The Parson's Daughter

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by Catherine Cookson


  He was shaking her hands, saying now, ‘Don’t look so far away, look at me.’

  Obediently she looked at him, and now he said, ‘This is a great occasion, our first tea together. I love this time of day, don’t you?’ And without waiting for an answer he went on, ‘No matter where I am, I always try to have a cup of tea about this time, even if—’ he put his face so close to hers their noses almost touched and in a mere whisper he added, ‘even if I’ve indulged in overmuch wine.’

  She kept her lips tightly together to suppress a smile; then she actually laughed aloud when he added, ‘I consider it a great virtue, one I should be given recognition or an award for, that I should like tea.’

  He was saying, ‘I love to see you laugh,’ when the door opened and the butler entered, carrying a large silver tray, on which was placed a full silver tea service. A footman followed pushing a tea trolley. It had two shelves and these were laden with plates, each holding an assortment of small sandwiches or a variety of pastries.

  As the servants set about arranging the small tables to each side of them and preparing to serve tea, she was slightly embarrassed that he continued talking to her as if they weren’t there, saying such things, as, ‘Are you prepared for a two mile walk around the house? I must confess there are parts I haven’t seen for years. And we must discuss the engagement party. Yes, that is important.’

  When there came the sound of a teacup being rattled in a saucer, he turned his head abruptly, saying, ‘Leave them…leave it. We’ll see to it.’

  Both men bowed towards him, then hastily went from the room. Smiling at her, Dennison rose from the couch, saying, ‘Men are clumsy with teacups. I am myself. Will you do the honours?’

  She was quite used to serving the tea, but her hands trembled as she lifted the silver teapot. Then abruptly placing it back on its stand, she said, ‘If they made’—she nodded towards the door—‘a tinkle with the cups, I’m going to make a clatter, because…well, I’m as nervous as a kitten. And…and look, there’s a lemon here and milk, which do you want?’

  The answer she was given was a loud laugh, almost a bellow, as he flopped back onto the couch, very like the boys would do when something amused them greatly. And it brought her from the table to stand looking down at him. He had one arm tightly around his waist and she noticed with amazement that tears of laughter were running down his cheeks. She herself couldn’t really see anything at all very funny in what she had said, but then of a sudden she felt herself gripped and pulled down onto the couch, almost across his knees. And now he was holding her close and crying, ‘Nancy Ann, you are delightful. You’re as fresh as the wind from the sea. Oh, I love you, I love you, my dear.’ And he hugged her to him tightly, kissing her face, not just her mouth, but her eyes, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. And when at last his face moved away from hers she was gasping for breath and his voice came to her softly now, saying, ‘Believe me, Nancy Ann, I love you. I love you so much I wonder just how I’ve lived without you for so long. Say that you will grow to love me. Come, say it.’

  There was a constriction in her throat, and there was a feeling inside of her that wasn’t unpleasant: she was so relieved that his caress hadn’t aroused fear in her. Her voice came very small as she said, ‘I…I think I might. I’ll try.’ She croaked in her throat, then coughed, and he laughed and pulled her to him again, but gently now; then playfully, almost as one of the boys might have done, but less roughly, he pushed her away, saying, ‘I have lemon in my tea, woman. What do you have?’

  ‘Milk.’

  She was at the table again and she noticed that there was a silver strainer resting on each cup. Dear, dear; they were afraid of a few tea leaves. Well!

  She poured out the tea, then said, ‘Do I squeeze the lemon in?’

  Now he was standing beside her and pointing to a silver half-moon shaped object with two small handles attached to the middle. He picked it up, opened it out, took a half slice of lemon, placed it between the two silver half-moons; then, holding it over the tea, he pressed it, and the juice was squeezed out. Then looking sternly at her, he said, ‘Miss, you have a lot to learn before I can take you into my service.’

  And she, answering in what she thought a similar vein, and mimicking Peggy’s voice, said, ‘I don’t think I’ll accept your service; it’s too finicky, sir.’ And at this he swung her round towards him, almost upsetting the cup of tea, and, holding her by the shoulders, he said, ‘That was said in fun, but it frightens me.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, mister, I am that, I am that.’ This was said in Mrs McLoughlin’s voice, and she closed her eyes and tried to suppress a smile.

