her more as a friend than a servant. The wedding breakfast was a subdued affair in the vicarage dining room, with only Lady Lyndon, Arabella, Kate and Annie as guests. It was obvious that Elaine did not want her friends from the various committees involved, and Kate could only assume that the good ladies would look down on Jenny and feel sorry for Hedley. However, the newly-weds seemed oblivious to any undercurrents and were excited at the prospect of starting a new life together. The happy couple were due to sail on a troop ship the following day, and, after emotional goodbyes, they left to spend their wedding night in a coaching inn on the road to the East India docks.
Kate was happy to see her mother in a buoyant mood. Arabella’s relationship with Giles Pomeroy-Smith was progressing rapidly, although Kate knew that her mother was very conscious of the fact that she was still officially in mourning. However, Arabella had allowed herself to abandon the stark black widow’s weeds for a gown of pale grey tussore, and Kate had persuaded her to have a dinner dress made in mauve silk. Arabella had argued at first, but when Giles continued to press his suit she had agreed to break with tradition.
Kate’s liking for Giles deepened as the weeks turned into months and spring was in the air. Catkins shivered and danced on the hazel twigs and there were buds on the blackthorn bushes. The mists that had shrouded the marshes over the darkest days of winter were less frequent, and a faint haze of green on the trees that surrounded Warren House was enough to lift Kate’s spirits.
She had not heard from Harry since he left Walthamstow, and she was beginning to wonder if he intended to return home, or if he had decided to keep away until Monks was finally caught. When she asked Perry about the case he had little to say except that Monks was proving a much more slippery character than the police had anticipated, and he was lying low south of the river. Despite Monks’ apparent withdrawal from the criminal world, Perry thought that it was still too dangerous for Lady Lyndon, Kate and anyone who had connections to Harry to return to London. Perry’s advice was for them all to remain where they were and Kate was happy to comply with this.
There was always plenty to do, although she missed Jenny more than she had thought possible. Kate hoped that Jenny’s marriage to Hedley was proving a happy one, but they were now far away and Hedley would be reunited with his fellow officers. Kate knew from experience that the tight-knit military communities could make life difficult for anyone who came from a different background, and she couldn’t help worrying about Jenny. In the face of such snobbishness Jenny would have to prove herself a resilient and resourceful soldier’s wife, although Kate did not doubt her friend’s ability to make a life for herself and Hedley, even in the furthest outpost of the Empire.
Despite all her underlying worries, one of Kate’s greatest pleasures was the garden. She plan
ned the planting of the herbaceous borders with Morrison’s help, relying on his years of expertise and knowledge of plants. Ted did most of the labouring, and he seemed to thrive on working outdoors, although he was careful to defer to Morrison in all things. Ted’s main interest lay in the walled kitchen garden, where he was quick to learn when to plant the vegetables and how to tend them. The greenhouse was cleaned, the broken panes mended and trays of tiny seedlings filled the racks that Ted had repaired with a hitherto hidden talent for carpentry.
Arabella liked to wander about the grounds with a sunshade and straw bonnet to protect her porcelain complexion, especially when Giles paid a visit, which was at least every other day. Kate was waiting for them to announce their engagement, but her mother was coy whenever she tried to quiz her on her relationship with the handsome landowner.
They were in the garden taking the air after a hefty April shower when Kate heard the rumble of carriage wheels and the sound of horses’ hoofs on the gravelled drive.
‘I think your beau has arrived, Mama,’ Kate said, smiling.
‘Giles is not my beau. We are just good friends.’
‘I doubt if he sees it that way, Mama. He’s here so often he might as well move in.’
‘Don’t be vulgar, Kate.’ Arabella frowned, but her eyes were sparkling and there was a delicate flush on her normally pale cheeks.
‘Every time he visits I expect to hear that he’s proposed.’
