Last Miss Phillips

by Briggs, Laura

  Anna’s own affairs and her fear of Mr. Giles unhappiness over boiled mutton suspended any general inquiry on the subject of Mrs. Allgood’s health; and there was no opportunity for Kitty to relate her adventure until much later in the day, when all reason to do so had passed.

  For reasons which Kitty did not quite know herself, she omitted any mention of it at all when she penned a letter to her sister in London but a few days later.

  My Dear Louisa:

  I hope that you are well and that John is not too occupied with matters of Parliament this season. Please tell George I am very sorry that I shall not be able to cut his colored sheets for Mother Goose and wish I could see its performance. I am very pleased that Elizabeth is still practicing her new piece and that Netty has learned her prayer book by heart, for she had been endeavoring very hard to do so when I came away. I am most eager for news of their lessons and games.

  Our sister is close to her confinement, so I must spend a great deal of time with our nieces and nephews. I am endeavoring to improve their lessons, for poor Richard has fallen behind with no one to hear him recite; he is to go to school next year, I am told. The youngest, Walter, needs a great deal of care and has become most difficult now that his mother feels somewhat ill and cannot attend him in the same manner as before.

  Mr. Giles is away from home often, managing his uncle’s estate which he will someday inherit; our only company lately has been two of the ladies from the village who come often to give Anna the news and relate gossip from the parish.

  I have called upon our nearest neighbor, who is a genteel woman reduced to modest means. She is elderly and quite ill, with no relatives living with her at present and only a companion to attend to her daily needs. She is a relation of the Spencer family, whom I am sure you will recall from society.

  There are only four servants to wait upon us all and there is no housekeeper at present; but Anna informs me that this is sufficient when she is fully herself, since the children are given mostly to her care and she does the mending. I shall ask her if I can attend to the matter of the housekeeper, for I know you expressed concern that her maids are not sufficient for a woman of her position.

  Give my love to the children and also to John.

  With fondest regard, Miss Catherine Phillips

  She closed the letter and addressed it while seated at Mr. Giles’s desk, affording her a view of the window and the drab weather outside. With the remainder of the day, she sat in the children’s schoolroom and listened to Amelia endeavor to learn the scales.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Tis a full Bei-berry Mile we go, through hedge and gorse and he-ather," sang Kitty, as she tied the strings of Juliet's bonnet. "To home beneath the darkened sky, when birds in sleep do ga-ther..."

  "The candle's lit and table's set, the cows are all a-stabled," sang Caroline and Frank in unison. "We frolic tho' the path is long, for we are well and a-ble."

  "Sing it again," pleaded Walter, as he seized hold of his aunt's fingers. "T'is a full Bei-berry Mile to home, we go along so me-rry ..."

  "...tho' all the babes should be a-bed, we do not wish to tarry," finished Kitty, who had given her other hand to Amelia as they turned towards the doorway, where Anna now stood, tying on her own bonnet.

  "I have not heard that song before," she said. "Where did you learn it?"

  Kitty glanced up from her niece and nephew, her cheeks slightly flushed and rosy from the exertions of a moment before. "From Mrs. Allgood," she said.

  "In all my years of knowing her, I have never heard her mention it," said Anna.

  "I had never heard of it, either," said Kitty. "She said it was an old song which had been forgotten by most."

  Anna gazed at her for a moment. "You never fail to surprise me, Kitty," she said. In her smile was a hint of some unspoken and gentle astonishment which Kitty could not quite fathom, making her own a puzzled smile of response.

  "Whatever do you mean?" she asked. To which Anna merely shook her head, half-laughing as she took hold of Juliet's hand and led the procession from the room.

  They did not walk to Beiberry Mile, but crammed themselves into the carriage, Kitty, her sister, and six children, since two had received the privilege of calling upon their uncle's house where Mr. Giles was overseeing the farm's labors. Anna had a desire for muslin which could not wait, apparently, and Kitty had promised her remaining nieces and nephews a day's outing among the small excitements of Beiberry's shops.