  ‘Yes, you are a clever mime, aren’t you? You’ve got it to a fine art. But don’t you dare mimic me.’

  ‘No, Mr Harpcore, I won’t. I won’t.’ She was enjoying herself when he said, ‘You’ve never called me by my name yet.’

  Her eyelids were blinking as she answered, ‘I know. It is Dennison.’

  ‘I can’t stand the sound of that. I’m known as Denny to most of my friends, and I would like my wife to think of me as Denny.’

  His wife. The thought brought the colour flooding to her face, and she turned from him and picked up his cup of tea and handed it to him. But he waited until she had taken up hers too, and was seated, before he took his place beside her. Then reaching out and pulling the trolley towards him, he said, ‘Let’s look at what they’ve given us,’ and he lifted the end of one sandwich, saying, ‘Salmon,’ then another, saying, ‘Pate,’ and another, saying now, ‘I don’t know what this is. But anyway, come along, let us eat, because you know, I haven’t broken my fast since breakfast time. You, madam, have ruined my appetite. Do you know that?’ …

  It was almost half an hour later when he rang the bell. And when the butler appeared he said, ‘We shall be ready for you in five minutes, Trice.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’ The man closed the door, and Dennison, turning to Nancy Ann, said, ‘Well, are you ready for battle?’

  ‘I’m…I’m afraid…really I am. There are so many of them. Why do you need so many servants?’

  ‘Well, my dear, it is a very large establishment.’

  ‘Are there as many in your other houses?’

  ‘Oh, no. There are only four permanently in the London house, and, really, that’s a very ordinary place. It’s one of a terrace, you know, and in three storeys. The only outstanding thing about it is it has a magnificent stairway. I…I think there are only ten rooms apart from the basement. If I’m staying there for any length of time, I take staff from here. Now Scotland. Oh well, that’s a different kettle of fish altogether: it’s a nice old place, not overlarge but it’s got quite a bit of land. But once we go up there we could stay for a few months. It all depends upon the weather and the fishing and shooting and so on…Don’t look so concerned, my dear; you’ll enjoy it all, I promise you. I’ll make it my business to see that you do. Have you ever done any shooting?’

  Her answer came prompt and from a straight face, ‘No, and I never want to shoot. I…I think it’s cruel.’

  She watched him close his eyes and bow his head slightly. ‘We must go into this question, my dear, concerning your likes and dislikes,’ he said; ‘all our likes and dislikes…’ Then he asked the question, ‘Do you like roast meat, roast lamb, roast pheasant, or chicken? I can see you do. Well, we’ll talk about it later. What do you say?’

  She could say nothing. She just wiped her mouth with a napkin, smoothed up the sides of her hair towards the rolls on the top, tugged at the waist of her dress, then smiling faintly at him, she said, ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘My dear, dear.’ He leant towards her and kissed her gently on the lips; then taking her hand, he led her down the room and into the passage. But there, he relinquished his hold. And now slanting his eyes towards her, he lifted his chin. But she had no need to take the hint for she was following her grandmama’s instructions: her shoulders were back, her head up, her chin, not out, but
drawn slightly into her neck. But then, her brave front almost dissolved when she entered the hall and saw the long line of servants stretching from one end of it to the other.

  Two men were standing apart, together with the housekeeper, and Dennison turned towards them and indicated first the shorter of the two men, saying, ‘This is Staith, my man, and Trice, the butler. You have met Mrs Conway, the housekeeper.’

  As the three people inclined their heads one after the other towards her, she moved hers slightly in recognition of the introduction. Then addressing the housekeeper, Dennison said, ‘You may take over now, Mrs Conway.’

