by Joan Aiken
Yr Affte friend,
H. Ward
Letter from Miss Nancy Price to Midshipman Ned Ward
Dearest Neddikins,
You will laugh when you see the name at the foot of this letter & indeed I can hardly help laughing myself when I think how different my life is now from those days in Portsmouth when our only Diversion was to meet together for Frisks and Gambols in the damp freezing graveyard. I am sure it is a Wonder we did not catch our Mortal end from the chill and ‘tis not to be admir’d that we both came down with so bad a Go of the Measles. But no matter for that, dear Neddikins, those sweet Kisses & Caresses we exchang’d are still amongst my fondest Memories & will remain so I am sure for Many a Long Time. As you may not know when I recover’d from the sickness I was sent up to London in disgrace to reside with my aunt and uncle Chauncey in High Holborn. This was intended as a punishment, but, lord! ‘tis no such thing at all, for, apart from being separated from you, dearest Neddikins, life here is by far more pleasant & entertaining than ever it was in P’mouth for my Cousins, Grace and Clara, are a merry-hearted pair of girls and my aunt Chauncey no bad sort. She makes no objection to the girls & myself sitting downstairs in my Uncle’s Shop which, as you may imagine, is by far more agreeable than remaining mew’d up in the parlour Upstairs, so we are well entertain’d & see plenty of Life and Miss Clara and Miss Grace have no lack of Beaux as you may believe. But I remane always faithful to the memory of my dearest Neddikins. My brother Robert who you may remember is a 2nd Lt on board the Adonis writ me from Gibraltar that he had seen you & knew you to be aboard the Harpy, so I take the chance of addressing you there & hope this letter finds you happy & doing Well. If your ship should ever dock in the Port of London, do not forget your loving Sweetheart Nancy.
Letter from Lord Camber to Miss Harriet Ward
My dear little Miss Hatty:
Your letter directed to me from Underwood Priors gave me infinite joy and satisfaction. This made a resolution of several difficulties which it would not have occurred to me to suggest, but now that it has come about I rejoice from the bottom of my heart. Your presence at Underwood I am certain will do my poor little Cousins all the good in the world; you with your active joyful nature will both enliven and instruct them and Open out their lives in a manner which might hitherto have been thought impossible. You may even perhaps have some beneficial effect upon my Aunt, who is always in sad case from lack of cheerful Company. It would be no bad thing either, if my cousin Ursula were also to return to the Priors but I know this is not very likely to happen if she can find herself a home elsewhere, perhaps with your sister Agnes.
I shall like to see your Elegy for the twins when it is ready. I am sure you will be able to do Justice to their sad, short, but poetic and Interesting lives.
Now to my life in Amity Valley. As you may have guessed my kind ‘Master’ James Claiborne lost no time in freeing me from my indentures as soon as he was able to find another skilled carpenter. I had performed some paid thatching services for neighbours & so was able to refund the moneys owing to him for the complete period of my services. Then I purchased a mule & rode here, passing through various German and Swiss townships on the way. Since the commencement of the century this area has been settled by various Sects such as the Dunkers and the Marienborn Society. These Fellowships are similar in their observances: their garb is very simple, the women in clear-starch’d Cap with handkerchief crossed on the breast, the men in slouch hats & woollen breeches. They are very abstemious and hard-working. Then I came – with what happiness – to Amity Valley where my friends observe many of the same practices. Wooden cabins have been constructed and more are in process of being built. But all eat together at night in the main hall of the village where there is a central kitchen. The hall has lines of benches which may be turned on a pivot to form the top of a long table. This is covered with a white cloth, and each day different brothers and sisters take charge of the cooking, making soup, bread, pies, roast lamb, etc. After dinner comes Discussion Time when plans for the next day’s labour, as well as Ethical Matters, are debated. Sometimes these discussions may last all through the night! as the male Sophocrats are by no means all of one Persuasion – some are Christians, some Freethinkers, some Dualists, while some have views so individual that no name has yet been assign’d to them. It has been laid down as one of the prime tenets of the Group that no action or decision be taken until a Unanimous Vote be cast, so you can imagine, dear Miss Hatty, how hard it is, at times, to attain such Unanimity. However there is great friendship and goodwill among the Brotherhood and so these gulfs are always somehow bridged in the end. I think the women may at times find this communal life harder, as they have sometimes come here from fondness for their menfolk (like the Sister of my friend Kittridge) & not from Personal Belief in the constitution of the group. But I may be wrong about this. I have plenty of occupation myself, building roofs and thatching them for the new houses; and have a little time also to work at my Book. I share a cabin with my friend Humphrey Kittridge & we have great Chats together when Discussion Time is ended. Kittridge is an ardent Naturalist & when the agricultural business of the community is in a good train, he intends to travel on a Botanical Excursion to the as yet unexplor’d Regions of this great Continent where there are doubtless all manner of new & wonderful Species to be discovered. No more now from your affectionate friend Harry Camber.
