‘From Scotland then?’ Lady Kingdom sounded disappointed.
Lucretia was having none of this. ‘From Scotland originally perhaps,’ she said. ‘But Sir William MacDonald, the judge, Elizabeth’s father, had lived in London all his life like his father before him.’
‘Ah.’ Lady Kingdom’s countenance brightened a little. ‘Was he not a brother of Sir Richard MacDonald, the eminent royal adviser, who knew my father well?’ Receiving affirmation, she asked more questions about family connections. It was clear that they were better than she had feared. She was aware of the need of personable young girls in the county, if her sons were to be entertained. Then she rang a bell beside her. Almost at once two maids appeared with tea which Lady Kingdom poured herself, into exquisite but fragile cups.
‘You must do me the honour, my dear Lucretia, of bringing these two young ladies back to me on Friday evening,’ said Lady Kingdom as she held her cup delicately. ‘My sons shall visit from London. They will be glad of such charming company.’ Harriet’s heart sank but Augusta blushed with pleasure and Lucretia beamed.
‘How kind, Lady Kingdom, how kind.’ Lady Kingdom was silent. ‘How kind,’ said Lucretia again and then for some time there was just the tinkling of the cups as they were replaced carefully on their saucers, and the rustles of the petticoats and the dresses in the cold room.
In London, Harriet knew, they would now move on to talk, at least fleetingly, of a book, or a concert, the business of the visit having been concluded. Lady Kingdom seemed to have no such subjects of conversation and soon she rose, and the visit was over, and the coach once more rattled down the long, immaculate drive. From the coach Harriet thought she caught a glimpse of the rotund clerical gentleman who had accompanied Lady Kingdom to the wedding. He was, seemingly, preparing a sermon across the lawn for he appeared to be addressing nobody, or the trees, in rather an eccentric manner. But the others were too excited to notice so Harriet sat back in the corner of the coach as it made its clattering way up the valley and along the lanes back to Rusholme.
There were no cards or music that evening: there were seldom cards or music now; rather everyone seemed to be looking at books about New Zealand. Edward or Harriet often read aloud to the family as Uncle William stoked the fire and Aunt Lucretia ordered the servants to bring glasses of negus.
There is no occasion whereon there is so great a temptation to relax good habits, as at sea (read Harriet) especially on a long voyage. Amongst Passengers, negligence of persons is almost universally conspicuous. Men neglect to shave themselves for days together. Women, to whom personal appearance is really important, neglect themselves.
‘Good heavens,’ said Augusta. ‘I am relieved we are going to visit Lady Kingdom again, where negligence of person would not be contemplated.’
Cousin John, alerted that the young ladies had been invited back to meet the sons, looked stern. He was not at all happy about Harriet going elsewhere in the district. He suddenly interrupted her reading and engaged her in conversation about her finishing school in Norfolk. The answers he received were short; even John could see that the subject was uninteresting to her. But he had watched Harriet with her crippled sister: he asked her if she had news of Mary, and his cousin’s face brightened and softened at once. ‘I have had a long letter from her, she is very well,’ said Harriet and she smiled at John instinctively so that his heart felt quite touched and he determined to speak to her next day.
Edward glanced across at Harriet from his book. Again he saw in his mind Mary, shocked and pale, coming into the house at Bryanston Square the day the woman in Seven Dials had died of cholera. He knew how close the sisters were. But if Harriet knew of Mary’s secret life she gave no sign. She merely smiled once more at Cousin John and returned to her volume.
* * *
But next day when John found Harriet as usual reading one of Edward’s books in the empty drawing room he said to her: ‘Cousin Harriet, I would like you to take a turn about the garden with me.’
She looked up in surprise, and something else: alarm perhaps. Obediently she laid the book on a table and put on her bonnet which was lying beside her. She was going for a ride with Augusta: the groom was preparing the horses, fastening the side saddles.
‘Do you know,’ she said to John as she tied her bonnet, ‘people should take shoes with special cork soles, otherwise they will not be able to walk about the deck of the ship, for the sea washes over in storms and everything is covered in water.’