  The housekeeper stepped forward and, her manner matching her prim voice, pointed to the first man in the row, saying, ‘John McTaggart, first footman.’ Then moving down the line, she went on, ‘Henry Robertson, second footman.’ Now she came to the maids. ‘First housemaid, Jane Renton. Second housemaid, Annie Fuller. Top floor maid, Pattie Anderson. Lily Sheeney, cook. Assistant cook, Sarah Brown. Vegetable maid, Mary Carter. Scullery maid, Florrie Kilpatrick. First seamstress, Mary White. Second seamstress, Lily Davison. Third seamstress, Daisy Fulton. Bootboy, Jimmy Tool.’ The bowing of the heads and dipping of the knees were deeper now as she got towards the end of the line.

  At the name of the bootboy she paused. This was certainly not the child she had seen by the river all those years ago. This boy had red hair and a small pinched face.

  The stiff voice of the housekeeper went on: ‘Laundress, Kathie Smart. Assistant laundress, May Stout. Washer, Jane Cook.’

  They had come to the end of the line but, going off at right angles, was another line of men. And now it was the butler who came slowly down the hallway and, when he reached Nancy Ann, in matching censorious tones he said as he pointed to a man in his late fifties, ‘William Appleby, coachman.’ Then to the next man, middle-aged this one: ‘David Gillespie, groom.’ Then two men in their thirties: ‘Johnny Winter, stable boy…Jimmy Pollock, second stable boy.’ And now turning to her, he looked her in the face, saying, ‘The gardeners and the lodgekeepers come under the farm management, miss.’

  She stood still for a moment looking fully back into the face of this superior individual, whom she instinctively knew would not have used that tone to her had he been at the other end of the hall and still within hearing of his master. She was quite good at remembering faces and names. It wasn’t hard to remember this man’s name, Trice, because Peggy was wont to say to Jane, ‘I don’t want it in a minute, I want it in a trice.’ And so, her voice cool and clear sounding she said, ‘Thank you, Trice,’ before turning to the housekeeper and surprising her by adding, ‘And you, Mrs Conway, thank you also.’ Then she walked back up the line of staring faces and here and there an open mouth, and when she reached Dennison, she smiled at him and to his surprise and not a little amazement, she said coolly, ‘That is over, shall we now look around the house?’

  After a moment’s pause and a successful attempt not to smile, he said, ‘Yes, my dear. Of course, of course.’ And with that they both walked away and towards the pink drawing room again; and once inside, she leant against the door and closed her eyes, and he, standing before her, said, ‘You did perfectly, magnificently.’

  ‘They don’t like me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They don’t like me, at least those at the top.’

  ‘Nonsense. What makes you think that?’

  ‘I know. I somehow listen to voices, even when I’m not aware of doing so. I can sense what is behind their tone. It’s to do with the mimicking, I think.’

  ‘Well, my dear, as clever as you are at mimicking, I think you are wrong here for they cannot help but like you. Just…just give them time. They’ve never had a mistress in this house since my mother died, and that is a long, long time ago. Come.’ His voice was quiet. He held out his hand and they turned and went through the doorway again, and she began her inspection of the house that was to be her home.

  Three

  The neighbouring gentry responded to the news of Dennison Harpcore’s engagement in various ways, but all showed astonishment, except of course those who had attended the Christmas ball: ‘Well, we could have told you so,’ was their comment.

  Generally, the reactions came from those neighbours near at hand who could not believe that the gambling, womanising owner of the Rossburn estate should take for a wife a parson’s daughter, and her just a slip of a girl. It was indecent, some said; others, that they had heard of such men marrying their housekeepers, but a parson’s daughter! And the parson himself of such little account, for St George’s covered a very sparse and indifferent parish. True, it had within its bounds two estates, but you couldn’t say either of them patronised the church. A few of the staff might be sent from Rossburn, but Graham Mercer of the manor had never darkened the church’s door for years, nor anybody else’s door for that matter, until recently.

  Particularly was it being asked by the wives, how a chit like that was going to manage such a household and staff. And that same question was loudly asked in the House itself immediately after the inspection of the staff. There was a meeting in Mrs Amelia Conway’s sitting room, and she demanded of the butler, ‘Did you see the way she spoke to me, Edward? She was put up to it, I’m sure of that, because she looked like a scared kitten the night she came to the ball. And there she was, walking down the row as if she had been brought up among the best. My God! We’re in for something.’