P.S. I too remember well those enjoyable, talkative walks we took in Wanmaulden Wood. Since you are at the Priors, which is none so far from my Thatched Grotto, I should be oblig’d if you might find time to ride over there, perhaps with my cousin Barbara, who I recall is an enthusiastic horsewoman, to see how my friends do at the Grotto, for Godwit is very Sparse of his correspondence, writing only when there is some urgent business matter to communicate, while the ladies are not gifted in epistolary matters & never write at all. So news as to their welfare and that of your predecessor would be most gratefully received.
Letter from Miss Harriet Ward to Lord Camber
My dear Sir:
I was most happy to receive your last with engrossing descriptions of your happy Colony at Amity Valley. Long may it thrive and prosper & I shall always be deeply interested to hear more about the life and Activities there.
I shall be glad, so soon as opportunity presents, to pay a visit to your dear little house, if I can persuade Lady Barbara to take her ride in that direction. I shall rejoice to see your kind friends there again. Also I shall like to see how poor Miss Stornoway goes on under their care. And I can offer something towards her Maintenance as I am happy to report that I sold two Poetic Pieces to The Analytical Review.
We have news here of a somewhat dismaying nature. Lord Elstow plans to visit his home during the late summer; he is to bring with him an acquaintance, a young Frenchman whom you may remember, as Lady Barbara informs me that he has been living in London for a number of years – the Abbé du Vallon; he has been invited not as a friend but because of his knowledge of books & he is to make a complete catalogue of all the volumes in his Lordship’s library with the object of presently disposing of them to some would-be purchaser & thereby relieving some of the Earl’s financial Distresses. (The girls speak of this quite freely.) I am, as you may imagine, greatly troubled at this News, since the excellence of the library here is one of the great amenities of the Establishment & without it, I do not know how I would manage to play my part in Improving the mind of Lady Barbara. I do not mention her sister, for nothing written on paper is of the least use to her.
He
throws the ball to me
But I
throw it to him. Why?
I and Me, Him and He
What a fuss
when there are only two of us!
Your affectionate friend,
H. Ward
XIII
When Hatty and Lady Barbara went out together on horseback, they
often rode in silence for extended periods. What engaged Barbara’s mental processes at such times, Hatty could not imagine. For herself, she enjoyed the long, untroubled, contemplative interludes, when the horses jogged along at their own choice of pace, and Harris, the elderly groom, followed some way behind, also immersed in his own thoughts, while the rhythm of the horses’ trotting, the hush of the woods, the continuous flow of cool air against her face provided Hatty with ideal conditions for the generation of poetry; often, after their afternoon rides she was able to note down themes, lines, sometimes whole verses, or to discover solutions for what had previously loomed as insoluble problems.
The silent company of Barbara on these excursions appeared to hold an element of friendship, which, at other times, her presence signally lacked; they rode together in what seemed like amity, silently acknowledging and appreciating such minor occurrences as a woodpecker’s sudden zigzag flight, a wild cherry’s white tower of blossom, a fox slipping sidelong and soundless away from the track. And Hatty thought that, after these shared small pleasures, Barbara too returned from the ride in a more softened, approachable humour; but this seldom lasted very long.
Barbara, familiar from childhood with all the lanes and bridle-ways, always chose their route; she seemed disconcerted, and not best pleased, when Hatty, one afternoon, made the suggestion that they should take in Lord Camber’s cottage on their ride. ‘For I have a message to deliver there. And I have looked at the big map in the Estate Room and I find it is not far from one of our usual bridle-tracks.’