‘Even if I were to consider marrying Giles,’ Arabella said sharply, ‘I would have to wait at least another year before we announced our engagement. I am still in mourning for you dear papa.’
‘But you do intend to accept when he does propose?’
‘I’m past the first flush of youth, my dear,’ Arabella said, sighing. ‘I don’t expect every gentleman I meet to fall in love with me.’
‘Oh, Mama!’ Kate said, chuckling. ‘You know very well that Giles is clearly smitten by you. It’s quite obvious to everyone.’
‘Stop it, Kate. You’re putting me in a state. I won’t be able to look him in the eye if you continue to tease me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Kate said, laughing. ‘I promise I won’t say anything to make you uncomfortable. In fact, I’ll go inside and see if I can find Annie. You can have Giles all to yourself.’ Kate did not wait for her mother to respond. She headed for the double doors that led into the small sitting room where she knew Annie often sat in the afternoon, basking in the sun like a contented kitten.
‘Kate, is that you?’ Annie was suddenly alert as Kate stepped into the room.
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘I can tell by your footsteps. You have a certain way of walking, quite different from that of your mother or Aunt Margaret. Besides which, I heard the carriage arrive and I imagine that Lady Martin will be outside in the garden, waiting for her beau. I can tell the difference between a barouche and a tilbury.’
Kate laughed. ‘I wish I had your ability to see things in my mind’s eye. How clever you are, Annie.’
‘I have to use my ears. It’s amazing how much you can tell just by listening.’ Annie sat back in her chair. ‘For instance, I know how much you miss Harry. I miss him, too.’
‘Yes, you’re right. I wish I knew that he had arrived safely in Bombay.’
‘You never told me why he had decided to go so far. I know all about Monks, of course, but why did Harry set sail for India.’
‘You would have to ask him that yourself,’ Kate said evasively.
‘Well, the answer might be in this letter.’ Annie held up a folded letter, sealed with red wax. ‘Will you read it to me, please? I was hoping you would be the first person to come into the room. It might be from Joe.’
Kate took it from her. ‘Of course.’ She broke the seal carefully and unfolded the letter. For a moment she was speechless. It was from Joseph Blythe, but written by a nurse at the military hospital in Bombay. Kate read it twice before she could find the courage to speak.
‘What does it say?’ Annie demanded. ‘I know it must be something bad or you would read it out loud.’
‘It’s from a nurse in the military hospital in Bombay, Annie. Your brother was badly wounded, which was why Harry set off for India. He was going to bring him home, but now Harry is very sick in hospital. The letter doesn’t go into details but it must have been serious, and they’re both in the same ward. It was Joe who asked the nurse to write this letter and that doesn’t bode well. Harry would never have asked for help had he been in command of his senses.’
‘You knew that Joe was wounded and you didn’t tell me.’ Annie’s voice rose to a cry of anguish.
‘We hoped that Harry could bring your brother home as quickly as possible and we didn’t want to worry you. Now it seems that they are both in trouble.’ Kate folded the letter and tucked it into her skirt pocket. ‘I’m going to India. I won’t leave them both to die in a military hospital. I’ll bring them home.’
‘If you go, I’m coming with you. I won’t be a hindrance, Kate. I’ll do everything I can to help.’
Kate thought quickly. ‘All right, we’ll both go. It would be difficult for me to travel on my own, but the two of us together will be fine. I’m going to the village shop to get Mr Ruggles to send a telegram to Perry. We need two tickets to Bombay on the first ship available.’
Kate had wanted to leave immediately, but it was almost a week before she and Annie were able to obtain tickets for the ship that would take them to India. Annie had never been on a vessel of any kind, and she confessed to being nervous but excited. Perry had been reluctant to let her go, but Lady Lyndon had applauded Annie’s courage, and she thanked Kate wholeheartedly for undertaking the journey to bring Harry and Joseph home. Arabella had been against the voyage, but Giles had been encouraging, and that had calmed the situation. Kate could have kissed him, but she managed to control herself. If Giles Pomeroy-Smith was to be her stepfather she was more than happy. He had brought the smiles back to her mother’s face and she was like a different person. The old, sharp-tongued Arabella was gone, leaving someone much more amenable and kind, which made life more pleasant for everyone.