He did not notice that she flinched as he took her arm. Aunt Lucretia, glancing out of her bedroom window, started in surprise at what she saw: a young couple walking along, arm in arm it seemed, past the blackcurrant bushes. She frowned to herself, turned back to William in disapproval, but he was already gone back to his study after his afternoon nap. In the distance, down by the barns, Edward banged in nails.
Then Cousin John began. ‘It is very pleasant to have you staying at Rusholme, Harriet.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I have been very glad to see more of you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you like Rusholme?’ She nodded gravely but a tremor of suspicion entered her heart. ‘I have always liked coming here and everybody is so very kind. But – I miss Mary very much. I find it difficult to be apart from her.’
‘Ah.’ He supposed brides always missed their sisters, look at Alice in tears on her wedding morning, but no doubt greatly happy after her time in Ryde.
‘I will be so glad when the cholera epidemic is over, I believe the number of deaths is now declining daily,’ said Harriet firmly.
‘Ah.’ Then he broached his immediate concerns. ‘You are invited to spend the evening with Lady Kingdom and her family?’
‘Yes,’ said Harriet shortly.
‘I feel I should perhaps warn you.’ He paused. ‘The younger son, Benjamin, will cause you no difficulty: I believe he has an interest in the sciences. He is rather vague and fond of birds; I don’t think he would notice a young lady, actually. However, Ralph, the elder son, has – quite a way with – ah, with the ladies. I believe he is – something of a blackguard. I have heard stories of his rather dissolute life in London, nothing I could impart to you, of course. But I feel it is my duty as your cousin to warn you about him.’
And Harriet gave a little laugh in relief. ‘Oh Cousin John,’ she said. ‘You need not worry about me. Lady Kingdom’s sons shall not find an entrance to my heart, neither the scientist nor the blackguard, I can assure you.’
‘You do not understand how concerned I am for your welfare.’ John was determined he should be taken seriously. ‘Ralph is quite wild and undisciplined. There have been several stories … I should not tell you this but I understand he is involved with—’ Cousin John’s propriety made him stumble, ‘—with a young lady who is in the—’ now he cleared his throat embarrassedly, ‘—in the corps de ballet of Taglione, or Cerrito, or Grisi, one of these foreign extravaganzas!’
Harriet glanced up at her cousin, surprised. ‘A ballet dancer?’
‘A woman of the chorus,’ said John dismissively. ‘And foreign. And I happen to know that the young lady concerned,’ and he could hardly articulate the words, ‘goes by the name of Mimi.’
‘Then I will not interest him at all!’ said Harriet, trying not to laugh. And seeing that they were near the house again and that the horses were waiting with the groom, she looked up at him, smiling again and disengaging herself gently from his arm. ‘I do appreciate your concern for me,’ she said. ‘But I think perhaps it is Augusta to whom you should speak.’
‘Why of course,’ said John, confused. ‘I was to speak to her also, of course.’
So that when Lucretia, hovering, anxiously asked her son if he had enjoyed his walk with his cousin he answered shortly, ‘I was merely warning Harriet about the reputation of one of the Kingdom brothers. You must warn Augusta.’
Lucretia smiled in relief. ‘I think Augusta can look after herself,’ she said
. ‘She is older and more sensible than Harriet. And it is my personal opinion that all Lord Ralph Kingdom needs is a sensible wife.’
* * *
Once more the Squire’s carriage catapulted through the country lanes, swaying backwards and forwards as it raced towards Lady Kingdom and her two sons. Augusta was flushed and pretty, Lucretia was even more voluble than usual in her excitement, talking again of the qualities of Ralph and Benjamin as if she were an intimate of their most secret lives. So they did not notice if Harriet was pale and even more silent than usual; she would a hundred times rather have been back at Rusholme listening to Edward’s meticulous planning with his father and his brother for crossing continents than facing an evening with unknown young men and empty conversation. The swaying of the carriage and the idea of the evening before her made her feel physically ill.