  "I shall need enough to make Amelia a new dress," said Anna, "and to also finish Juliet's, for she is growing so quickly that the panels I cut are quite too small." She felt the fabric between her fingers and inspected the folds of India muslin and the fraying edges of a cheaper variety most judiciously.

  When the children grew restless, Kitty allowed them to lead her outside, where the view of interesting events might be expanded beyond dry goods. The cottage of Mrs. Thompkins was not far, where the good lady was visible overseeing her maid's labors with a rug beater and threadbare carpet; but two buildings' distance from where they stood, Mrs. Servennia's maid could be seen hurrying along to a waiting carriage with a large bundle and her lady's parasol in hand.

  But a short distance away, too short for Kitty not to notice, stood the surgery where Mr. Turner practiced. Thither, Kitty allowed herself and Juliet to be drawn, whether willingly or unconsciously, by the persistent tugs and wandering steps of her nephew Frank.

  It was a small building of two stories, around which a great many tangled shrubs grew and encroached upon the low windows and the short fence barrier between it and the road. The shuttered windows were open, the glass reflecting the light despite weather spots and the haze of daylight which permitted her only a faint glimpse of the interior. She imagined, rather than saw, the shelves where he kept his medicinal remedies and the terrible tools of his trade which might be upon the surgeon's table.

  There would be white sheets for bandages and poultices; straps, perhaps, for holding down patients who suffered injuries too terrible to be remedied by anything other than the saw or knife. Even as she turned away in response to this unpleasant thought, the image in her mind could not forget the gentleness and concentration she had observed on the surgeon's face in his labors, softening the pain of his trade.

  A movement was visible behind the glass–but a moment later, the door to the surgery opened and Mr. Hooker emerged with the surgeon himself.

  "Take my advice, Mr. Turner," he said, with a final bow. "Look to your prospects well in Beiberry Mile."

  "I shall do my best, sir," the surgeon answered, with a smile, "if you shall do your best to follow my advice upon your health." His patient strolled away, swinging his walking stick and bowing to Kitty in passing. Who felt slightly embarrassed to be lingering thus outside the surgery, although there was nothing more innocent than a woman and children walking along the fences.

  "Good day, Miss Phillips," he said, receiving a response of equal politeness from Kitty, who was all the while more aware of the surgeon's gaze than Mr. Hooker's. Aware, by the vision from the corner of her eye, when his lips moved to speak, the movement of his eyes to meet her own as she glanced towards him.

  "Miss Phillips," said Mr. Turner. His smile the same as she recalled in past meetings, his expression one of kindness which did not assuage her feelings of discomfiture.

  "Good day, sir," she answered, with a polite curtsey, interrupted by Frank drawing her further along.

  "Fine weather," said the surgeon, who moved along the same path and continued with his speech, despite the distance between them and the presence of a fence along the road.

  "Indeed," she answered. "Are you well?"

  "I am," he answered. "And your sister? Your family? They are well?"

  "They are, sir," she answered.

  The surgeon had paused, for the fence was now dividing him from further intrusion onto his neighbor's green and further polite remarks at eye level. "And yourself, Miss Phillips?"

&
nbsp; She did not have the chance to reply, for Frank was obstinate momentarily in his intent to view the flock of sheep being driven towards the crossroads and drew her beyond polite distance from the surgeon.

  "Be still, Frank," she said, pulling him to a halt. She turned back, to see the surgeon was now engaged in conversation with Mrs. Jenner, who seemed eager to share the details of a neighbor's malady.

  He glanced in her direction, Kitty believed, but he did not escape. With great presence of mind, she forced herself to look away, lest he interpret something more from her look. But what? Longing–eagerness? Coquetry? Impossible that he should think these things, or think of her with anything but the gentle pity which was reserved for the middle-aged and unmarried woman.

  She took hold of Frank's hand again. "Come," she said. "We must go back to your mother, for she shall be wondering where we have gone." She led him and Juliet away, refraining from the desire to turn her head towards the surgery again.