  ‘Don’t take on, Amelia.’ The first footman interposed. ‘There’s ways and means of putting her in her place. And the wedding hasn’t come off yet. Mr Staith here’—he nodded towards the valet—‘pointed that out to me.’ It was noticeable that John McTaggart didn’t call the valet by his Christian name, but gave him his title.

  ‘And what would they be?’ asked the housekeeper.

  Roger Staith stroked back the thinning hair on the top of his head, and his manner precise as always, he said, ‘Mrs Poulter Myers should be returning soon. Can you imagine what her reaction will be to the news? But more so, the reaction of the vicarage sprite when she comes up against the formidable Rene. And you cannot imagine that plump little lady withdrawing her claws from the master, now can you? She’s already lasted longer than any of them, and for the simple reason that she wouldn’t let go, not because he still wants her. You remember Miss Honor Campbell? He seemed to favour her about three years ago when he made those frequent visits to Scotland and stayed with her people. We thought that might be serious, didn’t we? But the fair Rene put an end to that. I happened to be there at the kill. It was a shoot in more ways than one. Madam Rene wasn’t invited, but she landed, and was all charm to Miss Campbell. Even so she managed to make it evident that she was still warming his bed at night. So’—he spread out his hands, very much as a Frenchman might do—‘I say leave it, and let us await events. And what is more, a little bird perched on the wings of Appleby while he’s ploughed backwards and forwards with the coach to the vicarage these past few days has told me it would seem that the vicar himself, if one is to go by his countenance, is not the happiest of men over the arrangement.’

  ‘Then why has he allowed it?’

  The valet turned and looked at the housekeeper. ‘That I have yet to find out. The mother is sick unto death, they say, but there is a formidable grandmother in the background. And, from what I can gather, the parson is as poor as his own church mice and that it is his mother who has the money and has been the means of sending her two grandsons to university. So likely, she is the power behind the throne. However, we must all be patient, and we must all assume a front of acceptance, because’—he now rose to his feet—‘we all know where we are well off, don’t we?’

  With this, the valet left the room, and the butler and the housekeeper looked at each other. Neither of them liked the man because they knew that he assumed, and this was a word he frequently used, that he ran the household, whereas they considered that the power behind the particular throne of the master of the house was them
selves, each in his or her own way.

  Four

  The morning following the inspection Nancy Ann kept her mother and grandmother laughing as she mimicked the butler and the housekeeper, then began an imitation of herself walking down the line of servants. But in the middle of doing this she stopped and looking towards her grandmother, she exclaimed, ‘That’s odd, Grandmama.’

  ‘What is, dear?’

  ‘That nice-looking young woman that comes to church every Sunday with the other two. She wasn’t there.’

  ‘Oh, she must have been. She’s one of the staff.’

  ‘She wasn’t. Now I come to think of it, I recognised one of the women that usually accompanies her, but she wasn’t there. I must ask him when…’

  ‘No, don’t do that.’ Her grandmother’s chin and finger were both raised.

  ‘But why, Grandmama?’

  It was her mother who answered now, saying, ‘Do as your grandmama says. She is, as your grandmama explained to you some long time ago, the mother of the little boy you saw by the river that day, and he is the cause of some embarrassment and hurt to…to Mr Harpcore. You would be wise to leave that matter alone, dear. Anyway’—she drew in three short breaths before going on—‘tell us more about the house, and then what your arrangements are for today.’

  ‘Oh.’ Nancy Ann sat down by the side of the bed and took her mother’s hand, but she looked into space as she said, ‘The house. I…I don’t know where to begin. And apparently I’ve only seen a portion of it. Well, there’s the hall, with the biggest fireplace one could ever imagine. It’s half as big as this room. Oh, yes, half as big. And it has a suit of armour standing in each alcove. You expect them to turn round and poke the fire.’ She shook her mother’s hand gently and laughed. ‘And the walls of the hall inside are the same as outside, bare stone, but they are softened here and there with banners and tapestries.’

 

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