Tonight they were escorted to another room in the grand house. Lady Kingdom was attended by two young men; elsewhere, looking rather small in the large space, several other young people sat in little groups beside card tables. There was a very large grand piano, shiny and gloomy, in one corner. There were too few people for the room, conversation was stilted and the same general air of chilliness that had permeated the drawing room continued here, and no gentleman twinkled from the high bare walls although another extremely large battle was seen in the distance and a portrait of Queen Victoria. Harriet looked about hopefully for the large clerical gentleman who spoke to trees, but he was nowhere in sight. She sighed inwardly. She was reminded of interminable Norfolk evenings with her Aunt Lydia; wondered then if Aunt Lydia, growing up in this area with her brothers Charles and William, had first got her taste for these dull, constrained evenings at entertainments in this grim mansion, long ago.
Lady Kingdom motioned to the Coopers graciously; they were introduced at last to the famous sons. Harriet observed that it was true they were a handsome pair: Lord Ralph dark and suave with black hair and heavy, brooding brows. He spoke easily and his wild, exciting eyes seemed to be deep pools of promise wherein young ladies probably often drowned. Sir Benjamin was a fair-headed, somehow stiller version of his elder brother: his blond curls may have been a trifle wild but with a little flicker of recognition Harriet saw that he had the same deep, amused grey eyes as his father, in the portrait.
Lord Ralph bent low over Harriet’s hand, an action that turned many girls rather faint. Harriet retained her equilibrium. She smiled and bowed her head to the gentlemen automatically, as she had been taught a hundred times. Aunt Lucretia and Augusta made little breathless sounds of pleasure. Harriet was aware that she was being scrutinised but could not speak. Her shyness was found charming by the young men, who had already been apprised of her beauty and saw that it was so; she was offered an arm and led to a card table and found herself playing whist, partnered first by Lord Kingdom, and then by the son of a bishop whose voice was high and who laughed a lot somewhat unnervingly in the rather silent room. There was conversation: Harriet heard about the weather, shooting, the countryside, the Swedish nightingale, riding, hunting and horses in general. Supper was served: the rotund cleric appeared and said a rather long grace. After supper one of the young ladies played several Beethoven pieces and Harriet heard Aunt Lucretia’s voice echoing out from the corner where the chaperones sat, speaking of hats. A little scatter of applauding white gloves ended each number. Then another of the young ladies rather daringly offered to sing a new number for which she had just acquired the sheet music. She sang ‘Yes! I Have Dared to Love Thee’ bent rather swooningly over the piano, glancing occasionally at Lord Ralph Kingdom who leaned back in his chair with his legs thrown out in front of him. Harriet saw that Sir Benjamin’s eyes twinkled slightly.
Finally the carriages were at the door and the sprinkling of guests slipped out into the night and were carried away. Harriet leaned into a corner of the Squire’s carriage in relief and closed her eyes but was forced to open them again by Lucretia’s excited talk.
‘You girls were a great success, you were of course much the prettiest there though I say so myself, both partnered in cards by young Lord Kingdom, such a successful evening and it was noticeable that you were paid the highest attention, the Belles of the Ball in fact!’
The belles of the small card table, Mary would say, thought Harriet.
‘And I have decided that with Edward’s sad leaving coming upon us so soon,’ Aunt Lucretia went on, ‘we should ourselves hold a Departure Party!’
* * *
In her room, in her nightgown (a sight her sons had never seen), Lady Kingdom allowed her maid to brush her hair (her only indulgence). She closed her eyes.
She had always known of course that her elder son was – she chose her thoughts carefully – a little wild. But tonight her thoughts slid past her imposed boundaries to something it was necessary to face: there was something reckless, something extreme about Ralph which she feared and which seemed to be getting worse. It was imperative that she get him settled. A person in Lord Kingdom’s position: money, property, impeccable lineage, the House of Lords waiting for him, should be able to sew wild oats of course but should not be extreme. Lady Kingdom literally drummed on her dressing table, a most unaccustomed sign of agitation. She impatiently waved her maid away: she could not think properly if there was somebody else in the room, fussing about.