‘But why,’ demanded Barbara curtly, ‘why in the world should you wish to go there?’
‘Your cousin asked me in a letter last month to pay a short visit there some time and find out if his household go on as they should. For it seems none of them are very good correspondents.’
‘You correspond with Lord Camber?’ Barbara’s voice just then strongly resembled that of her mother.
‘Why, yes. As I had mentioned before, he was a frequent visitor at my uncle’s house in Portsmouth. He wrote to me about his sea voyage, and somebody forwarded the letter from Bythorn Lodge.’
Hatty saw no reason to speak of her subsequent meeting with Lord Camber. She was a little dismayed by the immediate reappearance of Barbara’s sullen, glowering manner. However, no objections were raised, and they turned their horses in the desired direction. Barbara, though, urged her mount on and kept up a hasty, impatient pace all the way, as if to convey that she felt the errand to be supremely tiresome, and wished it over with as soon as possible.
Hatty was amused to find that the Thatched Grotto, though now surrounded and embowered in summer verdure, had not lost its appearance of slight absurdity, as if a pastry-cook’s confection, wearing a mob cap of thatch, had been set down in the middle of a budding grove.
Godwit was to be seen, as they approached, digging in a vegetable patch at the side of the house. He straightened up with care and, as soon as he recognized the callers, came hurrying towards them, his plain, pear-shaped face broken up into creases of delight. His shout had brought the boy Dickon from the rear of the house, who capered round them with energetic joyfulness, and, as soon as they dismounted, led their mounts away to the shed.
‘Miss Hatty! You are a sight for sore eyes, that you are! And you have brought Lady Barbara with you, I see, to honour us this day. Mrs Daizley will want to put out her best table-cloth.’
Barbara looked faintly astonished.
‘This person knows me?’ she said to Hatty.
‘Why, of course, Lady Barbara, I am sure you are known by sight to everyone for twenty miles around. How could it be otherwise? This is Mr Godwit, your cousin Camber’s – what are you, Mr Godwit?’ Hatty asked, laughing. ‘His bailiff? His steward? His butler?’
‘All of those three, I reckon, ma’am,’ Godwit replied, his eyes doing their sideways dance of amusement. ‘And his gentleman’s gentleman as well – bar the fact that his Lordship’s given up being a gentleman, by all accounts, in those American parts. But come in, come in, my Lady and Miss Hatty – there’s three inside as’ll be rejoiced to see ye.’
‘Oh, I think I will remain out of doors and stroll about,’ Barbara said instantly. She had gazed at Godwit while he was speaking with a kind of haughty wonder, as if a badger had suddenly addressed her, not only in human speech, but in French. Now she moved away and stared impatiently about her, conveying her dislike of being made to wait. ‘You will not be long, surely?’ she added.
But at this moment the door opened and two persons emerged from it with great rapidity and cries of astonishment and welcome. One was plump Mrs Daizley; Hatty hardly recognized the other, so rejuvenated and transformed did Miss Stornoway appear. They surged towards Hatty, kissed her, and made much of her, while Barbara Fowldes regarded the scene in silent amazement.
‘My dear Miss Stornoway! How very well you look! And dear Mrs Daizley. Is Mrs God wit well?’
‘Ay, miss dear, but she grows powerful short-sighted, so she bides mostly indoors. ‘Twas a real lucky stroke you sent Miss Stornoway to us, for she’s a wonder at reading his Lordship’s books out loud – reads by the hour, she do, and Mrs Godwit fair laps it up. But come in, come in, do, and take a dish of lime tea. Ye’ll do us that honour, Lady Barbara dear, will ye, now? Ye’ll be pleased to see Miss Stornoway, here, and talk over old times, to be sure you will.’
Barbara, it seemed, felt no such pleasure, and would plainly have preferred to decline the invitation, but was so startled at the appearance of Miss Stornoway that she put up no resistance to being shepherded indoors, where she sat in mute discontent, eyeing her surroundings in a series of small glimpses, as if afraid that a prolonged gaze might render her liable to some infection.