  "Kitty, what do you think of this fabric?" asked Anna. "I purchased it for William's shirts–it seems serviceable and such a bargain!" She thrust the edge of a folded piece between Kitty's fingers, her attention momentarily occupied by straightening Amelia's crooked bonnet.

  "It is a fine choice," ventured Kitty.

  "Was that Mr. Turner with whom you were speaking?" Anna tucked the fabric into the basket again. "I thought I saw him speak to you but a moment ago."

  "It was," said Kitty, whose voice sounded quite normal despite the quick heartbeat in response to this innocent question. "He inquired after your health, of course. And William's."

  "Caroline, stop pulling! I believe you have had quite enough sweets, for you are too spoiled." Thus, Kitty was saved from the trouble of further reply on this subject, much to her relief, by the simple act of removing her petulant niece from the sight of boiled sweets and confectionary delights in favor of the sunshine outside.

  They had stepped towards the next shop in quest of tea when the figure of Mrs. Jenner caught up with them, rushing along so swiftly that she was obliged to hold her shovel bonnet with one hand and her skirts away from the mud with the other.

  "Mrs. Giles!" Her tone, pitched high with excitement, was also breathless. "Mrs. Giles, I beg you to cease for a moment–" Anna's steps, already slow with her burden of person and possession, now entirely ceased.

  "Mrs. Jenner, whatever is the matter?" she asked. The village matron had ceased to hold her bonnet and was now clutching Anna's arm instead.

  "Such news! Such news I have heard–I have come to tell you straightaway, for I have just had it upon authority from Lord Grantly's land agent that there is an inquiry made upon the rent of Pennicott cottage!"

  She paused at this moment, in part for breath and to enjoy whatever effect this news might have upon her friends. Upon Kitty, there was none, but Mrs. Giles' expression was one of interest.

  "Pennicott?" she repeated. "But it is not for rent. Indeed, I do not think Lord Grantly has ever allowed it to be tenanted."

  "Nevertheless, an inquiry has been made," persisted Mrs. Jenner, "by a gentleman of some means, it would seem. I have heard the word upon good authority, not only from the land agent but from Lord Grantly's own manservant. I have just been telling Mr. Turner and Mrs. Fawkes, for it seems that no one in the village has heard the tidings yet." By now, the good woman's hem was damp with mud, for the hand which had been rescuing it from the street was solely occupied with the parasol clutched therein.

  "Where is Pennicott?" inquired Kitty.

  "It is a cottage on Lord Grantly's estate," answered Mrs. Giles. "Quite near William's land, with a very fine view of Six Mile Grange's manor–but his lordship has allowed it to remain empty since the death of his cousin several years ago."

  "Almost fourteen," said Mrs. Jenner. "'Tis a pity, for it is such a fine property and worth a great deal, more than the living on Six Mile Grange's estate, to be certain."

  "And he does not wish it occupied?" asked Kitty. "Then the gentleman who has inquired shall be disappointed by the answer." She rather wondered at the excitement over this piece of news, since there seemed to be no question that Pennicott cottage would remain empty at the end of this story.

  "Oh, there is no question that he shall be denied," answered Mrs. Jenner emphatically. "Of course his lordship shall say no. Nevertheless, to have an inquiry made–now that is a matter of interest to us all!" At this point, another person or destination caught her eye, for she made a hasty farewell and hurried on.

  Kitty's expression was still puzzled, although Anna was now laughing, for their neighbor was beyond hearing as she detained a passing servant upon the street.

  "The interest in the subject would be great for Lord Grantly," Kitty ventured, "but I do not see how it matters to you–or for that matter, to any in the village, since no tradesman will benefit by a tenant denied, nor any interesting conversation be had from his lordship's discouraged guest." In London, of course, gossip traveled on every subject, but with the object of personal societal advantage tingeing every conversation between interested parties. Such was the gossip which tea time and drawing rooms of her experience held, far from the world of excited conversations regarding overturned carts and escaped sheep.

  "You must learn to appreciate the nature of news in Beiberry, Kitty," Anna answered. "Anything, be it of little consequence or great, must be shared as soon as possible. So that by teatime, there shall not be a soul anywhere in the countryside who does not know that Lord Grantly has heard and denied a request from a stranger." She took Kitty's arm affectionately in her own as they continued onwards.