She stared at herself in the mirror. She was the head of the House of Kingdom and it was imperative that she urgently find her elder son a suitable wife. Last year they had been within a hair’s breadth of disaster: there had been a duke’s young wife, a whisper of duels. Now there was this ridiculous involvement with ballet dancers. The gathering of intelligence about her sons’ activities was part of the duties of the Reverend Cornelius Boothby (her second cousin twice removed) who, despite his unfortunate fondness for alcoholic beverages, had some talent for obtaining information. Last night he had told her that he had been reliably informed, never mind the corps de ballet and foolish little Mimi Oliver, that the prima ballerina, Fanny Cerrito herself, was believed to be throwing herself at Ralph and there had been public trouble at the theatre. It was well-known that the famous dancer, although most talented, was quite mad, and old, and a foreigner. Lady Kingdom found she was shaking with rage. The Kingdom name must not be sullied in this way.
She breathed deeply, endeavouring to calm herself. Tonight she had observed that Ralph had been greatly taken with the very quiet, and in truth very beautiful, Miss Harriet Cooper. Miss Cooper was not at all suitable, her family was not of sufficient pedigree at all despite the mother’s fine family line and the eminence, these days, of the father. But what was Lady Kingdom to do? Ralph’s downfall was his ridiculous and oft-repeated belief that he was in love: she must try and turn that weakness to her advantage. Harriet Cooper was modest and quiet: it was important that a respectable girl be urgently found over whom Lady Kingdom could have complete control. Lady Kingdom continued to breathe deeply.
This was not what she would have chosen, but Miss Harriet Cooper might have to do.
* * *
Next morning at breakfast Edward’s Departure Party was discussed. Asobel was delighted and asked if she might wear her peach flowergirl’s dress. Even William seemed to think Edward’s departure merited being celebrated in this way. John asked Harriet if she thought there should be dancing and Lucretia began fluttering at once at the short time left to arrange matters. Edward himself smiled amicably at every suggestion but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere and he soon excused himself and went out into the barn where his packing boxes were being stored.
Lucretia, Augusta, Asobel and Harriet all followed him at once to give advice and assistance. Furniture, they had discovered, was not to be provided in the cabins on board the ship. Beds, chests of drawers, tables – if they could be used inside the cabin on the voyage they could be carried free of charge.
‘Any bed, so long as it is thin,’ said Edward. ‘The cabins are extremely confined, in fact I can sleep on on
e of my boxes. Any old table. Small. But I can use one of my boxes for that too.’ But his mother and his sisters wanted furniture suitable for his house in New Zealand, not boxes, and arguments ensued.
‘There will be no room in the cabin,’ said Edward in exasperation, ‘and I do not want to spend money on storage.’
Lucretia announced that she had read in The Times about Ayckbourne’s Float, a portable life preserver that could become as small as a handkerchief, and had urgently sent for one. Augusta carefully packed a Palmer’s Patent Lamp. Harriet read aloud from several ‘Emigrants’ Handbooks’: one mentioned the importance only of ‘strong and useful clothing’; another insisted that a gentleman would need seventy-two calico shirts with dress fronts and twelve pairs of dress kid gloves.
‘I am a farmer!’ insisted Edward. ‘It is the farming clothes that will be of the most importance.’ Lucretia and Augusta pursed their lips, talked about the importance of clothes for a gentleman and folded embroidered waistcoats and silk cravats and kid gloves carefully.
Harriet read on:
opportunities will occur on the voyage of catching rain water as it runs from the sails; the emigrant’s wife should always take advantage of this as it will add materially to her own comfort and that of her husband, to wash as much as possible of a limited outfit.
‘What will you do, Edward,’ said Asobel, appalled, ‘without a wife?’
‘I will manage,’ said Edward firmly.
They packed packets of Price’s Patent Candles, matches, little cloths they had embroidered, books – ‘You must still read, Edward,’ said Harriet firmly – pens, even paper although Edward told them paper would be available in the new colony. Ten pounds of soap was insisted upon by Lucretia.
Edward baulked finally at a rather large painting of Queen Victoria; he agreed nevertheless that an artist from Canterbury should be contacted, to make (at some expense) a smaller copy of the painting of Augusta, Alice and Asobel which hung on the drawing-room wall.
The Trespass: A Novel Page 13