The East Indiaman was a three-masted Blackwall frigate and the passengers were mostly soldiers returning to duty, although none of them seemed to know if they would still be employed by the East India Company, or whether they had been transferred to a regiment of the British Army. The uprising had caused great confusion as well as tragedy, but the officers who shared the saloon with the small number of civilian passengers seemed optimistic. The other travellers included a missionary and his wife; a doctor, who drank too much at dinner each evening, and two spinster school teachers who were returning to Bombay after completing their home leave. The officers kept mainly to themselves, although they were affable and courteous in company, but the sound of their revelry late at night after the civilian passengers had retired to bed could be heard above the sound of the wind in the sails and the beating of the waves against the hull.
In contrast, the spinster ladies spent most of their time reading or sewing, speaking only when spoken to and they retired to their cabin every evening after dinner. The doctor’s wife suffered badly from seasickness and was confined to her bunk for the first couple of weeks, and after that she either sat on deck wrapped in a couple of blankets or huddled in the corner of the saloon, leafing through old copies of Household Words magazine. The doctor himself was kept busy attending minor injuries to the crew and dispensing doses of seltzer to the soldiers. He started drinking soon after breakfast, for purely medicinal purposes, he said, and continued to imbibe throughout the day. At dinner he regaled the party with accounts of his medical experiences both in India and Africa, which invariably left the two school teachers pale and unable to face the rest of their food. It was no surprise to Kate that the good doctor’s wife took refuge in illness when faced with such a selfish, egotistical husband.
Kate was very glad that she had Annie as a companion, and th
ey amused themselves by making up background stories for their fellow passengers. Annie might not have the power of sight, but her hearing was acute and she noticed things about people that Kate often missed.
Whiling away the long hours, Annie always began the game. According to her, Miss Nancy had suffered a broken heart when she was jilted by her former fiancé. Her sister, Miss Euphemia, had fallen in love with a married man and had fled to India rather than give way to the temptation of becoming his mistress. This last observation had made Kate curl up with laughter as she sat cross-legged on her bunk. The two ladies in question were so prim and proper that it was almost impossible to imagine them succumbing to any deep emotion, let alone the temptation to enter into illicit love affairs.
When it came to Dr Arbuthnot, Annie’s imagination ran riot. The doctor’s drink problem had been caused, so Annie said, by his wife’s flirtatious behaviour. Pale, sickly and devoid of any sense of humour, Amaryllis Arbuthnot had been a dancer at the Grecian Theatre with a string of stage-door admirers. One night, during a performance, she fell off the stage, dead drunk, according to Annie, at the feet of the good doctor, who was seated in the front row. He fell hopelessly in love with her and they were married even before her broken leg had healed, but Amaryllis was not prepared to give up her many lovers and the doctor took to drink. Their passage to India was supposed to be a second honeymoon, and an escape from a titled admirer. Annie could not go on. The ridiculousness of the story had them both crying with laughter.
It was Kate’s turn to improvise when it came to Mr and Mrs Skidmore, the missionary couple. Herbert Skidmore, she decided, was a reformed bank robber dragged back to the path of righteousness by Barbara, his domineering wife. It was Barbara Skidmore’s voice that dominated talk at the dinner table. Well-educated, cut-crystal enunciation and the ability to make herself heard above the wildest storm made it impossible to ignore the lady, who constantly referred to her own upbringing in a vicarage and her sainted father, the late Reverend Lucius Skidmore. This always brought the conversation to a halt, and Barbara was quick to stress that her husband had chosen to take his wife’s surname. She had a habit of glaring at the puzzled faces of her audience, as if daring them to question the decision.