  *****

  “Have you seen it? Have you? It is a sight to behold, Ma’am!” These were Mrs. Jenner’s words to the widow Thompkins, who happened to be out of doors supervising her maid plucking a goose.

  Mrs. Jenner had all but run the last distance from the main square to deliver her news, burdened with a heavy basket of purchased goods and encumbered by her large shovel bonnet whose ribbons had become loose and caused it to bob about her face with each emphatic word.

  “We have seen nothing, Mrs. Jenner,” ventured the widow, “for we have been all morning at the poor old goose–”

  “It is a carriage, Ma’am. A great carriage–and it has drawn to the inn, where the coachman declared it bound for Pennicott House and inquired the way to Marebrook Manor.” The woman’s voice gave out with a gasp at this point, the last of her exerted breath expended momentarily with this effort.

  “Marebrook?” repeated Mrs. Thompkins, astonished. “Then it is a visitor to the squire?”

  “Indeed,” said the newsbearer. “And what is more, it is a woman and not the gentleman who made inquiries regarding Pennicott before–a solicitor of some sort, we now believe.”

  “A woman?” This remark produced further astonishment not only in the widow Thompkins, but in her maid, who had ceased to pluck the goose and looked up at their visitor instead.

  “A woman! A lady, if I am any judge of silk and carriages. She did not drink tea at the inn but went away again directly. But before they drove away, Mr. Hooker–who was standing quite close by–heard the footmen mention London to the coachman.”

  “Two ladies from London in Beiberry at once,” said Mrs. Thompkins, with wonder. “Did one ever see the likes before?”

  Further information was to be had from Mr. Hooker at a later time; for he had obtained, upon casual inquiry, confirmation that the carriage’s occupant was the new tenant of Pennicot. The stone house was merely a large cottage and plot of land which was in the holding of Lord Grantly of the sprawling estate of Six Mile Grange, the sort which would draw a pretty penny’s worth of rent from a genteel party, although his lordship had declined to offer it to anyone–until now, apparently.

  “A solicitor made the arrangements, it seems,” said Mr. Hooker, his thumbs tucked importantly in his coat’s lapels. “T’was a gentleman to come, believed at first, but the innkeeper Tannis informs me himself that the carria
ge’s occupant was a lady and indeed the house's future occupant.”

  “A lady?” repeated Mrs. Servennia. She was seated on the sofa near her husband’s chair, pretending to take great care in her embroidery while the two men conversed.

  “Indeed, Ma’am,” said Mr. Hooker. “According to Tannis, she possesses a bit more than the rent itself from the looks of her.” He arched his eyebrows in a knowing manner, as if to leave the rest of his speculations to the imagination of his listeners.

  The carriage which had set Beiberry Mile aflutter with speculation had indeed taken the road to Marebrook, traversing the lane to the house in a show of fine horses and a sleek newly-painted coach, its driver and footman in smart livery. The footman dismounted as soon as the wheels rolled to a halt in the courtyard; he opened the door and handed out his mistress.

  From the upstairs window of one of the rooms, the Giles children crowded around to see the woman standing below, in a striped silk traveling dress and feather-trimmed hat. Such finery was relatively unseen by their eyes, for Mrs. Giles herself had few occasions to don her best gown and Kitty’s expensive fabrics were in shades too dull to impress the wide eyes of children.

  “She’s going to come in,” whispered Caroline. As if the girl was a prophetess, they heard the rap upon the front door, the rasp of its hinges as the valet answered it.

  The commotion of the children upstairs and the carriage rattling in the yard had brought Anna downstairs to the sitting room where Kitty was mending stockings.

  “Who is here?” she asked, at the same moment the door was being opened. The valet appeared on the threshold of the parlor. “Miss Harriet Harwick,” he announced.

  Kitty rose in shock from her seat, the stockings tumbling into the basket at her feet. Anna hurriedly adjusted her lace cap before the visitor appeared behind James.