Old Mrs Godwit, by the hearth-side, was seen and greeted; Mrs Daizley bustled about, putting a kettle on the hob and bringing out plates of nut cake and bowls of dried cherries.
Hatty could not get over the alteration in Miss Stornoway. ‘You look so much better, ma’am, than you did when we last met – it is really a most remarkable transformation.’
‘Och, my dear, dear Miss Ward, it is you I have tae thank for the change – and indeed I am aware of it myself with every breath I draw – Mrs Daizley here and Mrs Godwit – they have fairly taken me tae pieces and made a new person of me.’
‘But how was it achieved?’
‘It was nettle broth and nettle ointment, my dearie,’ Mrs Daizley explained, pouring out cups of lime tea. ‘Nettles, you know, are sovereign for all rheumatic ills – and that was what chiefly plagued the poor lady – so we fair dowsed her in nettles the first two months she was with us – luckily Eli had cut down a great patch of them last summer and I had made twice my usual brew of nettle essence. We rubbed her and we fomented her, she drank nettle beer eight times a day—’
‘But as well as that,’ Miss Stornoway broke in ‘the ladies here have permitted me to make myself useful – which was such a great joy to me.’
‘Useful, Miss Stornoway?’
‘Och, well, I didn’t like tae sit idle when every one about the house was occupied from morn tae night.’
Hatty nodded. Nostalgically she recalled the atmosphere of constant peaceful industry in the Thatched Grotto.
‘And my fingers,’ continued Miss Stornoway, unabated, ‘were over-crippled at first tae knit or sew – but then Mr Godwit recalled the shells his uncle had collected in Bermuda when he was a sailor – and brought them doon – and I have been permitted, ye see, tae fashion a variety of wee playthings and ornaments – which Mr Godwit is able tae dispose of for me at a market stall in Bythorn. So I need not be altogether a charge on my kind hosts.’
And Miss Stornoway pointed triumphantly to a tray full of objects which Hatty had been eyeing with a vague sense of puzzlement, wondering what in the world they might be. They were made, it seemed, from large tropical shells, adorned with bits of bl
ack velvet ribbon, tinsel and scraps of fabric. Some of them appeared to be grotesque dolls, others were evidently intended for strange little animals, hedgehogs, bears or monkeys.
‘They are quite remarkable,’ Hatty said truthfully. She thought them hideous, but Godwit said, ‘I’ve a friend at Bythorn market, Miss Hatty – well, he’s a bit of a gipsy, but honest with it – he and I have known each other since we were boys. He disposes of them for us on his stall, and they go like hot cakes, he tells me, can’t sell enough of them. Folk buy them for lucky charms, like.’
‘What a very fortunate thing,’ Hatty said warmly. ‘I am so happy for you, Miss Stornoway, that you can contribute in this way. Is that not a great piece of good fortune?’ she said to Barbara, who had been sitting for the last five minutes with her eyes turned to the window as if trying to detach herself from the scene. She roused herself to say, ‘Oh – yes. We must leave now, Miss Ward, or we shall be late back for dinner.’
Hatty was sorry to part from her friends but, after a few moments’ more conversation, saw that it would not be prudent to detain Barbara here any longer. Accordingly she pulled from her reticule a sheet of paper and handed it to Godwit. ‘I had this letter from Lord Camber describing his life in Amity Valley – I copied it out, thinking you would like to have it to read over among yourselves.’
‘Oh, that was kind of you, Miss Hatty dear – it is grand news indeed that he is safely there and with his friends at last. Maybe he will have time now to honour us with a line himself.’
‘Well – he says that you are very poor correspondents,’ Hatty said laughing. She stood up and followed Barbara, who had made for the door and was waiting, in haughty silence, for Godwit to open it, which he did with leisurely dignity.
‘The boy will bring your nags round in a moment, my Lady,’ he said to Barbara, who nodded distantly, moving away; then Godwit addressed Hatty in a low tone. ‘‘Twas a real work of rescue ye did there, Miss Hatty, sending us yon poor lady. Another month in the misty murk at Underwood and she’d have been dead and buried. ‘Twas not only the damp, but the unkindness of the place.’